Bogotá — it should’ve been a day for celebration. The Dominican Republic was commemorating its independence, and Diógenes Mallol Burgos, the Dominican ambassador to Colombia, had opened the doors of his embassy to 16 other diplomats from around the world. The air was filled with the clink of glasses, polite conversation, and a shared sense of diplomatic camaraderie. But soon, that normalcy would be shattered by gunfire, and the name M-19 would ripple through global headlines, marking one of the most pivotal moments in Colombia’s tumultuous political history.
The Hostage Crisis That Shocked the World
Colombia has long been a country where the political is personal. In 1980, the M-19 guerrilla group, who claimed to fight for democracy and justice, sought to send a message to the government of President Julio César Turbay. They wanted freedom for more than 300 political prisoners—men and women they believed had been jailed unjustly for fighting the system. But the way they delivered this message—storming the Dominican Embassy in Bogotá, taking diplomats hostage—was far from peaceful.
For 61 long days, the world watched, anxious, as the M-19 guerrilla group held their ground. They threatened the lives of their hostages, including diplomats from the United States, Israel, Venezuela, and Austria, among others. The group’s commander, Rosemberg Pabón, made it clear: “Mataremos a dos de los rehenes cada 10 minutos…” — “We’ll kill two hostages every 10 minutes.” It wasn’t just a statement. It was a chilling ultimatum.
Inside the Minds of the Guerrilla Fighters
To understand the M-19’s siege, you have to understand what the group stood for. Born out of a fraudulent election on April 19, 1970 (hence their name, Movimiento 19 de Abril), the M-19 guerrilla group saw themselves as the champions of Colombia’s disenfranchised. They fought with a mix of nationalism and a belief in socialist democracy, claiming they wanted to build a better Colombia, one where the voices of the marginalized would no longer be silenced.
But their methods—assassinations, kidnappings, and high-profile hostage situations—painted a different picture. For every call for democracy, there was a gunshot. For every plea for freedom, a life hung in the balance. Yet, in the minds of these guerrilla fighters, this was the cost of revolution.
The Human Cost of a Political Message
But what about the people caught in the crossfire? The diplomats held inside the embassy for two months faced a psychological nightmare, unsure of whether they’d ever walk out alive. The Dominican ambassador, Diógenes Mallol Burgos, found himself not just a host to his esteemed colleagues, but also a hostage, helpless in the face of an ideological war he never asked to join.
And yet, in these moments of fear, there was humanity. Hostages formed fragile bonds, sometimes even with their captors. That’s the thing about these kinds of situations—they strip you down to your barest humanity. Days turn into weeks, and all that’s left is hope. Hope for life, hope for peace.
The Political Ripple Effect of the Hostage Crisis
The 1980 Dominican Embassy hostage crisis didn’t just affect the lives of those inside the embassy. It forced Colombia and the international community to confront the growing instability in the region. The government of Julio César Turbay was already under fire for its authoritarian tactics, and this crisis exposed the deep fractures in Colombian society.
Negotiations dragged on for over two months, with the M-19 demanding both millions of pesos and the release of political prisoners. They wanted to escape with their hostages to Cuba, a country that had often acted as a haven for leftist movements. In the end, a payment was made, reportedly three million pesos, though the political prisoners remained in their cells—at least for the time being.
But Colombian politics shifted in the years that followed. When Belisario Betancur took office in 1982, he signed an amnesty deal with guerrilla groups like M-19, offering them a path to political participation in exchange for peace. That deal culminated in the group’s disarmament in 1990 and its transformation into a political party—Alianza Democrática M-19.
And that’s the twist in this story. Gustavo Petro, who co-founded that very party, now sits as Colombia’s president. What began as a bloody revolution has, decades later, turned into political legitimacy.
Petro’s Controversial Remarks and the Sheinbaum Connection
In a world where politics often feel disconnected from the past, Gustavo Petro brought the ghosts of history back into public discourse. During a recent speech at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM), Petro made waves when he remarked that Claudia Sheinbaum, the newly elected president of Mexico, had once been associated with the M-19 guerrilla group.
His comment sparked controversy, especially since Sheinbaum’s official biographies don’t mention any direct involvement with the guerrilla movement. According to Petro, Sheinbaum’s role was indirect—helping Colombian guerrillas find refuge in Mexico, where many M-19 members fled persecution. But for many, the mention of her name in the same breath as M-19 was enough to stir political tensions.
Sheinbaum’s Silence and Mexico’s History as a Refuge
For Sheinbaum, the question lingers: Why hasn’t she spoken about her alleged connection to M-19? Perhaps it’s because Mexico has a long history of providing refuge to political exiles. From Leon Trotsky to Gabriel García Márquez, the country has been a sanctuary for those fleeing political persecution. The ties between Mexico and Colombia’s leftist movements run deep, but the story of Sheinbaum’s connection to M-19 remains, for now, a whisper rather than a headline.
What Remains of the Legacy of M-19?
Looking back, it’s impossible to ignore the mark M-19 left on Colombia’s history. For all their violent methods, they succeeded in shaking the foundations of a government they saw as corrupt. Their transformation into a political party, their role in shaping Colombia’s 1989 Constitution, and their impact on leaders like Gustavo Petro show that revolutions, no matter how bloody, often end not in bullets, but in ballots.
For the hostages of 1980, the memory of those 61 days of terror remains etched in their minds. But for Colombia, the legacy of M-19 is more complicated. It’s a story of violence, yes, but also of redemption. And in a strange twist of fate, the revolutionaries who once held a gun to Colombia’s head now sit at the helm of its government.
