99 Former Colombian Guerrillas Left in Limbo as New Government Takes Power

In mid-June, 99 guerrilla fighters were flown by helicopter to a small settlement in rural southern Colombia, where they handed over their weapons—rifles, pistols, machine guns, and grenade launchers—to government officials. They also stripped off body armor, backpacks, and camouflage uniforms, piling them up to burn, marking the start of a new life after a six-decade armed conflict that claimed nearly half a million lives.

This was the goal of former President Gustavo Petro's 'total peace' plan: to negotiate and disarm all criminal groups in Colombia, estimated at nearly 30,000 members. However, this group of 99 is the only one that laid down arms, and they did so just three days before the second round of presidential elections—which far-right lawyer and billionaire Abelardo de la Espriella won, promising to end 'total peace' and return to a strategy of imprisoning or eliminating criminals.

Weeks after the new president took office, amid the new government's airstrikes against criminal groups as promised, the 99 former guerrillas still don't know what will happen to them. "We're in limbo," said Natalia Bríñez, 29, one of 13 women in the group currently in a government-controlled Temporary Transition Zone (ZUT). Here, under supervision and without permission to leave, they are expected to transition to civilian life in the coming months.

The former guerrillas live in beige brick buildings decorated with their own murals, including a dove of peace, with a communal dining hall serving three meals a day. Weapons are banned inside the zone, and soldiers guard the ZUT from a perimeter less than a mile away.

De la Espriella has repeatedly said his government will no longer negotiate peace deals and has yet to announce intentions for those at the ZUT. In theory, all arrest warrants for the group are suspended, and they are under state protection until December 25, when Petro's decree establishing the ZUT expires. But De la Espriella could cancel the decree at any time.

Armando Novoa, a former government official who led peace negotiations with the group, warned: "The worst-case scenario is that the new government closes the ZUT, launches a military campaign, and seeks to capture or kill them. That would be a crime against humanity, because these people are unarmed."

For now, the ZUT remains operational, with a small library run by Bríñez. She has a phoenix tattoo on her left shoulder, symbolizing rebirth after conflict. Bríñez, who has a 7-year-old daughter and a 10-year-old son, can only video-call her children and will only meet them in person after completing the 'transition' process, which includes vocational training and psychological support. They were also promised financial support of about 425 pounds per month, but so far they haven't received it. Some are planning to start a chicken farm.

These 99 are a small part of a group of about 1,000 fighters called 'Border Commandos'—most still armed—belonging to the National Coordinator of the Bolivarian Army (CNEB), a former dissident faction of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), with about 2,500 members controlling the border region with Ecuador. The Petro administration said it was in talks with other CNEB members, who have sent an open letter to De la Espriella expressing willingness to continue dialogue. It's unclear if the president has responded.

The CNEB's main 'peace negotiator,' Geovany Andrés Rojas (alias 'Spider'), has been detained since February, facing a U.S. extradition request for drug trafficking that Petro had postponed. Last week, De la Espriella ordered his extradition.

These groups emerged in the 1960s as leftist rebels against government abuses, but ideology has long been overshadowed by economic interests, above all drug trafficking (Colombia is the world's largest cocaine producer) and illegal mining. "Most of the people in the ZUT didn't join the group out of ideological commitment but for economic reasons," Novoa said. "We were even surprised when they called the group a 'company.'"

Petro repeatedly tried to negotiate peace deals with larger groups. Armed factions used temporary ceasefires to continue expanding—a process that had already begun before he took office—and to fight each other for control of territory and illegal economies, which many security experts say has contributed to a rise in killings, kidnappings, and massacres. The Petro administration failed to reduce violence, which reached its worst level in a decade.

'Total peace' was an attempt to address what the historic 2016 peace deal between the government and FARC didn't, as other armed groups and FARC dissidents remained active. However, its practical impact was limited. Some security experts view the deal with the 99 as hasty. "It was a somewhat irresponsible decision," said Paula Tobo, a senior researcher at the Ideas for Peace Foundation. Tobo believes the 99 are in a "legal limbo" because their protection is based on decrees that can be annulled, and there's no legal framework for their transition to civilian life. All the Petro administration's proposals for managing surrenders failed in Congress, and under current law, people who committed crimes like kidnapping or drug trafficking aren't eligible for amnesty.

The group has written to De la Espriella reaffirming their "irreversible decision to commit to peace" and inviting him to visit the ZUT. As of publication, they hadn't received a response. Adrián, the youngest member at 19, said they want "to have a roof, a family." However, he knows what he'll do if things don't go well: "Honestly, I'd take up arms again, because we're keeping our commitment, and the government should too, right?"