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In Part I of this article, a brief historical overview was presented, spanning from the Venezuelan presidential crisis of 2019 to the tensions in the Caribbean — between the United States and Venezuela — and the total economic blockade imposed on Venezuela. The article also left several questions open, which, considering recent events, have now been resolved, although at the same time new ones have emerged. U.S. Operation in Venezuela and the Capture of Maduro The situation between the United States and Venezuela ended in 2025 with a total U.S. economic blockade and the “seizure” of a Venezuelan oil tanker. However, the situation changed dramatically when, on January 3, 2026, Nicolás Maduro was captured in Caracas by U.S. forces. Preceded by threats and sustained military and economic pressure on Venezuela, the President of the United States, Donald Trump, carried out an operation to capture and remove Maduro and his wife from Venezuela. The operation was surgical — lasting approximately two hours — and although successful, it also resulted in human losses (80 fatalities according to The New York Times — an unofficial figure — including 32 Cuban combatants confirmed by Havana) and damage to military infrastructure in Caracas, as well as in Miranda, Aragua, and La Guaira. As was already known, the U.S. government had classified Maduro as a member or leader of the Cartel of the Suns. In addition, a reward of $50,000 had been offered for his capture, and since 2020 the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York had charged Maduro with drug trafficking and conspiracy to import cocaine into the United States. In this context, Maduro’s capture was followed by his transfer to New York, where he will face trial. Venezuela: an uncertain present? Following Maduro’s detention, Venezuela’s Supreme Tribunal of Justice ordered Vice President Delcy Rodríguez to assume the role of head of state due to Maduro’s “temporary” absence. After the U.S. attacks, Rodríguez spoke out strongly against what she called “foreign aggression,” describing Maduro’s capture as an “illegal and illegitimate kidnapping.” However, after being sworn in, she softened the tone of her statements and even invited the Trump administration to “work jointly on an agenda of cooperation, aimed at shared development, within the framework of international legality and to strengthen a lasting community coexistence.” Rodríguez likewise emphasized the principles of sovereignty and non-interference. All of this stems from the imperialist rhetoric of Trump and Rubio. Trump made it very clear that he will “govern” Venezuela “until we can achieve a safe, appropriate, and prudent transition.” Everything indicates that, although under the threat of “doing the right thing,” Trump plans to give Rodríguez an opportunity; if it does not work or if she fails to meet Trump’s expectations, the United States will intervene again. On the other hand, both Edmundo González — who on January 4 released a video declaring himself the “president of Venezuela” and calling for a “peaceful and clear” transition — and María Corina Machado have been practically sidelined by the U.S. government, citing a lack of internal support, referring to the fact that those who support them are “outside” Venezuela. On the social front, reactions have been mixed, ranging from celebrations over Maduro’s capture to demonstrations against U.S. interventionism. The current situation is very delicate: with Rodríguez’s appointment and no clear short-term roadmap — plus the threat of U.S. intervention and interference — and the snubbing of the opposition, Venezuela’s social reality appears not to have changed, nor is it likely to change much in the near future. However, Rodríguez’s stance — her invitation to the United States to work together, albeit under threat, practically placing oil and resources on a silver platter — could become the social fuel capable of generating real change in Venezuela in the near future. International reactions The events in Venezuela took many by surprise, and international reactions were quick to follow. South Africa issued a press release stating that the actions of the United States constituted “a violation of the United Nations Charter,” and called on the UN Security Council to urgently address the situation. Indonesia also underscored the importance of “respect for international law and the principles of the United Nations Charter.” Similar statements were issued by Japan, India, South Korea, Malaysia, Pakistan, Thailand, Vietnam, New Zealand, and Australia. China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs likewise emphasized the violation of “Venezuelan sovereignty and the threat posed to peace and security in Latin America and the Caribbean.” It also called for the release of Maduro and his wife. With a stronger tone, Iran condemned the U.S. attacks and likewise appealed to the United Nations. In a very similar vein, North Korea’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs also condemned the U.S. attack, denouncing acts of U.S. hegemony and calling on the international community to recognize the “catastrophic” situation in Venezuela and to denounce the United States’ “habitual acts of violating the sovereignty of other countries.” On the other hand, Israel’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Gideon Sa’ar, posted on X: “Israel praises the United States operation, led by President Trump. […] Israel stands with the freedom-loving Venezuelan people, who have suffered under Maduro’s illegal tyranny. Israel celebrates the removal of the dictator […].” Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu stated that Israel supported the actions of the United States in Venezuela. In Europe, most countries supported the decision behind the actions of the United States, underscoring the illegitimacy of Maduro’s government and the importance of de-escalation and dialogue, always within the framework of international law. When asked about Maduro, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky responded that the United States “knows what to do now,” referring to dictators. Other countries such as Norway, Serbia, Slovenia, and Spain also expanded their criticism of the U.S. military operation, arguing that it was not in accordance with international law. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Belarus and Russia, in varying tones, condemned the U.S. attacks, describing them as “direct threats” to international peace and security. For his part, Slovak Prime Minister Robert Fico strongly criticized U.S. actions and the UN, emphasizing that “international law is not applied, military force is used without the consent of the UN Security Council, and whoever is big and powerful will do whatever serves their interests…” In the Americas, Mexico condemned and rejected the U.S. military intervention and urged the United States to adhere to international law. Honduras did the same, describing the capture of Maduro as an act of kidnapping. Cuba condemned the “criminal act,” calling it “state terrorism against the brave Venezuelan people and against our America.” Nicaragua also condemned the U.S. intervention and expressed its support for Delcy Rodríguez. Argentine President Javier Milei posted, “Freedom advances, long live freedom, damn it!” celebrating the capture of Maduro and his wife. In Bolivia, Rodrigo Paz also referred to freedom, stating that “the only way out for Venezuela is respect for the vote.” Ecuadorian President Daniel Noboa stated that “for all narco-Chavista criminals, their time has come. Their structure on the continent will completely collapse.” Paraguay and Peru also celebrated Maduro’s removal. In contrast, Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva condemned the attacks and Maduro’s capture, describing them as “very serious […] and extremely dangerous as precedents for the international community.” Chilean President Gabriel Boric also criticized the attacks and called for a peaceful resolution under international law, while President-elect Antonio Kast said that Maduro’s capture “is good news for the region.” Colombian President Gustavo Petro also rejected the “aggression against the sovereignty of Venezuela and Latin America,” while calling for a meeting at the UN and the OAS. Finally, Uruguay’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs also condemned the U.S. intervention in Venezuela and called for respect for the UN Charter. The UN, the OAS, and the EU also issued statements, using more cautious rhetoric and emphasizing respect for international law. The Don-roe Doctrine and the future of Venezuela In Part I of the article, Venezuela’s significance in terms of oil, biodiversity, water resources, rare earths, and more was presented. Based on this, and as mentioned earlier, the attack on alleged drug boats and the fight against drug trafficking became a pretext to promote the new Donald Trump–Monroe Doctrine, the “Don-roe Doctrine / Monroe Doctrine 2.0.” In December 2025, the United States published its new National Security Strategy, which emphasizes and promotes the United States as the sole actor or hegemon in the Americas, making any foreign presence outside of the United States unwelcome. The results of the application of this doctrine were immediate — and there is more. It is not only Venezuela: the Trump administration — particularly Secretary of State Marco Rubio — has already set its sights on Cuba, in addition to repeatedly raising the possibility of carrying out military activities against drug trafficking in Mexico and Colombia, and more recently, engaging in a dispute with Denmark over strategically important Greenland. Discussion The implications for Venezuela stemming from these events are profound. First, there is a crisis of legitimacy: although Delcy Rodríguez has assumed the presidency, Edmundo González has also raised his voice, leading to both internal and external questioning. Likewise, there are institutional challenges. In the end, only the head of the regime was removed; Maduro’s inner circle remains in power. Therefore, regardless of the change at the top, a transition toward a more democratic or stable system appears distant given the current conditions. This is independent of the existing social discontent — once again, the regime retains control, making a drastic change unlikely in the near term. Regarding the U.S. side, the Trump administration has been clear — and consistent with its foreign policy — in always prioritizing its national interests over those of any other country. The example is clear: by acting unilaterally and without adherence to international law, the United States has once again undermined the sovereignty of a state. The U.S. government could justify its actions in legal terms — Maduro is accused in the United States of drug trafficking and conspiracy — on health and security grounds — the Venezuelan regime facilitates drug trafficking into the United States — or even on geopolitical grounds — weakening an administration perceived as allied with rival powers and holding interests contrary to those of the United States. However, the validity of these arguments must be examined. Moreover, as Robert Fico pointed out, there was an absence of authorization from the UN Security Council or even from the U.S. Congress itself, which, for experts in the field, renders the operation legally unlawful. Ultimately, the debate remains open. Countries’ positions are divided, and, more importantly, this could become a dangerous precedent for national sovereignty and for the conduct of great powers toward independent states. There are also the potential consequences for the region: the act alters the balance of power in Latin America and redefines the narrative surrounding U.S. influence in the region. On the other hand, there is oil and what its control represents as a long-term strategic factor. Finally, there is the global tension over control and influence in regions — one in which Russia and China are far from pleased. Finally, Fico’s statements and the following quote from Mexican lawyer José Mario de la Garza are worth analyzing in order to understand the importance of international law and why we must live in a rules-based world — even if several reforms may be needed to improve it: “Overthrowing a dictator sounds morally right. No one mourns a tyrant. But international law was not built to protect the good, but to restrain the powerful. That is why it prohibits the use of force almost without exception: not because it ignores justice, but because it knows that if every country decides whom to ‘liberate’ at gunpoint, the world returns to the law of the strongest.” References @josemariodelagarza. (04 de January de 2026). @josemariodelagarza. Obtenido de Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/DTDmcSNgPmK/?hl=en&img_index=1 Caro, I. (05 de January de 2026). "Vengo con dolor, pero también con honor": Delcy Rodríguez juramenta como presidenta encargada de Venezuela tras la captura de Maduro. Obtenido de BBC News: https://www.bbc.com/mundo/articles/cd9exjjkvw8o Holcman, T. (05 de January de 2026). Maduro's rival in Venezuelan elections demands presidency, 'freedom to all political prisoners'. Obtenido de The Jerusalem Post: https://www.jpost.com/international/article-882323 Lozano, D. (05 de January de 2026). Delcy Rodríguez jura como presidenta de Venezuela "por Maduro y por Chávez". Obtenido de El Mundo: https://www.elmundo.es/internacional/2026/01/05/695be102fc6c8323518b45a0.html Muggah, R. (03 de January de 2026). 5 scenarios for a post-Maduro Venezuela — and what they could signal to the wider region. Obtenido de The Conversation: https://theconversation.com/5-scenarios-for-a-post-maduro-venezuela-and-what-they-could-signal-to-the-wider-region-272675 Página 12. (06 de Enero de 2026). Aseguran que son más de 80 los muertos tras el ataque de Estados Unidos a Venezuela. Obtenido de Página 12: https://www.pagina12.com.ar/2026/01/05/aseguran-que-son-mas-de-80-los-muertos-tras-el-ataque-de-estados-unidos-a-venezuela/ Reuters. (04 de January de 2026). Trump says U.S. will run Venezuela after U.S. captures Maduro. Obtenido de Reuters: https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/loud-noises-heard-venezuela-capital-southern-area-without-electricity-2026-01-03/ Urrejola, J. (06 de January de 2026). Venezuela tras Maduro: por qué el chavismo sigue en el poder. Obtenido de DW: https://www.dw.com/es/venezuela-tras-maduro-por-qu%C3%A9-el-chavismo-sigue-en-el-poder/a-75400562 Walia, G. (03 de January de 2026). Venezuela's President Nicholas Maduro captured by US forces: Where has he been taken? What we know so far. Obtenido de The Economic Times: https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/international/us/venezuelas-president-nicholas-maduro-captured-by-us-forces-where-has-he-been-taken-what-we-know-so-far-caracas/articleshow/126321249.cms?from=mdr "South Africa urges UN Security Council Session following unilateral military action in Venezuela" (Press release). Pretoria, South Africa: Department of International Relations and Cooperation. 3 January 2026. Archived from the original on 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "Dirco slams US efforts to 'run' Venezuela". TimesLIVE. 3 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026 "Foreign Ministry Spokesperson's Remarks on the U.S. Military Strikes on Venezuela" (Press release). Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 3 January 2026. Archived from the original on 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "World reacts to US strikes on Venezuela". Reuters. 