Feature
- Transitional Subjects? Paramilitary Demobilization in Colombia
- The cover of Kimberly Theidon's latest book.
Kimberly Theidon is a medical anthropologist focusing on Latin America. She is an assistant professor in the Department of Anthropology at Harvard University and a faculty associate of the Weatherhead Center for International Affairs.
Her book Entre prójimos: el conflicto armado interno y la política de la reconciliación en el Perú received the 2006 Premio Iberoamericano Book Award from the Committee of the Latin American Studies Association.
Turbo, Colombia, September 2005
The women arrived one by one, their spirits lifted by the bottles of chilled soda pop awaiting them. In the midst of a busy, sweltering afternoon, they had accepted our invitation to talk about the paramilitary demobilization process that was reconfiguring life in their communities. With each sip, the heat ceded to a bit more openness. As we would learn, many of them had husbands, partners, sons, and daughters in the guerrilla, the army, the paramilitary—in some cases, all at once. Several of the women shook their heads as they listed their family members and the armed groups to which they had belonged in the course of this interminable war. Slowly the conversation wound around to our central questions: “What do you think the government should do? We know this process is so controversial. What do you think of all this?” They murmured among themselves, some looked a bit uncomfortable. Finally one woman spoke on behalf of the group: “Well, if we rounded up all the men who've ever held a gun and put them in jail—bueno, there'd be no men left around here.”
On July 15, 2003, the Santa Fe de Ralito Accord launched official negotiations between the Uribe government and the United Self-Defense Forces of Colombia (AUC). The Accord provided for the gradual disarmament, demobilization, and reinsertion of the AUC or, as they are more commonly known, the paramilitaries. The Accord envisioned the group's demobilization by December 2005 in exchange for government efforts to reincorporate AUC members into civilian life. To date, 28,357 men and women have demobilized in a series of televised ceremonies, and they have turned in 16,077 weapons. The discrepancy between the number of combatants demobilized and weapons surrendered serves as an entry point into the controversial nature of the process.
The paramilitaries have been consistently cited for gross human rights violations. Additionally, this 30-40,000 member organization appears on the U.S. government's list of foreign terrorist organizations, and there is ample evidence that the paramilitaries control much of the drug trafficking in Colombia. One of the greatest concerns arising from the paramilitary demobilization process is that it will provide combatants with an opportunity both to be absolved of their crimes and to benefit from lenient amnesty measures. National and international human rights organizations insist the process jeopardizes victims' rights to truth, justice, and reparations.
For the past nine months, with funding from the Weatherhead Center for International Affairs, I have been conducting qualitative research on the paramilitary demobilization process. With my Colombian research assistant, Paola Andrea Betancourt, we have focused on three field sites: government-sponsored shelters in Bogotá; shelters and two barrios in Medellín; and several communities in Turbo-Apartado. By focusing on these case studies, we have sought to capture the complexity of regional histories.
We have used semi-structured interviews with demobilized combatants from the AUC as well as from two guerrilla movements: the National Liberation Army (ELN) and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). Aware that formal interviews are of limited utility when investigating sensitive topics in a climate of great distrust, we have complemented these interviews with sustained participant observation. We have been committed to moving beyond the “black and white” of statistics to explore the gray zone that characterizes the complex reality of a fratricidal war. Additionally, we have been guided by the conviction that the unit of analysis and intervention must extend beyond the former combatants to include the communities to which they return. By focusing on the “R” of DDR (Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration), we hope to articulate national policies and processes with local and regional initatives.
We stress the importance of disaggregating the figure of the “paramilitary” or the “guerrilla” in order to capture the great variations that exist in each group—variations that include motivations, geography, and rank. Clearly, policymakers cannot make universal recommendations based on the shelter model used in Bogot´. Nor can we assume that the reality of an urban mafia of “demobilized” combatants in Medellín means the entire process is a sham. Nor do we wish to offer a romanticized reading of local processes as though the “local” is an intrinsically harmonious or democratic space. Rather, we insist on the need to capture regional specificities that might help to develop programs that reflect the fact that in Colombia there is not one war, there are several.
Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration (DDR)
Much of the literature on DDR approaches the topic from a military-centered or security perspective, paying less attention to the social and cultural elements that influence the success or failure of reintegration efforts. We locate DDR squarely within the field of transitional justice and its concerns with historical clarification, justice, reparations, and reconciliation. This approach in turn leads us to investigate how former combatants are reintegrated into the social, economic, and political life of civilian communities, as well as to analyze how civil society sectors respond. To avoid conflict between the local community and former combatants, the needs of the wider community should be considered—and these needs may well involve listening to victims' demands for forms of justice and reparation.
