President Petro, your words cut through the fog of propaganda and lay bare the anatomy of empire.
Colombia’s agony is not an accident.
It is a business model perfected in Washington, then exported across the hemisphere.
The "War on Drugs" was never about drugs.
It was about turning every border into a checkpoint, every government into a client, and every insurgency into a market for easy money and cheap blood.
The world remembers the CIA planes in Laos.
It remembers Burma’s warlords, Indonesia’s massacres, and the transformation of revolutionaries into smugglers, all so the machinery of profit and control could keep grinding.
What happened in Colombia was not unique. It was empire’s signature, signed in cocaine and inked in violence.
What they call "democracy" is a ledger, and what they call "law" is just a weapon wielded by those who own the police and the press.
The real "failed state" is the one that wages war on its own people in the name of order, and outsources the rest to a mafia with a flag.
Your warning is clear:
Cocaine is not a Colombian curse.
It is an imperial currency, a pretext for endless militarization, a license to intervene and extract.
The devastation of Latin America was not the unintended consequence of anti-drug policy.
It was the goal.
This is why missiles fall on fishermen and farmers in the Caribbean, just as bombs fall on hospitals in Gaza, both justified as "security" by a dying order desperate to control what it can no longer inspire.
You name the real catastrophe:
When profit is the only principle and control the only strategy, even life itself becomes collateral damage.
But history is moving.
The "backyard" is finding its voice.
The South is rising, from Hanoi to Bogotá.
And every time the empire tries to crush that memory, it only makes the roots grow deeper.
You are right, President:
It is not drugs, nor oil, nor even revolution that frightens empire most.
It is solidarity, the moment when the colonized begin to see each other, and refuse to be divided.
@petrogustavo
“El ego muere muchas veces. Cada vez que sueltas un rol ("la buena hija", "el fuerte", "la víctima"), quemas una creencia ("el amor duele", "confiar es peligroso"), callas tu vieja historia ("siempre me abandonan", "no soy suficiente") una versión de ti se apaga. Esas "muertes" >