De la Espriella’s Hopeful Roar

Dear all,

We welcome you to the Greater Caribbean Monitor (GCaM).

For four years, Colombia lived through an experiment that promised to transform the Republic and instead dismantled many of the pillars that had sustained it for decades. Gustavo Petro came to power speaking the language of historical change; he leaves behind a country more polarized, less secure, less attractive to investment and profoundly distrustful of its institutions. Colombians did not simply elect a new president—they closed one of the most disruptive political chapters in the country’s modern history. Abelardo de la Espriella’s inaugural address made that unmistakably clear.

His speech was not written as a conventional presentation of government priorities, nor as a celebration of electoral victory. It was a declaration that the Petro era is over. Every major theme of the address—from security and fiscal discipline to private enterprise, institutional order and Western alliances—was designed to communicate a single idea: Colombia will stop looking for revolutionary transformations and begin rebuilding the Republic that preceded them.

There was no attempt to preserve the ideological ambiguity that defined the previous administration. De la Espriella openly embraced the Armed Forces, defended markets, promised an uncompromising fight against narcoterrorism, reaffirmed Colombia’s place within the Western democratic community and presented order—not permanent political experimentation—as the central objective of his presidency. More importantly, he articulated these priorities as parts of the same doctrine rather than isolated campaign promises.

That is why this speech matters beyond its immediate political significance. It represents the first formal attempt to define Colombia after Petrismo. Elections remove governments; they do not erase ideas. If Petro’s presidency became the hemisphere’s most ambitious experiment in progressive governance, De la Espriella’s administration now assumes the equally ambitious task of proving that Colombia’s future lies not in continuing that project, but in reversing it. The speech leaves little doubt about the direction. The only question that remains is whether the government can now deliver the results that transform a hopeful dawn into a lasting political realignment.

In this issue, you will find:

• CIA Is Back in Cuba

• The American Right Has High Hopes

• The Doctrine of The Tiger

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For years, Washington’s strategy toward Cuba was defined by sanctions. Every new administration tightened or loosened economic restrictions, adjusted diplomatic relations and debated whether engagement or isolation offered the best chance of changing the regime.

• Intelligence remained in the background, largely overshadowed by larger priorities like China, Russia and the Middle East. This week, that changed.

In perspective. The CIA has quietly established a new Cuba Task Force, a decision that would have attracted global headlines during the Cold War but today passed almost unnoticed outside intelligence circles. On its own, the announcement is significant. Together with everything that has happened over the past two months, however, it reveals something much larger. Washington is no longer relying primarily on economic coercion. It has entered the intelligence phase of its campaign against Havana. The transition has been gradual enough that few observers have connected the dots. First came the State Department’s unusually aggressive report describing Cuba as “The Capital of 21st Century Communism.”

• Shortly afterward, the Trump administration elevated Cuba to Priority 1 within the National Intelligence Priorities Framework, placing the island in the same intelligence category as China, Russia and Iran.

• Intelligence agencies redirected satellites, cyber capabilities and collection assets toward the Caribbean. CIA Director John Ratcliffe personally traveled to Havana carrying what amounted to an ultimatum: reform, or risk becoming the next Venezuela.

• Now comes the missing piece—a dedicated CIA task force built specifically to focus financial, human and technical resources on Cuba.

Between the lines. Taken individually, these decisions might appear unrelated. Viewed together, they resemble the sequencing of a coordinated campaign. Perhaps the most revealing aspect of the new task force is not what it is preparing to do, but what it is not. Its mandate is considerably narrower than that of the Cuba Task Force created in 1960 before the Bay of Pigs invasion. There are no exile brigades to train, no partner force preparing for an amphibious assault, and no authorization for lethal operations.

• Instead, the objective is considerably more sophisticated: identify fractures within the Cuban political elite and widen them until the regime begins to weaken from within.

• That distinction matters because it reflects how American statecraft has evolved over the past six decades.

How it works. Modern intelligence campaigns rarely begin with military operations. They begin by understanding a regime better than the regime understands itself. Intelligence officers recruit sources, analysts map financial networks, cyber specialists monitor communications, and influence operators search for vulnerabilities inside ruling coalitions. The objective is not necessarily to overthrow governments. It is to expand Washington’s options. Better intelligence makes diplomacy more effective, sanctions more precise, covert influence more persuasive and, if necessary, military planning substantially less uncertain.

