Colombia is once again grappling with a deeply painful and complex chapter of its history: the “false positives.” This refers to a horrific practice where Colombian military members murdered innocent civilians and then presented them as enemy combatants killed in battle to inflate body counts and receive rewards. The Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP), a transitional justice tribunal, is leading the charge in uncovering the full truth. In a significant move, the JEP has asked former presidents Alvaro Uribe Vélez and Juan Manuel Santos to voluntarily come forward and share their knowledge about these events. This isn’t about pointing fingers immediately; it’s about trying to piece together a comprehensive understanding of what happened, shedding light on a period where a wound was inflicted on the nation. The JEP’s current investigation has expanded its scope, moving beyond the initially focused 2002-2008 period to cover a much broader span from 1990 to 2016. This means exploring how these practices might have been a more ingrained and systematic issue within the Colombian armed conflict. In this larger picture, the perspectives of leaders who held the highest positions become incredibly important – not necessarily to blame, but to understand the decisions made, the institutional environment, and the broader context that allowed such atrocities to occur.
The term “false positives” encapsulates a truly disturbing reality. It describes a period when civilian lives were tragically sacrificed to inflate numbers and meet perceived military objectives. Imagine a system where the success of military units was measured by the number of enemy casualties reported. This seemingly technical metric, however, created perverse incentives, pushing some members of the armed forces to engage in illegal and horrific acts. Young men, often from vulnerable communities, were lured with false promises of work, taken to remote areas, brutally murdered, and then dressed up as guerrillas to be paraded as “combat kills.” The full scale of this tragedy hit the country hard in 2008, particularly with cases emerging from Soacha, a town near Bogotá. Families desperately searching for their missing loved ones found them dead in distant regions, disguised as enemy fighters. This moment was a turning point, forcing Colombia to confront the fact that these weren’t isolated incidents, but a systemic and deeply rooted problem that had to be addressed.
The sheer numbers illustrating this tragedy have been growing as the JEP continues its meticulous work. In 2021, the JEP rocked the nation by reporting that at least 6,402 people were victims of these killings between 2002 and 2008. However, they always emphasized that this figure was provisional. Now, after expanding the timeframe and cross-referencing information from various sources, that number has tragically risen to 7,837 victims, encompassing the period from 1990 to 2016. This isn’t just about finding new crimes, but about achieving a more rigorous and comprehensive understanding of the entire phenomenon. As JEP president Alejandro Ramelli Arteaga explained, they’re now working with a much wider timeframe and have been able to cross-reference more sources, leading to a much more complete picture. The JEP isn’t alone in this endeavor; many organizations have contributed to documenting these crimes over the years. The Truth Commission, for instance, incorporated the 6,402-victim figure into its database, working with JEP and the Human Rights Data Analysis Group. Other organizations like the National Center for Historical Memory, Human Rights Watch, CINEP, and the Colombia-Europe-United States Coordination also documented countless cases, some even dating back decades, highlighting that these extrajudicial killings weren’t a new phenomenon when the transitional justice framework began. Even the Prosecutor’s Office, long before the JEP, compiled its own database of 2,248 victims, built from formally prosecuted or investigated cases. These various figures, with their different methodologies, don’t contradict each other but rather paint a multi-faceted picture, showing a shift in understanding from isolated tragedies to a systemic pattern interwoven with the very fabric of the conflict.
Within this broader and incredibly difficult historical reconstruction, former president Juan Manuel Santos emerges as a particularly significant figure. He became Minister of Defense in 2006, during Alvaro Uribe’s re-election, a time when Colombia’s security strategy was at its most intense. His time as minister coincided with major military successes, like the operation that killed FARC leader Raul Reyes and the daring rescue of 15 hostages, including Ingrid Betancourt. These were seen as crucial turning points in the conflict. However, that very same period also represents the peak of the false positives phenomenon. The JEP has identified 2007 as the year with the highest number of cases, a finding corroborated by multiple independent sources. This places Santos in a central position to help us understand what unfolded during that critical time – not necessarily to assign blame, but to provide crucial insights for reconstructing the historical record. Santos himself has acknowledged the profound impact of these events, stating in a 2018 interview that he was “deeply hurt to discover this (the false positives), and that is why we ended it immediately.” He explained that they shifted priorities, focusing on demobilizations and captures, with deaths as a last resort.
Santos’s commitment to truth didn’t just begin with the current process. In 2021, he appeared before the Truth Commission, a powerful moment in Colombia’s journey to confront its past. He explained his motivation, saying he wanted to contribute to the truth because the country needed to know, believing that truth is the bedrock of reconciliation. He recalled his initial reaction to early reports, dismissing them as unproven rumors, unable to believe such horrors could be happening. But by early 2007, as credible reports started coming in, he said they began taking action. In his testimony, Santos pointed to a structural cause: the immense pressure to produce body counts, a “Vietnam doctrine” as he called it, which he believed was the “original sin.” He also clarified that President Uribe didn’t oppose the shift away from this harmful doctrine, stating he “never received a counterorder or was overruled.” Perhaps the most moving part of his testimony was his acknowledgment of moral responsibility and his heartfelt apology: “I am left with deep remorse and sorrow that during my time as minister, many, many mothers… lost their sons to this cruel practice… This should never have happened. I acknowledge it and ask forgiveness from all the mothers and their families, victims of this horror, from the bottom of my heart.” While his apology doesn’t resolve all the complex debates, it marks a significant step from denial to at least a moral recognition of the profound suffering caused.
On the other side of this challenging conversation is former president Alvaro Uribe, who has consistently maintained a critical stance towards the JEP’s findings, suggesting they might be biased. In a 2021 interview, he stressed the need for objectivity and recounted decisions made during his administration after receiving internal reports, including dismissing 27 members of the armed forces. Interestingly, he refrained from directly accusing Santos, saying he wouldn’t make such accusations “out of political bias,” and that doing so would make him lose “the moral authority to defend the results of my administration.” These statements highlight the incredible complexity of this issue, and the pressing need to prioritize truth over political disputes. The JEP’s request to hear from both former presidents is also driven by over 300 petitions from victims and organizations eager to expand the evidence. So, it’s not about prejudging them, but about adding crucial pieces to a puzzle that remains incomplete. Current President Gustavo Petro has even called these acts “the worst crime against humanity committed in the Americas in this century,” underscoring the immense symbolic and political weight of the issue. But beyond politics, Colombia’s challenge remains: to move toward a more complete truth without getting caught in polarization. The JEP’s invitation for testimony offers a different path, one focused on listening, comparing accounts, and deepening the collective memory of the nation. Ultimately, the question isn’t just about what happened, but about what Colombia chooses to do with that truth. In that answer lies the hope that horrors like the false positives will never, ever be repeated. The JEP’s roadmap isn’t just about assigning blame; it’s about reconstructing the intricate architecture of this phenomenon, hoping to achieve a truth that can finally bring justice and healing to the countless victims of this agonizing chapter in Colombia’s history.