After the revolution: Why are Farc's young soldiers laying down their guns?

For more than 40 years, Farc's Marxist-Leninist guerrillas have waged bloody war against the Colombian Government. But now its soldiers are deserting in droves. Paul Bignell travels to the heart of the country to hear their stories of abuse and ideological betrayal – and the difficulties they face in trying to reintegrate into society

Bogota, Colombia. Yandri Gonzalez sits in a café, sipping at a can of fruit juice, pondering a question about her time as a soldier in one of the world's most notorious armed guerrilla groups. The 21-year-old is petite and timid, with a measured demeanour. She rarely makes eye contact, preferring to look at her hands when she speaks. But occasionally she will shoot a sharp glance that offers a glimpse into the world of violence and mayhem she was thrust into at the age of 13.

"My uncles and aunts belonged to the guerrillas. Then my brother enlisted and I started feeling lonely. I wasn't brought up by my family, as my mother abandoned my brother and me when I was a baby, so it was easy for me to join."

Until last December, Gonzalez had spent more than seven years of her young life living in the jungle as a soldier in the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, perhaps better known by its acronym, Farc. A Marxist-Leninist guerrilla organisation heavily involved in the country's ongoing civil war since the 1960s, its principal stated aim, which it shares with Colombia's other main guerrilla group, the National Liberation Army (ELN), is to overthrow the Government.

Gonzalez's "schooling" involved learning Farc ideology for three years before being sent into combat. "When I was in school, from 13 to 15, I carried an R-15 rifle, then I was given a 5.56mm Galil assault rifle. I kept it for one year and then I was given my AK-47," she says, almost proudly, reeling the weaponry off with militaristic precision. "Then I became a soldier – and I fought. I had to walk every day, I had to work and set up camp. Every now and again they would send me off to fight."

Her enemy on any given day could range from the Colombian National Army to right-wing paramilitary organisations... even other leftist guerrilla groups. As a girl, she was treated no differently than her male counterparts; at times, even worse: "Sometimes you would be shouted at [because you're a girl] and told you're useless or weak. It depends on the commander." Many other women report being raped and abused by their superiors. "In the end, you see so many terrible things, so many things happen – so much bloodshed," says Gonzalez, "that you get tired of that life."

She is not alone in her thinking; just as Gonzalez did in December, many of her former comrades are leaving Farc and handing themselves in to the authorities, spurred by a Government-incentivised demobilisation process, through which it hopes to finally defeat the organisation for good. However, faced with a Colombian public that is sceptical about the guerrillas' reasons for laying down their guns, those who do leave the jungles are finding that their new lives are just as challenging as the years they spent as rebels.

As recently as a decade ago, Colombia was a state on the brink of failure, wracked by civil war, kidnappings, assassinations, human-rights violations, extortion, left-wing guerrilla insurgencies, right-wing paramilitary death squads, government corruption and murderous drug cartels. By the late 1990s, it was reckoned that 10 per cent of the world's murders were perpetrated in Colombia (a country with a population of 44 million – about three-quarters of that of the UK). But, after six decades of bloody civil unrest, the Government claims that Farc numbers have halved, from around 20,000, since President Alvaro Uribe took office in 2002. (Farc itself maintains that its forces remain about 18,000-strong.)

Many of the country's recent achievements have been credited to Uribe's administration – his massive security build-up has driven Farc and other groups from heavily populated urban areas to more remote areas in the south-east of the country, in the flat plains to the east of the Andes and in the north-west. The murder rate has dropped by about 70 per cent in Bogota, the country's capital, equal now to those of Detroit or Washington DC; and in the country as a whole, it has fallen by 40 per cent. Many of the highways that link the capital to Colombia's other main cities – Medellin, Cali and Cartagena – are now said to be free of Farc roadblocks. And the improvement in security has led to greater foreign investment and a country that has latterly become one of the most economically successful in South America.

With this prosperity have come more sophisticated methods of persuading Farc members to demobilise. A Government advertising campaign created by the agency Lowe-SSP3 has had success by broadcasting appeals on radio and television during big football games, particularly those of Barcelona, Milan and Chelsea, as well as the Colombian national team. These appeals use testimonials of former Farc members – some recorded and broadcast the very day the guerrilla member turned him or herself in. Another initiative involves flying to towns and villages considered vulnerable to Farc influence and setting up fêtes to attract local youngsters and highlight to them the dangers of joining up.

Such tactics have succeeded in the past with other groups: several years ago, the Government persuaded some 30,000 right-wing paramilitaries to demobilise. (The outfits had evolved from private armies formed by drug cartels and landowners in the 1980s to fight back against guerrilla extortion.) The event was screened on national TV, with ranks of uniformed troops seen queuing up to hand in their arms in the central square of Colombia's second city, Medellin. '

In a process known as "reinsertion", the Government is now trying to reintegrate into society many of these battle-hardened militia, as well as Farc and ELN deserters, in a remarkably ambitious but controversial plan that has drawn as many detractors as advocates. About 50,000 former members of outlawed guerrilla and militia groups are being re-educated in schools and colleges; practical job training, psychological support and a reinsertion package – costing about 400,000 pesos (£140) a month – are also available. The Government believes it is a model that in years to come will be recognised and implemented in other areas of civil conflict – the Philippines has shown interest and coalition forces in Afghanistan will doubtless be paying attention.