3 January 2026. Archived from the original on 3 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. 'Matter of deep concern': MEA reacts to US strikes on Venezuela; urges restraint, calls for dialogue". The Times of India. 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "Iran strongly condemns US attack on Venezuela". Iran International. 3 January 2026. Archived from the original on 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "Iran Condemns U.S. Attack on Venezuela". Foreign Policy. West Asia News Agency. 3 January 2026. Archived from the original on 3 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. Halpern, Sam (3 January 2026). "Israel commends US operation that led to capture of Venezuela's Maduro". The Jerusalem Post. Sa'ar, Gideon [@gidonsaar] (4 January 2026). "Israel commends the United States' operation, led by President Trump, which acted as the leader of the free world. At this historic moment, Israel stands alongside the freedom-loving Venezuelan people, who have suffered under Maduro's illegal tyranny. Israel welcomes the removal of the dictator who led a network of drugs and terror and hopes for the return of democracy to the country and for friendly relations between the states. The people of Venezuela deserve to exercise their democratic rights. South America deserves a future free from the axis of terror and drugs" (Tweet). Retrieved 4 January 2026 – via Twitter. "Netanyahu says Israel supports 'strong' US action in Venezuela". Al Arabiya English. 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. Sokolin, Anton (4 January 2026). "North Korea condemns the U.S.' military intervention in Venezuela". NK News. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "North Korea sends tough message to US after Venezuela attack, fires multiple ballistic missiles". Wion. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "Malaysia stands firm on UN principles, opposes foreign intervention in Venezuela". Malay Mail. 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "Pakistan urges restraint, peaceful resolution in Venezuela". The Express Tribune. 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "Thailand urges US to settle conflict with Venezuela peacefully". Bangkok Post. 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026 "Vietnam deeply concerned about reports on situation in Venezuela: spokesperson". Vietnamlawmagazine.vn. 4 January 2026. Retrieved 5 January 2026. "Venezuela latest: Trump says US is going to 'run' Venezuela after capturing President Maduro". BBC News. 3 January 2026. "World reactions to US operation in Venezuela". Le Monde. 3 January 2026 "Sviluppi sulla situazione in Venezuela, nota di Palazzo Chigi". www.governo.it (in Italian). 3 January 2026. Retrieved 3 January 2026. "Statement from Minister Eide on the Situation in Venezuela". Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Norway). 3 January 2026. Retrieved 3 January 2026. "Russia Condemns U.S. Military Strikes Against Venezuela". The Moscow Times. 3 January 2025. Retrieved 3 January 2025. Vlasova, Svitlana; Stockwell, Billy (3 January 2026). 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"Cuba's president denounces strikes on Venezuela as a "criminal attack by the U.S."". CBS News. 3 January 2026. Retrieved 3 January 2026. Alvarez, Carolina (3 January 2026). "Honduran President condemns US "military aggression" and "kidnapping" of Nicolás Maduro". De Último Minuto. Retrieved 4 January 2026. "Mexico Says Venezuela Strikes Breach U.N. Charter, International Law". The Wall Street Journal. 3 January 2026. Retrieved 3 January 2026. "Gobierno de Nicaragua exige liberación de Nicolás Maduro y defiende soberanía de Venezuela". SwissInfo. 1 March 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. Godsell, Oscar (3 January 2026). "Prime Minister Anthony Albanese responds to US President Donald Trump's attack on Venezuela". Sky News. Retrieved 3 January 2026. "Venezuela attack: New Zealand 'concerned', expects everyone to follow international law – Winston Peters". RNZ. 4 January 2026. Archived from the original on 4 January 2026. Retrieved 4 January 2026. Romero, Juan (3 January 2026). "Intervención militar en Venezuela: así reaccionaron en América Latina a la operación militar de EE.UU. para extraer a Maduro y su mujer". Fobes (in Spanish). Retrieved 3 January 2026. "Rodrigo Paz dice que «salida para Venezuela es respetar el voto», tras captura de Maduro". SwissInfo. 5 January 2026. Retrieved 1 March 2026. Durães, Marina (3 January 2026). "Lula diz que ataques à Venezuela e prisão de Maduro são 'inaceitáveis'". UOL. Retrieved 3 January 2026 "World reacts to US bombing of Venezuela, 'capture' of Maduro". Al Jazeera. 3 January 2026. Retrieved 3 January 2026 "Kast califica la detención de Maduro como "una gran noticia para la región"". Diario y Radio Universidad Chile (in Spanish). 3 January 2026. Retrieved 3 January 2026. Taylor, Harry; Rogero, Tiago (3 January 2026). "Global outcry after US launches strikes on Venezuela and captures president". The Guardian. ISSN 0261-3077. Retrieved 3 January 2026. Pannell, Alfie; Glade, Jim. 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In a 2025 marked by punitive polls, fragmented systems, and democracies under pressure, Latin America confirmed that voting remains an instrument of change, but no longer a guarantee of stability or democratic strengthening. The year ends with a powerful image: a president, a president-elect, and a defeated candidate — with radically different ideas and political visions — showing respect for electoral results, the electoral authority, and one another in Chile. An act that should be ordinary in any democracy became something almost revolutionary. It may seem like a mere formality, but it is not. In a Latin America divided by hate speech and polarized politics, these gestures of institutional courtesy and democratic normality make a difference. An intense electoral cycle shaped 2025. Ecuador, Bolivia, Chile, and Honduras held presidential elections that, in one way or another, redefined the regional political landscape. These were accompanied by numerous legislative elections, local contests, and referendums. Mexico, meanwhile, experimented with the unprecedented popular election of judges and magistrates, a reform meant to democratize the justice system but which, in practice, represented setbacks in electoral governance conditions that once seemed resolved. Holding elections that meet integrity standards is no minor matter at a time when the region is undergoing processes of democratic erosion. The quality of these elections determines whether alternation in power is possible, whether democracy can persist, resist, and remain resilient when facing multiple challenges such as political-criminal violence, citizen fatigue, institutional co-optation, affective polarization, and ideological radicalization. The ballot speaks: five regional patterns An assessment of the 2025 elections reveals five patterns that transcend national borders and illustrate key features of today’s regional political dynamics. First: protest voting has consolidated. From the overwhelming victory of the far right over the left in Chile on December 14 — when José Antonio Kast won 58% of the vote — to President Daniel Noboa’s failed referendum in Ecuador, the dramatic collapse of the Movement Toward Socialism (MAS) in Bolivia, and the governing Libre party’s third-place finish in Honduras, the message has been consistent: voters punish those in power, regardless of ideology. In Bolivia, MAS suffered a dramatic defeat after nearly two decades of dominance. The party of Evo Morales and Luis Arce, which won 75 of 130 seats in 2020, was reduced to just two in the August elections. For the first time, Bolivia held a presidential runoff on October 19, where Rodrigo Paz of the Christian Democratic Party (PDC) won with 54.5% of the vote. In Honduras, the ruling party’s candidate, Rixi Moncada, placed third, while conservative candidate Nasry “Tito” Asfura of the National Party became president-elect following a highly contentious race marked by external intervention, numerous episodes of political violence, and 24 days of uncertainty before results were finalized. Noboa suffered a devastating defeat in the November 16 referendum: “No” prevailed on all four questions, including rejecting the authorization of foreign military bases (60% voted NO) and rejecting the call for a Constituent Assembly (61% NO). This outcome surprised many, as it came just seven months after Noboa won the presidency with 55.6% of the vote. Interpretations are still developing, but it suggests that citizens are unwilling to grant “blank checks” to their leaders. Second: pragmatism is replacing ideology. Paz’s centrist message of “capitalism for all” in Bolivia, Noboa’s security-focused campaign in Ecuador, and the rejection of ruling parties across the region show that many Latin American voters in 2025 are moving beyond ideological alignment. Voters seem less interested in long-term transformative projects and more in immediate responses to pressing problems: insecurity, economic crises, and corruption. This trend has benefited conservative forces. In Chile, a far-right candidate — openly nostalgic for Pinochet — won for the first time, promising drastic public spending cuts, tough “law and order” policies, opposition to abortion and marriage equality, and aggressive measures against crime and irregular migration. Kast’s victory adds to right-wing governments like Javier Milei in Argentina, Nayib Bukele in El Salvador, Santiago Peña in Paraguay, and Luis Abinader in the Dominican Republic. This new “blue wave” shapes the current political map, though with different tones and levels of radicalization. Third: party fragmentation, divided governments, and minority presidencies. Except in Ecuador, where polarization between correísmo and anticorreísmo shaped both the April presidential election and the November referendum, other countries experienced deep fragmentation. In Bolivia, seven competitive presidential candidacies contended in the first round. In Honduras, three candidates fiercely competed in one of the country’s most tightly contested elections. High fragmentation often produces minority presidents and divided governments. This year, Bolivia and Ecuador joined Argentina, Brazil, Colombia, Guatemala, and Peru, where presidents govern with weak congressional support. By contrast, two countries have extremely powerful presidents with unified governments: Mexico and El Salvador, where ruling parties hold supermajorities capable of passing constitutional reforms without negotiating with the opposition. Fourth: the hollowing of the political center and the crisis of moderate parties and leaderships. As previously argued with María Esperanza Casullo, “center-and-something” parties (center-left and center-right) have long struggled to attract votes from the middle. Moderate politics seems to lack electoral appeal in Latin America. This declining representative capacity of the political center has created a vacuum often filled by outsiders or new parties claiming to embody fresh demands and alternatives from the margins. This vacuum feeds polarization strategies. Fifth: institutional credibility crisis. With the exception of Chile — where results were announced two hours after polls closed and immediately accepted — electoral processes in Honduras and Ecuador faced serious challenges from political actors who refused to recognize the results. In Ecuador, after the April runoff, Luisa González of the Citizens’ Revolution questioned transparency. In Bolivia, accusations of irregularities persisted throughout the August elections. In Honduras, more than two weeks after the November 30 vote, the presidential result remained undefined. Trust in electoral institutions — the cornerstone of democracy — shows troubling cracks that deepened throughout 2025. Many countries now face governance crises alongside fragmented systems, hate speech, interpersonal and institutional distrust, and extreme polarization. Three lessons for the future This electoral year leaves lessons that will shape regional politics in coming years. First: political-criminal violence conditions democracy. Several elections took place amid criminal violence. Honduras recorded six politically motivated homicides during the campaign, four targeting candidates from the ruling Libre party. The NGO Cristosal documented 67 political violence incidents between September 2024 and November 2025, including assassinations, attacks, threats, and harassment. Ecuador held its referendum under a State of Emergency due to “internal armed conflict,” declared in response to escalating drug-related violence and loss of state control over prisons. Mexico continues to hold elections in violent contexts, particularly at the local level. The “Voting Between Bullets” project by Data Cívica and México Evalúa has documented rising political-criminal violence since 2018, with 2024 being the most violent year yet, especially locally. Second: external influence is redefining electoral sovereignty. U.S. involvement in the Honduran presidential election, as well as in Argentina’s legislative elections weeks earlier, raised alarms about political autonomy in the region. In Ecuador, Noboa actively sought to establish U.S. military bases, a proposal rejected by 60% of voters. This level of foreign intervention — openly supporting candidates, conditioning economic aid, pressuring electoral decisions, or warning of retaliation — sets a dangerous precedent that reshapes the regional political game. External actors become potential “balancers” of competition, creating tilted playing fields. Third: polarization can demobilize voters. Ecuador showed that even amid extreme polarization, voter mobilization is not guaranteed. The moderate vote, which could have tipped the balance in the referendum, simply vanished or dissolved between the two radical positions. This suggests polarization may demobilize sectors that feel unrepresented by either extreme, paradoxically weakening democratic participation. Democracies at risk Despite difficulties, elections are still being held with reasonable levels of integrity. Power alternation occurred in several countries. Most losing candidates — even reluctantly — accepted results. This shows that electoral institutions still retain some strength. However, democratic erosion comes not from the absence of elections, but from those elected through them. It arises from leaders who challenge democracy’s pluralistic foundations. Today’s central dispute is over what “true democracy” means: a system prioritizing rights and institutional checks, or one concentrating power in the name of the “popular will.” This debate cuts across countries as different as Venezuela, Ecuador, El Salvador, and Mexico. In 2025, Latin American democracies faced multiple threats: low institutional trust, persistent violence, co-opted electoral authorities, vulnerability to external actors, and illiberal governments fostering polarization. Protest voting was one of the year’s most visible patterns, but part of something broader: extreme electoral volatility, where citizens reject governments of any ideology in search of immediate solutions. The challenge for 2026 — when countries like Costa Rica, Peru, Colombia, and Brazil (municipal elections) head to the polls — will be to safeguard electoral autonomy and professionalism, strengthen pluralism, depolarize public life, limit external interference, and continue reinforcing democratic institutions without yielding to narratives that promise order at the expense of hard-won rights.

