Colombia's new president Abelardo de la Espriella has moved his country's embassy to Jerusalem, recognised Israeli control over the Golan Heights, re-appointed ambassadors, and introduced visa-free travel with Israel — reversing virtually every foreign policy position of his predecessor Gustavo Petro, who had severed ties over the Gaza war. Colombia is not alone. Argentina under Javier Milei, Bolivia under Rodrigo Paz, Chile under Jose Antonio Kast, Honduras under Nasry Asfura, and Venezuela have all restored or deepened ties with Israel after elections replaced left-wing governments with right-wing ones. The mechanism is structural, not idiosyncratic. Latin America's strong presidential systems and weak diplomatic institutions allow new heads of state to pivot foreign policy overnight. As Marta Tawil Kuri of the College of Mexico notes, unlike the US where bipartisan consensus provides an institutional buffer, Latin American foreign policy can swing sharply from one election to the next. What took years to build — Palestine recognition, ICJ genocide case participation, ambassador recalls — can be undone in weeks. The Trump factor is explicit and unprecedented. Brazilian presidential candidate Flavio Bolsonaro launched his campaign alongside Argentine President Milei with Israeli flags in the crowd and a video message from Netanyahu — a level of overt foreign-leader involvement in a Latin American election that experts call unheard of. Colombia's de la Espriella and Honduras's Asfura received direct endorsements from Trump. The new bloc has formalised through the Shield of the Americas, a US-led counter-narcotics alliance spanning 15 countries designed to counter Chinese influence in the hemisphere. Evangelical Christianity provides the domestic electoral fuel. Brazil's Evangelical Parliamentary Front encompasses more than 40 percent of the Chamber of Deputies and more than a quarter of the Senate. In Honduras and Guatemala, roughly 40 percent of the population identifies as evangelical, and both have moved embassies to Jerusalem. Florida-based pastor Mario Bramnick's Latino Coalition for Israel sends delegations throughout the region, meeting leaders in Guatemala, El Salvador, Brazil, Panama, Chile, and Costa Rica. The theological framework — God's covenant giving Jerusalem to the Jewish people — provides ideological cover that transcends conventional foreign policy calculation. The practical payoff extends beyond symbolism. Good relations with Israel translate into access to military and security resources, including sophisticated spy software like Pegasus, military jet sales, and force training. The new right-wing governments have also adopted Israel's war-on-terror framing for their domestic narcotics conflicts — a rhetorical shift that justifies expanded security powers. Several governments are facilitating controversial US migration policies, with El Salvador housing third-country deportees. The pattern reveals a transactional architecture: Latin American right-wing leaders gain Trump-bloc legitimacy, evangelical voter mobilisation, and Israeli security technology. Israel gains diplomatic allies as its international standing deteriorates elsewhere. Washington gains a hemispheric bloc aligned against Chinese influence. The costs are borne by Palestinians who lose diplomatic advocacy, by the populations whose foreign policy lurches with every election cycle, and by the institutional credibility of regional diplomacy itself. Brazil's ongoing presidential election is the bellwether. If Bolsonaro defeats Lula in the runoff, the region's largest country joins the pro-Israel bloc, and Saar's prediction about embassy movement becomes reality. If Lula holds, the left retains its most important regional anchor. Either way, the era of Latin American foreign policy as ideological weathervane — shifting wholesale with each election — shows no sign of ending.