Last year, during a recess in a workshop with women from rural communities in Putumayo, I was talking with Gumercinda Mojomboy, a beloved indigenous leader. “We must be women with one thinking” (“Mujeres de un solo pensamiento”), she said. Gumercinda often used this slogan in her tireless efforts to organize women in Putumayo to struggle for peace, dignity, and development, in the midst of devastating aerial fumigations and a raging war between paramilitaries, guerrillas, state forces, and drug traffickers.

Gumercinda, who died several months later in a tragic boat accident as she was making her way back up the river to her community after another one of our workshops, was not saying that all women should think the same. She was saying was that there should be a unity of purpose, a unity of struggle with a clear vision of a better life. For Gumercinda, this better life is one where people, communities, and nations become convinced that war and violence extinguishes the presence of God in all of us that makes us so special. It is a life where the full spectrum of economic, social, cultural and political rights are exercised and valued. It is a life where men and women treat each other with respect and appreciation and build up and sustain families, communities, and cultures where each person and their well-being is treasured.

When I read the testimonies and stories in this booklet, many of which I know personally, I am reminded of Gumercinda and her saying, and the way she dedicated her life to this struggle, in the face of tremendous odds. There are threads of unity in the struggles these testimonies recount; there are commonalities of purpose, vision, methods, and sacrifice in the midst of the common contexts of violence and war. Within these commonalities, what is particularly striking and touching is the deep desire for peace. This desire gives rise to a commitment and dedication to use peaceful methods, many times at great risk and danger, to confront and challenge violence at all levels and to trace out alternative paths.

The story told here of the youth involved in the Medellín Youth Network, is a great example of this commitment to non-violence as a path towards change. The youth in Medellín, as elsewhere in Colombia and around the world, are faced with discrimination and violence from many different quarters, many times based on stereotypes of youth as ignorant, immature, and prone to crime. In the city of Medellín, the situation is worsened by attempts by the paramilitaries, guerrillas, gangs, and army to recruit youth into their ranks, and threats of retaliation if the youth refuse to join in one way or another. The Medellín Youth Network is the story of youth creating another way, a way of conscientious objection to violence, a way of resisting and rejecting these pressures by the armed groups, and a way of building up a new set of values and actions in their neighborhoods.

The commitment to, and engagement in, peaceful resistance and alternatives is also the main theme of the Women’s Path of Peace movement described in this volume. Along with youth, women in Colombia and everywhere else are objects of violence and discrimination. The violence and their vulnerability is heightened by the war, in which, as one of the leaders of the Women’s Path of Peace puts it, “… we and our bodies have become the booty.” The perpetration of rape on a massive scale during the war in Colombia – a practice that is still occurring but is rarely reported and which echoes what has happened in conflicts in other parts of the world – was a main factor in the formation of the Women’s Path of Peace, as described in this booklet. As with the Youth Network, the women are creating an alternative path that for some seems utopian and even crazy, given the reality of their lives.. But, as the description shows, their movement has had an impact and been recognized at the international level for the way it has been able to take local, regional, and national action to promote nonviolence in the face of considerable risks.

An experience of rural communities using nonviolence amidst intense conflict is recounted in the section on peace communities in the northwestern region of Urabá. The communities of San José de Apartadó, Cacarica and others are geographically located in areas that all the armed groups want to control. But with support from church and human rights groups, the communities have tenaciously held their ground, instead of resigning themselves to a life of displacement from their lands.

The Indigenous Guard of Northern Cauca, the fourth story told in this booklet, is another special example of a nonviolent movement formed by a group that has historically been the object of violence and discrimination. The Nasa (also known as Paez) people have been at the forefront of the indigenous struggle in Colombia for over a century, and have reached the conclusion that nonviolence is the only way forward in the context of war and continuing discrimination. The story of the formation of this nonviolent Guard, and the symbols, moral authority, and methods of resistance they wield, is a particularly striking and heartening one given their successes.

