To return to that after everything it cost us is deeply sad.
On the eve of Colombia's presidential runoff, a nation shaped by decades of paramilitary violence finds itself choosing between two figures whose lives have been defined by that same darkness — one as victim, one as defender. Iván Cepeda, whose father was murdered by paramilitaries, and Abelardo de la Espriella, who built his career representing their leaders, embody the unresolved moral reckoning at the heart of Colombian democracy. The outcome will determine not only how the state confronts its armed groups and drug networks, but whether Colombia treats its violent past as a wound still requiring healing or a tool still available for use.
- Colombia is enduring its worst violence since the 2016 peace accord, with massacres, kidnappings, and forced displacement surging — the very conditions that once made paramilitaries seem, to some, like a necessary evil.
- De la Espriella leads in polls on promises of iron-fist military confrontation, mega-prisons in the Amazon, and the extermination of criminals — language that echoes the paramilitary ideology his former clients once enacted with chainsaws and axes.
- Cepeda has filed a criminal complaint alleging de la Espriella was not merely a lawyer to the AUC but a recruiter, while investigators have uncovered business ties between his companies and relatives of a convicted paramilitary commander.
- Eleven U.S. Democratic lawmakers have urged the Trump administration — which publicly endorsed de la Espriella — to instead scrutinize his connections to an organization Washington itself designated a foreign terrorist group in 2001.
- Ordinary Colombians are divided between exhaustion with failed peace negotiations and the haunting memory of what 'toughness' looked like the last time — nearly half a million dead and communities terrorized into silence.
This Sunday, Colombians vote in a presidential runoff that forces a direct confrontation with the country's paramilitary past. The two candidates could not be more differently positioned within that history. Iván Cepeda, 63, is a leftwing senator and human rights activist who discovered his father's bullet-riddled car in 1994 after paramilitaries and army officers assassinated the elder Cepeda — a senator himself — as part of a purge against the communist Patriotic Union party. The younger Cepeda spent the following decades documenting paramilitary atrocities, visiting prisons to collect testimony from former fighters.
Abelardo de la Espriella, 47, a far-right lawyer and self-described outsider who admires Donald Trump, rose to prominence in the early 2000s defending the leaders of the AUC — Colombia's main paramilitary organization — as they negotiated their demobilization. He insists his involvement was strictly professional, but Cepeda has filed a criminal complaint alleging de la Espriella also served as a recruiter for the group through a foundation he created. Journalists at La Silla Vacía found that relatives of a convicted paramilitary commander held stakes in de la Espriella's businesses, which span rum, wine, clothing, and real estate.
The paramilitaries themselves were born in the 1960s as private armies of landowners, drug traffickers, and politicians fighting leftwing guerrillas. By the 1990s, they had become notorious for choreographed massacres — entering towns to kill anyone suspected of guerrilla sympathies, conducting what they called 'social cleansing' against LGBTQ+ people, sex workers, and the homeless, and committing acts of torture and dismemberment that terrorized entire regions. The armed conflict overall claimed nearly half a million lives.
De la Espriella, who led the first round of voting, promises full-scale military confrontation and private mega-prisons in the Amazon. Cepeda backs a modified version of President Gustavo Petro's 'total peace' strategy — negotiations with all armed groups — though security experts broadly agree that approach has failed as violence has surged to its highest levels since the 2016 peace accord. Many Colombians, exhausted and frightened, find de la Espriella's toughness appealing; one Bogotá resident said she did not see his paramilitary ties as disqualifying, recalling that 'the paramilitaries kept the guerrillas in check.'
The international dimension has added pressure. Donald Trump publicly endorsed de la Espriella after the first round, while eleven Democratic members of Congress urged the Trump administration to instead examine the candidate's ties to an organization Washington designated a foreign terrorist group in 2001. Scholars and investigators who have spent careers documenting the paramilitary era watch the election with dread. 'To return to that after everything it cost us,' said one leading researcher, 'is deeply sad.' On Sunday, Colombia will decide whether its violent past is a chapter to be closed or a playbook to be reopened.
On Sunday, Colombians will cast ballots for a president in a choice that cuts to the bone of their country's violent past. One candidate lost his father to assassins linked to paramilitaries. The other built his legal career defending paramilitary leaders. Whoever wins will take office on August 7th into a nation experiencing its worst bloodshed since a peace agreement five years ago.
Iván Cepeda is 63, a leftwing senator and human rights activist. His father, Manuel Cepeda, was a senator himself—murdered in 1994 by paramilitaries and army officers as part of a purge against the communist Patriotic Union party. The younger Cepeda was a university professor when he found his father's car, its body perforated with bullets. He spent the following decades building a movement to represent the dead, visiting prisons to collect testimony from former paramilitaries, documenting what they had done.
Abelardo de la Espriella is 47, a far-right lawyer and self-described outsider who admires Donald Trump. In the early 2000s, as Colombia's main paramilitary organization—the United Self-Defence Forces of Colombia, known by its Spanish acronym AUC—negotiated its demobilization, de la Espriella rose to prominence defending its leaders in court. He has denied any wrongdoing, insisting his contact with paramilitaries was strictly professional. But last week, Cepeda filed a criminal complaint alleging that de la Espriella had not only represented the AUC but also acted as a recruiter for the group through a foundation he created. An investigation by the Colombian news outlet La Silla Vacía found that relatives of a convicted paramilitary leader known as "Comandante Barbie" held minority stakes in de la Espriella's businesses, which span rum, wine, clothing, and real estate.
