In Colombia, Álvaro Uribe’s Conviction Is a Flash Point

In the days after the ruling, demonstrations erupted in cities across the country. Some staged street celebrations at the news of Uribe’s conviction, while others wore T-shirts reading “Uribe Is Innocent” and chanted “Petro Out!”

For Uribe’s critics, the verdict was a long-overdue crack in the armor of a man they see as emblematic of impunity. For his supporters, it was proof that Colombia’s courts have been weaponized in a leftist campaign to dismantle the Right. Both sides agree on only one thing: the ruling will not be the final word.

“This is a huge step forward that will open the door for future investigations,” said Jacqueline Castillo, director of Madres de Falsos Positivos de Colombia (MAFAPO), an organization of relatives of victims of extrajudicial killings that occurred during Uribe’s presidency.

Castillo’s brother was among the 6,402 victims of a massive scandal known as “false positives,”  in which civilians — mostly poor young men — were killed by the army and presented as guerrilla fighters between 2002 and 2008. MAFAPO links these killings to a policy of “results-based” incentives under Uribe’s military doctrine — known as “democratic security” — which included promotions, medals, vacation days, and cash rewards. US military aid through Plan Colombia, conditioned on measurable progress in defeating the guerrillas, added further pressure for “body counts.”

But the violence unleashed against civil society under Uribe went beyond the “false positives.” During his presidency, the government illegally surveilled opposition politicians, judges, and NGOs critical of the government through Colombia’s now-defunct intelligence agency. Senior officials in Uribe’s government also bribed a lawmaker to change her vote in Congress to pass the 2004 constitutional reform that enabled his reelection. In 2006, the “parapolítica” scandal also revealed that dozens of members of Congress — including Uribe’s cousin and many others from his political base — had colluded with paramilitary commanders to sway elections and consolidate territorial control. Uribe himself had been accused by former commanders of having facilitated the creation of a paramilitary group that terrorized Antioquia in the 1990s, allegations that were backed up by US intelligence.

Survivors and advocates argue that, taken together, these dynamics fostered a climate in which dissent was delegitimized, and in some cases criminalized, under the banner of the “war on terror” and the fight against the guerrillas.

For Castillo and the families of MAFAPO, the conviction is a bittersweet victory. It is a symbolic step, but it does not touch the crimes that most directly haunt them. “Whatever happens with this case, we cannot allow the memory of the victims to be forgotten. If we do, it will happen again — no matter who is in power,” she said.

Juan Bazzani, a criminal lawyer and professor at Bogotá’s Externado University, sees the case as a rare breach in Colombia’s wall of presidential immunity — but one with significant legal vulnerabilities.

“It’s very rare to see presidents or ex-presidents in the dock in Colombia,” he told NACLA. “But Uribe is not being tried for acts as president; he’s being tried as a private citizen. That’s why this case could move forward. Still, some decisions in the trial are questionable from a due process perspective.”

Bazzani pointed to the use of wiretapped phone calls that, he argues, were illegally obtained. In 2018, the Supreme Court surveilled the former president’s conversations by mistake while investigating Nilton Córdoba, a congressman under investigation for corruption. Uribe’s conversations at the time were bugged for two weeks before the error was discovered. Uribe’s defense team requested that the recordings be excluded as evidence, but Judge Sandra Heredia argued that the calls between Uribe and his lawyer discussed the crime of tampering with witnesses and were therefore valid.

According to Bazzani, since there are “procedural acts that are hard to justify,” an appeals court could throw out that evidence and potentially overturn the conviction. “The idea of Uribe’s determination to commit the crime comes directly from those wiretaps,” he explained. “If they go, the case could look very different.”

Other legal analysts, like constitutional scholar Rodrigo Uprimny, have challenged the idea of a politicized judiciary. In a recent column for El Espectador, Uprimny noted that the trial has unfolded under three very different governments — led by Juan Manuel Santos, Iván Duque, and Gustavo Petro — and with prosecutors appointed by leaders across the political spectrum. For him, the case is evidence of judicial independence, not partisan revenge.

The road ahead is long. Uribe’s defense has already announced an appeal to the Bogotá Superior Tribunal. From there, the case will likely end up before the Supreme Court, a process that could stretch another five years.

Meanwhile, political and public pressure is mounting. “This is the most high-profile case in the country,” Bazzani said. “That alone creates enormous pressure on judges. Add the fact that it’s tied to two opposing political extremes, and the stakes are even higher.”

Colombia is already in a fevered preelection season. “The campaign started early, maybe because we have our first progressive government,” said Bibiana Ortega, a political science professor at the Pontificia Universidad Javeriana. The conviction, she explained, has paradoxically strengthened Uribe’s party, the Centro Democrático, as the central rallying point for the fragmented right. The persecution narrative has been a useful glue. “More than boosting the Right in general, it has given the Centro Democrático more centrality among the right-wing options,” Ortega said.

This comes on top of the murder of presidential hopeful Miguel Uribe Turbay — a candidate from the Centro Democrático—who was shot on June 7 and declared dead two months later. The masterminds behind the attack are still unknown, adding fuel to the intense political polarization in the country.

Even under house arrest, Ortega predicts, Uribe will shape the race. “He has enormous influence in deciding candidates. Technology means he doesn’t have to be physically present at rallies; he can speak via live streams or Zoom. He will be involved.”

The pressure has also come from abroad. Some US Republican politicians aligned with Donald Trump have denounced the conviction as persecution and hinted at retaliatory measures against Colombia — echoes of Trump’s tariffs on Brazil as a result of former president Jair Bolsonaro’s legal troubles.

Twenty-eight former presidents from the region — most of them conservatives — have sent a letter to the United Nations and the Organization of American States asking them to intervene on Uribe’s behalf. They claim there are “anomalies” in the trial that “constitute systematic violations of his rights as protected by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.”

“There have been visits by right-wing Colombian politicians to the US to lobby against the Petro government,” Ortega said. “But I don’t see this as a variable that will influence our elections. It might, however, give the left ammunition to claim foreign interference in our sovereignty.”

Recent events would seem to lend credence to this claim. In June, Spanish newspaper El País revealed that Álvaro Leyva, a former foreign minister in Petro’s government, met with advisors close to Donald Trump’s administration to seek their support in a plot to bring down Gustavo Petro.

The case’s significance goes far beyond Uribe himself. For decades, Colombia’s institutional architecture has shielded presidents from accountability. The congressional Commission of Accusations — nominally tasked with investigating heads of state — is widely derided as the “commission of absolutions.”

“This breaks a mental barrier,” Bazzani said. “It shows that even very powerful figures can be judged. That’s a sign of maturity for Colombia.”

But whether that breakthrough lasts will depend on how the judiciary withstands the political storm. “Our history shows that the judicial branch has defended its autonomy when the political history of the country demanded it,” Ortega said. “I hope due process prevails, despite the pressures already at play.”

The next chapter will be fought in appeals courtrooms, on campaign stages, and across social media feeds. Uribe’s lawyers will push to throw out key evidence; his opponents will demand that prosecutors move on to more serious accusations. In the streets, the chants of “justice” and “persecution” will continue to echo in parallel.

If the conviction survives, it could embolden prosecutors and judges to tackle cases they once avoided. If it is overturned, it may reinforce the belief that Colombia’s elites are untouchable. Either way, the outcome will shape not only Uribe’s legacy, but also the credibility of Colombia’s justice system for years to come.