In the age of hyperconnectivity, social media has blurred the lines between journalism, activism, and propaganda. What was once the practice of informed critique—marked by professional distance and a commitment to truth—has now been largely replaced, across much of Colombia’s digital spectrum, by the figure of the militant journalist. This is a figure who, far from holding power accountable, dedicates themselves to defending it, justifying it, and attacking anyone who dares to question it.

This new profile, embodied by many digital activists who call themselves communicators or analysts, blindly follows the political project of President Gustavo Petro and his coalition in the Historic Pact. But beyond leftist ideas—which are legitimate when defended with reasoning and self-criticism—what defines this type of communicator is not their ideology, but their role within an informal yet effective propaganda machine.

Anyone who has read one of them has read them all: the tone is always the same. Arrogant, sarcastic, aggressive. Their language is fed by slogans and disdain: “fascists,” “fence-sitters,” “bourgeois,” “mainstream media journalists,” “centrist traitors,” “useful idiots,” and the “same old crooks” populate their posts. Their judgment is held hostage by the cause, and their independence is surrendered to a blind loyalty disguised as popular conscience.

This militant journalist is not interested in the truth, but in the narrative. They don’t investigate—they repeat. They don’t confront power—they exonerate it. Their goal is not to inform or generate debate, but to discredit dissenters and sow suspicion toward any voice that doesn’t echo the official script. Their greatest virtue is constant outrage; their method, digital lynching.

Under the excuse that “traditional media has failed,” they build an ecosystem in which any criticism of the government is betrayal, every doubt is reactionary, and any demand for rigor is an elitist gesture. In their world, there are no nuances—only the people or the enemy.

But the most serious issue is not the bias. We all have one. What’s troubling is the shamelessness with which this activism disguised as journalism tries to take the place of serious and pluralistic analysis. They seek to replace reflection with slogans, evidence with opinions, and professional ethics with barricade-style fervor.

Instead of a free press accompanying the country’s transformations with a critical lens, what we have is a legion of digital spokespeople acting as judges of public morality from a posture of contrived ideological superiority. They do not scrutinize their government—they shield it as if it were fragile. They do not analyze the errors of the Historic Pact—they cover them up with victimist rhetoric. They do not accept difference—they label it as betrayal.

This model of militant journalist, far from strengthening democracy, impoverishes it. Because a democracy without critique, without uncomfortable questions, without diverse voices, ends up becoming the echo of its own propaganda. The truth—even for those who claim to defend the people—remains revolutionary. But not when shouted in capital letters or surrounded by insults. Rather, when spoken with reason, calm, and courage.