Running for office knowing they might not survive the campaign
On May 31st, Colombia holds a presidential election that is less a routine transfer of power than a referendum on how a wounded democracy chooses to heal itself. Three candidates — a philosopher of dialogue, a firebrand of force, and a conservative trailblazer — offer the country starkly different answers to the same agonizing question: how does a nation end decades of armed conflict without losing itself in the process? The vote unfolds in the shadow of assassinated candidates and slain campaign workers, a reminder that in Colombia, the act of seeking power remains, for some, a mortal undertaking.
- Colombia's election is not merely contested at the ballot box — at least one presidential candidate was killed in 2025, and campaign staff have been shot dead weeks before voting day.
- Iván Cepeda, the philosopher-senator backed by outgoing President Petro, leads polls by championing dialogue with armed groups and social reform, offering continuity to the left's fragile gains.
- Abelardo de la Espriella has surged with a combustible mix of ultranationalism, Trump-style provocation, and promises of military annihilation of guerrillas — drawing both fervent support and accusations of assassination plots against him.
- Paloma Valencia, who shattered primary records with three million votes, has lost late momentum but remains a historic figure — potentially Colombia's first female president — running on security, anti-corruption technology, and conservative social values.
- Beneath all three campaigns lies a country fractured by FARC dissident violence, regional military tensions with Ecuador, and the unresolved question of whether peace is built through negotiation or conquest.
Colombia's presidential election on May 31st is being held in a country that has not stopped bleeding. Three candidates dominate the race, each embodying a different answer to the nation's deepest wound: how to end armed conflict that has outlasted generations of politicians and peace accords.
Iván Cepeda, a 63-year-old senator and philosopher aligned with outgoing President Gustavo Petro, leads in the polls. His career was built in the difficult space between the state and the FARC guerrillas, where he served as a mediator in the negotiations that produced the 2016 disarmament agreement. He advocates dialogue, agrarian reform, and raising the minimum wage — and he carries the weight of having helped imprison former president Álvaro Uribe, who was later absolved, making him a polarizing figure even among those who admire him.
Abelardo de la Espriella, 47, has been the campaign's most disruptive force. An ultrarightist who openly admires Trump and El Salvador's Bukele — whose looks he is said to share — he has promised to crush guerrilla groups militarily and withdraw Colombia from international bodies he considers ideologically compromised. Two of his campaign members were killed in May, and he has accused intelligence services of targeting him. His campaign has also been marked by spectacle: boasts made on live television, defense of a businessman accused of fronting for Venezuela's Maduro, and a personal merchandise website. Yet his momentum has been real and late.
Paloma Valencia, 50, is the granddaughter of a former president and the candidate who won more primary votes than anyone else in the internal consultations. She has since slipped to third in general polls, but a runoff remains within reach. Her platform pairs a hard security posture — military and police force against armed groups — with modernizing proposals like using artificial intelligence to fight corruption. On social issues, she holds conservative positions, opposing abortion and same-sex adoption while acknowledging that same-sex families exist.
The election's backdrop is one of the starkest in recent Colombian history. FARC dissident factions continue to operate despite the 2016 accord. Military tensions with Ecuador have escalated. And the violence has reached into the campaign itself — at least one presidential candidate was assassinated in 2025, and staff members have been killed in the weeks since. Whoever wins will inherit not just a government but a country still deciding, at great cost, what kind of peace it is willing to live with.
Colombia's presidential election on May 31st unfolds against a backdrop of escalating violence that has already claimed lives and shaken the democratic process itself. Three candidates dominate the race: Iván Cepeda, a 63-year-old senator and philosopher backed by outgoing President Gustavo Petro; Abelardo de la Espriella, a 47-year-old right-wing lawyer who has surged late in the campaign; and Paloma Valencia, a 50-year-old conservative senator who would become the country's first female president if elected.