China’s policy paper supports the “Proclamation of Latin America and the Caribbean as a Zone of Peace” — a pointed contrast to US twenty-first century gunboat diplomacy. On December 10, 2025, US forces seized the oil tanker Skipper off the coast of Venezuela, carrying over a million barrels of crude. “Well, we keep [the oil],” President Trump told reporters. Venezuela’s foreign ministry called it “blatant theft and an act of international piracy,” adding: “The true reasons for the prolonged aggression against Venezuela have finally been revealed. It has always been about our natural wealth, our oil.” That same day, on the other side of the world, China released its third Policy Paper on Latin America and the Caribbean (the first since 2016) outlining a vision of partnership “without attaching any political conditions.” The timing captures the choice now facing Latin America. Two documents released within a week — Trump’s National Security Strategy (NSS) on December 5 and China’s policy paper five days later — lay bare fundamentally different approaches to the hemisphere. The Monroe Doctrine returns Trump’s NSS makes no pretense of diplomatic subtlety. It declares a ‘Trump Corollary’ to the Monroe Doctrine, asserting US opposition to “hostile foreign incursion or ownership of key assets” in the hemisphere. The Western Hemisphere is now America’s “highest priority”, with three threats requiring military response: migration, drugs, and China. Countries seeking US assistance must demonstrate they are “winding down adversarial outside influence” — a demand that Latin American nations cut ties with Beijing. The strategy promises “targeted deployments” and “the use of lethal force” against cartels. It states that Washington will “reward and encourage the region’s governments … aligned with our principles and strategies.” Unsurprisingly, the US Secretary of State Marco Rubio rushed to congratulate Chile’s Trump-inspired extreme right wing candidate José Antonio Kast, who won the presidency with 58% of the vote (the most right-wing leader since Pinochet). The tanker seizure shows what this doctrine looks like in practice. Since September, US strikes on boats have killed 95 people. The USS Gerald R. Ford carrier group patrols the Caribbean. As Colombian President Gustavo Petro observed, Trump is “not thinking about the democratization of Venezuela, let alone the narco-trafficking” — only oil. After declaring that a new phase of attacks could include “land strikes on Venezuela”, Trump threatened the Colombian president that “he’ll be next” as well as invasion of Mexico. China’s alternative China’s policy paper operates from an entirely different premise. Opening by identifying China as “a developing country and member of the Global South,” it positions the relationship as South-South cooperation and solidarity rather than great power competition. The document proposes five programs: Solidarity, Development, Civilization, Peace, and People-to-People Connectivity. What distinguishes this paper from its 2008 and 2016 predecessors is its explicit call for “local currency pricing and settlement’ in energy trade to “reduce the impact of external economic and financial risks” — new language directly addressing the weaponization of the dollar. This trend has been underway, as highlighted by the R$157 billion (USD 28 billion) currency swap agreement between Brazil and China, signed during Brazilian president Lula’s visit to the Asian country in May this year. China’s policy paper supports the “Proclamation of Latin America and the Caribbean as a Zone of Peace” — a pointed contrast to US twenty-first century gunboat diplomacy. And it contains a line clearly responding to Washington’s pressure: “The China-LAC relationship does not target or exclude any third party, nor is it subjugated by any third party.” The historical pattern Of course, the focus on the “China threat” to “US pre-eminence” in the region is not new. In August 1961, progressive Brazilian Vice President João Goulart visited China, the first high-ranking Latin American official to do so after the Chinese Revolution. At a mass rally in Beijing, he declared that China showed “how a people, looked down upon by others for past centuries, can emancipate themselves from the yoke of their exploiters.” The US response was swift. American media constructed a narrative linking Brazilian agrarian reform movements to a “communist threat from China.” On April 1, 1964 (less than three years after Goulart’s visit) a US-backed military coup overthrew him. Twenty-one years of dictatorship followed. The playbook remains the same. In the 1960s, the pretext was “communist threat”; today it’s “China threat.” And what’s at stake is Latin American sovereignty. What makes this moment different is economic weight. China-LAC trade reached a record US$518.47 billion in 2024, according to China’s Ministry of Commerce. China’s share of trade with Mercosur countries has grown from 2% to 24% since 2000. At the May 2025 CELAC-China Forum, Xi Jinping announced a USD 9 billion investment credit line. In 1964, Latin America had few alternatives. Today, China presents another option. The question before the Latin American people The right-wing surge across the continent is undeniable — Kast in Chile, Milei in Argentina, the end of MAS rule in Bolivia. These victories reflect the limitations of progressive governments when addressing crime, migration, and economic stagnation. But they also reflect how US-generated crises become the terrain on which the right wins. The question is whether Latin American governments (including right-wing ones) want to be subordinates in what Trump’s strategy calls an “American-led world.” Even Western liberal analysts are alarmed. Brookings describes the NSS as “essentially assert[ing] a neo-imperialist presence in the region.” Chatham House notes that Trump uses “coercion instead of negotiation”, contrasted with China, “which has been providing investment and credit … without imposing conditions.” That being said, China’s presence in Latin America is not without contradictions. The structure of trade remains imbalanced — Latin America exports raw materials and imports manufactured goods. Meanwhile, labor and environmental concerns linked to specific Chinese private enterprises cannot be ignored. Whether the relationship enables development or reproduces dependency depends on what Latin American governments demand: technology transfer, local production, industrial policy. This agenda for a sovereign national project must be pushed forward by the Latin American people and popular forces. At present, the differences between the two visions being presented of the “US-led world” and a “community with a shared future” have never been starker. This article was produced by Globetrotter. The original article is under a CC BY-SA license

Chileans have elected the most right-wing presidential candidate since the end of the Augusto Pinochet dictatorship over three and a half decades ago. In a runoff held on Dec. 14, 2025, José Antonio Kast, a Republican Party ex-congressman and two-time former presidential candidate, won just over 58% of the vote, while his opponent, Jeannette Jara, the left-wing labor minister of current President Gabriel Boric, won nearly 42%. Approximately 15.6 million Chileans were eligible to vote in the first presidential election to take place with mandatory voting and automatic voter registration. As a result of those new election rules, which went into place in 2022, an estimated 5 million to 6 million new voters went to the polls. These voters – found to be largely younger, male and lower-middle class – are seen as lacking a strong ideological identity and rejecting politics altogether. The verdict delivered by Chile’s voters puts it in line with a broader right-wing regional shift – most recently in Bolivia – that has reversed the “pink tide” of left-leaning governments in the past two decades. But as a historian of modern Latin America and Chile, I believe Chile’s election also reflects the important local context of years of increasing disenchantment with the political system. Amid Chile’s expanded electorate, the primary issues of voter concern during this campaign were crime and immigration. An October 2025 poll specifically found delinquency to be the top issue, with immigration, unemployment and health care also marking high. Though Chile has one of the lowest crime rates in Latin America, high-profile cases of organized crime have shaken the nation in recent years. Homicides increased between 2018 and 2022 and have decreased slightly since then. Immigration has also risen significantly, with a large number of immigrants coming to Chile having fled economic and political crises in Venezuela, as well as in Peru, Haiti, Colombia and Bolivia. The foreign-born population in Chile rose from 4.4% in 2017 to 8.8% in 2024. The key constitutional context Many commentators have highlighted the stark polarization of this election, with a Communist Party labor minister campaigning against the arch-conservative Kast, who has lauded the Pinochet dictatorship under which his deceased older brother once served. But there is more to the story. Some observers have drawn comparisons between Kast and other far-right Latin American leaders like Nayib Bukele in El Salvador, Javier Milei in Argentina and Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil. But Chile is not merely following the same far-right playbook of its neighbors. In the weeks leading up to the runoff in Chile, both candidates moved toward the center. Jara vowed to expand the prison system to combat rising crime, while Kast – who had previously threatened expulsion of undocumented migrants – softened his tone to say they would be “invited” to leave. Moreover, Kast learned from his previous failed attempts at the presidency by speaking less about his controversial or more socially conservative positions. For example, he played down opposition to abortion under any circumstances. Chilean voters, in contrast, overwhelmingly approve of the limited abortion rights that were passed by Congress in 2017. Yet beyond the campaign trail messaging, the results also reflect a structural fact of Chilean politics that mirror political realities of other parts of Latin America, and even globally. In every presidential election since 2006, Chileans have voted out the incumbency to swing to the opposing side of the political spectrum. With candidates barred from consecutive presidential terms, the pendulum has swung back and forth since the alternating presidencies of socialist Michelle Bachelet – 2006-2010 and 2014-2018 — and conservative Sebastián Piñera – 2010-2014 and 2018-2022. Boric, a former left-wing student leader, took office in 2022 following a wave of upheaval and popular protests over inequality in 2019-2020. In what was a historic moment, the country voted to begin a process of rewriting its Pinochet-era constitution, which entrenched neoliberal economic policies and limited the government’s capacity to confront inequality. The constitutional convention was made up of directly elected citizens, many of them from grassroots movements. Yet in a stunning reversal, the progressive constitution – which would have protected rights to nature, Indigenous rights and social rights – was roundly defeated in a plebiscite in 2022. Just over a year later, voters similarly rejected a second attempt to rewrite the constitution, albeit under a process that conservative parties helped shape. Boric’s approval ratings, already low, suffered from this failed constitutional process. More than the right-wing elections elsewhere in the region, this national context helps to explain Chile’s own conservative turn. The ever-present discontent of voters Even as the pendulum has swung back and forth in recent Chilean presidential elections, there are deeper continuities across the different Chilean governments in the 21st century. Important among them is generalized voter discontent with the political system. This has traditionally been expressed in popular protests, such as the student movements of 2006 and 2011 and the ‘Estallido Social’– or Social Uprising – of 2019-2020 that were the largest protests since the return to democracy in 1990 and helped propel Boric to power. Public discontent was also expressed in the overwhelming vote to rewrite the constitution, which passed with 78% of the vote in 2020. Even though the constitutional process was ultimately rejected by voters, this underlying discontent has not gone away. One of the recent signs of discontent with the political choices on offer was in the first round of voting on Nov. 16: The third-place candidate was not one of the veteran politicians on the right, but Franco Parisi, a populist economist who has not set foot in Chile in years and who called on his supporters to intentionally vote null – or “spoil” their votes. Discontent has taken many forms – outrage about inequality and neoliberalism in 2019-2020, or unease about economic precarity and crime in the current election. But it has persisted, even as Chile’s political system remains stable. Some observers have pointed out that, unlike in many places around the world, Chile’s democratic norms are holding strong. The fact that power continues to pass peacefully despite major ideological differences is significant, particularly in light of the long struggle for democracy during the Pinochet regime. Kast’s style, for what it’s worth, is not as bombastic as that of U.S. President Donald Trump or Argentina’s Milei. Still, his apparent politeness belies what many fear is a coming erosion of rights: the rights of women to bodily autonomy; the rights of individuals to due process; the rights of workers to dignified conditions. These may well be up for negotiation under the new administration. Kast, a staunch Catholic and father of nine, is opposed to abortion under any circumstances and has even attempted to ban the morning-after pill. He was a supporter of Pinochet up until the regime’s end, campaigning for the “yes” vote in 1988 that would have seen eight more years for the authoritarian leader after 15 years already in power. Kast has likewise vowed to slash public spending and deregulate the economy, a clear echo of the Pinochet years. Despite the momentous shift heralded by Kast’s election, though, it is unlikely to change one of the principal challenges of Chile’s democracy in the 21st century: voter discontent and disenchantment. There has been a consistent trend for the government in power to lose popular support and face strong headwinds in Congress from the opposition. For all the celebration happening right now for Kast and his supporters, it is hard to see that changing once the new government takes office in March 2026.