• According to officials familiar with the operation, the intelligence collected will also allow the U.S. military to update its contingency plans for possible action against Cuba.

• Military planning is routine. Every serious military prepares for contingencies it hopes never occur.

• What is unusual is the public acknowledgment that intelligence collection is now being accelerated specifically to support those plans.

Why it matters. The pattern is difficult to ignore. Earlier this year, intelligence reportedly played a decisive role in locating Nicolás Maduro before the U.S. operation that ultimately captured him. The administration now appears to be applying many of the same preliminary tools to Cuba: expanded intelligence collection, increased political pressure, financial mapping of regime elites and information operations designed to expose internal divisions. None of this means military intervention is imminent. In fact, the opposite may be true.

• Intelligence campaigns often exist precisely to avoid military intervention by producing alternative pathways to strategic objectives.

• A fragmented political elite is easier to negotiate with than a unified one. A leadership consumed by internal distrust becomes less capable of resisting external pressure. Information itself becomes a weapon.

Yes, but. This is also why Cuba has suddenly become one of Washington’s highest intelligence priorities despite the ongoing war with Iran and the broader competition with China. Geography matters. Cuba sits barely ninety miles from Florida. For decades, Havana has served as one of the hemisphere’s most capable intelligence platforms, maintaining relationships with adversarial governments while projecting influence throughout Latin America.

• The Trump administration no longer appears willing to tolerate that status quo indefinitely.

In conclusion. Whether this campaign ultimately produces negotiations, elite fragmentation, or something far more dramatic remains impossible to predict. Intelligence operations are measured in years, not news cycles, and their greatest successes often remain invisible until long after they have concluded. What already seems clear, however, is that the United States has crossed an important threshold.

• For months, Washington tried to squeeze Havana economically. Now it is preparing to understand it from the inside.

• That may prove to be the most consequential shift in American policy toward Cuba since the Cold War—not because it guarantees confrontation, but because it dramatically expands the range of options available if confrontation eventually becomes unavoidable.

The first months of a new government rarely transform an economy. They almost always transform expectations. That distinction matters because optimism is itself a political asset. People invest, consume and tolerate difficult reforms when they believe tomorrow will be better than yesterday.

In perspective. The latest Ipsos global survey suggests that, in Latin America, hope has changed political camps. Argentina leads the region, with 55% of respondents believing the country is on the right track after Javier Milei’s first months in office. Colombia follows with 46%, despite inheriting one of the deepest institutional crises in its recent history. Chile, where support for a return to the right has steadily grown since the election, already sits above the global average. Together, these countries reveal a common pattern: optimism is strongest where voters have recently rejected—or are preparing to reject—left-wing governments.

• The contrast is striking. Brazil, still governed by Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, records only 34% optimism.

• Mexico, after years of Morena rule, stands at 38%. Spain—while not in the Americas but included due to the historical and cultural ties to the region— governed by Pedro Sánchez, remains among the most pessimistic societies surveyed, with only 31% believing the country is moving in the right direction.

Between the lines. Expectations often improve before measurable economic results arrive. But politics begins with confidence, and confidence today appears to be migrating toward leaders promising fiscal discipline, stronger institutions, public security and economic liberalization after years of progressive governance.

• The United States is the principal exception. Despite Donald Trump’s return, only 40% of Americans believe the country is heading in the right direction.

• That figure likely reflects an extraordinarily turbulent geopolitical environment—from the Iran war to escalating trade disputes and renewed global instability—rather than domestic politics alone.

• Peru, meanwhile, remains the region’s perennial anomaly, where chronic political fragmentation continues to undermine public confidence regardless of who occupies the presidency.

In conclusion. If anything, the survey captures a broader regional mood. Across much of Latin America, elections are no longer being won on promises of expanding the State. They are increasingly being won on promises of restoring order, reviving growth and correcting the course after years of progressive rule.

• Whether those expectations ultimately become lasting political realignments will depend on something far more difficult than winning elections: delivering results before hope runs out.

Abelardo de la Espriella’s inaugural address was not simply a presentation of government priorities. It was a declaration that the Petro era had come to an end—and that Colombia intends to become a very different country.

