On September 21, 2025, Colombia’s struggle to reckon with its violent past took center stage as a special war crimes tribunal handed down a controversial verdict against seven former leaders of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, better known as the FARC. These ex-rebels were convicted of orchestrating mass kidnappings and killings during the country’s decades-long civil war—a conflict that left deep scars on Colombian society. Yet, despite the gravity of their crimes, the tribunal imposed no prison sentences. Instead, the convicted leaders were ordered to spend the next eight years performing restorative social work, such as helping locate the remains of the missing and removing deadly land mines. For many Colombians, especially the victims, the ruling has become a flashpoint in the ongoing debate over justice, peace, and accountability in the aftermath of war.
According to NPR, the tribunal’s decision followed years of investigation into the FARC’s wartime tactics. The group, now defunct, was notorious for kidnapping more than 21,000 people—often for ransom. Hostages endured unimaginable suffering: torture, sexual abuse, being chained to trees, forced marches through dense jungle, and, in some cases, death from tropical diseases. Judge Camilo Suarez, who presided over the tribunal, acknowledged the pain inflicted. "This sentence does not erase the suffering, but it recognizes that what happened was unjustifiable and inhumane," Suarez declared from the bench, as reported by NPR.
Despite this recognition, the tribunal’s sentence stopped short of incarceration. Instead, the former guerrilla leaders will contribute to society through restorative projects, including assisting the search for missing persons and clearing land mines—a legacy of the conflict that continues to threaten rural communities. The absence of prison time was not an oversight; it was a key element of the 2016 peace treaty that ended much of the fighting between the FARC and the Colombian government. The rebels made it a non-negotiable demand, arguing that the prospect of jail would deter them from laying down their arms.
But not everyone believes this approach serves justice. Juanita Goebertus, head of the Americas division at Human Rights Watch, pointed out a crucial discrepancy. As she explained to NPR, the peace agreement did call for "at least some restrictions on the liberty of rebel leaders who are found guilty of war crimes." Yet, she noted, the tribunal’s verdict failed to enforce these restrictions, leaving the convicted ex-rebels free to move about the country. "Colombians have been waiting since the peace agreement to learn what that effective restriction of liberty will actually look like," Goebertus said, underscoring a sense of national frustration.
This frustration is especially acute among victims. Cesar Lasso, a former Colombian police sergeant who was held hostage in the jungle for thirteen grueling years, voiced his dismay. "The court's ruling leaves a bad taste in the mouths of guerrilla victims. It sends a message that crime pays," Lasso told NPR. For many like him, the tribunal’s leniency feels like an insult layered atop old wounds. The fact that several of the convicted former guerrilla leaders now serve as members of Colombia’s congress only adds salt to those wounds, fueling a perception that the country’s moral compass has gone awry.
The political fallout has been swift and divisive. Supporters of former president Alvaro Uribe, a figure revered by many for his hardline military campaign against the guerrillas, are particularly incensed. In a separate case, Uribe himself was found guilty by a regular court of bribing witnesses and, in August 2025, sentenced to twelve years of house arrest. To his backers, this juxtaposition is galling: while ex-rebels occupy seats of power, a former president who fought them is confined to his home. Paloma Valencia, a Colombian senator from Uribe’s political party, captured this sentiment in a pointed critique: "What we are seeing in Colombia is that criminals go to Congress, and people who work—like President Uribe—for the country are being prosecuted. That's why Colombia is really an upside-down country at this point."
Yet, there are those who defend the tribunal’s approach, seeing it as a necessary compromise for lasting peace. Former president Juan Manuel Santos, who received the Nobel Peace Prize in 2016 for negotiating the groundbreaking peace treaty, offered his perspective on Colombian television. "The FARC has stopped kidnapping and committing other crimes," Santos stated. "If they were still fighting, Colombia would be much worse off." For Santos and his supporters, the cessation of violence and the reintegration of former combatants into society represent monumental progress, even if the path to justice feels imperfect.
This tension—between justice and peace—is hardly unique to Colombia, but the country’s experience is particularly fraught. The civil war, which raged for more than half a century, claimed hundreds of thousands of lives and displaced millions. The 2016 peace deal was hailed around the world as a model for ending seemingly intractable conflicts, yet its implementation has been anything but smooth. The promise of restorative justice over retributive justice was always controversial, with critics warning it risked minimizing the suffering of victims for the sake of political expediency.
Now, as the tribunal’s verdict reverberates across Colombia, the debate has intensified. Victims and their families demand recognition, accountability, and some measure of closure. Human rights advocates warn that failing to impose meaningful consequences for egregious crimes could undermine public trust and embolden future offenders. Political factions spar over the legacy of the war and the meaning of justice, with some calling for stricter punishments and others urging patience with the peace process.
Meanwhile, the former guerrilla leaders begin their mandated social work, a daily reminder that Colombia’s journey toward healing is far from over. The search for the missing continues, as does the painstaking removal of land mines from once-contested territories. For many, the hope is that these acts of service might, in some small way, help mend the nation’s wounds—even as the scars of war remain visible and the meaning of justice remains hotly contested.
As Colombia navigates this uneasy peace, the world watches to see whether the country can balance the demands of justice with the imperatives of reconciliation. The tribunal’s verdict may not have satisfied everyone, but it has forced the nation to confront the complexities of moving forward after decades of conflict. Only time will tell whether this path leads to lasting healing or renewed division.