Fringe Candidates Steal Spotlight in Colombia

Not far from the fireworks and cheers that marked the last days of campaigning in Colombia’s presidential election, a ragtag crew of minor candidates gathered for a political event of a different kind.

One presidential contender, a bullfighter, said voters should support him because, well, “not just anyone puts himself in front of a bull.” Another candidate, a former military officer, energetically called for his supporters not to vote for him.

Yet another hopeful, dressed in the heavy wool poncho of an Andean potato farmer, promised to pay $425 to each person who votes in Sunday’s election. When reminded that paying for votes is unconstitutional in Colombia, he smiled and patiently explained that he plans to eliminate the constitution anyway because it is “contradictory, ugly--and too long.”

It’s Politics Gone Awry

for Some People

For some, the presidential debate, held at Bogota’s Javeriana University last week, represented politics gone awry. For others, it was democracy in action--and a welcome diversion from a boring campaign and an escalating civil war. Under Colombian law, any citizen can run for president as long as he or she is at least 30 years old, was born in the country and has no criminal record.

As a result, presidential elections here frequently attract eccentric sideliners.

“I’m not running for president,” said candidate Augusto Guillermo Lora, the obstinate former officer who is among Colombia’s so-called invisible candidates. Instead of presenting a governing plan, Lora is asking his followers to vote “in blank,” an option that allows citizens to show they’re dissatisfied with all the candidates.

Sitting alongside him at the debate in the capital was Alvaro Cristancho, a gentle, gleeful man who writes poetry and was once a Franciscan monk.

Cristancho said he would prefer to pay each voter a million pesos from government coffers than channel the money into mismanaged public works.

“It’s possible I won’t win. I always knew I wouldn’t be a prophet in my own land,” he lamented. Besides wearing a poncho in solidarity with Colombia’s impoverished peasant farmers, Cristancho often campaigned with a piece of tape across his mouth to protest what he sees as an oppressive political regime aided by an exclusionary, image-conscious media.

“In this country, they sell a candidate like a product, like a soap to cure dandruff,” he said.

Luckily for Cristancho, the government allots 120 minutes of free air time on public television to each candidate, as well as a 10-minute segment on private stations. The broadcasts have brought the underfinanced invisible candidates into millions of homes, and some have garnered interest.

While not one of them has registered in recent preelection polls, many Colombians say they are at least lending an ear to these colorful underdogs.

Looking at the wider race, it isn’t difficult to understand why. According to a nationwide survey of 1,930 voters released last weekend, hard-line candidate Alvaro Uribe Velez commands a 26-percentage-point lead over his closest rival, taking much of the suspense away from the election outcome. Without a tight race, voters appear bored.

For his part, Uribe is no showstopper. Credited for his serious and meticulous approach, his favorite refrain during the last several months has been “We have to work, work and work.”

Analysts also attribute the interest in small-time candidates to growing disenchantment with Colombia’s traditional two-party system.

The opposition Liberal Party has been split between support for Uribe, a Liberal dissident, and second-place candidate Horacio Serpa, who is running with the party’s endorsement. The ruling Conservative Party, meanwhile, has seen its support base decline to just 14%.

The invisible candidates, on the other hand, defy ideological definition. Asked to describe his political orientation, Cristancho replied, “I’m human.”

Pablo Franky, a political scientist at Javeriana University, said the country’s traditional parties had opened the way for madcap candidates by drifting away from their social base and throwing the country’s political scene into chaos.

“It may seem like a circus, but in theory, any citizen can be elected to the presidency,” Franky said. “For me, that’s sane.”

A Light Break From Kidnappings, Joblessness

Regardless of their place in politics, the invisibles appear to have lightened the mood in a country weighed down by a deepening civil conflict, rampant kidnappings and depressingly high unemployment.

A crowd favorite, Rodolfo Rincon decided to run for Colombia’s top job after he dreamed that a throng of cheering bullfighting aficionados had carried him right to the door of the presidential palace.

Months later, he traveled deep into the jungle to attend a meeting between Marxist rebel commanders and presidential candidates, where he apparently planned to present his peace plan.

To the cameramen’s delight, Rincon showed up in tights and an emerald-studded bullfighting outfit. The rebels, dressed less glamorously in fatigues, barred him from entering.

Sadly, Rincon has had a lackluster bullfighting career, punctuated by disappointing stints as a mechanic and a used-car salesman. But winning the presidency would make up for it. And while it may seem like a big jump from bullfighter and car salesman to president, Rincon’s political naivete endears him to many.

During a recent televised speech, he became so animated he couldn’t stand still and shifted right out of the frame. On another occasion, when asked how many children he has, Rincon hesitated and then responded: “I don’t deny that I have four children out of wedlock. Sooner or later this would have been known. When I’m president of the republic, they’ll show up.”

Top Candidates Fail

to Inspire Professor

Juan Fernando Mejia, a philosophy professor, said he spent 20 hopeful minutes watching Rincon present his political program on television before concluding that he was “a cliche of the voice of the people.”

Mejia said he worries that Uribe’s tough stance against the rebels will bring more violence. But he was also uninspired by Serpa’s second-place bid because he considers the politician’s fiscal policy unsound.

“I don’t feel represented by any of the candidates,” Mejia said. “If our options are to stay in the same situation or for things to get worse, it’s best just to have a laugh.”