A recent match at Cuscatlán Stadium in San Salvador between Inter Miami and El Salvador’s national team ended without goals. The game shifted from football to a moment of public ceremony as Salvadoran president Nayib Bukele acknowledged several players in attendance, including Lionel Messi, one after another as if presenting medals to distinguished guests. He shared photos and praise on social media, declaring Messi the best player in the world and the club the biggest on the planet. The post appeared as the presidential election approached, drawing thousands of likes and hinting at what might unfold at the ballot box on Sunday. Reports from multiple outlets indicated the moment carried significant political symbolism beyond the match itself.
Born in 1981, Bukele grew up in a country scarred by civil conflict and quickly turned his surname into a political brand. Some observers describe the government as adopting a Bukele-style approach, marked by hardline penalties for gangs and a broader rhetoric of control that shapes public discourse across the region. Critics argue that this stance blends public safety measures with a personality-driven narrative, while supporters point to lower crime rates and a more visible state presence. El Salvador, a nation with a population under 6.5 million, has seen a controversial shift described by some as a bold new normal, where casual dress and distinctive branding accompany policy choices such as security reforms and economic experiments.
From Nuevo Cuscatlán to the capital, Bukele’s political career began with a mayoral term that started around three decades ago and later escalated to the national stage. He initially aligned with the Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front, known as the FMLN, a party viewed by many as a platform for visibility rather than a strict ideological program. Over time, Bukele positioned himself as an outsider who rejected the traditional political caste, ultimately running and winning as part of a center-right alliance called the Grand National Alliance. His campaign portrayed him as a reformer outside the established mold, even as opponents argued that governance had become a personal project.
god’s instrument
Alongside other populist leaders who claim a special mandate, Bukele has described himself as a tool in a higher plan, presenting his leadership as protected by providence. This framing accompanied aggressive moves to consolidate power early in his administration, including a controversial effort to influence a legislature that initially resisted some measures. The administration then achieved parliamentary dominance in the 2021 elections, enabling broader reforms. Early steps of his presidency included adopting Bitcoin as legal tender and pushing changes to criminal justice policy, while pursuing a wider agenda against organized crime.
From February of that year, observers noted a shifting balance of power: controversial dismissals of Constitutional Court members, a reshaping of judicial decisions, and quiet endorsement by state institutions of contested moves. The armed forces publicly aligned with the administration as it advanced institutional changes. The government pursued deterrence-focused criminal justice measures and introduced a notion of a new normal, a climate that included sentences and procedures some described as exceptional, while others framed as necessary for security and order.
Analysts describe Bukele’s model as two-phased. The first phase allegedly involved discreet negotiations with gang groups that had extended influence from California to El Salvador, followed by a broader clash across society. Human rights advocates have argued that this period entailed significant abuses in the name of fighting crime, including arrests without due process, prolonged detentions, alleged torture, and opaque judicial proceedings. Critics warn that such measures risk normalizing violations in the name of public safety, even as some indicators show reductions in organized crime activity.
We eliminated the culture of extortion
Supporters of Bukele emphasize that criticisms are weighed against crime data showing shifts in murder rates and a crackdown on extortion and gang activity. They point to improving security indicators, while critics raise concerns about civil liberties and the breadth of state power. The debate continues over whether extreme measures come at the expense of due process and democratic norms, especially when criminal justice policy is pursued with a heavy hand.
Many view the president as a powerful figure whose punitive stance defines the administration. Critics call him the face of punitive politics, noting the expansion of prisons and a security apparatus that dominates urban life. Persistent structural inequalities remain, with wealth concentrated among a small subset of families and many citizens facing economic hardship. International observers have highlighted disparities in wealth distribution and their impact on daily life, inviting ongoing scrutiny of the long-term social consequences of the approach.
I’m singing to myself
For some observers, Bukele seems unfazed by external criticism and rarely offers apologies when fictional or narrative depictions align with real events. In one case, a writer named Michelle Recinos published a work titled Liver Matter that stirred heated debate within a climate of political tension. The portrayal of state policing and its impact on everyday citizens became a focal point in a broader cultural conversation about freedom of expression and accountability. Recinos, a journalist, has described a chilling environment where voices challenging official narratives can face intimidation. She argues that silence is not acceptable and stresses telling truth through storytelling and reporting, especially when official narratives fail to reflect the lived experiences of families affected by security policies.
Another work, Daisy Miller, envisions a former police officer tending a secret cemetery in a private garden. Through literary exploration, the author examines the human cost of enforcement strategies and how communities respond to disappearances. The narrative emphasizes the importance of speaking out and documenting these stories, even when those in power prefer silence. It suggests that confronting uncomfortable truths is essential to accountability and public awareness, and it argues that silence is not viable when human rights concerns are involved.