Colombia: between political corruption and the hope for a possible change

In the complex political landscape of Colombia, it becomes inevitable to draw comparisons with the myths and symbols that have marked its history. The contemporary reality of our country, with its dilemmas and challenges, reflects a situation that resembles more a sphinx than the idealized celestial peace that many yearn for. This sphinx, however, is trapped between crime, violence, and illegality, forming a perverse trinity that manifests both nationally and internationally. On a global level, figures like Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, and Benjamin Netanyahu have embodied, in various ways, this integration of the illicit in the exercise of power, using nationalist narratives that grant them a sort of impunity, but at the same time condemn them to a place of ignominy in history. In Colombia, the situation is equally alarming. Former presidents Álvaro Uribe Vélez and Gustavo Petro Urrego, protagonists of a political scene fraught with tensions and contradictions, have traversed paths that, although distant in rhetoric, intersect in the practice of coalition politics. Both have navigated a sea of controversies involving crime and violence, perpetuating a cycle of corruption and abuse of power. This phenomenon consolidates within a state framework that, far from seeking the well-being of its citizens, seems designed to benefit a few at the expense of the dignity and rights of millions. Colombia's recent history is marked by a series of diabolical pacts, where politics and crime have danced to the tune of a tragic melody. From the 8,000 process to the Odebrecht scandal, passing through Iván Duque's "Ñeñe politics," each of these episodes reveals the complexity of a system in which illegality becomes normalized. Even more troubling is the evidence that, throughout history, many leaders and their closest collaborators have ended up in prison, highlighting the transformation of politics into genuine criminal networks. In this context, it is crucial to remember that all former presidents since the 1991 Constitution have, in one way or another, established pacts with criminal structures. The financing of campaigns with money from dark sources has been a constant in Colombian politics, where the commitment to public duty yields to the temptation of personal gain and power. This corrosive dynamic has led to a widespread perception that politics is a dirty game, where citizens are mere pieces on a board manipulable by the interests of those in power. However, not everything is lost. Throughout history, examples of reconciliation and change have also emerged. The pact between Álvaro Gómez Hurtado and Antonio Navarro Wolf during the 1991 National Constituent Assembly represents a ray of hope in a bleak political landscape. This alliance, unthinkable in a context of violence, allowed for progress toward a new constitutional framework, demonstrating that politics can also be an instrument of peace. Such agreements, although rare, are proof that the path to reconciliation is possible, despite the obstacles. The challenge, therefore, lies in how to transform these positive experiences into a replicable model today. Gustavo Petro, from his position as president, has expressed his intention to change the economic and political structures that have perpetuated social injustice in the country. However, his task is complicated by the legacy of a system deeply rooted in corruption and clientelism. Álvaro Gómez's diagnosis of the Colombian political regime, where complicities and personal interests prevail over the common good, remains relevant and raises questions about the future of politics in Colombia. History has shown that pacts, although they sometimes bring hopes for change, can also be broken, betrayed, and even become sources of pain. The armed conflict has left a legacy of victims that cannot be ignored, with alarming figures revealing the magnitude of suffering inflicted on the civilian population. Despite efforts to forge peace, the shadow of the past persists, and social wounds remain open. In conclusion, Colombian politics finds itself at a crossroads. On one side, the continuous repetition of the same corrupt and violent patterns; on the other, the possibility of profound transformation that allows for the construction of a more just and peaceful future. The sphinx that represents our political system is not only a symbol of past mistakes but also a reminder that in the hands of the citizenry lies the capacity to rewrite this narrative. The question now is whether we are willing to confront our history and forge a new path toward dignity and respect for human rights in Colombia.