There is obstinacy in refusing to hear what I say
Colombia, a nation long acquainted with the weight of its own divisions, opened its polling stations Sunday morning as more than forty-one million citizens began choosing a successor to Gustavo Petro. The contest—between a unified left and a fractured right—reflects not merely competing policy visions but competing ideas about what Colombia fundamentally is and who it is for. Three candidates, each having spent their final campaign hours not in plazas but in the glow of screens, now await a verdict that will almost certainly require a second round to be rendered complete.
- A country polarized along ideological fault lines sent its citizens to vote with no consensus in sight—only the near-certainty of a runoff three weeks away.
- The right's division between Valencia's traditional conservatism and de la Espriella's Bukele-style populism threatens to hand the first round to the left, reshaping the terms of whatever confrontation follows.
- Each candidate bypassed conventional rallies for social media marathons—a ninety-minute interview, an influencer roundtable, a two-and-a-half-hour stream that drew 1.4 million viewers—signaling that the battle for Colombia's future is being fought on entirely new terrain.
- Unsubstantiated accusations flew in the final hours: Valencia's camp alleged vote-buying by the sitting government, while former president Uribe publicly claimed Cepeda had ties to the FARC, raising the temperature of an already charged atmosphere.
- Electoral authorities reported clean logistics—all 1,103 municipalities supplied, 122,000 polling stations open without incident—offering at least the procedural calm that the political climate conspicuously lacked.
Colombia's polling stations opened at eight on Sunday morning, with more than forty-one million eligible voters beginning the process of choosing a successor to Gustavo Petro. The atmosphere was one of sharp division: the left consolidated behind a single candidate while the right competed against itself, setting the stage for a runoff widely expected in three weeks.
The three frontrunners spent their final campaign hours on social media rather than at traditional rallies. Iván Cepeda, the leftist senator, sat for a long conversation with journalist Daniel Coronell, where he promised cooperative relations with the United States, a ruthless approach to corruption regardless of its origin, and a productive economic model that he insisted had nothing to do with the failures of Venezuelan socialism. He pushed back forcefully against what he called the false framing of his candidacy as a choice between communism and democracy.
Paloma Valencia, backed by former president Álvaro Uribe, gathered with social media influencers to speak directly to younger voters. She promised to militarize streets, pursue guerrilla fighters, ease gun restrictions, and eliminate the Ministry of Equality to redirect funds toward reducing vehicle insurance costs—a pointed appeal to motorcycle taxi drivers. She also spoke about poverty's disproportionate burden on Colombian women, while her campaign alleged, without evidence, that vote-buying operations were underway on behalf of the current government.
Abelardo de la Espriella streamed for over two hours with popular content creator Westcol from his office in Barranquilla, drawing 1.4 million viewers. He promised ten mega-prisons and ten mega-treatment centers financed through recovered tax exemptions, pledged that physically and psychologically fit citizens could carry weapons, and committed to a single four-year term. When Westcol questioned the prison plan, de la Espriella grew defensive, insisting private companies would manage the facilities. He also mocked Petro's coastal identity and contrasted his own clean personal record with a rival's running mate who had admitted to drug use.
Uribe, who had become Valencia's de facto debate surrogate, made an unsubstantiated public accusation that Cepeda belonged to the FARC, then video-called into Valencia's influencer stream to offer praise and a self-deprecating joke. Cepeda closed his campaign with a measured address, promising to govern for all Colombians and inviting the opposition into respectful dialogue. Electoral authorities confirmed that voting materials had reached every municipality without incident, and that all polling stations had opened smoothly—a logistical calm that stood in quiet contrast to the turbulence of the campaign itself.
Colombia opened its polling stations at eight in the morning on Sunday with more than forty-one million citizens eligible to cast ballots for the next president. The country was choosing a successor to Gustavo Petro in an atmosphere of sharp division, with the left unified behind one candidate and the right fractured between two competing visions.
The three frontrunners—all expected to advance to a runoff in three weeks—spent their final hours before voting making appeals through social media rather than traditional rallies. Iván Cepeda, the leftist senator, sat for a ninety-minute conversation with journalist Daniel Coronell. Paloma Valencia, the traditional rightist backed by former president Álvaro Uribe, gathered with four social media influencers in a white room. Abelardo de la Espriella, the far-right lawyer running on a populist platform, spent two and a half hours streaming with Westcol, a popular content creator, from his office in Barranquilla. The de la Espriella broadcast alone drew 1.4 million views on the Kick platform, featuring appearances by his teenage daughter and her friends dancing with the streamer, and a Rappi delivery driver bringing hamburgers for dinner.
