The jersey became something more than sportswear. It became a political statement.
Em um país dividido às vésperas de um segundo turno presidencial, um juiz colombiano interveio para separar o símbolo do esporte do símbolo político: a camisa da seleção nacional, vestida por um candidato de extrema-direita em comícios, foi declarada imprópria para uso como emblema partidário. O episódio revela como as nações, em momentos de fratura, disputam não apenas o poder, mas os próprios objetos que carregam o sentido de pertencimento coletivo. O que deveria unir torcedores tornou-se campo de batalha entre dois projetos de país.
- A dez dias do início da Copa do Mundo e a dezessete do segundo turno, a campanha de Abelardo de la Espriella transformou a camisa amarela da Colômbia em uniforme de movimento político, com seguidores acrescentando cabeças de tigre ao tecido e adotando uma saudação militar característica.
- A esquerda, representada pelo candidato Iván Cepeda, enxergou na apropriação da camisa não patriotismo, mas um sequestro — a conversão de um símbolo de todos em ferramenta de um lado.
- Um juiz de Bogotá acolheu a denúncia e ordenou a cessação imediata e permanente do uso da camisa como identificador do partido, da campanha ou da imagem pública de De la Espriella.
- De la Espriella lidera as pesquisas e construiu sua marca justamente na teatralidade e na provocação institucional; a proibição retira um elemento central de sua comunicação com a base, mas não apaga a tensão que o impulsionou até aqui.
- Com a estreia da Colômbia na Copa marcada para 17 de junho, a disputa sobre quem tem o direito de vestir as cores nacionais — e o que elas significam — tornou-se inseparável da disputa pelo comando do país.
Um juiz colombiano proibiu o candidato presidencial de extrema-direita Abelardo de la Espriella, advogado de 47 anos que lidera as pesquisas, de usar a camisa da seleção nacional como símbolo de campanha. A decisão foi tomada em Bogotá após denúncia do candidato de esquerda Iván Cepeda, herdeiro político do presidente Gustavo Petro, que acusou o adversário de se apropriar indevidamente de um patrimônio de todos os colombianos.
De la Espriella havia feito da camisa amarela uma marca registrada de seus comícios. Seus apoiadores foram além: bordaram cabeças de tigre no tecido e passaram a acompanhá-la de uma saudação militar, transformando a peça esportiva em estandarte de um movimento. Para a esquerda, isso não era patriotismo — era a captura de um símbolo unificador e sua conversão em instrumento de divisão. Para a direita, era uma reconquista da identidade nacional.
O tribunal ordenou a cessação imediata e permanente do uso da camisa como identificador do partido, da campanha ou da imagem pública do candidato em qualquer espaço ou meio. A eficácia real da medida ainda é incerta, mas o gesto institucional é inequívoco: há um limite para a politização de símbolos coletivos.
O segundo turno está marcado para 21 de junho. A Copa do Mundo começa em 11 de junho, e a Colômbia estreia no dia 17, contra o Uzbequistão. Nesse calendário comprimido, a pergunta sobre quem tem o direito de vestir as cores nacionais fundiu-se à pergunta sobre quem irá governar o país.
A Colombian judge has ordered a far-right presidential candidate to stop wearing his nation's football jersey as a political emblem, a ruling that exposes how deeply polarized the country has become in the weeks before a decisive election.
Abelardo de la Espriella, a 47-year-old lawyer running under the banner of the far right, had made the Colombian national team's shirt a fixture of his campaign. He wore it to rallies, his supporters adopted it as a movement symbol, and in the hands of his followers—many of whom added a tiger's head to the fabric and accompanied it with a distinctive military salute—the jersey became something more than sportswear. It became a political statement. The runoff election between De la Espriella and his left-wing opponent, Iván Cepeda, is scheduled for June 21, and the timing matters: the World Cup begins on June 11, just ten days before voters return to the polls.
Cepeda, the political heir to sitting president Gustavo Petro, filed a complaint accusing De la Espriella of appropriating and misusing a national symbol. The left saw the jersey not as patriotism but as theft—a seizure of something that belonged to all Colombians, stripped of its unifying power and repurposed as a partisan tool. A judge in Bogotá agreed. The court issued an order demanding the immediate and permanent cessation of the jersey's use as an identifier for De la Espriella's party, his campaign, or his personal image in any public space or medium.
The ruling cuts to the heart of what has fractured Colombian politics. The far right views the shirt as an act of patriotism, a way of claiming national pride for their movement. The left sees it as a corruption of something sacred—a symbol that should unite rather than divide. Millions of ordinary Colombians wear the same jersey to support their team, to celebrate the World Cup, to express something innocent and joyful. The politicization of that symbol has created discomfort among leftist supporters and been celebrated by the right as a reclamation of national identity.
De la Espriella leads in the polls heading into the runoff. He is known for his theatrical style, his willingness to court controversy, and his ability to energize a base that feels alienated from the political establishment. The jersey became part of his brand, part of how he communicated with his followers. Now he cannot wear it. The court has drawn a line, though it remains unclear how strictly the ruling will be enforced or whether it will change the trajectory of a campaign already defined by institutional tension and deep ideological division.
Colombia's first World Cup match comes on June 17 against Uzbekistan. By then, the question of who gets to wear the national colors, and what those colors mean, will have become inseparable from the question of who will lead the country.
Citações Notáveis
The left accused De la Espriella of appropriating and misusing a national symbol that belongs to all Colombians— Iván Cepeda and left-wing opposition
The far right views the shirt as an act of patriotism, a way of claiming national pride for their movement— De la Espriella's supporters
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does a football jersey matter so much in a presidential race?
Because in a polarized country, symbols become battlegrounds. The jersey isn't really about sports—it's about who gets to claim patriotism, who represents the nation.
But millions of people wear that same shirt just to support their team.
Exactly. That's what made it so powerful for De la Espriella and so threatening to his opponents. He was trying to say: the far right owns national pride. The left said: you're stealing something that belongs to everyone.
Did the court's order actually stop him from wearing it?
The order is clear—he cannot use it as a political symbol. But enforcement is another question. What matters more is what the ruling signals: that even something as seemingly apolitical as a sports uniform has become a contested space.
How much time does he have before the runoff?
Seventeen days. The World Cup starts in ten. So Colombia will be in the grip of football fever while also deciding between two radically different visions of the country.
Does this ruling help him or hurt him?
That's the real question. It could energize his base—they see it as the left trying to silence him. Or it could signal that even the courts think he's crossed a line. In a polarized moment, the same action reads completely differently depending on which side you're on.