Introduction Soft-power dynamics have gained importance in the global arena. Moving from the classical cultural approach to the digital realm, soft power has now the ability to shift and transform geopolitics through technological influence. In the age of AI – where digital competitiveness across language blocs determines access to innovation, data, and influence – the emergence of a robust, multilingual digital ecosystem has become essential. Within this landscape, Spanish has become a key player. Spanish is a Romance language from the Indo-European language family that is spoken by around 636 million people worldwide. This number represents 7.6% of the global population and makes it the third most widely spoken mother tongue, after Mandarin and Hindi. Therefore, holding that position, Spanish has rapidly become one of the most influential languages in the digital sphere, this can be seen in the fact that Spanish ranks as the second most used language on the web, surpassed only by English. In fact, this digital presence is not a coincidence, it is part of a rapid digital reinvention driven by demographic strength, expanding connectivity, regional and local policies modernization, and a growing tech-savvy diaspora. Therefore, this transformation can be said to be reshaping Spanish-speaking economies, is enabling new digital ecosystems, and is positioning several Spanish-speaking countries as emerging innovation and digital hubs. As the transformations unfold, the digital reinvention of the Spanish-speaking world presents a powerful case of how linguistic, demographic, and technological forces converges to reshape geopolitical and economical power through digital soft-power. Figure 1: Spanish speaking countries. Source: Speak easy. The Acceleration Drivers For a better understanding, there are multiple forces that can explain why this shift is happening now. In economic terms, the demand for fintech, e-commerce, and mobile-based services has grown as Latin America’s expanding middle class accelerates the shift toward digital consumer habits. In demographic terms, with over 60% of the region’s population under 35 years old, it has one of the world’s youngest digital workforces. In addition, the large Spanish-speaking diaspora in the U.S. and Europe further amplifies cross-border entrepreneurship, remittances, and cultural-technological exchange. Moreover, global connectivity — expanded through fiber, 4G/5G networks, the widespread smartphone adoption and including digital transformation projects and financing — has enabled digital inclusion and remote-work globalization. While governments have also introduced strategic initiatives, such as digital identity programs, fintech sandboxes, and AI policies, helping structure the ecosystem. Key Regions Leading the Transformation Spain has become a European gateway for Spanish-speaking startups by providing access to EU-wide digital infrastructure, funding programs, and regulatory harmonization. For instance, Barcelona and Madrid – usually ranked among Europe’s top tech hubs –, and initiatives like ‘España Digital 2026’ or the AI Strategy 2020 have played an important role in supporting Spain in this regard. In addition, Spain is also home of one of the European Blockchain Service Infrastructure (EBSI) nodes and has hosted major innovation events like 4YFN or the Mobile World Congress, which help Latin American founders integrate into the EU market In the Americas, Argentina stands out for its strong AI talent pipeline and world-class developer community. The country produces one of the highest numbers of software engineers per capita in Latin America – just behind Brazil and Mexico –, and some Argentinian Universities – like the UBA and UTN – are constantly top-ranked in math and computer sciences in the region. In addition, Argentina is home to pioneering companies such as Auth0 or Mural, while its AI scene has also contributed to multilingual datasets and early experimentation with Large Language Models (LLM) fine-tuning tailored to Spanish and regional dialects. Argentina’s neighbor, Chile, has taken a leadership role in digital governance, cybersecurity, and regulatory modernization. In 2021, Chile became the first Latin American country to pass a National AI Policy, and it is among the first to establish a Fintech Law and regulatory sandbox, enabling companies like NotCo, Fintual, and Betterfly to scale with legal clarity. In terms of digital governance, Chile’s Digital Government Division is internationally recognized for its interoperability standards and cybersecurity strategy aligned with OECD recommendations. Colombia is another key player in the region as it is rapidly scaling its digital workforce and fintech ecosystem, becoming one of the fastest-growing digital economies in Latin America. For instance, companies such as Rappi, Addi, and Mercado Pago Colombia have turned the country into a logistics and payments innovation center. In addition, the Colombian government has boosted initiatives like Misión TIC 2022 – which objective was to train over 100,000 citizens in software development – or GovTech Colombia – aiming to accelerate digital procurement – to strength its young-tech talent base. Finally, Uruguay is known for having built one of the strongest digital infrastructures in the hemisphere. In this context, Uruguay – ranked among the top in digital connectivity worldwide – has a universal fiber-optic coverage and nearly 100% of households connected to high-speed internet through the public telecom company ANTEL. In addition, its digital ID system, Ceibal, and its national e-government platform, AGESIC, are considered global benchmarks for digital public infrastructure in the region. Figure 2: LATAM Fintech ecosystem growth. Source: Finn Summit. Data collected by Finnovista and the IDB within the framework of this report (2023) and historical data. The 2023 report considers 26 LAC countries, including The Bahamas, Barbados, Belize, Guyana, Haiti, Jamaica, Suriname and Trinidad and Tobago. https://www.finnosummit.com/en/fintech-ecosystem-in-latin-america-and-the-caribbean-exceeds-3000-startups/ Where does innovation happen? As read in the previous section, innovation is happening already across different key sectors. For instance, AI and LLMs are rapidly being adapted to Spanish, Indigenous languages, and regional contexts. At the same time, the region’s fintech and digital banking sectors are expanding at remarkable speed, positioning Latin America as one of the world’s most dynamic fintech environments. On the other hand, smart cities and digital public infrastructure — such as digital IDs, online government portals, and interoperable public services — are being deployed across major urban areas. In parallel, the EdTech sector is training millions of new professionals and turning the region into an exporter of digital-skilled talent. Finally, e-commerce and logistics innovations are also undergoing transformation, they are evolving introducing blockchain and Web3 frameworks, enabling new forms of decentralized marketplaces and governance. Together, these developments reveal how the Spanish-speaking world is building a connected and technologically adaptive innovation landscape. Figure 3: Innovation competitiveness scores of certain Spanish-speaking countries. Source: ITIF. Latin American Subnational Innovation Competitiveness Index 2.0 https://itif.org/publications/2025/09/22/latin-american-subnational-innovation-competitiveness-index-2/ Challenges However, despite the rapid progress shown, several issues continue to limit the digital transformation of the Spanish-speaking world. First, the digital divide remains a major challenge, particularly between urban centers with high-speed connectivity and rural or low-income areas where access to broadband, devices, and digital skills is still limited. Therefore, the resulting gap is visible in education, financial inclusion, and the ability of smaller communities to participate in the digital economy. The second challenge is the regulatory lag, which is also slowing the adoption of emerging technologies such as AI, cryptocurrency, and automation. This can be visible in the fact that many countries are still developing comprehensive frameworks for data protection, AI ethics, and digital asset oversight, usually leaving innovators operating in uncertain legal environments in the meantime. The third challenge is talent mobility. The region continues to experience significant brain drain as skilled workers tend to migrate to the U.S. and Europe. Even though there is an emerging countertrend of “brain return” thanks to remote-work global hiring, competitive salaries in tech, and new government incentives aimed at retaining or repatriating talent, still is not enough and is a challenge to be addressed. Finally, the fourth challenge is the cybersecurity risks, which have also become a big problem. Latin America has become one of the regions most targeted by ransomware and phishing attacks, vulnerabilities in public infrastructure, small businesses, and critical sectors have been highlighted in most of these attacks. In addition, the spread of misinformation and weak data-governance systems further threaten trust in digital services and democratic institutions. What Comes Next? Although significant challenges remain, addressing them requires aligning technological growth with stronger governance, skilled talent, sustained investment in human capital, and resilient digital infrastructure. Therefore, the next phase of digital reinvention will likely focus on region-wide AI standards, cross-border digital markets, and stronger public-private collaboration to scale infrastructure, talent pipelines, and cybersecurity. Thus, countries that successfully integrate education reforms, innovation incentives, and robust digital institutions will position themselves as global players in emerging technologies. Conclusion Spanish, as the third most spoken language in the world, provides a unique base for building a shared digital ecosystem that could connect people across continents – or the world. This linguistic advantage – combined with a young population, a growing connectivity, and a wave of technological innovation – has positioned the Spanish-speaking world at a pivotal moment of digital reinvention. Countries within the Spanish-speaking sphere are not only adapting new tools or technologies; they are building digital public infrastructure, developing and exporting tech talent, and contributing and participating in the global development of AI, fintech, and smart-city solutions. Still, innovation on its own is not enough. Consequently, closing the gap in the digital divide, strengthening cybersecurity, modernizing regulations, and finding ways to retain and reverse brain drain remain the main challenges. If governments and private actors succeed in building resilient digital institutions and harmonizing regional standards, the Spanish-speaking world could emerge as a major center of global technological influence. Ultimately, this transformation has the potential not just to modernize economies, but to redefine how more than 600 million Spanish speakers participate – and shape – in the digital age. Referencias AGESIC (Agencia de Gobierno Digital) (2023). Digital Government Strategy of Uruguay 2020–2025. https://www.gub.uy/agesic/ BIS (Bank for International Settlements) (2022). Fintech Regulation and Payment Systems in Latin America and the Caribbean. https://www.bis.org/publ/bppdf/bispap124.pdf CAF (2022). GovTech Index for Latin America — Colombia Chapter. https://scioteca.caf.com/handle/123456789/1916 CAF (2022). Urban Mobility Observatory: Digital Public Infrastructure in Latin American Cities. https://www.caf.com/en/knowledge/ CB Insights (2023). Global Fintech Report: Q4 2023 — Latin America Section. https://www.cbinsights.com/research/report/fintech-trends-q4-2023/ CMF Chile (2022). Ley Fintech y Marco Regulatorio para Innovación Financiera. https://www.cmfchile.cl ECLAC (2022). 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IDB (2022). The Digital Transformation of Latin America and the Caribbean: Opportunities, Challenges and Policy Priorities. https://flagships.iadb.org/en/MicroReport/digitalizing-public-services-opportunities-for-latin-america-and-the-caribbean IDB (2023). Argentina’s Digital Talent and Innovation Ecosystem. https://www.iadb.org/en IDB (2025) IDB Approves Financing to Support Digital Transformation and Use of Artificial Intelligence in Piauí, Brazil. https://www.iadb.org/en/news/idb-approves-financing-support-digital-transformation-and-use-artificial-intelligence-piaui-brazil#:~:text=The%20expansion%20of%20connectivity%20is,co%2Dfinancing%20is%20$12.5%20million.&text=The%20Inter%2DAmerican%20Development%20Bank%20(IDB)%20is%20devoted%20to,well%2Dbeing%20in%2026%20countries. Instituto Cervantes (2025). Anuario del Instituto Cervantes 2025: El Español en el Mundo. https://www.cervantes.es/sobre_instituto_cervantes/informes_actividad/anuario.htm MIT Technology Review (2023). 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Speak easy. https://www.speakeasybcn.com/en/blog/how-many-people-in-the-world-speak-spanish#:~:text=42%20statistics%20about%20Spanish%20speakers,most%20widely%20spoken%20Romance%20language. Stanford HAI (2024). AI Index Report 2024 — Regional Spotlight: Latin America. https://aiindex.stanford.edu/report/ Statista (2023). Fintech in Latin America – Market Insights and Outlook. https://www.statista.com/topics/5123/fintech-in-latin-america/?srsltid=AfmBOorQcdxpAWPuf6g7Ojqbg8Yb_bQtZZmsl--OxOL29w4nQxKsI8lp#topicOverview UNESCO (2021). Latin America and the Caribbean: Artificial Intelligence Needs, Challenges and Opportunities. https://unesdoc.unesco.org United Nations (2022). World Population Prospects 2022 — Latin America & Caribbean Profile. https://population.un.org/wpp/ World Bank (2020). Argentina: Fostering Technology and Innovation for Productivity. https://documents.worldbank.org World Bank (2021). 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The accelerated authoritarian drift of the United States under the Trump administration poses serious risks to democracy and stability throughout Latin America. The United States is undergoing a rapid process of democratic erosion. Despite its limitations, until January 2025 it still had a democratic regime with relatively free and fair elections (though more so in some states than others), universal suffrage, no tutelary authorities, protection of political rights and civil liberties, and a series of checks and balances that restricted executive power. Today, that regime has changed substantially. Following the playbook of Hugo Chávez in Venezuela or Nayib Bukele in El Salvador, over the past ten months the administration has dismantled the federal bureaucracy, usurped legislative powers, used government agencies to attack, censor, and extort universities, media, and opponents, and violated due process for immigrants (and African American citizens). The shift has been so extreme that political scientists Steven Levitsky and Lucan Way have declared that the United States is no longer a democracy but a competitive authoritarian regime. The implications of this autocratization process in the U.S. for Latin America are catastrophic. Empowered by a submissive Congress and Supreme Court — whose majorities are more concerned with ideological victories than with the rule of law or civil and political liberties — Trump has been able to operate with minimal constraints. Despite efforts by district, state, and federal courts to block executive orders and actions that violate the Constitution, the president has managed to find ways around adverse rulings or inconvenient requirements. This is particularly true in areas where the presidency has traditionally enjoyed great flexibility — especially those affecting Latin America — such as foreign aid, immigration, and drug enforcement. In one of his first acts, Trump suspended or eliminated U.S. international aid programs previously approved by Congress. The 2024 budget included, among other things, $90 million for democracy promotion in Cuba, Venezuela, and Nicaragua; $125 million to combat fentanyl flows in Mexico and cocaine trafficking in Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Panama, and Costa Rica; and $82.5 million for programs to prevent human trafficking and reduce violence against women in Central America. The dismantling of USAID and the State Department’s human rights programs has been accompanied by measures to end immigration from the Global South. Early in his term, Trump abruptly suspended the asylum and refugee programs and terminated temporary protection for more than 600,000 Haitian and Venezuelan immigrants. Worse still, since March, the administration has used Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to detain and deport immigrants without due process. By September 2025, ICE had detained more than 59,000 people — 71.5% of them without criminal records — and deported 234,210, many without judicial orders. The process has been so arbitrary that ICE raids have even captured 170 U.S. citizens. Those detained — citizens or not, with or without legal status — are subjected to cruel and inhumane treatment, often disappearing into the immigration detention system or being deported without contact with lawyers or family. For those of us who grew up in Latin America hearing about the human rights abuses of dictators like Rafael Videla or Augusto Pinochet, the images of masked ICE agents refusing to identify themselves or present warrants while loading people into unmarked cars are disturbingly familiar. The consequences of these immigration policies are especially severe for Latin America. They not only endanger our compatriots but also reduce the number of Latin Americans living and earning in dollars — whether through deportation or voluntary departure driven by fear. Over time, fewer migrants in the U.S. mean fewer remittances, closing a vital economic valve for fragile economies. According to the Inter-American Development Bank, remittances range from 0.1% of GDP in Argentina to 27.6% in Nicaragua. Countries like El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala derive around one-fifth of their income from remittances — 60% of which come from North America. The crackdown on migrants, the closure of legal entry routes, and the elimination of economic aid coincide with the U.S. government’s decision to use military force against Venezuela. Over the last three months, U.S. forces have attacked Venezuelan (and Colombian) vessels allegedly carrying drugs. These attacks violate international law and expose worrying changes in the rule of law within the U.S. In a liberal democracy, security forces cannot act as prosecutor, judge, and executioner. Even if evidence of drug trafficking existed — which is not entirely clear — due process requires that the ship be detained, evidence collected, and suspects tried in court. The administration’s warlike rhetoric, combined with increased military presence in the Caribbean and the authorization of covert intelligence operations in Venezuela, signals a dangerously inflammatory policy. Some senators fear that the president may even declare war unilaterally — an unprecedented and devastating step for the region. This brings a final reflection. U.S. support for democratic (or authoritarian) leaders and regimes has long been essential to the stability of democracy (or dictatorship) in the Americas. Over the last two decades, democracy has been threatened and weakened in several countries. Overthrowing dictatorships in Venezuela or El Salvador and protecting democracy in Argentina, Colombia, or Guatemala requires strong democratic allies capable of exerting pressure to complement pro-democracy movements. Trump’s erratic policy toward Venezuela, unconditional support for authoritarian-leaning leaders like Nayib Bukele or Javier Milei, and hostility toward populist figures such as Gustavo Petro all contribute to political polarization, impunity, and the growing influence of autocratic powers like China and Russia — undermining democratic actors and institutions across the region. It is difficult to predict how far the erosion of democracy in the U.S. will go. Despite important resistance, the administration’s authoritarian excesses are mobilizing domestic opposition. With some luck, this mobilization may curb its authoritarian impulses. But until that happens, it is hard to rely on the U.S. to defend democracy and human rights in the region. So far, the regional response has been fragmented and, in some cases, improvised. Latin America would do well to seek collective responses, strengthen democratic leadership, and prepare jointly for the repercussions of the Trump administration.

