I have survived genocide, stigmatization, and relentless persecution. And here I stand.
En las montañas y ciudades de Colombia, un país marcado por décadas de violencia política y conflicto armado, tres candidatos presidenciales encarnan visiones radicalmente distintas sobre cómo sanar —o suprimir— las heridas de una nación. El domingo, los colombianos elegirán entre la reconciliación negociada que propone Iván Cepeda, el puño militar que promete Abelardo de la Espriella y el orden conservador que defiende Paloma Valencia. Más que una elección entre programas, es un referéndum sobre la memoria colectiva: qué significó el conflicto, quién lo sufrió y qué futuro merece Colombia.
- Colombia llega a las urnas fracturada entre quienes ven en la paz negociada una promesa incumplida y quienes la consideran una rendición inaceptable ante los grupos armados.
- Cepeda, sobreviviente de la persecución que costó la vida a más de 5.700 líderes de izquierda, lidera las encuestas como heredero del proyecto de 'paz total' de Petro, aunque ese proceso ha mostrado resultados limitados.
- De la Espriella irrumpe como outsider millonario y admirador de Trump y Milei, prometiendo cárceles masivas, alianzas militares con Estados Unidos e Israel, y la eliminación de cualquier criminal que no se someta a la justicia.
- Valencia, nieta de un expresidente conservador y discípula política de Uribe, propone desmantelar la paz total y regresar a la militarización que en su momento acorraló a las guerrillas con respaldo de Washington.
- El resultado definirá si Colombia profundiza la apuesta por la negociación, gira hacia la confrontación armada o intenta una síntesis incierta entre ambas visiones.
La elección presidencial colombiana del domingo enfrenta a tres candidatos que difícilmente podrían ser más distintos en origen, temperamento y filosofía política.
Iván Cepeda, de 63 años, lleva toda su vida marcada por la violencia. Su primera aparición pública fue en 1994, junto al camión acribillado de su padre —senador comunista asesinado por policías vinculados a grupos paramilitares— pidiendo que el crimen no quedara impune. Sobrevivió al exilio en Europa del Este y Cuba, regresó para ser uno de los arquitectos del acuerdo de paz de 2016 con las FARC y derrotó judicialmente al expresidente Uribe por manipulación de testigos, aunque la condena fue luego anulada. Viste camisas caribeñas sin corbata —símbolo de oligarquía, dice— y admira a Gandhi. Hoy lidera las encuestas como candidato de continuidad de la izquierda, con la promesa de sostener la política de 'paz total' que busca negociar el desarme de todos los grupos armados.
Abelardo de la Espriella, conocido como 'El Tigre', representa el polo opuesto. A sus 47 años, este abogado millonario vivía en Florencia viajando en jet privado y cantando ópera antes de regresar a Colombia para, según él, salvarla de la izquierda. Admira a Trump, Milei y Bukele, ha defendido a narcotraficantes y estrellas del fútbol, y propone alianzas militares con Estados Unidos e Israel, la construcción de megacárceles y el armamento de los ciudadanos para combatir a los cárteles. Sus declaraciones han sido calificadas de homófobas y misóginas, y en algún momento dijo que Colombia necesitaba 'destripar' a la izquierda.
Paloma Valencia, de 50 años, proviene de una de las familias más poderosas del país: es nieta de un expresidente conservador y considera a Álvaro Uribe su padre político. Filósofa y abogada, se opuso al acuerdo con las FARC y propone reemplazar la 'paz total' por la 'seguridad total', retomando el enfoque militarizado que Uribe aplicó con apoyo estadounidense. Aspira a ser la primera presidenta de Colombia.
Los tres candidatos no solo ofrecen políticas distintas: encarnan narrativas opuestas sobre lo que significó el conflicto colombiano y lo que el país le debe a su pasado. La elección del domingo decidirá cuál de esas narrativas guiará a Colombia en los próximos años.
Colombia's presidential election on Sunday presents voters with three starkly different visions for the country's future, embodied in candidates who could hardly be more different in temperament, background, and political philosophy.