Cepeda framed his campaign around dialogue and institutional strength. He told Coronell that he expected to maintain cooperative relations with the United States, negotiating and renegotiating trade and anti-drug agreements as circumstances required. On corruption, he promised to be ruthless regardless of where the wrongdoing originated, citing his intention to appoint former Defense Minister Iván Velásquez to lead an anti-corruption plan. When pressed about his ties to leftist movements in Latin America, Cepeda acknowledged that Venezuela's economy under Chávez and Maduro had failed by pursuing oil extraction as its sole engine, and he argued instead for a productive, diversified, and equitable model within capitalism itself. He pushed back against what he called a stubborn refusal to listen to what he actually represented, insisting that the framing of a choice between communism and pure democracy was a lie that needed dispelling.
Valencia's approach targeted younger voters and spoke directly to their concerns. She promised to hunt down guerrilla fighters, militarize streets, and ease restrictions on legal gun ownership. She also proposed eliminating the Ministry of Equality and redirecting those funds to reduce mandatory vehicle insurance costs—a proposal designed to appeal to motorcycle taxi drivers, a growing constituency in the middle class. On education, she defended school choice and the use of artificial intelligence tutors while claiming not to be hostile to public schools, only to prefer a mixed system. She spoke about poverty having a woman's face in Colombia, describing how women were often left alone with children, denied employment, and mistreated at home. Her campaign also alleged without evidence that vote-buying operations were underway to benefit the sitting government, calling on authorities to strengthen oversight.
De la Espriella made promises that echoed the hardline approach of El Salvador's Nayib Bukele. He pledged to build ten mega-prisons for criminals and ten mega-treatment centers for drug addicts, claiming he would finance these through recovered tax exemptions and anti-corruption efforts. He promised that anyone demonstrating physical and psychological fitness could carry a weapon under his administration. When the streamer Westcol expressed skepticism about the mega-prison proposal, de la Espriella grew defensive, insisting that private companies would build and manage the facilities. He also asserted that he had never consumed drugs in his life, contrasting himself with Valencia's running mate, who had admitted to recreational drug use. De la Espriella positioned himself as an authentic coastal Colombian, mocking Petro as a fake one over a disagreement about carnival imagery. He told Westcol that under his government, businesses would be worth five times more than they would be under Cepeda, and he committed to serving only one four-year term before withdrawing from politics entirely—unless he lost to Cepeda, in which case he would lead the opposition.
Former president Uribe, who had become Valencia's de facto debate surrogate, made an unsubstantiated accusation that Cepeda belonged to the FARC guerrilla group, citing his political history in leftist movements. Uribe also video-called into Valencia's influencer stream to praise her and joke about not being invited to the conversation himself. In his closing message to the nation, Cepeda spoke with measured calm about the future being in the hands of the Colombian people, promising to govern for all citizens and extending an invitation to the opposition for respectful dialogue toward a national agreement. Electoral authorities reported that voting materials had reached all 1,103 municipalities without incident, with more than 122,000 polling stations ready to open without disruption. The country was heading toward a runoff, with the shape of that second round still to be determined by Sunday's results.
Citações Notáveis
It is necessary, within capitalism, to move toward a productive, diverse, and socially equitable model— Iván Cepeda
I am a true coastal Colombian; Petro is a fake one— Abelardo de la Espriella
Poverty in Colombia has a woman's face— Paloma Valencia
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did these three candidates choose such different platforms for their final appeals—a journalist, influencers, a streamer?
They were speaking to different audiences. Cepeda went to someone with journalistic credibility because he needed to be heard as serious and substantive. Valencia and de la Espriella went to social media because that's where younger voters live, and the right was trying to compete for that space.
But didn't that make them look less serious?
Depends who you ask. For de la Espriella, the informality was the point—he's running as an outsider, a movement, not a traditional politician. For Valencia, it was a calculated risk to seem accessible while still being taken seriously. Uribe even called in to validate her.
What struck you most about what they actually said?
How much they were talking past each other. Cepeda kept saying people weren't listening to him, Valencia was making promises about mega-prisons and gun rights, de la Espriella was mocking Petro over carnival imagery. They weren't debating—they were performing for their own bases.
Did any of them seem to be winning?
De la Espriella's stream had the biggest numbers. But numbers don't always translate to votes. What matters is whether those viewers actually show up on Sunday, and whether they can persuade anyone beyond their core supporters.
What happens next?
A runoff in three weeks. The left is unified, the right is split. That's Cepeda's advantage. But the right could consolidate around whoever finishes second, and that's where things get unpredictable.