Energy rarely occupies the center of public debate. It is there, working quietly, sustaining daily life without demanding attention. Only when it fails —or when it becomes a political instrument— does it reach the headlines. And it is precisely at those moments when we must lower the volume, take a breath, and look carefully.
Colombia’s recent decision to suspend electricity exports to Ecuador calls for exactly that exercise. Not automatic outrage. Not hurried applause. Analysis.
The government has framed the decision as a preventive measure, grounded in technical criteria, aimed at protecting energy sovereignty and anticipating risks linked to climate variability. In abstract terms, the argument is valid. Guaranteeing domestic supply is a fundamental duty of the State. No reasonable person disputes that.
The problem is not the measure itself. The problem is the timing, the framing, and the narrative.
The Donald Trump domino effect
What is happening between Colombia and Ecuador cannot be understood in isolation. It is part of a harsher global climate, increasingly driven by punishment, threat, and retreat.
Donald Trump did not invent this logic, but he legitimized it and turned it into spectacle. Tariffs as a display of power. Trade as a weapon. International relations reduced to permanent confrontation. That precedent remains. And today, it is beginning to replicate itself —with local variations— in regions that can least afford it.
Ecuador’s announcement of a 30% tariff, and Colombia’s immediate response, follow that same grammar. The suspension of electricity exports fits into this pattern: less a purely technical decision than a move within a political chessboard shaped by confrontation.
The paradox is clear: sovereignty is invoked while integration weakens; technical arguments are cited while decisions respond to political opportunity.
Climate did not come as a surprise
El Niño phenomenon did not appear this week. It was not triggered by a tariff or a diplomatic dispute. It has been documented, modeled, and forecast for years.
The vulnerability of Colombia’s power system to extreme climate events has been repeatedly flagged by the national meteorological authority, by the system operator, and by multiple sector analyses. This is not a black swan. It is a known pattern —increasingly intense and increasingly frequent.
Colombia remains structurally dependent on hydropower. Historically, this has been a strength. But it is also a constraint. When rainfall fails, operational margins shrink and the system enters a zone of tension where improvisation has no place.
None of this has anything to do with Ecuador. All of it was known.
Technical arguments and political timing
Saying that the suspension of exports is based on technical analysis is not false. What is problematic is presenting those analyses as the sole justification for a decision that clearly has a political dimension.
Technical analysis explains fragility. Politics explains timing.
Blurring these two planes —or deliberately merging them— does not strengthen energy sovereignty. On the contrary, it undermines public trust and erodes the credibility of the institutions responsible for leading the energy transition with rigor and consistency.
Power systems are not protected through press releases. They are protected through long-term planning, timely expansion of generation, robust transmission networks, and clear signals for investment in complementary resources and system flexibility.
Renewable discourse, contradictory practice
This is where honesty becomes unavoidable.
President Gustavo Petro has placed the energy transition at the center of his political narrative, both domestically and internationally. The message is ambitious —and, at its core, necessary: renewable energy, decarbonization, climate justice.
Yet the gap between discourse and execution is evident.
Key generation and transmission projects remain delayed. Regulatory signals have been inconsistent. Relations with the private sector —essential for scaling renewables— have been marked by mistrust and ambiguity. In several cases, political decisions have slowed down, rather than accelerated, the effective deployment of the very clean energy sources celebrated in international forums.
This is not a denial of progress. New solar capacity has entered the system, and that matters. But it is not enough to sustain a triumphant narrative. An energy transition is not measured in speeches, but in firm megawatts, ready networks, and stable rules.
When transformation is promised and uncertainty is delivered, frustration follows. And when that frustration is masked by technical rhetoric, the public perception becomes clear: the full truth is not being told.
Putting the finger on the wound
Pointing this out is not opposing the energy transition. Nor is it downplaying the climate emergency. On the contrary, it is taking both seriously.
People are tired of partial diagnoses, of explanations that shift with the political moment, of narratives that underestimate public intelligence. The country does not need reassurance that “everything is under control.” It needs clarity about what is not —and what will be done about it.
Suspending exports may be a valid measure under specific conditions. Using it as a curtain to avoid a deeper conversation about structural fragility and the slow pace of the transition is a missed opportunity.
The question that matters
Beyond the diplomatic dispute, the central question remains:
What is being done —concretely and verifiably— to reduce the structural vulnerability of Colombia’s power system?
Reacting is not enough. Pointing outward is not enough. What is needed is an explicit roadmap: real diversification of the energy mix, acceleration of projects, reinforcement of transmission, integration of storage, and modern demand-side management.
Without that honest conversation, the risk is clear: short-term decisions will continue to replace structural policy.
The bill always comes due
In energy —as in so many public decisions— the bill never disappears. It only changes its due date.
It is not paid by those who make the decision or announce it from a podium. It is not assumed by those who draft the communiqué or turn the moment into narrative. The bill almost always lands in the same place: households, businesses, territories —the people.
When planning fails, the cost shows up as higher tariffs, rationing, productive uncertainty, and lost opportunities. And when that failure is dressed up in the language of sovereignty, urgency, or political epic, the damage is doubled: material and symbolic.
Because “the people” —whom everyone claims to defend— do not need grand gestures or external enemies. They need systems that work, honest decisions, and policies that look beyond the headline.
Energy does not punish. Energy charges.
And it always charges those with the least room to pay.
Juan Daniel Correa Salazar
Energía Limpia