In Localidad de Suba, one of the poorer districts in the generally affluent north of Bogota, a centre called The Reconciliation Fund was set up by a priest named Leonel Narvaez just over a year ago to hold workshops for former members of the various armed groups. Now funded by the local mayor's office and the Government, its "school of forgiveness and reconciliation" – a two-storey building of low-ceilinged rooms filled with plastic furniture – lies down a dusty back street heavily lined with soldiers from the national army. The workshops are intended to help the former fighters learn to deal with any resentment they might encounter in mainstream society; those attending also volunteer in educational programmes, talking to children and teens in schools to dissuade them from joining illegal armed gangs and drug cartels.

The atmosphere at the centre, where laughter and chat is plentiful, is remarkably relaxed given that these people were the fiercest of enemies only a few years ago. A 36-year-old bespectacled former paramilitary tells me that he had left the country's police force, disillusioned by its corruption, and had taken up with the paramilitaries as a means of exacting revenge on Farc, whom he says killed many of his friends. Demobilised, he now aspires to study psychology at university. Another former paramilitary, 32-year-old Daner Martinéz, reveals that he dreams of becoming a singer: "It's very difficult to become reinserted. For me it is difficult to be an artist, as I need publicity, but as soon as your background is revealed, people don't want to accept you."

For others, the process of reinsertion is just about to begin. A day later, I meet 25-year-old Giovanni Andres, a former Farc fighter, whose story contains a twist that might have been lifted from the fiction of Colombian author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Andres left Farc only four months ago, and still seems bewildered by the process he is going through. He joined the guerillas when he was just 15; like many who sign up, he came from a poor farming background, in the north of the country. After his beloved older sister had joined, he too took up arms, "because she was the only thing I had".

Like Yandri Gonzalez, Andres spent time studying Farc ideology – but only for three months – before he was sent into combat with an AK-47 for Farc's Front 44. For years, he and his friends lived in fear of their superiors and the firing squad: "It is military and very draconian; you get orders, you follow orders and you don't question. The discipline is very tough – those who don't submit are killed. I had three friends who were shot for not abiding by the rules."

But Andres soon became jaded with the lifestyle and the ideology – especially after the death of Manuel Marulanda, the 77-year-old long-serving commander of Farc, in March 2008. He began to mistrust his immediate commanders, who he says had long become corrupted by their affiliation with narco-traffickers perpetuating the cocaine trade. "They start by making you study the texts written by the Farc leaders," says Andres. "There is an ideology behind it all, but then, when you look into it, you realise that it is built for the bosses. It's very different now from what it was. It's all about the bosses and their wellbeing."

Then, a year before he demobilised, Andres fell in love. "I had a girlfriend – Luisa – in the Farc. We were together for one year. I loved her very much. We were together in combat." Andres and Luisa, who was 17, fought and killed together on the front line. "In combat it is very hard, because you are always thinking that she will die or be seriously wounded," he says.

The Farc commander of Front 44 found out about their relationship and separated them. Andres hasn't seen Luisa since. He later found out that she had demobilised. "When they told me she had left, I thought about what I had been thinking for a long time – that this was no solution to anything. And so I thought about getting out.

"It was not a hard decision, but what they tell you in Farc is that when you hand yourself in to the military, they will get as much information out of you as they can. Then they make you disappear. You have to be very strong when you make that decision, because you know that if [Farc] catch you, they will kill you."

On the evening of 31 October 2009, Andres escaped from his camp, walking many miles to an army outpost. Upon arriving, he lay down his AK-47 and approached the soldiers. "They treated me very well. But all I had in mind was my girlfriend. She had left three days before me, so I was very worried about her, but the army said, 'Don't worry, she's probably OK.'"

More than three months later, and he has still not had word from Luisa. He knows that because of her age she was handed in to the child protection agency, so he is not allowed to know her whereabouts. "I am trying to at least get a message to her, but so far I have been unsuccessful. I don't think the authorities trust me, and they have to protect her, as they probably think I want to find her for different reasons." '

A 38-year-old former Farc commander, Nicolas Baena tells me he is still a communist and believes strongly in the group's ideology – but, like Andres, he believes that the movement has betrayed its principles. Now married, Baena is cautious about having his photograph taken for fear of reprisals – Farc still has informants in many institutions around the country – but does not hold back on his criticism. "Farc is now an organisation that relies on money rather than political ideals," he says. "It is about the accumulation of capital. Money has no regards for politics or ideology. Everything that it touches is spoilt. It has destroyed a beautiful idea, which was the construction of socialism."

Before joining Farc, Baena had been studying electrical engineering at the National University in Bogota in the early 1990s. "There was a big discussion among the communist youth, about whether the conditions were still there to build a socialist movement in Colombia," he says. "My personal view was that there was, but it could not be built through the system; it had to be built outside the system. So I looked for Farc; politically and ideologically and in very practical ways, it coincided with what I was thinking."

