Colombia election sees pro-Trump lawyer lead first round
The man who sweeps the ballot boxes in Bogotá does not care about the Doctrine. He cares about whether the plastic bins are heavy enough to tip over if a drunkard leans on them, and whether the ink on his fingers will wash off before he has to hold his daughter. He is a man of practical concerns, which is to say he is the only person in the room who understands how the world actually works. The politicians, by contrast, are engaged in a game of narrative architecture, building castles out of words that have no structural integrity but look impressive from a distance.
Aberaldo de la Espriella has pulled ahead in the first round of Colombia’s presidential election. This is a fact. It is also a signal. The signal is not necessarily that the Colombian people have suddenly developed a taste for strongman leadership, though that is the headline. The signal is that the machinery of modern politics has once again demonstrated its ability to confuse the map with the territory, and then charge the territory for the privilege of being mapped.
The term “Donroe doctrine” is being floated in the corridors of power. It is a neat phrase. It sounds like something you might find in a textbook written by someone who has never had to negotiate with a union leader or a angry mob. It suggests a coherent strategy, a deliberate shift in regional politics toward authoritarianism. But systems rarely move with such deliberate coherence. They drift. They calcify. They evolve to serve the people who maintain them, not the people they were designed to serve.
The “strongman” is a luxury good. He is the product of a system that has forgotten how to govern through consensus, and has instead decided that governance is a performance art. The audience does not need to be happy; they need to be impressed. The leader does not need to be competent; he needs to be loud. This is not a new phenomenon. It is simply the latest iteration of the ancient human desire for a father figure who can promise to fix the roof while ignoring the fact that the house is on fire.
What is interesting about this election is not the winner, but the mechanism by which he won. The media, in its infinite wisdom, has framed this as a clash of ideologies. It is not. It is a clash of narratives. One narrative says that the world is complex and requires careful, boring management. The other narrative says that the world is simple and requires a strong hand. The second narrative is easier to sell. It is also easier to believe, because it absolves the believer of responsibility. If the strongman fails, it is because the strongman was not strong enough, or because the enemies were too cunning. It is never because the system itself is broken.
The ordinary Colombian voter is not thinking about doctrines. He is thinking about the price of coffee, the safety of his street, and the reliability of the police. He is thinking about whether the government will show up. The “strongman” promises to show up. He promises to be present. This is a powerful promise in a world where governments are often absent, existing only as distant bureaucracies that issue forms and collect taxes.
The danger is not that a strongman will take power. The danger is that the system will continue to produce strongmen because it is easier to manage a single loud voice than a chorus of quiet complaints. The system rewards spectacle. It punishes nuance. It is a machine designed to grind down the decent and elevate the theatrical.
This is not unique to Colombia. It is a feature of modern democracy everywhere. The people who run the system are not evil. They are just efficient. They have optimized the process for stability, and stability often looks like silence. But silence is not peace. It is just the absence of noise. And when the noise returns, it tends to be loud.
The footnote here is that the “Donroe doctrine” is not a doctrine at all. It is a symptom. It is the fever of a system that has lost its ability to listen. The cure is not a stronger medicine. It is a return to the mundane. It is the man sweeping the ballot boxes, doing his job, one bin at a time. He is the real power. He is the one who keeps the lights on. And he is not interested in doctrines. He is interested in whether the bins are heavy enough.
The election is not over. The second round is coming. The narratives will sharpen. The promises will grow louder. But the man with the broom will still be there. And he will still be wondering about the ink on his fingers. This is the true story. The rest is just noise.
The “strongman” is a mirror. He reflects what we fear. He reflects our desire for order in a chaotic world. But he is also a trap. He promises to fix the system by breaking it. And when he breaks it, he does not fix it. He just makes it his own.
The ordinary person knows this. He does not trust the strongman. He tolerates him. He hopes for better. And he goes back to work. This is the resilience of the decent. It is not loud. It is not dramatic. It is just there. And it is the only thing that matters.
The system will try to crush it. It always does. But the system is made of paper. And the man with the broom is made of stone. Or at least, he is made of something that does not tear easily.
This is the lesson of the election. Not who won. But who is still standing. And who is still sweeping.