After ending two decades of MAS hegemony, Rodrigo Paz assumes the presidency of Bolivia with the legitimacy of change, but faces the enormous challenge of governing without a solid party structure.   The center-left candidate from the Christian Democratic Party (PDC), Rodrigo Paz, secured victory with 54% of the votes, gaining nearly ten points over his rival, Jorge “Tuto” Quiroga. This triumph not only puts an end to two decades of dominance by the Movement for Socialism (MAS), led by Evo Morales, but also grants strong legitimacy to the new administration. However, the political challenges facing the government of Paz, set to take office on November 9, are substantial.   The first major test for Paz will be consolidating his power base in the legislature. The main weakness lies in the fact that the Christian Democratic Party (PDC) functioned as a “rented womb”—an instrumental vehicle lacking social or national roots to support the candidacy. Although Paz managed to attract votes from the MAS “hard core” in several regions, he did not inherit his predecessor’s party structure or mobilization capacity. This fragility within the party gives rise to two points of friction.   Within the PDC’s parliamentary bloc, multiple factions could emerge, each seeking its share of power. The tensions already visible between Paz and his running mate, Edman Lara, during the campaign could deepen, complicating executive governance and the management of the Plurinational Legislative Assembly (ALP).   At the same time, Paz will need to build consensus with other parties. Although he enjoys the explicit support of Samuel Doria Medina’s Unidad party—formalized during the runoff—the relationship with Quiroga’s party, LIBRE, is more strained. Despite sharing ideological affinities (market economy, openness to the world, respect for institutions), the aftermath of the aggressive campaign will make an alliance difficult. A simple majority in the ALP is secured through the PDC–Unidad alliance, but deeper reforms—such as a potential constitutional change—will require rapprochement and negotiation with LIBRE, which holds the key to the two-thirds majority.   A second crucial challenge will be the relationship with powerful and decisive social movements. While the support of these organizations for the PDC ticket was a determining factor in its victory, it does not guarantee unconditional loyalty. With a strong history of political empowerment, these groups will seek to safeguard their privileges and, if they feel sidelined, could resort to mobilizations that threaten social stability. Their backing will be essential to legitimize any economic or social adjustment. How the new government manages tensions with these sectors—and how it handles the legacy of “Masismo”—will be vital to maintaining national stability. In many ways, these are anti-system forces capable of obstructing Paz’s government.   The new administration’s ability to pursue any economic or social policy depends on overcoming these two political challenges: securing a legislature aligned with the executive and establishing effective coordination with social movements.   Once these political hurdles are addressed, the next major challenge will be economic. Paz inherits a country in crisis, facing a shortage of U.S. dollars, inflation, and dwindling international reserves. The removal of fuel subsidies—a crucial step for fiscal sustainability—could trigger serious social unrest. The precedent of 2010, when Evo Morales was forced to reverse a similar measure under pressure from social movements, underscores the delicacy of the situation.   October 19 not only marked the end of a political era but also opened a crucial question: Is Bolivia heading toward genuine transformation—or merely a continuation of the MAS model by other means?   The answer to this question will determine the country’s direction in the coming years. If Rodrigo Paz’s new government chooses the path of genuine transformation, it will be essential to undertake structural reforms aimed at strengthening democratic institutions. These reforms would include reducing presidentialism and establishing a justice system free from political influence.   If, on the other hand, the Paz administration focuses solely on addressing the most pressing economic issues—such as inflation and fuel shortages—while ignoring their deeper causes, the MAS model may well endure. That model is characterized by a narrow-based economy, lacking significant industrialization and stable job creation.   It is likely that MAS, now without a parliamentary majority, will initially grant the new administration some room to maneuver. However, the political landscape will not be fully defined until next year’s subnational elections. Only then will the new balance of power in the country become clearer. For now, Bolivia is taking its first steps beyond the hegemonic dominance of MAS and the shadow of Morales.

The attempted sale of CK Hutchison’s Panama Canal operations to the US-based company BlackRock and Terminal Investment Limited was more than a commercial transaction. When Beijing publicly opposed the deal, branding it a betrayal of national interests, it transformed into a case study in how global business is being reshaped by strategic rivalry. The controversy illustrates a deeper question: Can Hong Kong’s leading conglomerates still operate on commercial logic alone, or are they inevitably drawn into the geopolitical contest between the United States and China? For Hutchison, the Panama case shows that the room for neutrality is shrinking. Why does it matter? Beijing’s intervention signals to Hong Kong businesses and foreign investors alike that commercial neutrality is no longer assured. Loyalty, alignment, and political sacrifice are emerging as expectations alongside profit and efficiency. For global decision-makers, this raises two critical issues: Why did Hutchison seek to exit its Panama Canal holdings in the first place? Why did Beijing judge it necessary to intervene in a transaction that, on the surface, was driven by corporate strategy? Why Hutchison sold its Panama Canal operations? 1. Strategic Realignment Toward Core Businesses CK Hutchison has steadily repositioned itself around two “twin engines”, i.e. real estate in Asia and infrastructure in Europe. While ports in Latin America once fit into its global footprint, they were never central to this model. By selling its Panama Canal operations, Hutchison freed resources to consolidate strengths where it sees long-term stability and growth. This is part of a deliberate shift visible over the past decade: acquiring the German infrastructure firm ISTA in 2017 and securing UK regulatory approval in 2024 for the £11 billion merger of Vodafone UK and Hutchison’s subsidiary Three. These moves point to a concentration of capital in Europe’s regulated infrastructure and Asia’s high-demand property markets, underscoring a deliberate pivot toward strengthening European operations and ensuring cash flow visibility. This implies that Hutchison is reducing its exposure and a systematic exit to regions marked by political uncertainty and doubling down on reinvesting into higher-yielding and strategically aligned assets, particularly in European infrastructure platform while deepening its Asian real estate footprint. For governments and investors, this suggests that Hong Kong conglomerates are not retreating from globalization but are planning to recalibrate toward safer, higher-visibility assets. 2. Capitalizing on Market Timing and Asset Valuation The divestment also reflected classic Hutchison discipline: Buying early and exiting when valuations reach the peak. With global demand for strategic infrastructure rising, the Panama Canal assets commanded a premium. The resulting HK$19 billion in proceeds and a sharp rise in share price underlined investor confidence. Such timing underscores Hutchison’s longstanding strategy of opportunistic repositioning. This divestment was both value-accretive and strategically well-timed. By crystallizing gains now, the group strengthens its balance sheet and cash-reserve, maintaining its flexibility to reinvest or return capital to shareholders. For policymakers, this implies that global infrastructure assets are increasingly financialized. Strategic nodes like the Panama Canal are no longer just trade arteries but high-value commodities in global capital markets. Governments must therefore view divestments not only as corporate decisions but as moves that can shift control of strategic assets between geopolitical actors. 3. Geopolitical Considerations and Risk Mitigation The Panama Canal is a corridor of strategic significance and what US-President Donald Trump calls Chinese ownership on the potential dual-use nature of port terminals there inevitably drew scrutiny in Washington. U.S. allies have already tightened the screening of Chinese-linked infrastructure deals and the EU’s 2019 FDI framework explicitly flagged ports as areas requiring “special oversight”. Against this backdrop, Hutchison sought to avoid being cast as a “Chinese state-backed actor”, an extension of Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative. Hutchison has taken deliberate steps to present itself as a neutral and commercially driven multinational investor, rather than an extension of Chinese state policy. The company restructured in 2015 to a Cayman Islands base carefully positioning itself apart from state-linked Chinese enterprises, which creates an international legal identity rather than retaining a mainland Chinese or Hong Kong corporate domicile. By exiting Panama, Hutchison not only monetized assets but also reduced exposure to the intensifying Sino-U.S. rivalry in one of the world’s most contested trade chokepoints. For European and U.S. decision-makers, this implies that Hutchison’s move signals how Hong Kong firms navigate geopolitical pressure. It shows that even Chinese-origin conglomerates may prefer retreat to avoid being entangled in state rivalries. Hutchison pre-emptively mitigated the risk of being labelled a “Chinese state proxy” in a critical geopolitical theatre. This move not only alleviated Western concerns about Hutchison’s control of Panama’s ports but also demonstrated the group’s ability to act with commercial neutrality and flexibility, preserving its ability to operate, finance, and expand in Western markets without being constrained by the “Chinese capital” label. For Beijing, however, this retreat risks weakening China’s global port footprint. This highlights a potential divergence between the commercial logic of Hong Kong firms and China’s strategic ambitions. Why did Beijing intervened? 1. Loss of Chinese Strategic Assets and Diplomatic Advantage The Panama Canal is among the world’s most critical maritime chokepoints and control of its ports carries weight far beyond commerce. For China, investment in Latin American terminals has been part of a wider strategy to shape global shipping routes and enhance strategic reach. From Beijing’s perspective, CK Hutchison’s divestment was more than a business transaction. This was a strategic setback. The transfer of control to U.S.-linked interests was seen as a symbolic “recapture” of the terminals, which weakens China’s presence at a vital corridor. Within the Chinese leadership, the ports had been regarded as potential bargaining leverage in trade negotiations with Washington. But this loss reduced Beijing’s diplomatic toolkit at a time of rising frictions. The episode illustrates how Chinese policymakers increasingly view overseas ports as instruments of geopolitical positioning, not just commercial assets. Hutchison’s decision to sell underscored a broader reality: not all Chinese-affiliated enterprises act in alignment with state objectives. For Beijing, this implies that the Panama case highlighted the limits of relying on Hong Kong conglomerates to advance strategic interests abroad. For foreign governments and firms, it signalled both China’s heightened sensitivity to divestments in contested regions and the growing tension between corporate autonomy and state geopolitical expectations. 2. Absence of Beijing’s Prior Approval Sparked Political Backlash In the Panama Canal divestment, Beijing’s leadership reacted strongly against CK Hutchison’s “transaction first, then approval” approach. Beijing expressed dissatisfaction and even instructed state-owned enterprises to suspend new collaborations with the Li family, who serve as the controlling shareholders and principal decision-makers of Hutchison. Hutchison defended this sale as a “purely commercial and competitive process” by emphasizing Mediterranean Shipping Company as the principal buyer. Yet, in the context of intensifying Sino-U.S. rivalry, this stance was no longer acceptable. Regulatory pressure and political intervention from Beijing slowed negotiations, preventing the transaction from proceeding as planned. The broader precedent is clear: in strategically sensitive areas, Beijing now expects Hong Kong firms to align commercial decisions with state priorities. Neutrality is no longer an option. This marks a fundamental shift in the operating environment, binding the leading Hong Kong conglomerates more closely to state interests and constraining their room for independent strategic choices. For policymakers and investors, this implies that the Panama case shows how Beijing is extending political oversight into commercial domains once seen as autonomous. Hong Kong enterprises face increasing limits on their ability to separate business logic from state loyalty, particularly where Sino-U.S. rivalry is at stake. 