Colombia's hardline president sparks outrage with body bag video spectacle

23 alleged guerrillas were killed in the military operation whose aftermath was documented in the controversial video.
Turning death into a trophy—something only soulless people can do
De La Espriella's predecessor condemned the video as a reduction of human death to political spectacle.
Mark

Why did De La Espriella think posting this video would help him politically? What does he think voters want to see?

Mimi

He's betting that his base wants proof he's serious about the war on armed groups he promised. The video is meant to say: I'm not talking, I'm doing. I'm delivering bodies.

Luke

But we should be careful here — we don't actually know what those body bags contained. De La Espriella says they held 23 guerrillas. That's his claim. We have no independent verification of who was killed, how they died, or whether they were combatants or civilians.

Mark

So the outrage is partly about the disrespect to the dead, but also about what the video might be hiding?

Mimi

Yes. The human rights groups are saying this kind of display — treating corpses as trophies — is itself a form of violence. It erases the humanity of the dead and turns them into props.

Luke

And it's worth noting that this isn't unique to Colombia. The pattern is spreading. But each case is different. We shouldn't assume De La Espriella's operation was like Bukele's or Trump's without evidence.

Mark

What happens next? Does this video change anything on the ground in Colombia?

Mimi

That's unclear. It's generated international criticism, but his supporters seem energized. The question is whether this becomes normalized or whether it provokes a backlash strong enough to constrain him.

Luke

And whether anyone investigates what actually happened in that Amazon operation. The video is the story right now, but the facts underneath it matter more.

  • A Colombian president walks deliberately past rows of white body bags, posts the footage online with dramatic music, and declares it proof that his promise of 'all-out war' is being honored.
  • Human rights groups, opposition lawmakers, and his own predecessor erupt in condemnation — calling it necropolitics, trophy-hunting, and a display that strips the dead of the last dignity afforded to them.
  • De La Espriella doubles down with theological defiance, arguing that forgiving terrorists belongs to God while sending them there belongs to the president — a framing that fuses faith with lethal authority.
  • The controversy does not exist in isolation: from El Salvador's prison spectacles to Brazilian candidates pledging bloodbaths, a regional playbook is emerging in which violent imagery functions as electoral currency.
  • In Rio de Janeiro, a congressional candidate has crossed into fabrication — posting AI-generated videos of himself shooting men in favelas — suggesting the logic of the spectacle has no natural floor.

In a week that revealed something ancient and something new about power, Colombia's president Abelardo De La Espriella walked among the body bags of 23 slain guerrillas and posted the footage to social media — framed as a promise kept, scored with orchestral music. The act belongs to a long tradition of rulers displaying dominion over death, yet its digital packaging and theological justification mark it as something distinctly contemporary. Across the Americas, from Bogotá to Rio de Janeiro, the spectacle of violence is being refined into a political instrument, testing how much a democracy will reward those who perform ruthlessness rather than merely exercise it.

Abelardo De La Espriella, Colombia's newly installed hardline president, posted a video this week showing himself walking past rows of white body bags at a military facility — 23 guerrillas killed in an Amazon operation, referred to as 'neutralised' enemies. The footage was edited with orchestral music and framed as evidence of a campaign promise fulfilled: an all-out war against illegal armed groups.

His written statements left little room for ambiguity. He declared he had not come to 'play nice with murderers, extortionists and child recruiters,' addressed the dead as 'a cancer,' and offered a theological formulation that drew particular attention: forgiving terrorists, he wrote, was God's business — sending them to meet him was the president's job.

The response was swift and cross-partisan. Defeated presidential candidate Iván Cepeda described De La Espriella striding among the bags with contempt, nearly stepping on them, and called him 'an unscrupulous being lacking the slightest sense of humanity.' Lawmaker Daniel Monroy named the practice 'necropolitics' — the conversion of human death into political spectacle. Former president Gustavo Petro wrote that the video amounted to 'turning death into a trophy — something only soulless people can do.'

