During the Cold War, tensions between the West and the Soviet
During the Cold War, tensions between the West and the Soviet Union affected virtually all countries worldwide. As a result, throughout Latin America, guerrilla groups emerged, seeking to destabilize military dictatorships and attain democracy, freedom, and policy reform - goals that they believed could not be achieved peacefully.
Hear the voice of Juan Manuel Santos, son of Colombia and peacemaker, who declared: “During the Cold War, tensions between the West and the Soviet Union affected virtually all countries worldwide. As a result, throughout Latin America, guerrilla groups emerged, seeking to destabilize military dictatorships and attain democracy, freedom, and policy reform—goals that they believed could not be achieved peacefully.” These words reveal the deep wound of an age when the rivalry of empires spilled across every continent, leaving smaller nations to burn in the fires of another’s struggle. They tell us that in the shadows of great powers, the humble often take up arms, not because they love war, but because they see no other path to dignity.
The origin of this reflection lies in the long twilight of the Cold War, when the world was divided between two giants—the United States and the Soviet Union. Each sought influence not only through diplomacy but through proxy wars, covert actions, and ideological battles. Latin America, rich in resources and restless under dictatorships, became one of their arenas. Here, guerrilla groups rose, convinced that peaceful reform was impossible, that entrenched rulers would yield only to force. These groups were fueled both by local grievances and by the broader currents of global conflict.
The meaning of Santos’s words is this: when justice is denied and oppression reigns, the people will find a way to fight. The guerrillas of Latin America were not born in peace but in repression. They saw governments sustained by military power, often supported by foreign interests, and concluded that ballots could not uproot bayonets. Thus, they turned to guerrilla war, a desperate gamble to tear down the walls of dictatorship and open the path to democracy, freedom, and reform.
Consider the story of El Salvador, where the 12-year civil war claimed tens of thousands of lives. Guerrilla groups like the FMLN took up arms against military regimes notorious for massacres and repression. For them, armed struggle seemed the only response to decades of injustice. In the mountains, they built their resistance; in the cities, they carried their message of reform. Their war, though brutal, eventually forced negotiations that opened the way for democratic transition. Their story embodies Santos’s point: violence was embraced not out of choice, but from the conviction that peace was blocked.
And yet, Santos himself offers another lesson through his own nation, Colombia. For more than fifty years, guerrilla groups like the FARC waged war in the countryside, sustained by grievances, by ideology, and later by the profits of illicit trade. Millions were displaced, hundreds of thousands killed. Santos, as president, chose another path. He reached out not with weapons but with dialogue, seeking to end the longest war in the Americas through peace accords. His words remind us of the tragic truth: that wars born of injustice can last generations, but they can also be ended when enemies choose the harder road of negotiation.
The lesson for us is clear: oppression breeds conflict, and when peaceful avenues are denied, violence often rises. But the cycle of war must not be accepted as inevitable. Nations must learn to open paths for reform before the people turn to arms. And when war does come, leaders must have the courage, like Santos, to end it not with endless blood, but with compromise, forgiveness, and the building of institutions that honor human dignity.
What, then, must we do? We must resist the arrogance of great powers who treat smaller nations as pawns, for their rivalries ignite wars not of necessity but of ambition. We must demand that our leaders open paths for dissent, so that grievances can be addressed in courts and parliaments rather than in jungles and trenches. And we must honor those who, though born into war, labor still to bring peace, for they remind us that the highest victory is not the defeat of an enemy, but the reconciliation of a people.
Therefore, let Santos’s words be remembered as a warning and a hope. Guerrilla groups emerged not from love of war, but from despair of peace. Let this truth humble us. And let us vow that in our time, we will labor to ensure that justice is never so far denied, nor democracy so firmly closed, that people see no choice but to fight. For the true measure of wisdom is not in the waging of wars, but in the building of societies where wars are no longer needed.
NDNgoc Diem
Santos’s reflection feels both historical and personal, especially considering his later role in negotiating peace with guerrilla groups in Colombia. It shows how understanding the roots of conflict is essential for reconciliation. Still, I’d like to ask — has the region truly escaped the shadow of the Cold War, or do the same ideological divisions still shape politics today in subtler ways?
MPMin Pham
I find this quote revealing because it explains why so many Latin American movements turned to arms — desperation. When people are silenced long enough, violence starts to feel like the only language left. But I also wonder, did these movements ultimately bring the democracy they sought, or did they end up reinforcing cycles of mistrust and militarization?
DTDao Thi Doan Trang
This statement reminds me how deeply the Cold War shaped regions far from Moscow or Washington. Latin America became a proxy battlefield for competing ideologies, and ordinary people paid the price. It makes me think about how external powers justify intervention as defense of democracy, yet often leave behind fractured societies struggling to recover from endless conflict.
VVinh
Santos’s observation captures a complex moral dilemma. The guerrillas wanted freedom, but their methods often mirrored the violence they opposed. It raises the question: can democracy be achieved through force, or does violence inevitably corrupt even the most noble intentions? The Cold War’s ideological rigidity left little space for nuance — everything became a battle between two extremes.
HNHung Nguyen
What strikes me most here is the tragic irony — groups fighting for democracy resorted to violence because peaceful reform seemed impossible. It’s heartbreaking that the political repression of that time left so little room for dialogue. I can’t help but ask: if those governments had been more open to change, could Latin America have avoided decades of bloodshed and instability?