Bogotá is holding its breath. On Sunday, Colombians will choose between two starkly different visions of the future: Gustavo Petro, a former guerrilla and leftist firebrand, or Rodolfo Hernández, a populist billionaire who openly admires Donald Trump. But beyond the ideological clash, this is a story of a nation weary of corruption, inequality, and violence, where the human cost of politics is written on every street corner.
Petro, who once fought with the M-19 guerrilla group, now promises a 'total transformation' of Colombia's social and economic fabric. He speaks of taxing the wealthy, expanding healthcare, and peace talks with remaining rebel groups. For his supporters, he is the long-awaited champion of the poor. For his detractors, he is a dangerous radical who will turn Colombia into 'another Venezuela.' The fear is palpable in the upscale neighbourhoods of Bogotá, where stockpiling provisions has become a nervous habit.
Hernández, on the other hand, is a former mayor of Bucaramanga known for his eccentric behaviour and anti-establishment rants. He calls himself a 'leftist' but his policies are deeply conservative: privatise healthcare, cut taxes, and bring back conscription. His TikTok-heavy campaign has energised a younger, disillusioned electorate who see him as a fresh alternative. Yet his admiration for Trump and his dismissal of climate change worry many. 'He's a clown, but maybe a necessary one,' a taxi driver told me, reflecting a nation torn between hope and pragmatism.
The cultural shift here is profound. Colombia has long been a conservative, Catholic, and US-allied nation. But the peace deal with the FARC in 2016 opened a door: once the guns fell silent, people began asking why inequality remained so stark. Now, the pandemic has deepened the divide. Streets are filled with vendors selling fruit for pennies, while the rich retreat into gated communities. The societal mood is one of exhaustion and defiance. 'We have nothing left to lose,' a protester told me during last year's strikes, which were met with brutal police force.
Class dynamics are at the heart of this election. Petro's base is the working class, the rural poor, and the young. Hernández draws from the urban middle class and the aggrieved wealthy. But both tap into a deep anger at the political elite, which has ruled for decades. The establishment candidate, Federico Gutiérrez, was unexpectedly eliminated in the first round, a stunning rebuke to the status quo.
What happens next will reverberate beyond Colombia. A Petro presidency would shift Latin America further left, joining Mexico, Argentina, and Chile. A Hernández victory would echo the Trump and Bolsonaro playbooks, with implications for trade and migration. But for ordinary Colombians, the stakes are simpler: will they have work tomorrow? Will their children be safe from extortion? Will the land their family farmed for generations still be theirs?
Walking through the streets of Bogotá, you feel the tension. Posters of both candidates are plastered on every wall. Street vendors sell churros and political T-shirts side by side. In cafes, arguments erupt between friends. 'El cambio' is the word on everyone's lips, but the change they seek is as different as the men who promise it. One thing is certain: no matter who wins, the human cost of this election will be borne by those who have already given too much.