The paramilitaries themselves emerged in the 1960s as private armies assembled by rightwing landowners, drug traffickers, businessmen, and politicians to fight leftwing guerrilla groups. By the 1980s, as cocaine became central to the conflict, these militias protected trafficking routes and drug lords. At their peak, they fielded more than 30,000 fighters spread across the country. In the 1990s, they became notorious for massacres—choreographed displays of extreme violence meant to terrorize entire communities. Their fighters would enter towns and kill anyone suspected of sympathizing with guerrillas: peasants, Indigenous people, Afro-Colombians. They also carried out what they called social cleansing, targeting people deemed undesirable by paramilitary ideology—LGBTQ+ people, sex workers, homeless people, drug users. The massacres frequently involved torture, rape followed by murder, dismemberment with chainsaws while victims were still alive, decapitations with axes. The armed conflict overall claimed nearly half a million lives.
The two candidates now offer opposing visions for what comes next. De la Espriella, who led the first round of voting, supports a return to full-scale military confrontation. He promises to build private "mega-prisons" in the Amazon and to "wipe out" criminals like "cockroaches and rats." Cepeda, backed by the current president Gustavo Petro, advocates for a modified continuation of Petro's "total peace" strategy—negotiations designed to dismantle all armed groups, including leftwing rebels, paramilitaries, and organized crime factions. That strategy has broadly failed, security experts say, as violence has surged. The past year has been the most violent since the 2016 peace agreement, with spikes in armed group attacks, homicides, kidnappings, forced displacement, and massacres.
Many Colombians feel the country has returned to its worst moments. A 38-year-old graphic designer from Manizales said she likes the idea of being tougher on crime because "people rob, kill and then a few days later they are back on the streets." A former businesswoman now working as a driver in Bogotá, who asked to be identified only as Marcela, does not see de la Espriella's alleged paramilitary ties as disqualifying. "The paramilitaries kept the guerrillas in check," she said. "When there were too many thieves or too much crime, the paramilitaries would carry out what they called 'social cleansing.' Unfortunately, they have served a purpose in some ways."
The international dimension has sharpened the stakes. After de la Espriella emerged ahead in the first round, Donald Trump announced on social media that he was backing the lawyer, calling Cepeda a "radical left Marxist." Eleven Democratic members of the U.S. Congress sent a letter to the Trump administration arguing that rather than campaigning for de la Espriella, the government should examine his ties to the AUC—which Washington designated a foreign terrorist organization in 2001 and which was responsible for numerous massacres, assassinations, forced disappearances, torture, forced displacement, sexual violence, and large-scale drug trafficking to the United States and other countries. De la Espriella did not respond to requests for comment.
María Teresa Ronderos, an author of major investigations into the paramilitaries, sees the choice as a return to a darker chapter. "Colombia has spent years trying to dismantle that terrible war, and he talks about 'disembowelling' leftists and killing criminals," she said of de la Espriella. "To return to that after everything it cost us is deeply sad." The election reflects what Gustavo Duncan, one of Colombia's leading scholars of paramilitarism, called "the reality of a country shaped by drug trafficking." On Sunday, voters will decide whether to move forward or backward through that reality.
Citas Notables
The paramilitaries kept the guerrillas in check. When there were too many thieves or too much crime, the paramilitaries would carry out what they called 'social cleansing.' Unfortunately, they have served a purpose in some ways.— Marcela, a former businesswoman and de la Espriella supporter
Colombia has spent years trying to dismantle that terrible war, and he talks about 'disembowelling' leftists and killing criminals. To return to that after everything it cost us is deeply sad.— María Teresa Ronderos, author of investigations on paramilitaries
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter that one candidate's father was killed by the people the other candidate defended?
Because it's not abstract history—it's the shape of their entire lives. Cepeda spent decades documenting crimes. De la Espriella spent decades defending the people who committed them. They're not just offering different policies; they're offering different moral frameworks for what happened.
But de la Espriella says he was just doing his job as a lawyer. Isn't that a legitimate defense?
It is, in one sense. Criminal lawyers do defend people accused of terrible crimes. But the question voters are asking is whether his professional relationships crossed into something else—whether he was recruiting for the AUC, whether his business partners include relatives of convicted paramilitary leaders. That's the part that troubles people.
Why are some Colombians willing to overlook his past?
Because they're terrified. Violence is worse now than it's been in years. When you're afraid, you want someone who promises to be ruthless. De la Espriella offers that. He says he'll build mega-prisons and wipe out criminals. That's seductive when you feel like the system is failing you.
And what does Cepeda offer instead?
Continued negotiation. Peace talks with armed groups. It's the strategy that's been tried for five years and hasn't worked. So he's asking people to trust a method that's already failed, while his opponent is asking them to trust a man whose past is deeply compromised.
Is there a third option?
Not on the ballot. This is what Colombia has narrowed it down to: a human rights activist whose credibility comes from his suffering, or a lawyer whose credibility comes from his connections. Neither is offering a clear path out.
What happens if de la Espriella wins?
That's what the U.S. Congress is worried about. It's not just about Colombian policy—it's about whether a man with alleged ties to a designated terrorist organization will lead a country that's central to the drug trade. The implications ripple outward.