3. Public Opinion as Strategic Pressure: Shaping a New Regional Order Beijing’s response to Hutchison’s Panama sale was not confined to official channels. Pro-Beijing media denounced the deal as disloyal and profit-driven, framing it as a matter of national honour. When the Hong Kong and Macao Affairs Office of the State Council, which is the Beijing central body responsible for overseeing Hong Kong and Macao affairs, amplified these narratives, they gained quasi-official status and exerted pressure on both Hutchison and other Hong Kong firms. This discourse resonated beyond China. The Panama Canal Authority warned that excessive concentration of terminal assets could undermine neutrality and competitiveness. This wording strikingly complies with Beijing’s “anti-hegemony” rhetoric. By shaping the terms of debate, Beijing positioned itself to argue for greater balance and competition in Panama’s port operations. Looking ahead, China advocates to leverage new concession tenders to advance its tactical objectives: strengthening the role of China Ocean Shipping Company, counterbalancing U.S. and European dominance and embedding Chinese capital in Latin America’s maritime infrastructure. More broadly, the case illustrates how Beijing integrates public opinion, regulatory narratives, and commercial strategy to shape a regional order more favourable to its interests. For policymakers, this implies that Panama demonstrates how Beijing transforms domestic media pressure into a tool of international influence. What begins as reputational discipline at home can translate into bargaining leverage abroad, particularly in contested regions where infrastructure and influence are intertwined. Points of Special Relevance: Beijing’s Strategic Signal Beijing’s intervention in the Panama Canal case should be read not as a single act but as a strategic signal. Its aims to prevent U.S. and European firms from consolidating control at a vital chokepoint and to avoid the appearance of “losing” strategic assets. At the same time, Beijing used this episode to remind Hong Kong conglomerates that in sensitive geopolitical contexts, commercial logic alone is no longer sufficient. The Panama case demonstrates how Beijing leverages commercial disputes as instruments of statecraft. The more plausible outcome is a conditional arrangement to encourage Panama to introduce mechanisms that limit Western influence in Latin America. China seeks structural adjustments that preserve its influence and reshape the regional order to its advantage. From Neutrality to National Loyalty As U.S. China tensions intensify, many multinational firms pursue de-risking strategies: not full decoupling as it is economically unviable, but carefully calibrated ambiguity that allows them to operate in both markets without explicit political commitments. This balancing act is becoming harder in Hong Kong. Since 1997, the influx of mainland state-linked enterprises has blurred the line between state and market. Benefiting from the “One Country, Two Systems” framework, these firms embedded political expectations into business norms. Ties to the National People’s Congress or the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference are increasingly relevant in Hong Kong. By 2019, Beijing moved further, promoting patriotism in the business sector such as the Greater Bay Area Business Support Scheme, which channels funding toward firms demonstrating “patriotic entrepreneurship” or contributions to “national rejuvenation”. The result is a growing convergence of economic and political expectations. Commercial autonomy is increasingly contingent on political alignment, eroding the distinction between business logic and ideological loyalty. For investors and firms, this raises strategic concerns: - Will political loyalty requirements constrain the free flow of capital? - Could companies risk state intervention or even nationalization if perceived as acting against China’s interests? These questions remain unresolved, but Hutchison’s Panama case shows how quickly a commercial decision can be redefined as a matter of national loyalty. The broader uncertainty surrounding Hong Kong’s business environment will shape the city’s role as a financial hub in the decade ahead. This is my view on things: An Outlook on Hong Kong Looking ahead, the space for Hong Kong conglomerates to maintain commercial neutrality is narrowing. The rise of a nationalist business paradigm means companies must increasingly balance political conformity with economic self-interest. Two scenarios are emerging: 1. “Hong Kong, then China”: firms retain some operational autonomy and global credibility by prioritizing commercial logic, while carefully managing political sensitivities. 2. “China, then Hong Kong”: political loyalty takes precedence, with business priorities subordinated to national strategic goals of the Chinese Communist Party. Which path prevails will determine Hong Kong’s role as a financial hub. The tension between economic liberalism and political loyalty is no longer abstract. It is becoming the defining fault line for Hong Kong’s business landscape in the decade ahead.

Abstract The United Nations (UN), eighty years after its creation, faces a structural crisis that reveals the tension between justice and power. This essay examines how the design of the Security Council, with its veto power, perpetuates an unequal order inherited from 1945 and limits the effectiveness of the collective security system. Through theoretical perspectives — Morgenthau, Schmitt, Habermas, Falk, and Strange — it is shown that international law remains subordinated to power interests, that proclaimed universality masks hegemonies, and that global economic dynamics lie beyond institutional reach. Cases such as Kosovo, Libya, Gaza, and Myanmar illustrate the paralysis and delegitimization of the Responsibility to Protect. Considering this scenario, two paths emerge: reforming multilateralism with limits on the veto and greater representativeness or resigning to a fragmented order. The conclusion is clear: without adaptation, the UN will become a symbolic forum, making chronic its inability to respond to current challenges. Dag Hammarskjöld, the second Secretary-General of the UN, warned: “The United Nations was not created to take us to heaven, but to save us from hell.” [1] Eighty years after its founding, that promise seems to falter in the face of multiple wars, such as those in Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, or Myanmar, among many others, with a sense of ineffectiveness, loss of prestige, and collective impotence being perceived: does the UN no longer fulfill the role it once assumed? At first glance, blame falls solely on the nature of the institution itself. But the root of the problem seems to lie not only in New York, but also in the main capitals of the world. The UN is nothing more than what States allow it to be. Its effectiveness depends on the will of those who comprise it; and the uncomfortable truth is that the great powers prefer to limit its scope rather than cede parcels of sovereignty. As John Rawls pointed out, a just international system requires that peoples accept common principles of justice. [2] Today, by contrast, it is a constant that collective interest systematically gives way to particular interest. The Security Council is the most evident symbol of this contradiction. It remains anchored in post-war logic, with five permanent members clinging to the privilege of the veto. That power, already met with skepticism in San Francisco in 1945, turned into a tool of paralysis. As Canada denounced in 2022, the veto is “as anachronistic as it is undemocratic” and has prevented responses to atrocities. [3] Aristotle said that “justice is equality, but only for equals.” [4] In the UN, the Assembly proclaims sovereign equality, while the Council denies it in practice: some States remain “more equal” than others. The UN Charter articulates its backbone in a few luminous rules: the prohibition of the use of force (Art. 2.4), non-intervention in internal affairs (Art. 2.7), and, as a counterbalance, the collective security system of Chapter VII (Arts. 39–42), which grants the Security Council the authority to determine threats to peace and authorize coercive measures. In parallel, Art. 51 preserves the right of self-defense against an “armed attack.” [5] This normative triangle — prohibition, collective security, defense — is the promise of a world governed by law and not by force, but it must be put into practice. In the 1990s, a dilemma arose: what to do when a State massacres its own population or is unable to prevent it? The political-legal response was the Responsibility to Protect (R2P), affirmed at the 2005 World Summit (paras. 138–139). [6] Its architecture is sequential: (I) each State has the primary responsibility to protect its population against genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing, and crimes against humanity; (II) the international community must help States fulfill that responsibility; and (III) if a State manifestly fails, the international community, through the Security Council, may adopt collective measures — preferably peaceful ones; as a last resort, coercive — case by case and in accordance with the Charter. Properly understood, R2P is not a license to intervene; it is a duty to protect framed within International Law. The historical record shows both its necessity and its perverse effects. Kosovo (1999) inaugurated, without authorization from the Council, the narrative of “humanitarian intervention,” based on a supposed “legitimate illegality.” [7] The precedent left a dangerous standard: humanitarian purposes invoked to circumvent the hard core of the Charter. Libya (2011) seemed to be the “ideal case” of R2P: the Council authorized “all necessary measures” to protect civilians. [8] However, the shift toward regime change eroded the trust of Russia and China, which since then have blocked robust resolutions on Syria, hollowing out the effectiveness of R2P. [9] The lesson is bitter: when protection is perceived as a vehicle of hegemony, the norm is delegitimized, and the veto becomes reflexive. Gaza and Myanmar display the other face of paralysis. In Gaza, the Council’s inability to impose sustainable ceasefires — despite patterns of hostilities that massively impact the civilian population — has shifted the debate to the General Assembly and the International Court of Justice through interstate actions and provisional measures. [10] In Myanmar, the genocide of the Rohingya mobilized condemnations, sanctions, and proceedings before the International Court of Justice (hereinafter, ICJ), [11] but did not trigger a coercive response from the Council. R2P exists on paper; its implementation is captive to the veto. Thus, the “right to have rights” that Arendt spoke of still depends on geopolitics. [12] History teaches that international law has always been strained by force. Rousseau warned that the strong seek to transform their power into law. [13] That is what the winners of 1945 did by crystallizing their hegemony in the Charter. And so, what Kant dreamed of as perpetual peace remains chained to an unequal order. [14] The UN, more than a republic of law, still seems a field of power. That fragility has opened space for alternatives. The BRICS, for example, have emerged as a heterogeneous bloc that combines the cohesion of historically homogeneous powers such as China and Russia with the diversity of India, Brazil, and South Africa. Paradoxically, their strength lies in articulating that heterogeneity against a common enemy: the concentration of power in the Security Council. [15] In a multipolar world, heterogeneity ceases to be a weakness and becomes a driver of plurality and resistance. The UN crisis is not only about security; it is also economic and distributive. The universalist promise of the Charter (Arts. 1.3 and 55–56, on cooperation for development) coexists with a global financial architecture whose heart beats outside the UN: the IMF and World Bank, designed in Bretton Woods, project a structural power — in Susan Strange’s terms — that conditions public policies, access to liquidity, and investment capacity. [16] The sovereign equality proclaimed in New York becomes blurred when the asymmetry of weighted voting in financial institutions (and the conditionality of credit) makes some States more “equal” than others. This is not a recent claim. Since the 1960s, the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development and, later, the Declaration on a New International Economic Order (1974), sought to correct structural problems such as the deterioration of terms of trade and the dependence between “center” and “periphery” countries, as Prebisch had pointed out. [17] However, the results were limited: ECOSOC lacks teeth, UNDP mobilizes cooperation but fails to change the rules of the system, and the 2030 Agenda sets important goals but without mandatory enforcement mechanisms. [18] The pandemic and the climate crisis have further worsened these inequalities, highlighting problems such as over-indebtedness, the insufficiency in the reallocation of Special Drawing Rights (SDRs), and climate financing that often arrives late and under unsuitable conditions. In this scenario, the New Development Bank of the BRICS emerges, seeking to open a path toward greater financial autonomy for developing countries. [19] International economic justice is the reverse side of collective security. Without fiscal space or technological transfer, the Global South remains trapped between development promises and adjustment demands. The UN has political legitimacy to outline a Global Economic Council (as proposed by the Stiglitz Commission in 2009) [20] to coordinate debt, international taxation, and global public goods, but it currently lacks normative muscle. The result is fragmentation: fiscal minilateralism, climate clubs, and value chains that distribute risks to the South and rents to the North. The solution does not lie simply in “more aid,” but in prudent rules such as: (I) a multilateral debt restructuring mechanism under UN auspices; [21] (II) effective international taxation on intangibles and the digital economy; [22] (III) binding compliance with the loss and damage fund in climate matters; [23] and (IV) a reform of quotas in IFIs that reflects the real weight of emerging economies. [24] Without constitutionalizing — even gradually — this economic agenda, sovereign equality will remain an empty liturgy and the discontent of the Global South a political fuel that erodes the UN from within. The truth is that the United Nations of 1945 no longer responds to the challenges of 2025. As the president of Brazil recently said: “The UN of 1945 is worth nothing in 2023.” [25] If States do not recover the founding spirit — placing collective interest above particular ones — the organization will remain prisoner of the veto and the will of a few. The question, then, is not whether the UN works, but whether States really want it to work. Taking the above into account, this essay will analyze the UN crisis from three complementary dimensions. First, the theoretical and philosophical framework that allows us to understand the tension between power and law will be addressed, showing how different authors highlight the structural roots of this contradiction. Second, historical episodes and current examples will be reviewed to illustrate the paralysis and democratic deficit of the organization. Finally, possible scenarios for the future will be projected, engaging in the exercise of evaluating the minimum reforms that could revitalize multilateralism in contrast to the alternative of critical global fragmentation. Considering all together, the argument is that the UN finds itself trapped between justice without power and power without justice, and that its survival depends on its ability to adapt to an international order radically different from that of 1945. I. The contradiction between power and law: Hans Morgenthau and political realism To understand the paralysis of the UN, it is useful to turn to Hans Morgenthau, a pioneer of realism in international relations. In his work “Politics Among Nations” (1948), he warned that the international order is always mediated by the balance of power and that legal norms only survive to the extent that they coincide with the interests of powerful States. [26] His idea is provocative: international law is not an autonomous order, but a language that powers use so long as it does not contradict their strategic objectives. Applied to the UN, this analysis is clear: the institution reflects less universal ethical commitment and more correlation of historical forces. The Security Council is not a neutral body, but the mirror of the hegemony of 1945, crystallized in Article 27 of the Charter, which enshrines the right of veto. The supposed universality of the UN is subordinated to a mechanism designed precisely to ensure that no action contrary to the superpowers could be