In perspective. For every president, an inaugural speech serves two purposes. It closes an election campaign and opens a government. Abelardo de la Espriella attempted something more ambitious. His first address to the nation sought to close an entire political chapter. For four years, Colombia was governed by a president who promised to reinvent the Republic. Gustavo Petro presented his administration as a historical rupture with everything that came before it.

• De la Espriella answered with a speech built on the opposite premise: Colombia does not need to reinvent itself. It needs to recover itself.

• That idea appears from the very beginning. By invoking Rafael Núñez’s famous warning—“Regeneration or catastrophe”—the new president immediately framed his government as the beginning of a national reconstruction rather than a normal transfer of power.

• The rest of the address never departs from that central theme.

Between the lines. The most striking characteristic of the speech is its coherence. Rather than jumping from one campaign promise to another, every proposal reinforces the same governing philosophy. Security, economic policy, institutions, culture and foreign affairs all point toward a single objective: restoring the authority and confidence of the Colombian State after what De la Espriella portrays as four years of institutional deterioration. Nowhere is that clearer than in his approach to security.

• If Petro’s presidency will be remembered for “Total Peace,” De la Espriella’s will likely be remembered for restoring deterrence.

• The speech repeatedly rejects the idea that criminal organizations should negotiate with a weakened State. Instead, it promises to recover territorial control through intelligence, stronger Armed Forces, renewed coca eradication, expanded prison infrastructure and full political backing for the military.

• The message is unmistakable: the Colombian State intends to recover the monopoly of force that many Colombians believe it gradually surrendered over the past four years.

It’s the economy, stupid. Rather than presenting the State as the engine of development, De la Espriella argues that prosperity begins with confidence. Fiscal discipline, lower taxes, hydrocarbon exploration, regulatory certainty and respect for the Banco de la República are presented not as isolated reforms but as conditions for Colombia to become investable again.

• It is a sharp departure from the interventionist rhetoric that dominated the previous administration and a clear signal that the government intends to rebuild its relationship with entrepreneurs, investors and international markets.

Yes, and. The speech also reveals a president determined to fight on a cultural front. Unlike most recent Colombian leaders, De la Espriella openly embraces what he calls the “cultural battle.” References to God, family, patriotism, merit and national identity are not ceremonial additions to the speech—they are part of its central argument. The implication is that Colombia’s crisis is not merely economic or institutional, but civilizational. In his view, rebuilding the Republic requires rebuilding the values that sustain it.

• Foreign policy follows the same pattern. Petro attempted to reposition Colombia as a more autonomous regional actor, often distancing Bogotá from Washington and questioning many of its traditional alliances.

• De la Espriella leaves little ambiguity that this chapter has ended. Democracy, freedom, anti-totalitarianism and the Shield of the Americas appear repeatedly throughout the address, presenting Colombia once again as a pillar of the Western democratic alliance in Latin America.

• The speech is as much a message to allies abroad as it is to voters at home: Colombia is returning to the geopolitical position it occupied before the Petro years.

Why it matters. Perhaps the most revealing line of the entire address, however, is one that received relatively little attention. De la Espriella promised “a government of extreme coherence.” That may ultimately become the standard by which his presidency is judged. The speech leaves almost no ambiguity about the direction in which the new administration intends to move. There are few contradictions, few attempts to accommodate competing ideological currents and little rhetorical moderation.

• Colombians now know exactly what this government believes the country should become. That clarity also creates enormous expectations.

• Winning an election is one thing. Convincing a nation that an entire political experiment was a mistake is something else entirely.

In conclusion. The Colombian left has suffered a major electoral defeat, but it has not disappeared. If this new government succeeds in restoring security, rebuilding investor confidence and strengthening institutions, Petro’s presidency may come to be remembered as a historical exception. If it fails, the very movement Colombians have just rejected will argue that the conservative alternative proved no better.

• That is why this inaugural address matters. It is more than a roadmap for the next four years. It is an attempt to redefine Colombia after one of the most polarizing presidencies in its modern history.

• Whether history remembers it as the beginning of a genuine national regeneration or simply another turn in Colombia’s political pendulum will depend not on the speech itself, but on whether the government can transform its remarkably coherent doctrine into equally coherent results.