Yet the Colombian president's gesture is not an isolated one. Across the Americas, rightwing populists have begun deploying violent imagery as a tool of electoral persuasion. El Salvador's Bukele has released polished footage of his mega-prison. Donald Trump has repeatedly published videos of alleged drug boats being destroyed at sea. In Brazil, ahead of October elections, candidates are competing to sound most lethal — with pledges of bloodbaths and promises that criminals will be removed 'either standing up or lying down.'

The logic has reached its most extreme expression in Rio de Janeiro, where a former police chief running for congress has posted AI-generated videos depicting himself shooting armed men in favelas, and superimposed his image over photographs from police raids that killed 122 people. What was once considered a violation of human dignity has become a campaign strategy — tested across borders, each iteration more brazen than the last.

Abelardo De La Espriella, Colombia's newly installed hardline president, posted a video to social media this week that showed him walking deliberately past rows of white body bags laid out in what appeared to be a military facility. He identified the bags as containing 23 guerrillas killed in a recent operation in the Colombian Amazon, referring to them as "neutralised" enemies. The footage, edited with dramatic orchestral music, was framed as evidence that he was delivering on a campaign promise made just weeks earlier: an "all-out war" against illegal armed groups.

De La Espriella, who took office last month, accompanied the video with a written statement: "I promised to confront terrorism without hesitation and I'm keeping that promise. I did not come to play nice with murderers, extortionists and child recruiters. I came to defeat them … Long live Christ the king!" In another post, he addressed the dead directly: "We are utterly determined to destroy you, who are a cancer." When critics objected to the display, he responded with a theological argument: "Forgiving terrorists is God's business. Sending them to meet him – if that's where they're headed – is the president's job."

The video triggered swift condemnation from human rights organizations and political opponents across Colombia's ideological spectrum. Iván Cepeda, the leftwing candidate De La Espriella defeated in June's election, described the scene with particular intensity: the president striding among the bags with visible contempt, nearly stepping on them, all while invoking Christian faith. "He's an unscrupulous being lacking the slightest sense of humanity," Cepeda wrote. Daniel Monroy, a leftwing lawmaker, called it "necropolitics" — the reduction of human death to political spectacle — and questioned why such a display was necessary at all. Gustavo Petro, De La Espriella's predecessor, posted that the video represented "turning death into a trophy – something only soulless people can do."

Yet the Colombian president's move reflects a broader political current now flowing across the Americas. Rightwing populists in multiple countries have begun using violent imagery as a tool of electoral persuasion, betting that voters will reward displays of ruthlessness. El Salvador's Nayib Bukele has released polished videos of his mega-prison system. Donald Trump has repeatedly published footage of alleged drug boats being destroyed in Caribbean and Pacific waters. In Brazil, ahead of October elections, several candidates are competing to sound most lethal in their promises. Renan Santos pledged "a bloodbath" against drug traffickers, vowing to "stain the ground red with the blood of these lowlifes." Flávio Bolsonaro, challenging the incumbent Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, has promised that "criminals will be taken out of circulation, either standing up or lying down."

In Rio de Janeiro, Felipe Curi, a former police chief running for congress, has gone further into the realm of digital fabrication. He has posted AI-generated videos depicting himself shooting armed men in the city's favelas. His campaign materials feature his image superimposed over photographs of corpses from the city's deadliest police raids — operations that killed 122 people. In one video, Curi declares: "I arrest crooks, and I neutralise them if they react." The spectacle has become the message. What was once considered a violation of human dignity — parading the dead for political gain — has become a campaign strategy, tested and refined across multiple countries, each iteration more brazen than the last.

I promised to confront terrorism without hesitation and I'm keeping that promise. I did not come to play nice with murderers, extortionists and child recruiters.
— Abelardo De La Espriella, in social media post accompanying the video
This is called turning death into a trophy – something only soulless people can do.
— Gustavo Petro, De La Espriella's predecessor
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