El Salvador candidate: Breaking the law – in a popular way?
| San Salvador, El Salvador
For 30 years, security has been the top challenge in El Salvador. The homicide rate was 103 per 100,000 people in 2015 – the highest in Latin America. But during Nayib Bukele’s first year in office, homicides went down by almost 50%, a trend that continues.
The fact that Mr. Bukele is likely to clinch the presidency next month, despite his anti-democratic maneuvers to make it possible to run for reelection in the first place, raises questions about the limits of democracy at a time when many global leaders are pushing them.
Why We Wrote This
El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele tackled violence in a way citizens have craved for decades. But should that give him the right to run for reelection, something that’s constitutionally banned?
Mr. Bukele’s success capitalizes on a sense that democracy previously failed to deliver on promises of stability and upward mobility. Salvadorans had fair, free elections and saw political parties alternating power since the country’s civil war ended in 1992. But violence skyrocketed, economic mobility was limited, and many people migrated to the United States.
“People are clear that reelection has the appearance of being unconstitutional. ... But they don’t care,” says Marvin Aguilar, a political analyst and former member of Mr. Bukele’s Nuevas Ideas party. “They will reelect him because they feel a change.”
El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele is running for reelection in February – something unimaginable when he first took office in 2019.
As president, Mr. Bukele concentrated the power of nearly all political institutions into his party’s hands, clamped down on civil liberties, and sidestepped six articles in the constitution that explicitly ban presidential reelection in order to participate in the Feb. 4 race.
Yet despite nearly half of Salvadorans saying they believe Mr. Bukele broke the law with his reelection bid, he’s won widespread public approval for his leadership. A majority say they’ll vote for him.
Why We Wrote This
El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele tackled violence in a way citizens have craved for decades. But should that give him the right to run for reelection, something that’s constitutionally banned?
The disconnect is explained on the streets. For 30 years, security has been the top challenge here. The homicide rate was above 70 per 100,000 inhabitants in 2005, and 103 in 2015 – the highest in Latin America. During Mr. Bukele’s first year in office, homicides went down by almost 50%. The downward trend continues. The sense of security Salvadorans now enjoy is priceless, locals say, even if accompanied by a crackdown on rights.
“The situation was fatal,” says Lorena Fuentes, who lives just north of the capital. “In our hearts, we know who we are going to give [the vote] to,” she says of Mr. Bukele.
His success capitalizes on a sense that democracy previously failed to deliver on promises of stability and upward mobility. Salvadorans had fair, free elections and saw political parties alternating power since the country’s civil war ended in 1992. But violence skyrocketed, economic mobility was limited, and many people migrated to the United States.
The fact that Mr. Bukele is likely to clinch the presidency next month, despite his anti-democratic maneuvers, raises questions about the limits of democracy at a time when many global leaders are pushing them.
“People are clear that reelection has the appearance of being unconstitutional. ... But they don’t care,” says Marvin Aguilar, a political analyst and former member of Mr. Bukele’s Nuevas Ideas party. “They will reelect him because they feel a change.”
“Reinterpretations”
Mr. Bukele was elected in 2019 in a landslide victory deemed free and fair by international observers. But not even a year in office, he sent the army into the Legislative Assembly to pressure opposition representatives to approve funds for his security plans. In 2021, his party won a supermajority in the assembly, which allowed them to replace the Constitutional Court, which was supposed to be set until 2027, with loyalists. Some observers called it a coup.
Mr. Bukele’s allies went on to replace the attorney general, who was investigating corruption in his government, including covert negotiations with gangs.
Four months after the high court’s overhaul, the newly appointed justices issued a “reinterpretation” of the constitution that allowed an incumbent to seek reelection. They argued that the 1983 constitution didn’t answer to current needs and that voters shouldn’t be prevented from electing “the most convenient political option.” They also made a wordplay to declare the ban only applies when a president has already been in power for two periods, not just one.
“You can’t give a license to break the law,” urged opposition representative Claudia Ortiz of Mr. Bukele’s request for permission to run, which was granted in November.
“Institutionality exists formally, but not materially,” says Ruth López, a lawyer and constitutional expert. “There is no [independent] institution that works.”
Stepping down?
Mr. Bukele’s candidacy is supported by over 70% of the population, according to a November Universidad Centroamericana (UCA) poll. His overall approval hovers at 91%. Since he came to office, El Salvador has risen to the top of regional rankings on satisfaction with democracy – even if on paper it looks to be moving further away from it.
February’s vote is atypical beyond just the reelection bid. There are few billboards showcasing candidates or mass campaign events. The nongovernmental organization Acción Ciudadana found that 99% of all political ads between August and November came from the government or Mr. Bukele’s party.
“For 30 years, you saw how the big parties saturated [society] with propaganda, and you saw an important number of ads for medium and small parties,” says Eduardo Escobar, Acción Ciudadana’s executive director. “Now, it’s just the ruling party and practically nothing from the rest.”
To secure permission to run for reelection, he had to step down, at least symbolically, from office for the six months before the new term. He assigned his private secretary to temporarily take his place and has kept his security detail, transportation, and presidential residency.
“The presidential delegate is a decorative figure,” says electoral expert Malcolm Cartagena of interim leader Claudia Juana Rodríguez. “It’s a formality.”
“Results that matter”
Far from the halls of politics, citizens shrug at what has unfolded.
Manuel Saavedra, an 80-year-old army veteran, lifts his shirt to show a scar. In 2013 he was stopped by three MS-13 gang members on the street who told him, “‘Don’t you know you have to pay for walking through here?’” he recalls. He says he used his backpack to hit one of the men before trying to run. He was shot twice.
Mr. Bukele’s “getting so much done. Just with having detained so many criminal gang members who have screwed up our lives,” Mr. Saavedra says.
The recent UCA poll concluded there’s a concern if Mr. Bukele doesn’t remain in power that his security strategy will be knocked off track.
“A large part of the population is willing to exempt disrespect of the Constitution to maintain security and a longing for development,” read the poll analysis.
“[Bukele] threatens democracy by showing how you can violate human rights and weaken rule of law if you give citizens results in things that matter to them,” Daniel Zovatto from the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance told CNN.
But security has come at a steep price: A legal measure referred to as the “state of exception” has meant police can enter homes and make arrests without warrants. Some 75,000 people have been arrested since March 2022, and El Salvador has the highest incarceration rate in the world.
“The man is doing a good job,” says Mr. Saavedra. “How could I not vote for him?”
