Colombian authorities are investigating whether mechanical failure, human error or excess weight caused the crash of a military C-130 aircraft that has now left at least 69 dead, as a political dispute intensifies over the condition of the country’s aging air fleet.

The aircraft, a Lockheed C-130 Hercules operated by the Colombian Aerospace Force (FAC), went down shortly after take-off on Monday near Puerto Leguízamo, in a remote jungle region bordering Peru and Ecuador.

The plane, identified as FAC 1016, was carrying 128 personnel when it crashed minutes after departure en route to Puerto Asís, roughly 200 kilometres away. Officials have confirmed dozens of survivors, though many remain hospitalised with injuries ranging from minor trauma to severe burns.

Emergency crews faced major challenges reaching the crash site due to the dense Amazonian terrain, while the impact and subsequent fire — compounded by detonations from ammunition on board — left many bodies severely damaged, complicating identification efforts.

Aging aircraft under scrutiny

The C-130H aircraft had been in service since 1983 and was donated to Colombia by the United States in 2020 as part of long-standing bilateral defence cooperation. It underwent a major maintenance overhaul in 2023, including structural inspections and system upgrades, before being returned to operation.

Despite its age, military officials insist the aircraft remained within operational limits. General Carlos Fernando Silva publicly contradicted President Gustavo Petro’s description of the aircraft as “scrap”, presenting detailed figures on its operational life during a televised cabinet meeting alongside Defence Minister Pedro Sánchez and senior military officials.

General Silva said the aircraft had flown 345 hours between 2021 and 2024, and 537 hours in 2025, broadly in line with standard annual usage of around 500 hours. Based on remaining flight capacity — estimated at up to 20,000 hours — he said the aircraft could theoretically continue operating for decades if strict maintenance protocols were followed.

Concerns have emerged from U.S. defence officials regarding maintenance standards and the availability of spare parts for aircraft supplied to Colombia, according to reports by El Tiempo. Sources cited by the newspaper said such aircraft can operate safely for around 10,000 hours, provided rigorous inspection and servicing regimes are maintained.

United States Southern Command has offered to support Colombia’s investigation with a technical team, underscoring the importance of determining whether maintenance, logistics or operational factors contributed to the crash.

Authorities reiterated there is no indication the crash was caused by hostile action, despite the aircraft going down in a region where dissident factions of the former FARC operate and where coca cultivation is widespread.

Investigators are focusing on three main hypotheses: mechanical failure, pilot error, or overloading at take-off. Officials said flight data, maintenance records and communications with air traffic control will be central to establishing the sequence of events.

The disaster has triggered a heated political exchange between President Gustavo Petro and his predecessor Iván Duque, exposing sharp divisions over defence policy and military procurement.

Petro described the aircraft as “scrap”, criticizing past administrations for accepting donated military equipment and arguing that such decisions have weakened Colombia’s operational capacity. “A country cannot defend itself with obsolete machines,” he said, pledging that his government would prioritize acquiring new equipment and strengthening domestic defence production.

He also questioned the long-term cost of maintaining aging platforms, suggesting that donated equipment can ultimately impose higher financial and operational burdens.

Duque strongly rejected the accusation, defending his administration’s handling of the armed forces and pointing to maintenance protocols carried out before the aircraft was delivered. He noted that C-130 aircraft continue to operate in dozens of countries worldwide and urged a technical investigation into factors such as aircraft weight, runway conditions and operational procedures.

Duque also accused Petro of callous social media statements in the hours after the tragedy, calling for restraint while investigations remain ongoing.

The crash adds to six previous military aviation accidents since 2022 and raises deep concerns about the readiness and sustainability of Colombia’s air fleet, much of which relies on aging platforms acquired through international cooperation.

Analysts say the incident could intensify scrutiny over budget-cuts in defence spending, maintenance capacity and the balance between acquiring new equipment and extending the life of existing assets.

As recovery operations continue in Putumayo’s dense jungle, authorities face the dual challenge of identifying victims and providing answers to families, while determining whether the disaster reflects isolated failure or deeper systemic issues within Colombia’s military aviation infrastructure.

Colombian President Gustavo Petro has made Gaza the moral centerpiece of his foreign policy. Since the October 7, 2023, Hamas terror attacks, he has devoted extraordinary political capital to denouncing Israel, questioning its right to self-defense, and framing the Gaza war as a singular global emergency.

He summoned “Free Palestine” marches, spent public funds hosting solidarity concerts in Bogotá’s Plaza de Bolívar, donned a keffiyeh near Times Square alongside Roger Waters, branded Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu a “war criminal,” labeled Gaza a “genocide,” and even urged U.S. military personnel to disobey orders from President Donald Trump over Middle East policy.

The performance was theatrical, relentless – and costly. Petro’s visa to the United States was revoked. Months later, he was placed on the U.S. Treasury’s OFAC sanctions list alongside his close political ally and interior minister Armando Benedetti, as well as his wife – or estranged wife – Verónica Alcocer, whose marital status, according to Petro himself, remains mysteriously unresolved.

Yet for all this moral fervor, Petro has remained conspicuously silent on one of the gravest human rights catastrophes unfolding today: Iran’s brutal suppression of nationwide protests.

His silence is deafening.