Baena alludes to the fact that he might still be serving had Farc not become so corrupted by the cocaine trade. "The organisational power is a steamroller that just squashes the individual. The turn Farc took [toward cocaine trafficking] in the mid-1990s was about the accumulation of economical strength, which was more powerful than anything."

Despite the Government's efforts to rehabilitate former combatants such as Baena, however, mainstream Colombia remains unconvinced. Human-rights groups have accused the Government of promoting a culture of impunity, and demanded to know what justice there is for the victims of former guerrillas and paramilitaries, who are remunerated for handing themselves in.

"The demobilisation process has sent a dangerous message to all parties involved in the armed conflict in Colombia that little action will be taken to punish human-rights abuse," says Peter Drury, head of Amnesty International's Colombia programme. "We have underlined that these demobilisation policies guarantee the impunity of many members of paramilitary and guerrilla groups who are responsible for serious violations of international humanitarian law."

Further problems have arisen in people passing themselves off as being affiliated to outlawed groups, in order to "demobilise" and claim the generous Government package on offer, a situation persistently reported. More serious still are claims that paramilitary groups have coerced ordinary citizens to "demobilise" in order to claim benefits and feed the funds back to the armed groups.

Colombian human-rights groups say the paramilitaries are responsible for up to 2,300 murders and disappearances since they first began demobilising in 2003. The vice- president of the country, Francisco Santos, was himself kidnapped in 1990 for nine months by the Medellin cartel, led by the notorious drugs baron Pablo Escobar – but he remains forthright in his opinion that Colombian society must accept the reintegration programme and the issue of impunity. "That [the issue of impunity] is one of the biggest trade-offs that sometimes people just don't understand: where do you set the line about what type of crimes are punished and how do you do it? It's not easy. It's a shifting fence. Colombia has set a line that is far stronger than any other peace process in the world. It has moved the fence. This is the country that's trying to do the most. But there's no science behind reinsertion, there's no 'best practice' handbook."

Santos recently called Farc a "paper tiger" with little control of the nation's territory, adding: "They have really been diminished to the point where we can say they are not a threat to Colombian security." Yet, serious problems persist. On 22 December last year, the body of Luis Francisco Cuellar, the governor of the Caqueta region in southern Colombia, was discovered. His throat had been slit in an execution style not long after he was abducted. Officials were soon pointing the finger at Farc.

Presidential elections will be held in Colombia in May. Earlier this month, the incumbent Uribe failed in an attempt to overturn the constitutional limitation forbidding him from running for a third term. But whoever Colombia's new leader will be, they are likely to continue to run a hard-line security policy against Farc.

Which means that, despite Government pledges to help them, the chances of the likes of Gonzalez and Andres lifting themselves out of poverty and into full-time work is slim. Yet their lives now, and those of thousands of other former Farc members, are a far cry from their days, months and years in the jungles of Colombia."How can you compare the city to the mountains and jungle?" asks Gonzalez, who is now living at a home for demobilised women and wants to study to become a nurse. "I am happy and I am at peace with myself – but I am cautious. Sometimes there are people who demobilise, but they are not really demobilising. They are just here to inform and then they go back. So I am cautious."

Some names have been changed for the purpose of this article

A history of violence: How Farc became a feared force

1948 Popular liberal leader Jorge Eliécer Gaitan is assassinated in Bogota. A period of civil uprising begins, known as La Violencia. More than 200,000 people die as conservatives and liberals fight. Organised armed defence groups form to protects communists.

1964 The Colombian military sends thousands of troops to small communist enclaves labelled "independent republics" by the Government. The communists retreat, with few lives lost – they are hailed as heroes.

1966 Peasants help form The Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or Farc, as a way of repaying the communist resisters; Colombia's modern-day war has begun.

1982 Farc adds the initials "EP", for Ejército del Pueblo ("People's Army"), and forms new strategies to take power. The group also begins to accept the drugs trade, taxing cocaine producers as a source of income.

1984 Farc sets up its own political party – The Patriotic Union (UP). It is immediately persecuted by Government, paramilitaries and drug traffickers. Between 2,000 and 4,000 of its members "disappear" over the next 10 years.

1996-1998 Farc inflicts a series of strikes on the Army.

1998 A peace process is entered. President Andres Pastrana grants Farc safe haven and begins talks.

2002 The peace process ends after a series of high-profile guerrilla terrorist actions that includes the kidnapping of several politicians. The current president, Alvaro Uribe, takes office on an anti-Farc platform.

2005 Farc retreats to the jungle.

2007 11 of 12 lawmaker hostages are executed by Farc.

2008 Farc's second-in-command, Raul Reyes is killed in neighbouring Equador. The French-Colombian politician Ingrid Betancourt is rescued by Colombian security forces after being held captive for six-and-a-half years by Farc.

2009 The body of Caqueta governor Luis Francisco Cuellar is discovered a day after he was kidnapped. Officials blame Farc.