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Pathways to Peace in West Papua: The Need for a Humanitarian Pause and Inclusive Dialogue

By
Cahyo Pamungkas
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West Papua, Indonesia, photo by Teras Dondon via Pexels.

In January 2026, Human Rights Monitor reported that the number of refugees in Indonesia’s West Papua province had reached 105,878. These people, mostly Papuan native, fled from their home villages due to the protracted armed conflict between Indonesian armed forces and the West Papua National Liberation Army.  My recent article provides some cases of violent impact on Papuan natives, and proposes an alternative approach to ending the conflict.

Following reforms in 1998, state policy in Papua has been divided into two domains: governance–development, and security. The 2001 Special Autonomy (Otsus) was designed as a political compromise addressing the aspirations of the Papuan elite, ensuring fiscal decentralisation, acknowledgement of indigenous Papuan rights, and frameworks for addressing human rights breaches. Nevertheless, its execution has prioritised budgetary transfers over meaningful political transformation. Accountability procedures, including human rights courts and truth commissions, have been ineffective (Chairullah, 2021). The 2021 extension of Otsus was implemented without participatory assessment, effectively reinforcing centralisation and eliciting significant opposition from indigenous communities and religious authorities.

Accelerated development policies have not succeeded in mitigating conflict. Extensive infrastructure initiatives, exemplified by the Trans-Papua Highway, have increased overall economic growth, yet failed to mitigate structural inequities. The migrant population has reaped greater benefits from development, whilst regions predominantly inhabited by indigenous Papuans fall behind in welfare metrics (Pamungkas, 2021; Elisabeth et al., 2021). An evaluation by the national defence agency determined that economic growth is not directly associated with a reduction in violence (Lemhannas RI, 2023). Concurrently, the state has enhanced its security efforts. Notwithstanding the increased presence of the Indonesian National Armed Forces (TNI) and the Indonesian National Police (Polri), armed opposition factions have endured and strengthened (Pamungkas & Rusdiarti, 2017). Data indicates an increase in violence after 2016, especially in the Central Highlands region (IPAC, 2022).

The geographical dynamics of the war indicate a notable spatial transformation. In the initial phase of integration, the conflict was mostly focused in the Bird’s Head region and the border with Papua New Guinea; but, during the 2000s, violence has shifted to Nduga, Intan Jaya, Puncak, Mimika, and Yahukimo. Approximately 69% of violent episodes are associated with separatist dynamics, underscoring Papua’s status as a prolonged political war (UGM Papua Task Force, 2022). The nearness of combat to civilian areas heightens the likelihood of civilian casualties and widespread relocation. The prevalence of violence in politically and culturally significant regions signifies the inadequacy of governance measures to resolve historical grievances.

The humanitarian consequences of the fighting are dire. IPAC data indicates a significant rise in civilian fatalities post-2018 (IPAC, 2022). Civil society organizations have recorded infringements of the right to life, gunshot injuries, and intimidation by many armed entities. The displaced individuals are primarily women, children, and the elderly, who have restricted access to essential services. Security operations have adversely affected civilian infrastructure, with schools and health institutions being occupied or destroyed, hence intensifying societal vulnerability (Amnesty International Indonesia, 2023; Jaringan Damai Papua, 2022). Extended displacement has resulted in starvation, avoidable illnesses, and psychological distress, exacerbating the marginalisation of indigenous Papuans.

A major issue is the lack of accountability. Amnesty International has recorded numerous instances of extrajudicial executions occurring in the absence of reliable law enforcement procedures (Amnesty International Indonesia, 2023). Human rights tribunals have inadequately administered justice, leaving numerous historical abuses unaddressed. The application of force frequently contravenes the criteria of legality, proportionality, and accountability mandated by international human rights standards (United Nations, 1990). A culture of impunity erodes public confidence and strengthens views of systemic unfairness. In the absence of truth and reparation, the cycle of violence is prone to recurrence (Widjojo et al., 2010).

West Papua needs a humanitarian pause as a means of de-escalation. A humanitarian pause is a temporary halt in hostilities aimed at safeguarding civilians and facilitating assistance access, rather than conferring political legitimacy on armed groups (OCHA, 2011). Prior initiatives suggested in Geneva demonstrated promise but faltered owing to insufficient domestic political backing. Global evidence indicates that humanitarian pauses can alleviate civilian distress and foster minimum trust when supported by reliable monitoring (Drexler, 2006).  