To date we have conducted 112 interviews with former combatants, as well as with representatives of state and private entities, members of the military and the intelligence service, Catholic and Evangelical religious leaders, and members of the host communities. In this brief text, we present a few of our preliminary findings, seeking to answer a number of key concerns: How might the government and the newly formed National Commission on Reparations and Reconciliation capitalize on the fact that the majority of these demobilized combatants wish to leave the war behind? How might we support the majority of them in their desire to change their lives? How might the government learn from and strengthen local and regional initiatives, and elaborate peaceful alternatives even in the midst of war? Finally, what role should the Colombian state—and international actors—play in this complicated demobilization process?
“In Search of Respect”
We have focused on demobilized male combatants because they are the majority of both our sample and the armed combatants waging war in Colombia. The degree to which they live with images of “militarized masculinity” is striking. Many of these young men assured us that carrying a weapon, earning easy money, and having the capacity to inspire fear results in benefits they would have trouble obtaining legally. For these young men, particularly those who were in the AUC, joining the paramilitaries allowed them to “feel like a big man (gran hombre) in their barrio,” to “go out with the prettiest young women” and to “dress well,” possibilities that, according to them, would not have been options without joining an armed group. We use the term “young men” quite intentionally, as fully 65 percent of these ex-combatants joined an armed group when they were mere minors.
One goal of the reintegration process will be demilitarizing the model of masculinity that these men and women have, particularly given that so many of these men have scant access to civilian symbols of virility such as education, legal income, or decent housing. We stress both men and women because this militarized masculinity is performative: the audience is composed not only of the other men with whom these combatants struggle for a place within the hierarchy of the armed group, but also the women who seek out these gran hombres as desirable partners in the economy of war.
However, although the image is “grand,” the reality is not. Of the 112 male ex-combatants we interviewed, 90 percent were common soldiers or low-level squadron leaders with ten to fifteen men under their command. These men are the “cannon fodder” of the war. It is crucial to disaggregate these men according to rank and to acknowledge that if indeed the majority of these demobilized foot soldiers blur the line between victim and victimizer, they are not among the true beneficiaries of this war. Their rank in turn translates into differences in terms of earnings, intellectual authorship, and the severity of their crimes. An ex-combatant's rank also contributes to his sense of guilt, and to the guilt that others attribute to him. It is clear that the civilian population has ideas regarding the severity of the crime and the corresponding punishment; within the calculations used in these assessment figures, they consider both the rank of the ex-combatant and the degree of “conciencia” (consciousness or free will) that he could exercise in the heat of combat.
“Volver al monte”: Returning to the Mountains
“Volver al monte” is a phrase that appears with great frequency in our interviews. This symbolically rich term invokes much more than geography. For these ex-combatants, life in “el monte” is synonymous with: gnawing hunger; sleeplessness; illness and no access to medical care; and anxiety from living clandestinely. Combatants have also killed or witnessed the killing of many people, frequently people that “I didn't even know—innocent people.” Indeed, among the reasons given for deserting, more than half the interviewees replied “I was exhausted” and “I was sick of war.” Additionally, the majority of the ex-guerrillas expressed their great disappointment with the ELN and the FARC: “They said we would work for the poor. Lies! The comandantes are rich—they get rich from drug trafficking. This war is big business.”
“Volver al monte” means being far away from their families and the humanizing emotional ties. These men have impressive family bonds; their family ties, which were a factor in making them desert the battlefront, continue to pull on these individuals now. Importantly, thoughts of family reminded many of the men that they were still human beings out there in “el monte.”
Our research reveals a deep desire on the part of these demobilized combatants to leave war behind them and return to civilian life, but they live this desire in the midst of war. The irony? These men and women are indeed “transitional subjects”; unfortunately, the social context is not.
Peace and Justice?
The concepts of justice these former combatants express are noteworthy, as are their opinions of the collective demobilization process and the possibilities for peace in Colombia. Ninety-six percent of them expressed profound doubts regarding the paramilitary demobilization process, questioning the motivations of other combatants and of president Uribe himself: “Uribe? He is the leader of the paracos (paramilitaries)!” Equally striking is their profound pessimism regarding the possibility for peace in their country. Especially in the shelters of Bogot´, where these former combatants are far from their home communities, peace seems unthinkable: “Peace is not just turning in weapons. There are lots of civilians who want to enter the war.”; “Peace? How can there be peace when war is such a big business?” The most optimistic response we received, except for in Turbo-Apartado, was “Peace? Maybe someday.”
Their concepts of justice are also impressive: “Justice is everyone paying for what they've done.”; “Justice is everyone doing justice as they see it.”; Justice is…well, if someone kills my dad, I kill him.”; or, “Justice? The word has no meaning.”
We want to highlight the complete absence of the state in people's responses. The state as an actor, intermediary, or protagonist simply does not appear: the idea of turning to the judicial system is not even considered when thinking of peace or justice. This is indeed quite an indictment of the Colombian state.
Regional Differences
Ninety-five percent of the demobilized combatants in Bogotá were born in other parts of the country and 99 percent are demobilized individually. These young men were brought to the shelters—the majority of which have been shut down owing to complaints from people living in surrounding neighborhoods—and subsequently relocated to rural areas outside of the capital city.