imposed. Contemporary critiques confirm Morgenthau’s intuition. When Russia vetoes resolutions on Ukraine, [27] or the United States does the same regarding Gaza, [28] it becomes evident that international justice is suspended in the name of geopolitics. The legal is subordinated to the political. In this sense, the UN crisis is not an accident, but the logical consequence of its design, and what Morgenthau pointed out seventy years ago remains valid: as long as there is no coincidence between law and power, international norms will remain fragile. Political realism helps explain why the UN fails when it is most needed. States continue to act according to their national interests, even when this contradicts the international norms they themselves have subscribed to. The Security Council has become a space where powers project their strategies of influence, blocking collective actions whenever these affect their geopolitical priorities. The war in Ukraine, the invasion of Iraq in 2003, and the inaction in the face of the Rwandan genocide show that international law is applied selectively, reinforcing the idea that rules are valid only when they do not interfere with the power of the strongest. This pattern evidently erodes the legitimacy of the UN in the eyes of societies, because it generates the perception that the organization is incapable of representing the collective interest and, instead, merely reflects the correlation of forces of each historical moment. II. Carl Schmitt and the Myth of Universal Order Another voice that resonates is that of Carl Schmitt, who in “The Nomos of the Earth” (1950) argued that every international legal order arises from a founding political decision, that is, an act of power. [29] For Schmitt, there is no “universal law” that imposes itself; what is presented as universal is, in reality, the crystallization of a particular domain. The UN perfectly embodies this diagnosis. The founding discourse of San Francisco in 1945 spoke of “we the peoples of the United Nations,” [30] but in reality the Charter was written under the predominance of the winners of the Second World War. What was presented as a universal order of peace and security was, in fact, the codification of the Allied hegemony. Schmitt helps explain why the UN has never escaped that original logic. Although the General Assembly proclaims sovereign equality in Article 2 of the Charter, the structure of the Council reproduces the privilege of a few. [31] The international law of the UN appears, in Schmittian terms, as a “nomos” imposed by the winners, not as a true universal community. The consequence is a legitimate deficit that has persisted until today and explains much of the perception of ineffectiveness. The original structure of the UN perpetuates an unequal design that remains in force. The veto privilege is not only a defensive mechanism for the winners of the Second World War, but it has also functioned as a lock — one without keys — that prevents any real evolution of the system. Over eight decades, demands for reform have clashed with the resistance of those who benefit from keeping the rules intact. The contradiction is evident: developing States, which today represent the majority in the General Assembly, lack effective power in the most important decisions on international security. The gap between the universalist discourse of sovereign equality and the hierarchical practice of the Council undermines the credibility of the multilateral order. As long as this tension persists, the UN will hardly be able to become the space of global governance that the world requires more urgently than ever in the 21st century. III. Habermas and the Need for a Deliberative Community In contrast to this pessimism, Jürgen Habermas offers a different perspective. In “The Inclusion of the Other” (1996) and in later essays, he proposed moving toward a “constitutionalization of international law,” understood as the creation of a global normative space in which decisions are not based on force, but on rational deliberation. [32] From this perspective, the UN would be an imperfect embryo of a community of world citizens. The impact of this idea is enormous: it suggests that, beyond current deadlocks, the UN embodies the possibility of transforming power relations into processes of public deliberation. Article 1 of the Charter, which speaks of “maintaining international peace and security” and of “promoting friendly relations among nations,” can be read not only as a political mandate but also as a normative ideal of cosmopolitan coexistence. [33] Criticism of Habermas is evident: his proposal errs on the side of idealism in a world where national security interests remain paramount. However, his contribution is valuable because it allows us to think of the UN not only as a paralyzed body but also as a field of normative struggle. The problem is not only the strength of the vetoes but also the lack of will to transform that space into a true deliberative forum. [34] Thinking of the UN as a deliberative community requires recognizing that its current procedures do not guarantee authentic dialogue. Debate in the General Assembly is often reduced to formal statements, while crucial decisions, as everyone knows, are taken in restricted circles. The lack of effective mechanisms for the participation of non-state actors, such as regional organizations or civil society, further limits the inclusive character of the institution. Genuine deliberation should open spaces where multiple voices can influence decision-making processes, not only through speeches but by building binding consensus. However, the most powerful States fear losing control over the international agenda, which generates a vicious circle: an elitist governance system is maintained that protects privileges, but at the cost of sacrificing legitimacy and effectiveness. Thus, the promise of a deliberative order is reduced to a normative horizon that has not yet been realized. IV. Richard Falk and the Global Democratic Deficit A more recent contribution comes from Richard Falk, jurist and former UN rapporteur, who has insisted on the “democratic deficit” of the international order. In his view, the UN suffers from a structural contradiction: while the Charter proclaims the sovereignty of peoples, in practice it concentrates power in a small club of States. [35] This not only limits its effectiveness but also erodes its legitimacy in the eyes of the peoples of the world. The case of Palestine is emblematic. The General Assembly has repeatedly recognized the right of the Palestinian people to self-determination, but the veto in the Council blocks any effective measure. [36] Falk interprets this as evidence that the UN operates under a “democracy of States” but not under a “democracy of peoples.” The impact is devastating: millions of people perceive the organization not as a guarantor of rights, but as an accomplice to inequality. This leads us to a brief analysis of the International Criminal Court (ICC), born from the Rome Statute (1998), which promised a civilizational breakthrough: that the most serious crimes (“which affect the international community as a whole”) would not go unpunished. [37] Its design is cautious: complementarity (it acts only if the State is unwilling or unable), restricted jurisdiction (genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and — with limits — aggression), and jurisdiction based on territory, nationality, or referral by the Security Council. The two major milestones of the Council — referrals of Darfur (2005) and Libya (2011) —demonstrated both the potential and the limits. There were procedural advances and arrest warrants, but also contested operative clauses and very little cooperation for arrests. [38] The implicit message to the Global South was ambiguous: justice is universal, but its activation depends on the map of alliances in the Council. At the same time, key powers are not parties to the Statute (United States, China, Russia) and yet influence when the Court acts. The result fuels the argument of “winners’ justice” that several African foreign ministries have raised. The Court has tried to rebalance its map: investigations in Afghanistan, Palestine, and Ukraine, as well as arrest warrants against high-ranking authorities in cases of aggression or serious international crimes, have partly disproved the idea of a one-sided persecution. But the Achilles’ heel persists: without State cooperation, there are no executions of warrants; without the Council, there is no activation in key contexts; with the Council, there is a veto. In addition, Article 16 of the Statute allows the Council to suspend investigations for 12 renewable months, a political valve that subordinates the judicial to the geopolitical. [39] Integrating Falk’s critique into this essay makes it possible to highlight that the UN crisis is not only institutional but also democratic. Article 1.2 of the Charter proclaims respect for the principle of equal rights and the self-determination of peoples, but this ideal becomes empty when the veto power systematically contradicts it. [40] The democratic deficit of the UN is not limited to the Security Council but runs through the entirety of its institutional architecture. Developing countries have little influence on global economic governance, despite being the most affected by decisions on debt, trade, or climate financing. Unequal representation in bodies such as the IMF and the World Bank, together with dependence on international cooperation, reproduces relations of subordination that contradict the principles of equality and self-determination. Moreover, world citizenship lacks a real channel of influence: peoples see their demands diluted in state structures that do not always — or almost never — reflect their needs. This divorce between peoples and States turns the UN into an incomplete democracy, where the most vulnerable collective subjects fail to make their voices heard. Overcoming this limitation is essential to restoring the legitimacy of multilateralism. V. Susan Strange and the Geopolitics of the Economy Finally, Susan Strange adds another dimension: the economic one. In “The Retreat of the State” (1996), she argued that power in the contemporary world does not reside only in States, but also in transnational forces — financial markets, corporations, technologies — that escape institutional control. [41] The UN, designed in 1945 under the logic of sovereign States, lacks instruments to govern this new scenario. The impact is evident. While the Security Council is paralyzed in debates over traditional wars, global crises such as climate change, pandemics, or the regulation of artificial intelligence show that real power has shifted toward non-state actors. [42] Strange warns that if international institutions do not adapt to this reality, they risk becoming irrelevant. In this sense, the UN faces not only a problem of veto or representativeness, but also a historical mismatch: it was designed for a world of States and conventional wars, but today we live in a world of transnational interdependencies. The Charter, in its Article 2.7, continues to emphasize non-interference in the internal affairs of States, but this clause seems insufficient to govern global threats that transcend borders. [43] And it is vitally important to note that the global threats of the 21st century do not fit the traditional paradigm of interstate wars that has been preconceived. Challenges such as climate change, pandemics, and technological revolutions pose risks that no State can face alone. However, the UN lacks effective mechanisms to coordinate global responses in these areas. The fragmentation of climate governance, competition for vaccines during the pandemic, and the absence of clear rules to regulate large digital corporations illustrate the magnitude of the challenge. In this context, state sovereignty proves insufficient, and the principle of non-interference becomes obsolete. If the UN does not develop innovative instruments that integrate transnational actors and strengthen multilateral cooperation, it risks becoming a merely declarative forum, incapable of offering concrete solutions to the problems that most affect contemporary humanity — and it is important that these critiques be heard before it is too late. VI. Current Scenarios All the above opens up a momentous dilemma of our time: either we reform multilateralism so that law contains “force,” or we normalize “exception” forever. [44]Scenario A: A minimal but sufficient cosmopolitan reform. A critical group of States —supported by civil society and epistemic communities — agrees to self-limit the veto in situations of mass atrocities (ACT-type codes of conduct), promotes the expansion of the Council with some permanent presence of the Global South (India, Brazil, Germany, Japan, and one African seat, probably South Africa), and strengthens “Uniting for Peace” mechanisms to circumvent blockages. [45] The ICJ gains centrality with advisory opinions politically bound by prior compliance commitments, the ICC ensures interstate cooperation through regional agreements, and the UN creates a rapid civil deployment capacity for the protection of civilians, minimal cybersecurity, and climate response. [46] In the economic sphere, a Global Economic Council emerges within the orbit of the UN to coordinate debt, climate, and international taxation with common standards. [47] Scenario B: Ordered fragmentation of anarchy. Blockages become chronic. Security shifts to ad hoc coalitions and minilateralisms (NATO Plus, QUAD, expanded BRICS), economic governance is decided in restricted membership forums, and the UN remains a symbolic forum without decision-making capacity. [48] Exception becomes the rule: “preventive interventions,” widespread unilateral sanctions, proliferation of private military companies, opaque cyber-operations, and a data ecology controlled by a few platforms. [49] International law endures as a language, but its social force dissipates; incentives push toward strategic autonomy and legal security by blocs. In other words, the future of the UN will depend on its ability to balance justice and force in an international environment marked by multipolarity. I insist that one possible path is to advance toward gradual reforms that strengthen transparency, broaden the representativeness of the Council, and grant greater autonomy to the General Assembly and judicial bodies. Another, far more radical, is the consolidation of parallel mechanisms that de facto replace the role of the UN through regional alliances, ad hoc coalitions, and alternative economic forums. Both paths involve risks: reform may stagnate in the lowest common denominator, while fragmentation may deepen inequalities and conflicts. However, what seems clear is that maintaining the status quo will only prolong paralysis and further weaken the legitimacy of the multilateral system. The choice between reform or irrelevance will, ultimately, be the decisive dilemma of the 21st century. I believe that three milestones will indicate where we are headed: (1) effective adoption of commitments to abstain from vetoes in the face of mass atrocities; (2) funded and operational implementation of the climate loss and damage mechanism; (3) cooperation with the ICC in politically sensitive cases, without ad hoc exceptions. [50] VII. Conclusion: Between Disillusionment and Hope The UN marks eighty years caught in Pascal’s dilemma: “force without justice is tyranny, justice without force is mockery.” [51] The diagnosis is clear: the Security Council has turned justice into a mockery, while the great powers have exercised force without legitimacy. [52] The result is a weakened organization, incapable of responding to the most urgent tragedies of our time. However, it would be a mistake to fall into absolute cynicism. Despite its evident limitations and alongside all that has been mentioned, the UN remains the only forum where 193 States engage in dialogue, the only space where there exists even a minimal notion of common international law. [53] Its crisis should not lead us to abandon it, but rather to radically rethink it. Perhaps the path lies in what Habermas calls a “constitutionalization of international law,” as previously proposed, or in a profound reform of the Security Council that democratizes the use of force. [54] History teaches that institutions survive if they manage to adapt. [55] If the UN does not, it will be relegated to the status of a giant that humanity needs but that is paralyzed, a symbol of a past that no longer responds to the challenges of the present. [56] But if States recover something of the founding spirit of 1945, perhaps it can still save us from hell, even if it never takes us to heaven. [57] VIII. References [1] Dag Hammarskjöld. Hammarskjöld. Citado en Brian Urquhart. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1972.[2] John Rawls. The Law of Peoples. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999.[3] Permanent Mission of Canada to the United Nations. Statement on the Veto. UN General Assembly, 26 April 2022.[4] Aristóteles. Política. Traducido por Antonio Gómez Robledo. México: UNAM, 2000.[5] Naciones Unidas. Carta de las Naciones Unidas. San Francisco: Naciones Unidas, 26 de junio de 1945.[6] Naciones Unidas. World Summit Outcome Document. A/RES/60/1, 24 October 2005.[7] Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The Social Contract. New York: Penguin, 1968.[8] Immanuel Kant. Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch. 1795; repr., Indianapolis: Hackett, 2003.[9] Oliver Stuenkel. The BRICS and the Future of Global Order. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2015.[10] Susan Strange. States and Markets. London: Pinter, 1988. 11. Hedley Bull. The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics. New York: Columbia University Press, 1977.[12] Kenneth Waltz. Theory of International Politics. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1979.[13] Martha Finnemore. National Interests in International Society. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996.[14] Alexander Wendt. Social Theory of International Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999.[15] Francis Fukuyama. The End of History and the Last Man. New York: Free Press, 1992.[16] Samuel Huntington. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996.[17] Joseph Nye. Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics. New York: Public Affairs, 2004.[18] Joseph Nye. The Future of Power. New York: Public Affairs, 2011.[19] Robert Keohane y Joseph Nye. Power and Interdependence. Boston: Little, Brown, 1977.[20] Robert Keohane. After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discord in the World Political Economy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984.[21] Stephen Krasner. Structural Conflict: The Third World Against Global Liberalism. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985.[22] Robert Cox. “Social Forces, States and World Orders: Beyond International Relations Theory.” Millennium: Journal of International Studies 10, no. 2 (1981): 126–55.[23] Robert Cox. Production, Power, and World Order: Social Forces in the Making of History. New York: Columbia University Press, 1987.[24] Charles Kindleberger. The World in Depression, 1929–1939. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973.[25] John Ikenberry. After Victory: Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of Order after Major Wars. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001.[26] John Ikenberry. Liberal Leviathan: The Origins, Crisis, and Transformation of the American World Order. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011.[27] Paul Kennedy. The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers. New York: Random House, 1987.[28] Michael Doyle. Ways of War and Peace: Realism, Liberalism, and Socialism. New York: W. W. Norton, 1997.[29] Charles Beitz. Political Theory and International Relations. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979.[30] Andrew Moravcsik. “Taking Preferences Seriously: A Liberal Theory of International Politics.” International Organization 51, no. 4 (1997): 513–53[31] Peter Katzenstein, ed. The Culture of National Security: Norms and Identity in World Politics. New York: Columbia University Press, 1996.[32] Friedrich Kratochwil. Rules, Norms, and Decisions: On the Conditions of Practical and Legal Reasoning in International Relations and Domestic Affairs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989.[33] Nicholas Onuf. World of Our Making: Rules and Rule in Social Theory and International Relations. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1989.[34] Christian Reus-Smit. The Moral Purpose of the State: Culture, Social Identity, and Institutional Rationality in International Relations. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999.[35] Martha Finnemore y Kathryn Sikkink. “International Norm Dynamics and Political Change.” International Organization 52, no. 4 (1998): 887–917.[36] Michael Barnett y Martha Finnemore. Rules for the World: International Organizations in Global Politics. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2004.[37] Ian Hurd. After Anarchy: Legitimacy and Power in the United Nations Security Council. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007.[38] Allen Buchanan y Robert Keohane. “The Legitimacy of Global Governance Institutions.” Ethics & International Affairs 20, no. 4 (2006): 405–37.[39] Thomas Franck. The Power of Legitimacy among Nations. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990.[40] David Held. Democracy and the Global Order: From the Modern State to Cosmopolitan Governance. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995.[41] Ian Hurd. After Anarchy: Legitimacy and Power in the United Nations Security Council. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007.[42] Permanent Mission of Canada to the United Nations. Statement on the Veto. UN General Assembly, 26 April 2022.[43] Oliver Stuenkel. The BRICS and the Future of Global Order. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2015.[44] Naciones Unidas. World Summit Outcome Document. A/RES/60/1, 24 October 2005.[45] Corte Internacional de Justicia. Advisory Opinions. La Haya: CIJ, varios años.[46] Naciones Unidas. Report of the High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change. A/59/565, 2 December 2004.[47] Samuel Huntington. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996.[48] Robert Keohane. After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discord in the World Political Economy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984.[49] Thomas Franck. The Power of Legitimacy among Nations. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990.[50] Joseph Nye. The Future of Power. New York: Public Affairs, 2011.[51] Blaise Pascal. Pensées. París: Éditions Garnier, 1976.[52] Brian Urquhart. Hammarskjöld. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1972.[53] Naciones Unidas. Charter of the United Nations. San Francisco: Naciones Unidas, 1945.[54] Jürgen Habermas. The Postnational Constellation: Political Essays. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2001.[55] John Ikenberry. Liberal Leviathan: The Origins, Crisis, and Transformation of the American World Order. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011.[56] Paul Kennedy. The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers. New York: Random House, 1987.[57] David Held. Democracy and the Global Order: From the Modern State to Cosmopolitan Governance. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995.

Bukele's indefinite reelection marks a dangerous turning point for El Salvador, masked by popularity and a fleeting sense of security. In 2021, when Nayib Bukele updated his bio on X to read “The coolest dictator in the world,” he was flirting with a reality that had yet to fully unfold. But on July 31, 2025, the prophecy he once made on social media came true: with 57 votes in favor and just three against, the Legislative Assembly approved a constitutional amendment allowing Bukele to govern indefinitely. Among both supporters and critics, this latest assault on democracy comes as little surprise. Bukele’s presidency has long borne the hallmarks of an aspiring despot: subordination of the judiciary to the executive, a shrinking and reconfigured legislature, and more recently, forcing journalists and dissidents into exile under the Foreign Agents Law. Still, few doubt that last Thursday’s vote marks the darkest chapter yet in El Salvador’s accelerating descent into authoritarian rule. For now, the Salvadoran president appears untouchable. His radical security policy—despite serious human rights violations against both alleged and actual gang members—has transformed the former homicide capital of the world into one of the safest countries in the Western Hemisphere, winning him overwhelming support at home and abroad. He’s also been bolstered by a weak opposition, close ties to Trump and the so-called “new right,” and the conspicuous silence of Western leaders. Yet, according to a survey by LPG Datos, only 1.4% of Salvadorans find it troubling that power is concentrated in a single person’s hands. Still, Bukele will face future hurdles in holding on to power. What happens when Bukele’s brand of “peace” becomes normalized? Or when the country is hit by an economic, social, or environmental crisis? It seems unlikely that the self-proclaimed dictator would willingly cede power or allow a new government to take over following an electoral defeat. Democratic erosion Last week’s constitutional reform, which removed term limits for the presidency, also extended the presidential term from five to six years, eliminated run-off elections, and brought forward the 2028 presidential election to 2027 to align it with legislative and municipal elections—an attempt to capitalize on Bukele’s electoral momentum. These are merely the latest blows to El Salvador’s already fragile democracy. Just a year after his first presidential win in 2019, Bukele evoked memories of the civil war that plagued the 1980s. Flanked by heavily armed soldiers, he stormed into Congress to demand a $109 million loan for his “war” against gangs. In 2021, he went after the judiciary, purging the courts and replacing independent judges with loyalists from his party, Nuevas Ideas. But it was in 2022 that his presidency entered its defining phase with the declaration of a “state of exception,” which the Legislative Assembly has since renewed 41 times. For decades, El Salvador was caught in the crossfire between the notorious Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13) and Barrio 18 gangs (both Sureños and Revolucionarios), which controlled nearly every aspect of daily life. Attacks on businesses were common, and brutal killings occurred frequently and with impunity. Many families stopped sending their children to school, as the journey often meant crossing gang-controlled territories. Nearly every aspect of social life was confined to one’s neighborhood or home. Because Salvadoran gangs were not major players in international drug trafficking—unlike Mexican and Colombian cartels—violent extortion became their main source of income. In 2014, the Central Bank calculated that the cost of extortion in El Salvador equaled more than 3% of GDP; that same year, public spending on education was 3.8% of GDP. Every administration before Bukele promised to take on the gangs, but all failed to end the bloodshed. Clearly, their “tough” approach wasn’t tough enough. These broken promises, made over and over by the two dominant parties—right-wing ARENA and leftist FMLN—only deepened public disillusionment and a sense of chaos. Opposition missteps Despite his rising popularity as mayor of Nuevo Cuscatlán under the FMLN—where he began his political career in 2012—Bukele’s relationship with his former party deteriorated. In October 2017, the FMLN finally expelled him for “defamatory actions,” following an incident in which he allegedly threw an apple at a party colleague. But the decision backfired: during the next year’s legislative and municipal elections, which Bukele had been poised to win, the FMLN suffered crushing defeats. In part, this was because a bitter Bukele had urged voters to spoil their ballots or stay home. With the FMLN stripped of its historic majority in the legislature, ARENA and the broader right were poised to take control. The FMLN’s hostility toward Bukele has hurt it ever since he became president in 2019. His critics—both inside and outside the party—have largely focused their attacks on his security policies, a strategy that has failed for several reasons. First, mass incarceration of gang members is the bedrock of Bukele’s popularity. Attempts to discredit him over human rights abuses tied to the Territorial Control Plan don’t resonate with voters whose own rights were routinely violated by the same gangs that the opposition now appears to defend. Second—and more importantly—security is just the visible tip of the “Bukelismo” iceberg. While his blatant disregard for the rights and freedoms of detainees (many imprisoned without trial in megaprison CECOT) deserves condemnation, the broader democratic backsliding—total institutional control, indefinite reelection, and an unprecedented concentration of power—is the more enduring threat to the future of this Central American nation. A fleeting calm? No one should be surprised by the popularity of a figure like Bukele in a country like El Salvador. After all, living without fear is a basic human right that Salvadorans were denied for far too long. Bukele’s ability to provide security where all his predecessors failed spectacularly explains not only his staggering popularity, but also the Salvadoran people’s willingness to discard their own democracy. But the region is full of cautionary tales about what comes next. Although Bukele has gained support faster and more decisively than others, it’s worth remembering that there was a time when Ortega enjoyed broad support in Nicaragua—just as Chávez did in Venezuela. Like Bukele, those leaders promised to cure ailments long deemed incurable. But when their people no longer wanted the medicine, it was already too late. For now, Bukele’s indefinite reelection is cloaked in his immense popularity. It lends him a veneer of democratic legitimacy, in the narrowest sense of the word. But someday—perhaps sooner than expected—the Salvadoran people may find themselves suffocated by the iron hand that once gave them “breath.” *Machine translation, proofread by Ricardo Aceves.