Moreover, open discussion serves as the cornerstone for enduring peace. For example, the Indonesian Government and Free Aceh Movement signed  the 2005 Memorandum of Understanding in Helsinki, ending the armed conflict since 1976. The Aceh case demonstrates that protracted disputes can be resolved through discussions facilitated by third-party mediation and a robust legal framework (Aspinall, 2005). Dialogue necessitates the prior internal consolidation of Papuan players to enhance political representation (Pamungkas & Rusdiarti, 2016).

Dialogue is seen as a mechanism for conflict transformation that confronts historical grievances and identity, facilitating de-securitisation that military strategies have been unable to accomplish (Lederach, 1997). The Papua conflict represents a crisis of structural governance. Ongoing militarisation exacerbates misery without eradicating opposition.

Sustainable peace necessitates a transition to a humanistic and dialogic methodology. A humanitarian pause alleviates civilian distress and fosters initial trust, whereas inclusive discussion creates a forum for addressing political legitimacy and reconciliation. In the absence of these measures, Papua faces the peril of becoming ensnared in a cycle of recurrent bloodshed. The shift in policy towards dialogue is both a moral need and a strategic requirement for Indonesia’s stability.

Keywords: West Papua, Papua, Indonesia, conflict, peace, conflict resolution, ceasefire, humanitarian, inclusive, dialogue

This Week in Peace #114: February 6

By
Tara Abhasakun
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Assyrian Church in Hasakah, Syria, photo via Wikipedia.

This week, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and M23 sign ceasefire monitoring terms in Qatar. The current state of the Syrian-Kurdish ceasefire. Trump administration to take Sudan plan to ‘Board of Peace.’

DRC and M23 Sign Ceasefire Monitoring Terms in Qatar

The government of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and the M23 armed group signed an agreement on the terms of reference for monitoring their ceasefire in Qatar on February 2.

The Qatari Foreign Ministry Said “The two parties also renewed their commitment to the ceasefire and the Doha Framework Agreement for Peace signed between them on November 15, 2025, and affirmed their determination to implement all obligations stipulated therein in good faith, in support of the peaceful process.”

Members of  the UN Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (MONUSCO) and officials from the International Conference on the Great Lakes Region also participated. 

The statement on the signing said participants stressed the importance of implementing practical measures to strengthen oversight, verification, and information-sharing mechanisms.

The Current State of the Syrian-Kurdish Ceasefire

Following a deal to integrate the Kurdish Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) into the Syrian army, announced on January 30, the Syrian army on February 2 entered the northeastern city of Hasakah, previously controlled by the SDF. This was a first step toward implementing the US-backed ceasefire agreement. 

The recent deal, which the US has called a historic milestone, includes the phased integration of Kurdish fighters with government forces. It also includes a brigade for forces in the SDF-held town of Kobani, or Ain al-Arab, which will be affiliated to the state-controlled governorate of Aleppo.

SDF commander Mazloum Abdi told local media that the mission of the security forces entering the security zones of both Hasakah and Qamishli would be only administrative. However, Noah Bonsey, a senior adviser with the International Crisis Group think-tank, told Reuters that statements from both sides hinted at gaps in how the integration will work out, including for “…what continuing role SDF elements play on the ground, how much autonomy they retain, and how significant and extensive government command and control is.”

Trump Admin to Take Sudan Plan to ‘Board of Peace’

US Senior Advisor for Arab and African Affairs Massad Boulos announced on February 3 that the Trump administration plans to take a proposed Sudan peace plan to President Donald Trump’s ‘Board of Peace.’

Diplomats familiar with the initiative say the plan aims to end fighting, while also resolving long-standing issues around military and security reform. Boulos said the “comprehensive peace plan” has been agreed to by members of the diplomatic group known as the ‘Quad.’ He added that the UN has established a mechanism for withdrawing forces from key cities in Sudan so civilians can return safely, and that the parties have agreed in principle to begin withdrawals. 

Sudan’s civil war born out of a power struggle between Sudan Armed Forces (SAF) leader Abel Fattah al-Burhan and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti. The conflict has left the country in what US Secretary of State Antony Blinken has described as the “world’s largest humanitarian crisis, leaving over 25 million Sudanese facing acute food insecurity and over 600,000 experiencing famine.”