Cepeda represents continuity with Petro's leftist agenda. A member of the Pacto Histórico party, he built his political reputation as a mediator in peace negotiations with the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, the guerrilla group that signed a disarmament agreement in 2016. He advocates for dialogue as the path forward in ending armed conflict, supports raising the minimum wage, and champions agrarian reform. Cepeda also played a central role in a legal case that led to the imprisonment of former president Álvaro Uribe on charges of witness tampering and attempted bribery—though Uribe was ultimately absolved in 2025. Polls consistently show Cepeda leading the first round of voting.
Espiella has emerged as the campaign's most volatile figure. The ultrarightist leader of a movement called Defenders of the Fatherland openly admires Donald Trump and El Salvador's Nayib Bukele, with whom he shares a physical resemblance that has earned him the nickname "Bukele's lookalike" in local media. Unlike Cepeda, Espriella rejects dialogue with armed groups, promising instead a military offensive to crush guerrilla operations. He has called for Colombia to withdraw from international organizations including the United Nations and the Organization of American States, which he claims promote "leftist policies." Two members of his campaign were shot and killed on May 15th, and Espriella has accused Colombian intelligence services of plotting his assassination. Despite—or perhaps because of—his hardline posture, he has gained significant ground in recent weeks. Yet Espriella's campaign has been marked by controversy: he has boasted about his anatomy on live television, defended the businessman Alex Saab (accused by the U.S. of serving as a front for Venezuelan dictator Nicolás Maduro), and maintains a commercial website selling alcohol, books, music recordings, and merchandise bearing his image.
Valencia's rise surprised many observers. The granddaughter of former president Guillermo León Valencia, she won more than three million votes in the party's internal primary—the most of any candidate across all consultas internas. Now in third place in general election polls, she has lost momentum in recent weeks but remains positioned for a potential runoff. Like Espriella, she advocates a harder military and police response to armed conflict, promising "concrete results" against violence. Her platform includes using artificial intelligence to combat corruption, attracting foreign investment for data centers, and establishing agricultural work centers where prisoners could labor during their sentences. On social issues, she opposes abortion and same-sex adoption, though she acknowledges that same-sex couples can form families.
The election occurs within a country gripped by multiple crises. Dissident factions of the FARC, despite the 2016 peace accord, remain active and are blamed for much of the country's ongoing violence. Regional tensions with Ecuador have escalated into military operations targeting organized crime. Most starkly, at least one major presidential candidate was assassinated in 2025 after an attack, and the violence has extended to campaign staff—a grim reminder that this election is being contested not in a stable democratic space but in one where political participation itself carries mortal risk. Unlike Brazil, Colombia's constitution prohibits presidential reelection, meaning Petro cannot seek another term. The winner will inherit a nation fractured by competing visions of how to restore peace: through negotiation, military force, or some combination of both.
Citas Notables
Espriella rejects dialogue with armed groups, promising instead a military offensive to crush guerrilla operations— Abelardo de la Espriella's campaign platform
Cepeda advocates for dialogue as the path forward in ending armed conflict— Iván Cepeda's campaign platform
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does this election feel different from previous Colombian contests?
Because the violence isn't abstract anymore. Candidates are being killed. Campaign workers are being shot. People are running for office knowing they might not survive the campaign.
And the three frontrunners—they represent genuinely different paths forward?
Completely different. Cepeda believes you talk to armed groups, you negotiate, you find common ground. Espriella and Valencia say that's naive—you need soldiers and firepower. The country has to choose which philosophy it trusts.
Espriella seems like an unusual figure for a serious presidential race.
He is. He's selling merchandise with his face on it while running for president. He's made crude jokes on television. But he's also tapping into something real—a frustration with the peace process, a sense that dialogue hasn't worked. That resonates with voters who are exhausted by violence.
What about Valencia? She seems to occupy middle ground.
She's conservative but not as theatrical as Espriella. She's a woman in a male-dominated field, which matters symbolically. But she's also lost ground recently, which suggests voters are polarizing toward the clearer choices—Cepeda's dialogue or Espriella's military response.
Does anyone actually believe the violence will end soon?
That's the unspoken question beneath everything. All three candidates promise solutions, but the dissident FARC groups are still operating, Ecuador is conducting military operations on Colombian soil, and the underlying conditions that fuel conflict haven't changed. Whoever wins inherits a nearly impossible situation.