With lightning-fast reforms and dismantled institutions, Nayib Bukele’s political project enters an irreversible phase.
San Salvador, August 2025
El Salvador’s constitutional order fractured when President Nayib Bukele pushed through sweeping reforms that many now interpret as the formal end of democratic alternation. Backed by a legislature dominated by his New Ideas party, Bukele eliminated the presidential runoff, extended the presidential term from five to six years, and, most critically, secured the right to indefinite re-election.
The legislative process was alarmingly swift—less than two hours of debate, no public consultation, and unanimous approval reminiscent more of authoritarian systems than democratic deliberation. According to analysts at El País and the Washington Office on Latin America (WOLA), these changes amount to a “shutdown of classical electoral democracy.”
International watchdogs, including Human Rights Watch and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, have sounded alarms: El Salvador is heading toward a hybrid regime where elections persist, but checks and balances vanish. Since 2021, Bukele’s administration has removed independent Constitutional Court justices, installed loyalists in key judicial posts, dismantled civil society, and targeted critics in media and human rights sectors. Prominent voices like Ruth López and members of the NGO Cristosal have faced persecution, exile, or legal harassment.
El Congreso de El Salvador aprobó una reforma constitucional que permite la reelección presidencial indefinida (EFE/ Rodrigo Sura)
Despite these alarming developments, Bukele remains one of the most popular leaders in the Western Hemisphere, polling above 80% thanks to a sustained crackdown on gangs that once made El Salvador the world’s most violent country. But that success carries a heavy cost: more than 75,000 people have been detained under a state of exception that has now been extended 28 times. Detainees are often arrested without warrants, legal representation, or trial—many on the basis of tattoos, neighborhood profiles, or anonymous accusations.
Policy experts from the Wilson Center and the United States Institute of Peace (USIP) have begun drawing parallels with Venezuela under Hugo Chávez. The formula—initial electoral legitimacy followed by legal entrenchment—is familiar: use popularity to reconfigure the rules of the game until political competition becomes symbolic.
The new electoral system entrenches this dynamic further. By eliminating runoffs, Bukele could theoretically secure re-election in 2027 with only a plurality of votes. The six-year term extension offers even greater leeway to implement structural shifts that consolidate centralized control over the state.
Yet Bukele’s project is more than personal ambition. It’s a political model designed around the idea of “efficient governance” in fragile states. It appeals to other Central American governments facing chronic insecurity, economic stagnation, and low institutional trust. Bukele’s use of surveillance, predictive policing, and digital prison systems offers a techno-authoritarian blueprint dressed in modern aesthetics.
The U.S. government faces a delicate dilemma. While the State Department and congressional leaders voice concern over democratic backsliding, segments of the U.S. security establishment still cooperate with Bukele’s administration on counter-gang operations. Meanwhile, China and Turkey have deepened their economic and technological ties with San Salvador, offering partnerships devoid of democratic prerequisites.
Domestically, El Salvador has become a one-man state. The legislative and judicial branches have been hollowed out, the opposition rendered symbolic, and civil liberties curtailed. Legal scholars now argue that “El Salvador has retained the appearance of democracy, but not its substance.”
The lingering question is no longer whether Bukele is authoritarian—it is what kind of authoritarianism his regime represents. Elections remain, but they no longer offer real choice. Laws exist, but they are tailored to concentrate power. Popularity endures, but it legitimizes repression.
Democracy in El Salvador has been stripped of its foundational safeguards. And in their place stands a legal fortress built for one man and one party—engineered not just to win, but to stay.
This piece was developed by the Phoenix24 editorial team using reliable sources, public data, and rigorous analysis in alignment with the current global context.
Esta pieza fue desarrollada por el equipo editorial de Phoenix24 con base en fuentes confiables, datos públicos y análisis riguroso en coherencia con el contexto global vigente.