Keywords: DRC, Congo, Kurds, Syria, Sudan, Board of Peace, peace, conflict, conflict resolution, Trump

Hundreds Killed in Rubaya Mine Collapse Amidst DRC’s Mineral War, Highlighting Urgent Need for Peace and Accountability

By
Anicet Kimonyo
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The area around the Rubaya mine, January 31, 2026, photo by Anicet Kimonyo.

One week after the landslide in the artisanal coltan mining area of Rubaya, eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), families are mourning, and others remain without news of their relatives. The disaster occurred on Wednesday, January 28, 2026, at the Luwowo mining site, in the Matanda grouping, Luundje locality, in the Gasasa agglomeration. The death toll from this tragedy remains a matter of debate between civil society and official authorities, including the M23 rebels and the DRC government.

According to Kambere Muyisa, the spokesperson for the provincial governor installed by the M23 rebels, allied with Rwanda, who have occupied the mine since May 2024, the provisional death toll is over 200 civilians.

“More than 200 people were victims of this landslide, including miners, children, and traders…Some were rescued just in time, suffering from serious injuries, and are being treated in local health facilities, while others were transferred here to Goma,” said Muyisa. Muyisa attributed the landslide to the rainy season in the region.

Rescuers say the death toll is much higher. A rescuer who participated in the rescue operation, speaking on condition of anonymity, told a Peace News Network (PNN) correspondent that more than 430 bodies had been recovered by the morning of Saturday, January, adding that the death toll could still rise as eight pits were affected by the landslide.

The aftermath of the Rubaya mine collapse, photo by Anicet Kimonyo.

The Rubaya Mine produces around 15% of the world’s Coltan. Coltan is a strategic mineral widely used in the electronics industry. Occupied since April 2024 by the M23 rebels, supported by Rwanda, the Kinshasa authorities have placed the area under red status. In its statement, the government stressed that it classified the Rubaya mining area as ‘red.’ It added, “This classification prohibits all mining and marketing activities involving mineral substances, including artisanal mining. The mining activities carried out on this site are therefore in flagrant violation of the law and without any respect for safety standards.” 

An artisanal miner who survived the collapse at the Luwowo mining site in the Rubaya mining district, eastern DRC, 31 January 2026. Photo by Anicet Kimonyo.

PNN spoke with Pascale Bazimaiki, who is still grieving because she has not yet found the body of her brother.

“The initial rescue operations recovered several bodies from the most accessible areas. Several artisanal miners were found lifeless,” she said. Bazimaziki added, “The search continued the next day. The rebels took men and young people from the town to search, but so far my brother has not been found. We fear he is still buried in the mud, or perhaps he was swept away by the waters.”

The landslide has also been a tragedy for the Baraturwango family. Thirteen artisanal miners, members of this family, perished in the disaster, and only one survived. Grace Baraturwango, 32, is one of the few survivors. He says he spent an entire night buried in the mud before being rescued the next day by local people. 

“As there are large cracks on the surface, a heavy rain fell in the area around 3 pm. These cracks absorbed a large amount of water which, with its weight, caused a landslide.” 

He added, “Everyone who was in the pits, those on the surface washing and cleaning the minerals, and even the people who ran small businesses around the mining site were all buried in the mud, while others were swept down into a river at the foot of the hill.” Baraturwango says the landslide caught him in the deep pit where he spent the night buried in the mud before being pulled out the next day along with two other young boys from among 80 artisanal miners in a single pit.

View of the Rubaya coltan mine and miners at work, 31 January 2026. Photo by Anicet Kimonyo.

In its statement, the Congolese government offered its condolences to the bereaved families. “The government expresses its deepest condolences to the affected families and pays tribute to the memory of the victims,” ​​the Ministry of Media and Communication stated.

War Economy

The Congolese government says in its statement that “between 112 and 125 tons of coltan are extracted each month” in the Rubaya area “and transported exclusively to Rwanda.” Kinshasa describes this as “the manifest failure of international and regional traceability mechanisms.”

The UN has accused the M23 rebels of looting Rubaya’s mineral wealth to finance their insurgency which is supported by the Rwandan government, an allegation that Rwanda continues to deny.