The final story, that of the community the town of Mogotes, gives us a useful reminder that even if the problems of overt violence are solved, people and communities still face problems in guaranteeing the full spectrum of rights necessary to bring about a just peace. Internationally recognized for taking a nonviolent stand against the armed groups and deepening their processes of democratic decision-making around issues of development and social justice, Mogotes has been able to make progress against the violence associated with the war. It is, however, struggling with the sustainability of its process of decision-making by consensus. It is also grappling with the meaning of solidarity as it pursues an alternative vision of relationships that put the common good at the center of its community.

These stories and testimonies also remind us that the threads of unity that tie them together extend far beyond Colombia and its current situation. The commonalities of struggle and purpose link these testimonies into past and present struggles in the rest of Latin America and the Caribbean and the rest of the world, wherever people are struggling or have struggled in situations of violence and war. As I consider this, I also cannot escape thinking how many of these wars were, and continue to be, exacerbated by the aid and assistance given by the United States, from the wars in Vietnam and Central America in the past, to the current wars in Colombia and Iraq. In the past, the peace movements played a major role in bringing about an end to those wars. I hope that these testimonies will encourage them to do so now. We need a greater understanding of the urgency and need to consciously pull together, to work wherever we are and in whatever way we can. I hope the testimonies help to foster strong peaceful nonviolent principles, ethics, morals, action, and movements to struggle against the violence in all of our communities and nations, and in the policies of our governments.

Colombia: A Country Preparing for Peace

Colombia is a country at war. Sometimes, when we look at the sensational news and staggering statistics that describe the conflict, we lose sight of the people who are affected. When people become numbers and catchphrases, we lose their stories, their realities, their dreams, and the ways in which they struggle to survive and live in the middle of armed conflict. We lose the faces of the human beings who are resisting the inhumanity of war. What happens to people and communities when war enters their lives? What do they do? What do they think? How do their dreams change? And where do they find the power to stand up to violence and commit themselves to nonviolent processes and peace?

We, and the protagonists in this booklet, invite you to see the faces of the people and communities who refuse to be reduced to statistics. In these pages, you will meet ordinary Colombians taking extraordinary actions to resist war and oppression and create a dignified alternative to violence. They make up a varied and vibrant collection of peace efforts that demonstrate the widespread desire for nonviolent change.

What do these efforts confront? Colombia leads the world in murders and kidnappings. More labor leaders have been assassinated in Colombia than anywhere else. It is one of the most dangerous countries in the world for journalists and religious leaders. The people of Colombia are experiencing one of the worst humanitarian crises on the planet. The statistics on Colombia’s war are staggering. Decades of conflict have produced 230,000 refugees and nearly 300,000 people living in refugee-like conditions. Another three million men, women, and children have been forced to flee their homes, becoming refugees in their own country. Civilian casualties account for eighty percent of all conflict-related deaths. Nevertheless, Colombia’s war is one of today’s most under-reported conflicts.

The peace efforts described here aim to inspire and provoke. They help us reflect on the risks and rewards of unarmed struggles for change. These stories may resonate at deeply personal or political levels, challenge us within our own lives, and encourage us to support the peaceful resistance in Colombia. They may even help us see how people of other nations at war, such as the people in the U.S., can challenge violence and injustice. What these stories will show us is that amid widespread desolation in Colombia, there are many, many places of hope.

The Roots and Results of War

Colombia’s conflict is rooted both in historical socio-economic inequalities that have existed since Colombia’s colonization by Europeans, and in fierce political rivalry. The assassination of popular political leader Jorge Eliécer Gaitán provoked a period of deep civil strife in the 1950s, known as La Violencia, which led to 200,000 deaths and the displacement of two million rural farmers. This time of violent upheaval gave rise to guerrilla groups that for many years were supported by popular movements seeking to change Colombia’s reality, especially for the poor and marginalized.