Iván Cepeda leads the polls as the continuity candidate of the left. At 63, he is a senator, philosopher, and human rights advocate whose entire political life has been shaped by violence. His first public appearance came in 1994, standing before television cameras next to his father's bullet-riddled truck. The elder Cepeda, a communist party leader and senator, had been shot by police working with paramilitary groups. The son's plea for justice that day—that the crime not go unpunished like so many others—set the trajectory for decades of work defending victims of Colombia's armed conflict. Over 5,700 leftist leaders were assassinated during those years of persecution. Cepeda survived by living in exile across Eastern Europe and Cuba before returning to become a key architect of the 2016 peace accord that disarmed the FARC. He has lived through what he calls genocide, stigmatization, and relentless persecution. He dresses in traditional Caribbean shirts without ties, which he views as symbols of oligarchy. He admires Gandhi. He defeated former president Álvaro Uribe in court on charges of witness tampering—a conviction later overturned, but one that cemented his status as the right's greatest political enemy and the left's defining icon. Now he seeks to succeed Gustavo Petro as Colombia's second leftist president, continuing the "total peace" policy that attempted to negotiate the disarmament of all armed groups, though with limited success.
Abelardo de la Espriella, known as "El Tigre," represents something entirely different: the wealthy outsider promising hardline solutions. At 47, he is a millionaire lawyer and businessman who lived luxuriously in Florence, Italy, promoting rum and wine businesses, traveling by private jet, and singing opera. He admires Donald Trump, Javier Milei, and Nayib Bukele. He has defended numerous high-profile clients, including drug traffickers and football stars. Now he has returned to Colombia to prevent, as he sees it, the country's destruction by the left. He wears impeccable suits and, recently, a bulletproof vest. His campaign image merges his face with that of a tiger. He proposes military alliances with the United States and Israel, the construction of massive prisons, and armed citizenry to combat the cartels in the world's largest cocaine-producing nation. "Any criminal who doesn't submit to justice will be eliminated," he told the AFP in February. He wants to shrink the state and turn ambassadors into merchants. He is voluble and temperamental, has made comments widely considered homophobic and misogynistic, and once said Colombia needed to "disembowel" the left, though he later softened the language.
Paloma Valencia, 50, comes from one of Colombia's most powerful families. She is the granddaughter of Guillermo León Valencia, a conservative president from 1962 to 1966 who confronted the country's first guerrilla movements with Washington's backing against communism. She is a philosopher and lawyer who has become one of the opposition's strongest voices against armed groups and the left. She considers Álvaro Uribe her political father and has campaigned alongside him, the influential former president who ruled from 2002 to 2010. She opposed the FARC peace accord and now proposes to dismantle the "total peace" policy in favor of what she calls "total security"—a return to the militarized approach that Uribe used to corner the guerrillas with American support. She holds conservative positions on LGBTQ+ rights and supports hydraulic fracturing for oil extraction. She aspires to be Colombia's first female president.
The three candidates represent not merely different policy preferences but fundamentally opposed understandings of how Colombia should respond to decades of violence and instability. Cepeda's survival and rise embody the possibility of reconciliation; de la Espriella's emergence signals hunger for decisive action against criminal organizations; Valencia's candidacy offers continuity with the security-first approach of the recent past. The election will determine whether Colombia continues down the path of negotiated peace, pivots toward military confrontation, or seeks some hybrid approach. The choice reflects not just electoral preference but competing narratives about what Colombia's conflict has meant and what its future should hold.
Notable Quotes
Any criminal who doesn't submit to justice will be eliminated.— Abelardo de la Espriella, to AFP in February
We will end total peace to impose total security.— Paloma Valencia, in a March campaign speech
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does Cepeda's background matter so much to understanding this election?
Because he's not just a politician—he's a survivor of the exact violence that defined Colombia for decades. When he stood before cameras in 1994 next to his father's body, he became a living symbol of what the left endured. That shapes everything he proposes now.
And de la Espriella—he seems almost designed to be the opposite.
Completely. He's never held elected office. He lived in Italy singing opera while Colombia burned. He's selling the idea that an outsider with money and no political baggage can simply impose order through force and American military backing.
What about Valencia? She seems to occupy middle ground.
Not really middle ground—she's the right's establishment choice. She's Uribe's protégé, from the family that literally shaped Colombian conservatism. She's offering to go back to what worked before, at least in the eyes of the security-focused right.
So this is really about whether Colombia believes in negotiation or force.
It's deeper than that. It's about whether the country can live with its past or whether it needs to erase it. Cepeda says we negotiate with everyone. De la Espriella says we eliminate everyone who won't submit. Valencia says we did it right before, so let's do it again.
And the voters are choosing between those three visions on Sunday.
Yes. And whichever one wins will determine whether Colombia moves forward, backward, or tries something new.