Eastern DRC, ravaged by conflict for thirty years, has seen a resurgence of violence since 2021 with the resurgence of the M23 armed group, which, with the support of the Rwandan army, seized the major cities of Goma and Bukavu in January and February 2025. These conflicts have killed thousands displaced more than 7 million people, according to various reports. The conflicts in the eastern region are primarily fueled by artisanal mining and timber smuggling.

People carrying out small-scale activities around the coltan mine in Rubaya, Masisi territory, eastern DRC, 31 January 2026. Photo by Anicet Kimonyo.

Three days after a landslide at the Luwowo mining site, artisanal miners resumed operations at other mining sites in the area due to widespread poverty.

A miner transports coltan to the depot for evacuation from the Rubaya mine, 31 January 2026. Photo by Anicet Kimonyo.

In June 2025, more than 300 people had already reportedly lost their lives in another landslide at a nearby mining site, also in Rubaya.

Keywords: DRC, Congo, mine, Rubaya, mining, human rights, Congolese, M23, rebels, mineral war, peace, conflict, conflict resolution

African Women Mediators Still Pushed to the Margins of Peace Processes

By
Bianca Rochelle Parry
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Market sellers in Sudan, photo by COSV via Wikipedia.

In Sudan’s ongoing conflict, women have been central to peacebuilding at the grassroots level, yet their voices have repeatedly been marginalized in formal negotiations. Despite playing a leading role in mobilizing communities during the country’s 2018–19 revolution and sustaining peace efforts through networks like the Peace for Sudan Platform, women were not included at the negotiating table in the Jeddah ceasefire talks in 2023. This stark absence demonstrates how, even where women organise and contribute vital expertise on conflict dynamics and civilian protection, diplomatic peace efforts can exclude them, reinforcing patterns of underrepresentation that undermine the inclusiveness and sustainability of peace processes. 

When communities are fractured by conflict, mediation is often portrayed as a neutral, technical process led by experienced authorities tasked with restoring peace. In reality, mediation spaces are rarely neutral. They are shaped by power, history, and deeply gendered expectations. Across Africa, women mediators play critical roles in peacebuilding, yet they continue to face exclusion and marginalization in formal peace processes.

Despite global commitments such as the Women, Peace, and Security agenda, women remain underrepresented in high-level peace negotiations. When they are included, they are often confined to supporting roles or expected to represent “women’s issues,” rather than being recognized as lead mediators and decision-makers. This gap between policy promises and lived realities raises important questions about whose voices shape peace.

These were some of the issues uncovered in our 2024 research study. We interviewed 12  women mediators from Africa to understand their lived experiences of mediation. The results highlighted the diversity of experiences in women’s peacebuilding.  

Mediation is not a level playing field

For many African women, entering mediation spaces means navigating environments that are openly patriarchal. Conflict resolution—particularly when it involves land, power, or political authority—is still widely viewed as a male domain. Women mediators we spoke with frequently reported being questioned, undermined, or dismissed because of their gender or age.

Some were told outright that they cannot lead mediation processes. Others described being ignored, spoken over, or required to constantly prove their competence in ways their male counterparts were not. These experiences reflect broader social norms that associate leadership with men and view women as having less authority.

Yet women continue to step into these spaces because peacebuilding in their communities depends on it. Their persistence challenges deeply entrenched assumptions about who is seen as legitimate in negotiations.

The problem with calling women “natural” peacebuilders

Paradoxically, while women are excluded from formal mediation roles, they are often praised as being “naturally” suited for peacebuilding. Women are described as patient, nurturing, and more inclined toward reconciliation. While this framing may seem positive, it creates a new set of constraints.

When mediation skills are seen as an extension of women’s caregiving roles, their work is undervalued. The emotional labor involved in building trust, facilitating dialogue, and sustaining peace is treated as instinctive rather than as skilled, professional practice. As a result, women’s contributions frequently go unrecognized, unpaid, and undocumented.

The majority of the women mediators interviewed rejected this stereotype. They argued that effective mediation is not about gender, but about training, experience, cultural knowledge, and strategic skill. Peacebuilding is learned and practiced—it is not something one is simply born to do.

Balancing culture, credibility, and safety

African women mediators often face conflicting expectations. They are expected to respect cultural norms while simultaneously challenging the structures that exclude them. This balancing act can be exhausting and, at times, risky.