Since protests erupted across Iran in late December 2025, the regime has responded not with reform but with terror. Demonstrators demanding economic relief, dignity, and political change have been met with live ammunition. Militiamen aligned with the Revolutionary Guards have swept through cities on motorbikes, firing automatic weapons into crowds. Snipers reportedly aim at faces and genitals. Morgues are overflowing. Bodies are stacked in blood-soaked streets.  More than 12,000 are believed dead. Thousands more have been dragged from hospital beds into prisons, many never to be seen again.

This is not metaphorical violence. These are not contested narratives. These are crimes against humanity carried out by a theocracy against its own citizens.

And yet – nothing from Petro.

The Iranian regime insists the unrest is a foreign-engineered plot: psychological warfare orchestrated by hostile powers to destabilize the Islamic Republic. The opposition, by contrast, sees a nationwide rupture—an uprising rooted in decades of repression, economic collapse, and the severing of legitimacy between rulers and ruled.

Narrative control matters. In modern conflict, perception is a battlefield. As scholars Ihsan Yilmaz and Shahram Akbarzadeh have noted, authoritarian regimes increasingly rely on Strategic Digital Information Operations—psychological warfare designed not merely to suppress dissent, but to reshape reality itself. The objective is cognitive: to induce fear, discredit opponents, and convince societies that resistance is futile.

Petro’s brand of performative moralism has not been cost-free. His compulsive need to condemn Israel – and, by extension, the United States – was read in Washington not as symbolism but as direct provocation. It coincided with a marked deterioration in U.S.–Colombia relations, freezing high-level dialogue, undermining security cooperation, and contributing to the unprecedented decision to revoke his U.S. visa. For a country whose military, intelligence, and counter-narcotics apparatus remains deeply intertwined with American support, the damage was neither abstract nor symbolic – it was strategic.

The rupture with Israel was even more explicit. By publicly referring to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu as a “Nazi,” Petro crossed a diplomatic red line that few world leaders have dared approach. The comparison – historically illiterate, morally inflammatory, and deeply offensive- effectively severed Colombia–Israel relations. Defense cooperation was halted, diplomatic channels collapsed, and decades of bilateral engagement in security, technology, and trade were sacrificed to rhetorical escalation. Whatever one’s view of Israel’s conduct in Gaza, equating the Jewish state with the architects of the Holocaust is not principled criticism; it is diplomatic arson.

In both cases, Petro appeared less concerned with consequences than with signaling ideological virtue to a global activist audience. The result has been the erosion of Colombia’s standing with two key partners—one its most important ally, the other a longstanding strategic collaborator—while yielding no tangible benefit to the civilians whose suffering he claims to champion.

What makes Petro’s silence on Iran so damning is not merely its contrast with his Gaza activism; it is the exposure of a deeper incoherence. For years, leftist politicians, celebrities, and fringe groups have flooded streets in capitals around the world denouncing Israel’s war as “genocide.” Now, when protesters are machine-gunned in Iran, hospitals are raided, and young people are summarily executed, this outrage dissipates.

As Allister Heath wrote recently in The Telegraph, this is “pure, unadulterated evil… a stain on humanity.” And yet where are the chants? Where is the flotilla? Where are the luvvies? One might also ask: where is the Colombian president who claims human rights as his moral compass?

The answer is uncomfortable. Gaza became a performative ritual of sit-ins and campus “occupations.” The tragedy of Iran exposes the hollowness of that performance.

When Iran’s protests began in Tehran’s Grand Bazaar, authorities initially assumed they were manageable. Bazaar merchants—traditionally conservative and closely linked to the state—were seen as transactional actors seeking economic relief, not regime change. Even Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei acknowledged their grievances, a rare concession.

But the regime miscalculated. Protests spread to more than 25 provinces. Ethnic minorities—Kurds, Baluch, Arabs, and Azeris—joined despite deep skepticism about the opposition and fears of what might follow. The unrest evolved from economic protest into an existential challenge to the state, triggering a massacre reportedly claiming more than 6,000 lives.

Meanwhile, fears of chaos loom. Exiled figures such as Reza Pahlavi position themselves as transitional leaders, even as their proposed roadmaps concentrate power in ways eerily reminiscent of the current theocracy. The Syrian precedent—where Western intervention elevated jihadist actors rather than democratic forces—haunts the region.

None of this excuses silence.

President Petro has every right to condemn injustice – especially on his own soil, where human rights abuses by FARC dissidents and the ELN guerrilla continue to inflict immense suffering on Colombia’s most vulnerable. Yet here, too, the silence has been deafening: soldiers kidnapped, children cowering under desks amid gunfire in Cauca, an ongoing humanitarian catastrophe in Catatumbo that has displaced more than 60,000 people and quietly slipped from the government’s agenda.

For Petro, moral leadership is selective. If civilian lives matter, they matter everywhere. If state violence is intolerable, it is intolerable whether committed by an ally, an adversary, or a regime ideologically convenient to ignore.

Silence in the face of mass murder is not neutrality. It is complicity by omission.

Petro’s foreign policy has become a study in selective empathy – loud where ideology demands it, louder still on social media, but mute where principle requires courage. That is not moral clarity. It is hypocrisy incarnate.