In a stunning turn of events that has left the chattering classes spluttering into their cappuccinos, Colombia has elected a political outsider with the personal charisma of a damp firework and the policy depth of a puddle. The winner, a man whose name sounds like a knockoff brand of expensive watches, rode to victory on a wave of... well, no one is quite sure. Possibly a combination of Latin American magical realism and the ghost of Donald Trump’s comb-over.
The late count shock, as it is being breathlessly described by cable news anchors who have never been to Bogotá, saw the Trump-backed candidate surge ahead of his establishment rival. Which, let's be honest, is like saying a pigeon beat a statue in a race. The establishment candidate was so establishment he probably had a monocle and a fondness for colonial architecture.
But this is not a victory for democracy. This is a victory for the global brand of political theatre where elections are less about policy and more about who can wave the most pathetic flag of outrage. The new president has promised to 'drain the swamp,' a phrase that, like a bad penny, keeps turning up in countries that have perfectly nice marshes. His platform appears to consist of three pillars: blaming immigrants, blaming the previous government, and a suspicious obsession with the size of the Colombian military’s buttons.
The implications for international relations are, to use the technical term, a bit of a mess. The US has already sent a congratulatory letter written in crayon, while the EU is busy drafting a strongly worded memo about 'concerns regarding democratic norms' that will be filed directly in the circular bin. Meanwhile, the UK Foreign Office has issued a statement that uses the word 'concerned' seven times, which is their polite way of saying 'we have no idea what’s happening.'
What does this mean for the average Colombian? Probably more of the same: a government that governs like a toddler with a paddle. But fear not, for the new president has a plan. It involves building a wall, but no one is sure around what. Or why. But it will be a tremendous wall, the best wall, and Colombia will pay for it with freshly printed pesos that will then be worth less than the paper they’re written on.
In the grand tradition of gonzo journalism, I must confess I am writing this from a bar in the airport, having missed my connecting flight due to a combination of poor planning and a suspiciously cheap bottle of aguardiente. The gin here is surprisingly good, but the election results are a bitter pill. So I raise a glass to Colombia: a country that has once again proven that reality is merely a suggestion, and that in the game of thrones, you either win or you drink at the airport bar.