The women mediators we interviewed explained how trust-building in mediation often happens in informal spaces, such as late-night meetings or social gatherings, that may be inaccessible or unsafe for women. In some contexts, they said that even a woman’s clothing became an issue, as mediators adapt how they dress to be taken seriously or to avoid backlash.

Despite these barriers, the women mediators in this study demonstrated remarkable adaptability. Some strategically work alongside male co-mediators, allowing men to speak first to gain acceptance. Others draw on respected social identities, such as motherhood or seniority, to establish authority. These strategies are not signs of weakness; they are evidence of agency and resilience within restrictive systems.

Why local experiences matter for peace

A major weakness in global peacebuilding policy is the failure to center the lived experiences of women mediators themselves. Too often, peace frameworks are designed by external actors from international organisations and multilateral institutions, which are based on assumptions that do not reflect realities on the ground.

African women mediators are not merely participants in peace processes—they are innovators. Through their work at community, national, and regional levels, they show that sustainable peace depends on inclusive approaches rooted in local knowledge and lived experience. When their voices are ignored, peace efforts risk reinforcing the inequalities that contribute to conflict in the first place.

From inclusion to transformation

Increasing the number of women in mediation is not enough if the structures themselves remain unchanged. True inclusion requires challenging the gendered norms that determine who leads, who is heard, and whose expertise is valued.

Listening to African women mediators is a crucial starting point. Their experiences challenge dominant narratives and remind us that peace is not only negotiated in formal rooms—it is built daily, often by those working at the margins. For peace processes to be truly effective and sustainable, these voices must be recognized not as exceptions, but as central to building lasting peace.

Keywords: African, women, peace, women peace and security, gender, conflict, conflict resolution, mediators, Sudan, peace processes, transformation

From Captives to Peacebuilders: How Kidnapping Victims are Reshaping Justice in Colombia

By
Camilo Tamayo Gómez
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A peace rally in Medellín, Colombia, in 2017, in support of the peace agreement, photo by author.

For decades in Colombia, guerrilla insurgents and criminal mafias alike weaponized kidnapping, with over 50,000 abductions documented during the country’s conflict between 1990 and 2018. 

For years, victims were known only as hostages. Chained in the jungle and moved from camp to camp, they were reduced to bargaining chips in a long and brutal war. Today, many of those same people are helping to redefine what justice and peace look like in post-conflict Colombia.

In January 2021, Colombia’s Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP) charged eight former leaders of the FARC guerrilla movement with crimes against humanity and war crimes for systematic kidnapping. In a landmark ruling in September 2025, seven of those ex-leaders were convicted and ordered to perform restorative sanctions, including projects to preserve victims’ memories. But for the thousands of people abducted during the armed conflict, accountability alone was never going to be enough. What has made Colombia’s transitional justice process distinctive is not only that kidnapping has been placed at its centre, but that victims themselves have become active protagonists in shaping how justice is pursued.

Macro-case 01 of the JEP, formally known as Hostage-taking, serious deprivations of liberty and other concurrent crimes, focuses on one of the most emblematic crimes of Colombia’s conflict. The tribunal has identified more than 21,000 kidnapping victims, ranging from politicians and soldiers to farmers, traders, children, and entire families. Many were held for months or years under degrading and violent conditions. Some never returned. Nevertheless, within this judicial process, something unexpected has been happening. Victims have not remained passive witnesses to their own suffering. Instead, many have stepped forward as peacebuilders, transforming personal trauma into collective demands for truth, dignity, and non-repetition.

Democratising pain in the public sphere

For decades, kidnapping survivors were largely absent from public narratives of the conflict. Their experiences were often reduced to statistics, sensationalised by the media, or absorbed into broader accounts of violence that left little room for individual voices. The JEP hearings have begun to change this. Through written testimonies, regional meetings, and public hearings, former hostages have described not only the moment of abduction, but the everyday violence of captivity: chains, isolation, hunger, illness, sexual abuse, humiliation, and the constant uncertainty of not knowing whether they would live or die. Families have spoken of years spent searching, negotiating ransoms, or waiting in silence.

These testimonies do more than inform judges. They create what many victims describe as a ‘democratisation of pain’: the movement of suffering from the private realm into shared public knowledge. By telling their stories in official spaces, survivors challenge the social silence that often follows their release. In doing so, they assert a simple but powerful claim: what happened to us matters.

