By Peter Cousins

Colombianos, las armas os han dado la independencia, las leyes os darán la libertad.
“Colombians, arms have given you independence, laws will give you freedom.”
(Francisco de Paula Santander)

On the front of the Supreme Court of Justice in Bogotá’s Bolivar Plaza, are carved these words of General Santander, a hero of the independence era and later President of Gran Colombia. Colombia celebrates its “Proclamation of Independence” on July 20 each year. As in most countries, this sort of occasion turns into a day for the “great and the good” of State – president, mayors, generals, flags – to take center stage, with the added factor that, last month, the country commenced its take-off towards the bicentenary of the “Proclamation of Independence” in 2010. But in the midst of all this, Santander´s words transcend the years and have for a Colombia that is 199 years young a certain resonance, whose truth is in danger of being eclipsed. What do I mean by this? The historical and contemporary contexts will help us arrive at some sort of understanding.

Colombia traditionally prides itself on the credibility and strength of its institutions, as well as a separation of powers. This is founded in part on a sustained pattern of electoral practice, but which commentators and academics have found to be something of a sham: “There is a Colombia which is constitutional and legalistic, which boasts all the trappings of a modern polity,” writes Jenny Pearce. “This is the Colombia which is often described in the world’s press as the most democratic country in Latin America. But there is also a ‘real’ Colombia of the people, where the rule of law barely holds, deprivation and poverty are the norm and democracy is just a word on a historic document.”

The latest example in a litany of episodes undermining the rule of law is the wiretapping scandal, in which the Orwellian-sounding Department of Administrative Security (DAS) has expended great energy over several years in pursuing an astonishing range of people who have voiced opposition to the government agenda, some quite high-profile, others less well-known but no less committed. President Uribe, to whose office the DAS is accountable, reportedly had no knowledge of this, but he is foremost in attacking the reputation of those who question his policies. The president has also been accused of concentrating powers in the executive branch, which should remain separate, and has an ongoing spat with the Supreme Court.

Still, as strong institutions and a solid legal framework are necessary conditions for what Santander calls “freedom”, so questions arise as to the role of the military within this setup. The status quo, both in the West and in countries emerging from military dictatorships the world over, has settled on the right and necessity of countries to maintain armies, as long as these remain subordinate and accountable to the elected authority. Another reason for Colombia’s regional pride is the absence of military coups, except for a period during the 1950s. Yet the Colombian army currently holds the record for violations of human rights and international humanitarian law in the Americas. As an example, we can cite the 1,000+ extrajudicial executions, known as “false positives” currently being investigated by the UN. The president, as commander in chief of the armed forces, has again denied any knowledge of these incidents. It is surely time not to accept that explanation as some sort of absolution, but to ask: how can the head of State could be so ignorant of his subordinates’ actions?

However, beyond historical antecedents, and the gravity and consequences of any given controversy, Santander’s exhortation also offers a lens through which to analyse the future direction of government. In essence, the assertion that freedom – real freedom – is not won by war but by the application of the rule of law, goes to the heart of the dilemma facing contemporary society. How to successfully deal with an insurgency which has been around for some 50 years (about a quarter of Colombia’s independent existence) and the threats associated with a paramilitarized State structure? And equally important – if we are truly talking about liberty – how to ensure a dignified and fulfilling existence for 44 million people (of which about four million are currently involuntarily displaced), be they amongst the growing urban population or in the countryside?

We should be led to one conclusion – that the Colombian parliamentary system have the protagonist’s role. The word “parliament” comes from the French “parler” – to speak or talk. Solutions stem from the proposals and policies discussed and debated by the peoples’ representatives. Yet here we have a most discomforting confluence of “arms” and “laws”. President Uribe’s flagship program called “democratic security” has already found much approval in parliament, but the next step in securing this highly militarized project appears to be a levy on the general population. This presumably extends to taxing the victims of State aggressions.

Meanwhile, a victims’ law before Congress failed in June, to the relief of President Uribe himself, who said that it would have undermined democratic security. In other words, the imperative of maintaining this project came before justice for victims of the State’s – and other armed groups’ – crimes. (An additional reason it failed was allegedly the cost, but nobody seems to be calling for a general tax to compensate the victims.) Those who would advocate a negotiated solution to the armed conflict, in keeping with the spirit of “parler,” face an uphill struggle. And on a different matter, legislators are also in the process of agreeing to the terms on which Colombia might host a US military presence at seven sites across the country, following the order that they leave Ecuador when the lease secured on their base at Manta runs out. FOR has already pointed out the concerns surrounding this development.

The logic of weapons and war appears to have overrun even the Colombian parliamentary system. It thus falls to civil society to propose alternative options. One group committed to nonviolence is the Red Juvenil in Medellín, a network of young people who campaign on an anti-military platform and who consider themselves conscientious objectors. Once every year they hold a large outdoors concert to highlight this issue. This typically takes place in May, on conscientious objectors’ day, but this year was shifted to July 20, to coincide with the customary festivities associated with the “Proclamation of Independence.” FOR accompanies the Red Juvenil and this year I was offered the chance to attend the event. Performances from midday to 9pm kept the park full until the very end. My main reflection afterwards was that it provided something of a counter-balance to the processions and speeches glorifying military might which were taking place in the center of Medellín that same day.

We are not always aware of the extent to which the logic of violence permeates our own thinking and assumptions, and therefore can remain oblivious to or even approving of it. Such events as those of the Red Juvenil help to make this visible to us as individuals, as well as to society at large. The choice of July 20 brought added symbolism. Colombians could learn much from groups such as the Red, but given the occasion, they might also stop to listen to their compatriots from earlier epochs too. Santander’s words are as important now as they were in the months and years following independence from Spain. His words have been turned on their head: legislators have become captivated by weapons, while the rule of law is fragile. Freedom remains distant.