In 2015, El Salvador presided as the “murder capital of the world” with the highest number of homicides per capita; today, it is one of the safest countries in Latin America, with a homicide rate lower than that of the United States. Over the past decade, the country’s murder rate has been on a rapid decline—between 2022 and 2023, it fell by 70 percent. However, behind this historic fall in violent crime lurks a myriad of human rights violations by the administration of President Nayib Bukele. Examples of these violations include the “indiscriminate” arrest of thousands of adults and children, the torture and resulting death of dozens of incarcerated people, and the intimidation of government critics with threats of prosecution. What Salvadoran citizens may consider a successful campaign against gang violence, human rights organizations consider a humanitarian disaster that “dismantled democratic checks and balances” within the nation. Bukele’s policies have brought a moment of peace to the battered state of El Salvador, but this moment is likely to end if he continues to disregard the country’s democratic processes.
In 1996, El Salvador became one of the most violent places on the planet when, following the Salvadoran Civil War, the United States deported thousands of arrested individuals with gang affiliations to the country. Major crackdowns on gang activity began in 2003, but none of them had as large of an impact on violence as the “régimen de excepción” (state of exception) imposed by Bukele in 2022. So why did his plan work where others hadn’t? Two aspects of Bukele’s plan differ from those that preceded it: It stripped Salvadorans of the constitutional right to defense and expanded the interpretation of “gang affiliation.” As a result, security forces can detain anyone for indefinite periods without reason while withholding legal counsel, leading to arrests being made at a much faster, indiscriminate rate. In other words, Bukele’s plan curbed humanitarian rights like no other.
Examining Bukele’s no-tolerance policy with a focus on its immediate impacts makes it easy to understand why 90 percent of the Salvadoran public approves of his administration. Public safety, or at least the public’s perception of safety, is a large contributor to Bukele’s popularity. In a country such as El Salvador, where gangs have fearmongered citizens into paying an extortionate “protection tax” for the past two decades, the public’s perception of safety is understandably impacted by the presence of gang violence. The correlation is evidenced in a recent Gallup poll, where the absence of gangs has led to a record 88 percent of Salvadorans feeling “safe,” up from 28 percent only eight years ago. As such, it stands to reason that the public would back a figure such as Bukele who, in their eyes, successfully ushered in a period of peace to a tumultuous El Salvador.
From an economic standpoint, Bukele’s leadership has the potential to create the stable environment that is needed to implement socioeconomic reforms, something he has promised to prioritize during his second term. According to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development’s (OECD’s) Strategic Priorities analysis of El Salvador, the largest factors holding back economic development in the country are “high levels of violence” and “polarized politics.” By curbing gang violence and consolidating public support for Bukele, the no-tolerance policy has the immediate benefit of creating fertile ground for economic reform. However, whether or not Bukele takes advantage of this situation to address the major problems facing education, water availability, and labor productivity remains to be seen.
A more long-term outlook of Bukele’s no-tolerance policy cuts through the rosy haze of the short-term merits, especially when comparing his rise to power to that of Peru’s former dictator, Alberto Fujimori. Both leaders began their ascent to power by leveraging public discontent with violence and instability, promising immediate security and economic reform while employing authoritarian measures to consolidate control. Fujimori justified curbing judicial and constitutional rights as a necessary means of expediting both processes, dissolved Congress, and removed a constitutional ban on reelection to remain in power. In much the same manner, Bukele stormed El Salvador’s parliament with armed police to coerce politicians to approve a loan request from the United States in 2020, gained a parliamentary supermajority by ousting the supreme court in 2021, upended judicial processes for his state of exception in 2022, and was reelected despite El Salvador’s constitutional ban on reelection in 2023. While the parallels between Bukele and Fujimori’s rises to power are clear, Bukele’s focus on anticorruption within his own cabinet sets him apart—though his control over judicial processes complicates the assessment of how sincere this anticorruption stance truly is. Nonetheless, as power becomes increasingly consolidated in the executive branch of government, Bukele’s no-tolerance policy sets a dangerous precedent for the erosion of democratic institutions. In the future, Bukele’s justification for dismantling judicial processes to protect citizens may become a precedent for subsequent leaders of El Salvador to adopt similarly despotic tactics, leading to an entrenchment of authoritarianism that undermines El Salvador’s status as a democracy.
Regardless, Bukele’s repressive policies are an important first step in addressing a long history of violent crime in El Salvador. For better or for worse, the country has set a precedent for upending constitutional rights in the name of protecting the safety of its citizens, creating a strong case in the ongoing debate between balancing democratic freedoms and facilitating a functioning society. In the short term, the immediate security afforded by Bukele’s no-tolerance policy is a massive benefit to the people of El Salvador. Yet, without proper infrastructure to facilitate the societal reintegration of incarcerated people, the prison population will only continue to grow, reflecting the unsustainable nature of the policy in the long run. Above all, history has repeatedly shown that validating authoritarian measures, even under the guise of public safety, risks opening the door to democratic backsliding. The cost of unchecked authority often becomes apparent only when it is too late, leaving societies vulnerable to the very abuses of power that democracy is meant to prevent.