This public articulation of pain is itself a peacebuilding act. It disrupts the denial and normalization of violence, and forces society to confront the human cost of armed conflict. It also lays the groundwork for non-repetition by exposing the structures and decisions that made mass kidnapping possible in the first place.

The “Never Again” museum in the town of Granada, in Eastern Antioquia. Images of people from the town who were kidnapped or disappeared during the armed conflict. The museum is an expression of how civil society groups in Colombia are creating strategies to build collective narratives of social memory and to honour the memory of the disappeared. Photo by author.

Justice beyond punishment

Colombia’s transitional justice system was designed to balance accountability with the possibility of peace. Under the JEP, perpetrators who fully acknowledge responsibility and contribute to truth-telling can receive reduced, restorative sanctions rather than long prison sentences. This approach has been controversial, particularly among victims of grave crimes. Many former hostages express anger, frustration, and fear that justice may amount to impunity. Yet interviews conducted with kidnapping victims involved in macro-case 01 reveal a more complex picture. While punishment matters, recognition matters just as much.

For many survivors, hearing former FARC commanders publicly admit that kidnapping was a systematic policy, not an unfortunate excess or isolated mistake, has been a turning point. Acknowledgement, naming responsibility, and confronting victims face-to-face have allowed some to begin grieving properly for the first time. Truth, in this sense, becomes a form of reparation. This does not mean that the process is easy or healing by default. Recounting captivity often reopens psychological wounds. Many victims live in regions where armed groups remain active, making participation risky. Psychosocial support is uneven, and expectations frequently exceed what any legal mechanism can realistically deliver. Yet despite these obstacles, victims continue to engage. Their insistence on participation challenges a long tradition of top-down justice, in which laws are written and applied without meaningful involvement from those most affected.

From victims to political actors

One of the most significant shifts produced by macro-case 01 is the transformation of kidnapping survivors from ‘beneficiaries’ of justice into political actors within it. Victims are not only providing testimony. They are commenting on indictments, proposing forms of reparation, and shaping how responsibility is understood. Many insist that justice must address more than individual acts of violence; it must confront the social and moral damage inflicted on communities, families and trust itself.

This is particularly evident in victims’ demands for collective memory. Survivors frequently describe their experiences as fragmented,  scattered across files, hearings, and databases. They call on the JEP to help construct a coherent narrative that recognises kidnapping as a systematic crime with long-term social consequences, not a series of disconnected incidents. Such demands reveal a deeper ambition: to reclaim agency after years of dehumanisation. By participating in the justice process, victims reassert themselves not only as survivors but as citizens with the right to shape Colombia’s future.

A global milestone, with local roots

International observers have recognised the significance of Colombia’s approach. The International Center for Transitional Justice has welcomed the JEP’s first sentences as a milestone, highlighting their emphasis on truth, victim participation, and restorative sanctions. Globally, Colombia stands out as the first country to address kidnapping so comprehensively within a transitional justice framework. But what gives macro-case 01 its transformative potential is not simply legal innovation. It is the persistence of victims who refuse to let their experiences be marginalised once again.

Their participation exposes the limits of what some critics call ‘magical legalism’: the belief that laws alone can repair societies shattered by violence. Without social recognition, security guarantees, and material support, justice risks remaining symbolic. Victims know this. That is why many see their involvement not as the end of their struggle, but as part of a longer process of peacebuilding from below, one that links truth-telling to dignity, accountability to social repair, and memory to the prevention of future violence.

Building peace from lived experience

Colombia’s transitional justice process remains fragile and contested. Political polarisation, institutional constraints and ongoing insecurity continue to threaten its legitimacy. Yet within macro-case 01, a quieter transformation is unfolding. Former hostages, once silenced by chains and fear, are helping to redefine what peace means in practice. By insisting on recognition, by turning pain into public testimony, and by demanding justice that speaks to lived experience, they are building peace in ways no agreement or court ruling could achieve alone.

Their message is clear: peace is not only signed at negotiating tables. It is built when those who suffered the most are finally heard, and when their voices help shape the society that emerges after war.

Keywords: Colombia, kidnapping, FARC, peace, peace process, conflict, conflict resolution, abduction, justice, human rights, victims, survivors

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