In the following decades, the Colombian State faced a deep crisis of legitimacy, and the nature of violence in Colombia began to change. Previously on the margin, guerrilla groups expanded into areas closer to the hub of national life. Their use of extortion and kidnapping as a means of finance turned much popular opinion against them. The Colombian State began to intensify violence against the population in areas of armed resistance, in an attempt to eradicate any popular support for the guerrillas. Colombia’s violence had become a counter-insurgency war.

The drug trade and its enormous profits entered the equation in the late 1970s and 1980s. At the same time, armed groups emerged in response to a desire to protect new wealth and economic interests. The Colombian State supported these groups as a key counter-insurgency element. Known today as paramilitaries, these groups allow the government to clean up its human rights record by transferring atrocities from the army to unaccountable death squads. It is estimated that close to 80% of the political killings in Colombia are attributable to paramiliaries. Even so, connections between the Colombian army and paramilitary groups are well-documented. A 2003 study commissioned by President Alvaro Uribe concluded that the army was the strongest obstacle to demobilizing the paramilitary groups. Drug organizations emerged as another armed faction, complicating the links of violence and armed actors. Drug trafficking, corruption, kidnapping, and extortion on all sides further fuel the conflict.

Each armed group operates under the idea that “either you’re with us, or you’re against us.” If people declare their right not to be involved with the war, one side blames them for collaborating with the “other” side. The space for nonviolent organization is narrow and dangerous. Violence soaks into the fabric of daily life, both public and private, in Colombia. As the armed conflict has spread more widely and penetrated Colombian society more deeply, crime and violence within families have also increased. It has become common to equate strength and power with weapons and brute force. This bleak panorama can make true peace feel very far away.

Grassroots Struggle for Peace

But at no time have Colombians given up their quest for peace, human rights, and nonviolent social change. In the 1970s, labor and agrarian movements led the struggle, joined by human rights organizations in the 1980s. The reaction to this civil organization was a systematic persecution and elimination of peasant, union, leftist, and other leaders in a “dirty war” carried out by the paramilitaries. Nonetheless, citizens’ peace movements emerged on the national scene in the late 1990s, demanding a negotiated end to the conflict. The most stirring examples were the Children’s and Citizens’ Mandates for Peace.

In 1996, 2.7 million Colombian children from over 300 municipalities voted for the “right to life” and the “right to peace” as the most popular rights on a ballot of twelve. The event was organized by the Network of Initiatives for Peace and against War (REDEPAZ) — Colombia’s largest peace network – as well as UNICEF, and the National Civil Registry Office. This Children’s Mandate for Peace was followed a year later by the Citizens’ Mandate for Peace, coordinated by REDEPAZ and the Free Country Foundation. On the same day as local elections, close to ten million people voted on a “Peace Ballot” in favor of a politically negotiated solution to the armed conflict and respect for human rights and international humanitarian law. When peace ballot papers ran out, people began marking campaign fliers. Almost three times as many people voted in the Citizens’ Mandate for Peace than voted in the presidential elections a year later.

In response to this upsurge of grassroots support for peace, then-presidential candidate Andrés Pastrana promised to hold negotiations with the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). A war-weary populace stood behind him. Once elected, Pastrana began a formal dialogue with the FARC in January 1999. There was a feeling that peace was closer than ever before. Certainly, it was possible to talk publicly and actively about a new chapter for Colombia. Civil society peace initiatives flourished in anticipation of a positive outcome to the talks.

To facilitate dialogue with the FARC, Pastrana granted the rebel organization control of a large de-militarized zone with no conditions. Civil organizations were also invited to speak at the negotiating table.

But the peace process was also a political strategy for both the government and the FARC. Civil society began to realize it had no real role in the process. The FARC took advantage of the situation to talk but not negotiate the problems of deep social inequalities, and many people perceived that the FARC was more interested in strengthening itself militarily than reaching any agreements. The period of negotiations was also a time of unprecedented violence by paramilitary groups.

