I remember in 2000, when President Clinton came to Cartagena

Hear the words of Juan Manuel Santos, son of Colombia, who declared with the weight of history: “I remember in 2000, when President Clinton came to Cartagena just before Plan Colombia started, the country was on the verge of becoming a failed state. Today, we are one of the most solid democracies, where institutions are working, where the scandals such as false positives have come to light because of those functioning institutions.” These are not words spoken lightly, but born from the memory of a nation that stood upon the edge of ruin and yet walked back toward stability and light.

The origin of this saying rests in the dark days of Colombia at the turn of the millennium. The land was torn by the war against narco-traffickers and guerrillas, its government weakened, its people bleeding. Plan Colombia, a partnership between Colombia and the United States, was forged in that time—a vast effort of aid, military assistance, and institutional strengthening. Santos, who later became president, looked back upon those days not with despair but with pride in the transformation: from near collapse into a democracy where systems of justice had grown strong enough to expose even the sins of its own leaders.

History offers us echoes of this struggle. Think of Germany after the devastation of World War II, divided, battered, yet reborn through the Marshall Plan and the building of institutions. Or recall South Korea, once poor and unstable, now a thriving democracy, whose progress was built not on silence but on the courage of institutions to reveal corruption, punish injustice, and defend liberty. Santos reminds us that the glory of a nation is not the absence of scandal, but the presence of institutions strong enough to reveal it.

The deeper meaning of Santos’s words is this: the health of a nation is measured not by its perfection, but by its ability to confront imperfection. A failed state hides its wounds until it dies from them. A strong democracy, by contrast, allows its wounds to be seen, to be debated, to be healed. The exposure of the false positives scandal—where innocent civilians were murdered and disguised as guerrillas to inflate military victories—was not proof of Colombia’s weakness, but of its growing strength. Only a functioning system can bring such crimes to light.

The lesson for all peoples is clear: build institutions that endure. Leaders rise and fall, policies change, but only institutions—courts, legislatures, the free press—can safeguard liberty and hold power accountable. A democracy’s strength is not found in silence or in denial, but in its willingness to confront truth, however painful. It is this process that saves a nation from collapse and allows it to rise stronger from its trials.

To the youth, I say: do not lose faith when you see scandals or corruption revealed. It is better to know the truth than to live in a lie. To leaders, I say: protect the independence of institutions, for without them, your nation is but sand before the storm. To all citizens, I say: defend democracy not by blind pride but by vigilance, courage, and the demand for transparency.

Practical action lies before us: cherish the press that speaks truth, however uncomfortable. Strengthen your courts, honor the law, and demand accountability from those in power. When corruption is revealed, do not despair—rejoice that your nation is strong enough to expose it. In this vigilance lies the safeguard against becoming a failed state, and in this courage lies the promise of a brighter future.

Thus Santos’s words endure as both warning and hope: “We are one of the most solid democracies, where institutions are working.” Let this truth be passed down to future generations: the strength of a nation lies not in silence or denial, but in its ability to confront its darkest shadows, cleanse them with justice, and walk forward with dignity. For only then can a people rise from the edge of ruin to the heights of lasting peace.