Here is an irony that would make Gibbon chuckle: a populist firebrand, anointed by the ghost of Andrew Jackson’s modern avatar, has seized power in Bogotá, and Her Majesty’s diplomatic corps is already queuing up with supplicant handshakes. The British embassy, we are told, has requested ‘early partnership talks’ with the newly elected Colombian leader, an outsider who rode a wave of nationalist anger to victory. This is the same Foreign Office that, just months ago, tutted about ‘democratic backsliding’ in Latin America. Now it cannot get to the negotiating table fast enough. Have we learned nothing from the 1930s? When the diplomats rush to embrace the autocrat, it is not pragmatism. It is panic.
To understand the Colombian result, one must first understand the intellectual decadence of the West. For decades, the chattering classes in London and Washington have lectured Bogotá on human rights and climate targets, all while their own institutions rot. The Colombian voter, unsurprisingly, has had enough. The new president is not a polished technocrat. He is a bruiser, a man who speaks of ‘taking back the country’ with the same crudity Trump once used about the Rust Belt. Yet the British embassy sees an opportunity. Why? Because power, like nature, abhors a vacuum. And as the United States falters in its global role, every second-tier power scrambles to secure its interests.
Let us not pretend this is about noble partnership. This is about cocaine routes, oil contracts, and migration flows. The Colombian peso has already rallied on the news, and City speculators are licking their lips. Our diplomats will smile and talk of ‘shared values’ while the new president appoints his cronies to the central bank. This is the eternal dance of empire: the strongman provides stability; the empire provides legitimacy. And both parties walk away richer, leaving the Colombian peasant to pick up the tab.
But there is a deeper historical lesson here. The fall of the Roman Republic was not caused by barbarians at the gate. It was caused by elites who abandoned the old virtues for short-term gain. When the Senate began auctioning off provinces to the highest bidder, the game was up. Today, we see the same syndrome. The British embassy’s eagerness to embrace an anti-democratic populist is not a sign of strength. It is a sign that our own political class has lost its nerve. We no longer believe in the liberal order we claim to defend. So we cut deals with its enemies.
Perhaps the Colombian outsider will be a force for reform. Perhaps he will curb the narco-state and bring order to the Andes. But let us not delude ourselves. The British embassy’s rush to ‘partner’ with him is not about Colombia. It is about Britain’s own decay, a desperate bid to remain relevant in a world where the old certainties have collapsed. The Victorians, for all their faults, understood that empire required a moral purpose. Now we have only expediency.
The joke, of course, will be on the diplomats. For the strongman they embrace today will be the enemy they denounce tomorrow. History is a cruel mistress, and she rewards those who wait. The embassy should have waited. Instead, they ran. And that, dear reader, is how empires end.