The fragile peace process broke down amid an environment of increasing mistrust and exclusion. Widely considered “talks about talks,” there were few tangible results. At the same time, the war in Colombia became ever more bloody. People were disillusioned. When Pastrana announced an end to the talks in February 2002, many in civil society were also ready to give up. The optimism at the start of Pastrana’s presidency was in forced retreat by the time he left office.

Focusing on Military Might

Text Box: ‘The public lost trust in the peace processes, as they did not offer answers to the profound social and economic crisis, reduce the intensity of the conflict, or allow democratic participation in their design, follow-up or evaluation.’ -Jorge Rojas, Director of the Consultancy on Human Rights and Displacement

The failure of the peace talks shifted popular opinion about how to end the war in Colombia, and generated greater support for a military strategy. Promising an aggressive counter-insurgent policy, Álvaro Uribe was elected President in May 2002. His subsequent “Democratic Security” strategy – which includes arming rural farmers as “peasant soldiers”, creating a network of a million informants, carrying out mass detentions, and supporting the harassment of civil society organizations – has resulted in the corrosion of human rights and basic civil liberties.

In a post-September 11 world, Uribe’s language and actions are resoundingly supported by U.S. foreign policy and often mirror U.S. domestic policy. U.S. military funding in Colombia was limited to the “War on Drugs” until after the September 11 attacks, when the United States unleashed its “War Against Terrorism.” Largely unnoticed by the media, the U.S. Congress lifted the restrictions on aid for Colombia’s war against leftist insurgent groups, listed as terrorists by the U.S. State Department. U.S. military funds to Colombia continue to flow at a rate of $2 million a day.

Obscured by the sensationalism of drug trafficking and terrorism is Colombia’s strategic geo-political position: it is an oil-rich country. And oil has become a key consideration in U.S. policy towards Colombia. At the northern tip of the South American continent and with Pacific and Caribbean coasts, Colombia is also important to the development of U.S.-sponsored free trade agreements and economic plans. As long as government hegemony is lacking in Colombia, advancing such economic plans will be difficult. Militarization is therefore a response to violence and a tool to further government-supported development plans. The extreme levels of U.S. military and financial involvement in Colombia become mechanisms to guarantee this development.

Official efforts to end the war in Colombia, which have bipartisan support in the United States, center on military might. Both the U.S. and Colombian political leadership and media show little sympathy to the idea of a negotiated solution. National peace movements have had to find more subtle ways to advocate for peace, human rights, and justice. But when we look beyond the negotiations that are limited to the armed groups and examine grassroots efforts, we see a broad foundation for a true, sustainable peace.

Transformation from the Inside Out

The experience of communities building peace amid so much violence in Colombia often goes unnoticed. “Peace” is considered the responsibility of political leaders, high levels of government and institutions. But the experiences of peace-building within communities is vital, because it is on the level of communities that the war in Colombia is lived and fought. It is families, communities, and individuals who are torn apart by war. And when the violence in Colombia officially ends, the consequences of conflict will remain. Those consequences, like war itself, are experienced within communities, families and individuals.

Father Leonel Narváez, a Colombian Catholic priest, understands that many Colombians who suffer the violence and fallout of war keep the rage, hatred, resentment, and desire for vengeance to themselves. These feelings can fester inside until the victims decide to take justice into their own hands. It is at that moment that victims become victimizers.

In 2000, with the support of Harvard University, Father Narváez formed the Schools of Forgiveness and Reconciliation (known by their Spanish acronym ESPERE, meaning “hope”). These schools function in some of the most conflicted neighborhoods in Colombia. Trained leaders from the community and groups of 10 to 15 people who have been victims of all sorts of violence meet 10 times over a total of 80 hours. Together, they walk the difficult path to forgiveness and reconciliation, which includes the decision to forgive, share the pain, construct the truth, and guarantee justice.

Participants of the ESPERE schools talk about how they regain a sense of purpose, security, and community belonging. They mention the reduction in intrafamilial violence and the strengthening of community relationships. The ESPERE schools offer hope. They are creating positive social capital that can prevent and mediate violent behavior and construct social peace - the foundation for a transformed Colombian society.

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