In Colombia, a regional leader named De La Espriella has shared video footage of himself alongside the bodies of those killed or captured by state forces — a deliberate act of political theater that places raw violence directly into the public feed. This is not an isolated provocation; similar displays have emerged in the United States and El Salvador, suggesting that the performance of lethal power has become a governing strategy across the Americas. What is new is not that states kill, but that their leaders now choose to pose, record, and share — transforming the dead into instruments of po
Colombian Leader's Body Photos Signal Shift in Power Projection Tactics
A body is a body. The message is unmistakable.
Why does a leader do this? What's the strategic calculation?
It's a direct assertion of power. No intermediaries, no plausible deniability. The message is: I control the state's capacity for violence, and I'm comfortable showing you that.
But we should be careful here—the source doesn't give us the specific context of who these individuals were, what they did, or the circumstances. We're working with the fact that De La Espriella posted video with bodies, but we don't have details about the operation itself.
So this could be framed as counterinsurgency, or it could be framed as something darker?
Exactly. And that's precisely why the display matters. By putting it out there without explanation, the leader is controlling the narrative. You see what he wants you to see.
The source also notes this is happening in the U.S. and El Salvador. Do we know if those are comparable situations, or are we drawing a line between very different things?
That's the reporting question—whether this is truly a regional pattern or whether we're grouping disparate incidents because they share a visual grammar.
And what about the legal side? International law, war crimes, that framework?
The source flags it as a question, not as an established violation. We don't have legal analysis here, just the observation that this challenges norms.
Which is itself significant. The fact that leaders are willing to challenge these norms, openly, suggests they believe the political cost is worth it.
Or that they believe there won't be a cost at all.
Right. And we don't yet know which one is true.
Der Puls
- A Colombian official publicly posted video of himself with deceased individuals, crossing a threshold that democratic norms once held as inviolable.
- The tactic is not isolated — leaders in the United States and El Salvador have made similar moves, signaling a regional convergence around the weaponization of graphic imagery.
- Social media has stripped away the old architecture of deniability, leaving only the raw choice to broadcast or withhold — and these leaders are choosing to broadcast.
- International law and democratic convention both prohibit the use of the dead as political props, yet no meaningful consequence has yet materialized to halt the trend.
- The political calculus driving these displays assumes that fear, loyalty, or visceral satisfaction will translate into support — a bet whose outcome remains dangerously unresolved.
In Colombia, a regional leader named De La Espriella has shared video footage of himself alongside the bodies of those killed or captured by state forces — a deliberate act of political theater that places raw violence directly into the public feed. This is not an isolated provocation; similar displays have emerged in the United States and El Salvador, suggesting that the performance of lethal power has become a governing strategy across the Americas. What is new is not that states kill, but that their leaders now choose to pose, record, and share — transforming the dead into instruments of political communication. The question this moment raises is ancient and urgent at once: what do citizens become when they are asked to witness, and perhaps applaud, the bodies their governments produce?
A Colombian official, De La Espriella, has posted video of himself standing alongside the bodies of individuals killed or captured by state forces. The act was deliberate, public, and unambiguous — a form of political messaging that requires no interpretation. A body is a body. The message is the reach of power, and the willingness to show it.
What makes this moment significant is not that violence has entered politics — that is ancient history — but that the display has become so brazen. De La Espriella did not issue a statement through subordinates or claim ignorance. He posed. He recorded. He shared. The act itself was the message.
This is not an isolated incident. Similar imagery has surfaced from leaders in the United States and El Salvador, pointing to a pattern rather than an aberration. Across three separate nations, political leaders appear to have concluded that their core constituencies will respond to this kind of display — that shock, fear, or satisfaction will translate into support or acquiescence.
The implications are serious. International law has long held that displaying the dead for political purposes crosses a line separating legitimate governance from something else entirely. Democratic norms have rested on the assumption that some things remain hidden, that state power operates with at least a veneer of restraint. Social media has dissolved that assumption. There is no hiding now — only the choice to post or not.
What follows will depend on whether these images provoke consequences: political, legal, or civic. The video is already in the world. The question now is what citizens, institutions, and neighboring governments decide to do with what they have seen.
A Colombian leader has posted video content showing himself alongside the bodies of captured or killed individuals—a deliberate act of political messaging that marks a visible shift in how power is being performed across the Western Hemisphere. The video, shared online by De La Espriella, represents an escalation in a tactic that is no longer confined to the margins of governance. Similar displays have appeared in the United States and El Salvador, suggesting that what was once considered beyond the pale of acceptable state conduct has begun to normalize across multiple democracies.
The use of such imagery—graphic, unambiguous, designed for circulation—serves a specific purpose in the hands of political leaders. It is a form of communication that requires no translation, no interpretation. A body is a body. The message is: this is what happens to those who oppose us. This is the reach of state power. This is what we are willing to show you we can do. In an era when political authority is increasingly contested and when traditional channels of governance feel insufficient to some leaders, the visual proof of dominance has become a tool of choice.
What distinguishes this moment is not that violence has entered politics—that is ancient history. What is new is the brazenness of the display, the willingness to put it directly into the hands of citizens through social media, the absence of the old euphemisms and denials. De La Espriella did not hide behind statements from subordinates or claim ignorance. He posed. He recorded. He shared. The act itself is the message.
The emergence of this tactic across three separate nations—Colombia, the United States, and El Salvador—suggests something more than isolated incidents. It indicates a pattern, a convergence of political calculation. Leaders in these countries have apparently concluded that their constituencies, or at least the constituencies they care most about reaching, will respond to this kind of imagery. That fear, or loyalty, or shock, or satisfaction will translate into political support or at least political acquiescence. Whether that calculation is correct remains to be seen, but the fact that multiple leaders have made it suggests they believe it is.
The implications ripple outward quickly. International law has long held that certain acts—the display of bodies, the use of the dead for political messaging—cross lines that separate legitimate state action from something else entirely. Democratic norms have similarly rested on the assumption that there are boundaries to what leaders will do in public, that some things remain hidden, that the machinery of state power operates with at least a veneer of restraint. Social media has eroded both of these assumptions. There is no hiding now. There is only the choice to post or not to post. De La Espriella chose to post.
What happens next will depend partly on how these images are received—whether they provoke outrage sufficient to create political consequences, whether international bodies respond, whether other leaders in the region follow suit or step back. It will also depend on whether citizens in these countries decide that this is the kind of governance they accept, or whether they decide it represents a line that should not be crossed. The video is already out there. The question now is what the world does with it.