Transitional justice systems often depend on clear moral and legal distinctions. They define victims as those who suffered harm and perpetrators as those who caused it. These categories shape everything from criminal accountability to access to reparations.
The victim-perpetrator distinction has both symbolic and material implications. In many post-conflict societies, reparations programs serve as public acknowledgements of suffering and sources of moral legitimacy for their participants. Exclusion can therefore mean erasure from the historical narrative of the conflict. Furthermore, status as a victim often determines access to financial compensation, psychosocial support, and land restitution. Without legal recognition as victims, individuals may face extreme marginalization and financial precarity.
Those living in post-conflict zones are well aware of these stakes. One question surfaced repeatedly in different forms in interviews Irene Wu conducted with community organizers and legal advocates in Cali, Colombia, during the summer of 2025: what happens to people whose experiences of war do not fit them neatly into the category of “victim” or “perpetrator”?
Reparations mechanisms rarely acknowledge the complexity of conflict
In practice, conflict experiences rarely conform to social or legal binaries. Some individuals were forcibly recruited into armed groups as children. Others committed acts of violence under coercion and later were subjected to violence themselves. Years later, after demobilization, many struggle with not only trauma and social stigma but also an uneasy fit into established legal and institutional categories.
How do reparations frameworks commonly respond to these “grey zone” individuals whose experiences complicate conventional understandings of victimhood and responsibility?
A comparison of 27 reparations policies from 23 post-civil war countries reveals rigidity as the dominant approach. Fourteen of these frameworks apply a strict “innocent victim” standard that separates “victims” and “perpetrators” into distinct legal categories with limited room for ambiguity, overlap, or acknowledgment of context.
In countries such as Rwanda and Croatia, reparations policies have historically prioritized narrowly defined categories of “innocent” civilian victims, often excluding individuals associated with armed groups regardless of coercion, age, or circumstances. Rwanda’s assistance frameworks for genocide survivors exclude individuals who participated in the genocide or committed crimes against humanity, while Croatia’s legislation excludes those who were part of or collaborated with enemy military or paramilitary forces. In both cases, harm suffered and assessments of prior conduct and responsibility shape access to reparations.
In some cases, these exclusions are justified. Reparations systems must navigate difficult moral and political questions around accountability and public trust, particularly in societies emerging from mass violence. Expanding recognition too broadly raises legitimate concerns about equating victims with perpetrators or diluting the symbolic value of reparations. But rigid categorical approaches risk overlooking the reality of violence in protracted conflicts and the constraints it places on agency.
More inclusive ways of thinking about reparations are possible
A small number of reparations programs, most notably Sri Lanka’s 2018 framework and Colombia’s 2011 Victims and Land Restitution Law deviate from this norm of rigidity. Both incorporate more flexible understandings of victimhood that recognize individuals who both suffered harm and, in some cases, participated in violence under coercion.
While far from perfect, Colombia’s reparations architecture adopts a strikingly more expansive approach to victim recognition. It extends eligibility beyond narrowly defined categories of “innocent” civilian victims to include victims of state forces, paramilitary groups, and guerrilla organizations; as well as internally displaced persons; and demobilized children and adolescents previously forced into violence. This system reflects a broader shift toward recognizing state responsibility for widespread conflict-related harm and defining victimhood based on harm experienced rather than moral or legal purity.
This shift did not emerge from legal reform alone. Earlier frameworks, such as the Justice and Peace Law of 2005, reflected a narrower and more exclusionary approach. Years of sustained advocacy by civil society organizations, political pressure, and mobilization by victims’ organizations expanded the public’s understanding of who could be recognized as a victim of conflict. This evolution took place alongside broader debates about state responsibility and constitutional court interventions.
The Colombia case raises broad questions about the global applicability of exclusionary reparations frameworks. Some conflicts involve clearly defined opposing sides and affect a limited segment of society. Colombia’s conflict, in contrast, spanned decades, involved many distinct armed actors, touched nearly every region of the country, and disproportionately affected Indigenous communities, Afro-Colombians, rural populations, women, and children. Rigid distinctions between victims and perpetrators may be ill-suited to such realities and those in regions where victimization is similarly widespread and conflict experiences are deeply intertwined with one another.
The impacts of Colombia's inclusive reparations policy are real. The Registro Único de Víctimas (RUV) recognizes 8.9 million individuals victimized in the Colombian armed conflict, and the 2011 Victims and Land Restitution Law deemed 7.4 million eligible for reparations (however, as of 2021, only about one million had received their payments). Nevertheless, the law extends formal recognition and eligibility to millions who would have been left outside more restrictive reparations frameworks.
Colombia’s reparations framework predates the country’s formal 2016 peace agreement, and the recognition of victims and the administration of payments have unfolded alongside broader efforts to end decades of armed conflict. This signals both the government’s commitment to investing in regional stability and preventing renewed conflict. In contexts marked by widespread victimization and blurred boundaries between civilian and combatant experiences, inclusive recognition may strengthen public confidence that peace dividends are not reserved only for a select few.
In post-conflict situations, moral tension is inescapable
No reparations framework can fully resolve the moral tensions inherent in post-conflict justice. Difficult questions about responsibility and recognition will always persist. But Colombia demonstrates that the boundaries of victimhood are not fixed legal truths. They are institutional choices that shape who gains access to support, whose experiences are acknowledged, and ultimately, how societies attempt to rebuild after mass violence.
Designing reparations systems that recognize complexity is not only more just—it may be essential for building a lasting peace.