The Colombian government of Abelardo de la Espriella ordered the removal of more than 30 items from the National Museum of Colombia in Bogota related to sexual diversity, feminist movements, political violence, and the 2016 peace agreement signed with the FARC.
The decision, which affected several galleries devoted to the country’s social and political history, is part of the administration’s cultural agenda and has raised questions about the criteria used to select the objects and the role of public institutions in preserving historical memory.
The move coincides with the government’s announcement that it intends to launch a cultural counterrevolution against what it considers the influence of “woke ideology.” The materials removed include photographs, publications, campaign posters, and objects linked to key moments in Colombia’s recent history, including efforts to recognize minority rights and overcome decades of armed conflict.
The episode has sparked a debate over how this past is represented in public spaces and the extent to which political decisions should shape museum content, particularly when there is an intention to conceal part of the country’s history.
Colombia’s cultural war: 30+ artworks removed from National Museum
During a visit to the Ministry of Cultures, De la Espriella defended the need to restore traditional values, national identity, and Colombia’s cultural heritage. He also instructed Culture Minister Paola Holguin to remove from public spaces representations that, in his view, glorify terrorism, explicitly referring to former guerrilla commander Carlos Pizarro.
The administration’s position reflects a political confrontation over how Colombia should remember its armed conflict and the social movements that have shaped its recent history. For ultraconservative sectors, displaying figures associated with former guerrilla groups without sufficiently emphasizing the violence perpetrated by those organizations can be interpreted as legitimizing terrorism.
Critics, however, argue that documenting the past does not amount to justifying it and that historical memory should guide the construction of a country still scarred by a history of social and political violence.
Meanwhile, Colombian news outlet La Silla Vacía reported that Julián Sterling, secretary general of the Ministry of Cultures, visited the museum alongside its acting director and oversaw the selection of the items to be removed.
Museum employees who spoke on condition of anonymity said the decision was made without sufficient transparency and questioned why it had not gone through the institution’s curatorial committees.
LGBTQ+ rights and feminism removed from galleries
Most of the items removed were displayed in “Making Society,” a second-floor gallery devoted to Colombia’s social and political history. At least 10 objects related to LGBTQ+ history and feminist movements disappeared from the exhibition, leaving empty spaces and visible marks on the walls.
Among the items removed were a rainbow flag belonging to activist Elizabeth Castillo, promotional materials for the 2006 LGBTQ+ march, and a photograph of a demonstration calling for full recognition of the community’s rights. A publication on women’s reproductive rights produced by the Sí Mujer Foundation also disappeared.
Another item was a copy of La Ventana Gay, a magazine associated with activists Manuel Antonio Velandia and Leon Zuleta. The latter was a prominent and widely remembered advocate for gay rights who was murdered in 1993.
These materials documented decades of activism in a country where feminist and LGBTQ+ organizations have fought for legal recognition, political representation, and protection against discrimination.
In keeping with the logic of the culture war repeatedly championed by De la Espriella, the removals seek to once again erase minorities from public view at an institution intended to represent the diversity of Colombian society.
Posters of assassinated presidential candidates
The intervention also affected the portrayal of political violence in the 1980s and 1990s. Two campaign posters were removed: one featuring Bernardo Jaramillo Ossa, the presidential candidate of the Patriotic Union (UP), and another of Carlos Pizarro, a former commander of the M-19 guerrilla group who entered mainstream politics after the organization demobilized.
Both men were assassinated in 1990 while campaigning for the presidency. Jaramillo’s murder became inextricably linked to the persecution and extermination of the Patriotic Union, whose members and supporters were targeted in a systematic campaign of violence carried out by paramilitary groups and other actors, in a context also marked by the involvement of state agents in these political killings.
Pizarro, meanwhile, had led M-19’s transition from armed struggle to democratic politics before he was assassinated. His presence in the museum represented a pivotal chapter in Colombia’s efforts to expand political participation after decades of conflict.
In response, former senator Maria Jose Pizarro of the left-wing Historic Pact coalition, the daughter of the slain Carlos Pizarro, denounced the move, saying that “De la Espriella seeks to banish my father’s image and his legacy of peace.” She added that the man who is now president “has decided, as in the days of paramilitary fascism, to kill him all over again.”
The left-wing politician said her father “is a symbol of those in Colombia who rise up against tyranny, of those who refuse to accept humiliation, but also of those capable of the greatest act of audacity in this country: laying down their arms to offer Colombia a path to peace and reconciliation.”
De La Espriella pretende proscribir la figura y el legado de paz de mi padre. Ha decidido, como en los tiempos del fascismo paramilitar, asesinarlo nuevamente. Tan equivocado y tan ruin como quienes lo asesinaron, no sabe que nunca podrán matarlo y que, 36 años después, mi padre está más vivo que nunca, y que su intento de proscribirlo solo lo hará más grande.
Y lo hace el día de las movilizaciones, porque le teme al pueblo movilizado; le temen a un pueblo consciente y en paz. Y mi padre es un símbolo de quienes en Colombia se levantan contra la tiranía, de quienes no aceptan el oprobio, pero también de quienes son capaces de la audacia máxima en este país: dejar las armas para entregarle una opción de paz y reconciliación a Colombia.
Como él dijo: “Vamos a responderle a la muerte con vida, a la oscuridad con esperanza y a la guerra con paz”, y yo soy su semilla. Orgullosamente Pizarro.
— María José Pizarro Rodríguez (@PizarroMariaJo) October 16, 2026
The Peace Agreement also loses ground
Among the items removed was a wall dedicated to “Reclaiming the Nation: From the 1991 Constitution to the 2016 Peace Process.” It featured the so-called Balígrafo, a pen made from a bullet and used to sign the peace agreement between the Colombian government and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC).
Also removed was a ballot associated with the Septima Papeleta (Seventh Ballot) movement, which helped pave the way for the 1991 National Constituent Assembly. Following a broad agreement among political parties, including the now-demobilized M-19 guerrilla group, the assembly produced the country’s current Constitution.
The agreement with the FARC ended more than half a century of armed conflict between the state and the guerrilla group, although violence continues in several regions of the country. The 1991 Constitution, meanwhile, expanded protections for political participation and fundamental rights, while recognizing Colombia’s ethnic and cultural diversity.
In the adjoining gallery, “Memory and Nation,” nearly all the photographs on a wall dedicated to social, cultural and political diversity had also disappeared.
Who decides how history is remembered?
The controversy goes beyond the content of the exhibitions. Museum staff questioned whether the removals complied with established curatorial procedures, while critics of the intervention warned of the risk of undermining the autonomy of public cultural institutions.
The government presents its initiative as a defense of national heritage against “ideological manipulation.” Yet the episode raises a fundamental question for societies that have experienced conflict: Should public museums reflect the political priorities of each government, or preserve a broad record of the experiences, clashes, and struggles that have shaped a nation?
In Colombia, where the legacy of armed conflict, political assassinations, and demands for equality remains contested—and where reactionary efforts to erase the country’s true diversity persist—the empty spaces at the National Museum carry a significance that extends far beyond its galleries.
This latest episode in the culture war that De la Espriella declared on all fronts threatens, once again, to deny even the right to exist to those who do not fit into the worldview of those currently in power. Indeed, what has unfolded at the National Museum in recent days is nothing more than another battleground in the struggle over history, identity, and the limits of state authority over collective memory.