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When people asked me whether I aspired to win the Nobel Peace Prize, I always answered that, for me, the actual prize was peace in Colombia. Because that is the real prize: peace for my country!
And that peace does not belong to a president or a government, but to all the Colombian people, because we must build it together.
That is why I receive this prize on behalf of nearly 50 million Colombians – my fellow countrymen and women – who finally see the end of more than a half-century nightmare that has only brought pain, misery and backwardness to our country.
And I receive this prize – above all – on behalf of the victims, the more than 8 million victims and displaced people whose lives have been devastated by the armed conflict, and the more than 220,000 women, men and children who, to our shame, have been killed in this war.
I am told by scholars that the Colombian peace process is the first in the world that has placed the victims and their rights at the center of the solution.
This negotiation has been conducted with a heavy emphasis on human rights. And that is something that makes us feel truly proud.
Victims want justice, but most of all they want to know the truth, and they – in a spirit of generosity – desire that no new victims should suffer as they did.
Professor Ronald Heifetz, founder of the Center for Public Leadership at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University, from which I graduated, once gave me a wise piece of advice:
He told me: "Whenever you feel discouraged, tired, pessimistic, talk with the victims. They will give you the push and strength to keep you going."
And it has been just this way. Whenever I had the chance, I listened to the victims of this war and heard their heartbreaking stories. Some of them are here with us today, reminding us why it is so important to build a stable and lasting peace.
I would like to ask the victims here present, representing the victims of the armed conflict in Colombia, to stand up to receive the recognition that they deserve.
Leyner Palacios is one of them. On May 2, 2002, a homemade mortar launched by the FARC, in the middle of a combat with the paramilitaries, landed on the church in his town, Bojayá, where its inhabitants had sought refuge.
Nearly eighty women, men and children – most of the victims were children! – died. In a matter of seconds, Leyner lost 32 relatives, including his parents and three younger brothers.
The FARC has asked for forgiveness for this atrocity, and Leyner, who is now a community leader, has forgiven them.
That is the great paradox I have found: while many who have not suffered the conflict in their own flesh are reluctant to accept peace, the victims are the ones who are most willing to forgive, to reconcile, and to face the future with a heart free of hate.