Our research indicates that the shelter model is of limited utility, and that it conflates legal and social processes. If indeed there is a change in legal status for the ex-combatants, this does not necessarily translate into the social transformations that would allow them to feel they are once again part of civilian life. Indeed, in our interviews with members of the communities in which the government established shelters, it was clear the government developed and implemented their methodology without consulting these communities.
Thus we return to the idea of the social environment and family ties. These ex-combatants are isolated from both surrounding communities and their families. Stigma marks them, as well as mutual fear. Members of the surrounding communities expressed their concern that they live alongside “assassins”; the former combatants assured us they are “marked men,” targeted by the still-active armed groups to which they belonged. The shelter model, which reproduces their marginality without thinking of how best to assist these former combatants and the communities that receive them in coexisting without mutual fear and distrust, is tainted by the impunity that until now has characterized the process of “reconciliation” as dictated by the state.
Medellín: A Perverse Calm
Medellín has been the recipient of collectively demobilized combatants and a small percentage of individual deserters, and the much-touted statistical decrease in violence cloaks important dynamics in the city. Every phase of our research indicates that the demobilized paramilitaries are effectively reconfiguring themselves as an economic power, and that they have a vested interest in “administering calm” in this conflictive city.
We are not arguing that the entire process is a facade from an institutional point of view. What we have noted is that there is a great deal of occult control of the city and of the trade in arms and drugs. Although the demobilized combatants superficially obey the public authorities, we were assured that everything—“everything that lives or moves”—is still controlled by Don Berna, the currently imprisoned AUC leader. Indeed, a perverse calm pervades Medellín. When we visited a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, one woman spoke to us about how she sees the demobilization and reinsertion process: “Before, you couldn't even walk a block or more because they'd kill you. You always had to ask permission from the people in charge of each barrio. It was dangerous to go out at night, to take the bus. It's different now. You can walk around from one place to another—oh, it's changed. The muchachos (paramilitaries) are a lot calmer. If you have a problem, you just go see them and they take care of it. This demobilization was a good thing because now we can go about in peace—but we still look for them whenever there is any kind of problem.”
Once again, the state does not even appear in people's images of peace, justice, or security.
Turbo-Apartado
Here the war is not a problem that belongs to “others”; rather, the violence in Turbo-Apartado is intimate. In any given community, victims, victimizers, and beneficiaries of the war live side by side. Importantly, as a representative of the Catholic church insisted, the beneficiaries of the war are not only those in arms but also the economic and political elites who have sponsored much of this violence. As this priest explained, “When we calculate who should finance this process, these elites should have a seat reserved at the table.”
In Turbo, the productive projects that the government is implementing in consultation with the communities are one component of the demobilization process and could serve as a model when designing programs that seek not only to surrender weapons but also to reconstruct coexistence. The income-generating projects attempt to provide a space for socialization and purposely avoid benefitting only the demobilized. For instance, one livestock project includes 50 percent demobilized combatants, 25 percent internally displaced persons, and 25 percent members of the surrounding communities. In the project in Turbo, a former paramilitary commander actively participates and demonstrates his commitment to the demobilization and well-being of the men who served under him. It is worth thinking about how to use the hierarchy and simultaneously dismantle its structures, both military and psychological. Every component of DDR has its temporality and the corresponding strategies.
Moreover, it is easy to imagine how the community could resent the former combatants and any benefits they might receive. Thus, the participants in the livestock project in Turbo explained to us how they manage these feelings. They decided to develop a set of internal rules and elect a governing board, which has the power to impose fines for each insult or fight that project participants might cause. Again, our research does not seek to romanticize these projects but rather to demonstrate the creativity of the population. These sorts of local and regional initiatives should inform national processes and policies.
Conclusions
Reflecting upon this first stage of our research, we draw a few preliminary conclusions that we will continue to explore:
- The Colombian state must provide security to fill the void left by demobilized armed groups. The state should also generate economic alternatives for not only the ex-combatants but also the communities that receive them.
- The state should not confuse “justice” operating in these communities—including its concepts and practices—with the justice that the state should administer. Clearly, justice should be administered by state agencies rather than demobilized combatants.
- The international community should oversee and assist the demobilization process. It should also communicate a positive message to those still in arms—especially (FARC), which is most distant from the government—indicating support for all peace processes and demobilization efforts, regardless of whether the combatants are from the ideological right or left.
- There is a need to develop a discourse on reconciliation and reparation that is not monopolized by religious and political leaders.
- Finally, the failure to translate the project of national reconciliation into local reconciliation is a grave danger. We need to remember that to implement grand visions requires concrete mechanisms.
To conclude, during Theidon's work with the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Ayacucho, she was struck by the creativity of local communities confronted with the need to reconstruct social relationships with intimate enemies. That experience taught her something worth repeating here: If we do not open a path for those who wish to leave war behind and recover their standing in a human community, they will continue to wander in the puna or, in the Colombian case, they may well return to wage war in “el monte.”