The Andean nation of Colombia, long accustomed to the rhythms of war, is witnessing an alarming intensification of its internal armed conflict. As the country approaches a pivotal presidential election, violence is surging in rural departments, displacing thousands and undermining the democratic process. This escalation, driven by dissident factions of the FARC, the National Liberation Army (ELN), and criminal gangs, threatens to destabilise the region and overwhelm an already strained state apparatus.
According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, at least 23,000 people have been displaced since January, with the hardest-hit areas including Cauca, Nariño, and Chocó. These regions, rich in coca and gold, have become battlegrounds for control of illicit economies. The dissident groups, who rejected the 2016 peace deal, are now exploiting the vacuum left by a fractured government response, using sophisticated weaponry and tactics honed over decades.
President Gustavo Petro, a former guerrilla himself, assumed office in 2022 with a promise of ‘Total Peace’. Yet his administration’s strategy of dialogue has been met with defiance. The ELN, which resumed talks in November, has simultaneously launched coordinated attacks on military bases and energy infrastructure. In April, a bomb at an oil pipeline in Arauca caused a spill equivalent to 10,000 barrels, contaminating water supplies and igniting international condemnation.
The timing is particularly troubling. The first round of presidential elections, scheduled for May 29, is now overshadowed by security concerns. Voter registration centres in conflict zones have been closed due to threats from armed groups. A report by the Foundation for Peace and Democracy found that one in five municipalities lacks a permanent police presence, leaving electoral authorities to rely on a military that is itself under assault.
This is not merely a political crisis; it is a humanitarian and ecological disaster. The displacement is accelerating deforestation, as families flee into protected areas, clearing land for subsistence farming. The incoming government, whether Petro or his enigmatic rival, Rodolfo Hernández, will face the impossible calculus of negotiating with groups that profit from chaos. The international community must recognise that Colombia’s conflict is no longer a national problem but a regional one, with spillover effects into Venezuela and Ecuador.
The planet is warming, biodiversity is collapsing, and yet here we are, pouring resources into a war that cannot be won. The irony is bitter: the very resources these groups fight over, gold and oil, are the same ones driving the climate crisis. Colombia sits on the Amazon’s doorstep. Every hectare burned for coca or mining is a hectare less of carbon sink. The biosphere does not care for our borders or our politics. It only records the damage.
As scientists, we are accustomed to long-term trends, to slow-moving catastrophes. But the acceleration of conflict in Colombia is a shock to the system, a reminder that human-made crises are also cascading. The election must proceed, but it will be a hollow exercise if the state cannot protect its citizens. The sooner Petro or anyone else understands that peace is an ecological necessity, the better. Otherwise, Colombia will continue to burn, and the world will continue to watch, frozen by the same inaction that has brought us to this brink.