Ecuador as Laboratory for Warfare

Luis Córdova-Alarcón, Director of the Order, Conflict, and Violence Research Program at the Central University of Ecuador

The commander of U.S. Southern Command, Marine Gen. Francis L. Donovan, meets with Ecuadorian President Daniel Noboa on March 2, 2026 in Ecuador. Photo retrieved from Wikimedia Commons.

With U.S. assistance, Daniel Noboa has turned Ecuador into a laboratory for warfare—a space for technological and psychological experimentation led by military power that is reshaping the political, economic, and social order of this small South American nation. This laboratory serves as the primary theater of operations for the “war on cartels” promoted by the Trump administration through the multination coalition known as the “Shield of the Americas.” It is also the testing ground for the “Technological Republic” envisioned by Palantir’s founders, as the state is being increasingly captured by a transnational oligarchy.

As in any laboratory, experimentation is feasible because the environment is controlled. In Ecuador’s case, state and para-state intervention is what is being controlled, while the effects of such intervention trigger key legal and illegal economies that remain beyond control. The use of lethal violence—whether by criminals or the military—acts as a source of power and is used as a mechanism that creates “invisible borders” between individuals and their daily lives.

However, a series of unusual events reveals the misleading nature of the “internal armed conflict” that was declared by Noboa in January 2024, as well as the political use of the “state of war” (1). Two events are particularly significant.

The first occurrence was in early March 2026, when an airstrike with direct support from the U.S. Southern Command was carried out on Ecuadorian soil. On March 3, Ecuadorian and U.S. authorities released a video reporting that they had bombed a suspected camp belonging to the “Comandos de la Frontera” (Border Commandos) in the Sucumbíos province (2). The Ecuadorian government promoted this event as the start of “the next phase of the fight against organized crime” in Ecuador. The day before the strike, the head of the U.S. Southern Command, General Francis L. Donovan, met with Noboa in Quito, Ecuador to announce the launch of joint military operations (3). Two weeks later, an investigation published by The New York Times confirmed that the military target that had been bombed was actually a dairy farm (4) and not a camp as had been claimed.

This psychological warfare operation marked the beginning of an “intervention by invitation” that had been in the making for a long time. Its origins date back to 2018, when the Security Cooperation Office at the U.S. Embassy—which had been closed in 2014 under the presidency of Rafael Correa (2007–2017)—was reopened, and efforts began to shape the Ecuadorian government’s security policy.

In the Integrated Country Strategy for Ecuador, approved on September 18, 2018, the U.S. Department of State established the roadmap for the U.S. Embassy in Quito. It states verbatim: “The strategic objective of Mission Ecuador […] is to support the emergence of a government that shares U.S. interests in combating transnational criminal and terrorist networks and contributes to regional security”; it adds that “engagement with the Ecuadorian Armed Forces will create commercial opportunities for U.S.-based suppliers while enhancing Ecuador’s military capabilities […]”(5).

With Guillermo Lasso’s assumption of the presidency in May 2021, the Department of State strategic objective outlined in 2018 was realized. The Department of State acknowledged this in April 2022, with the Integrated Country Strategy for Ecuador, noting: “President Guillermo Lasso—the most pro-U.S. president in over two decades—has strengthened the bilateral relationship between the United States and Ecuador, offering a significant opportunity to expand the security partnership.” It also noted: “Ecuador will need to significantly increase defense spending to adequately train and equip its armed forces. Relying solely on U.S. security cooperation funding will not be sufficient to meet security objectives. The Mission intends to mitigate these risks by advocating for increased defense spending through Foreign Military Sales and Direct Commercial Sales” (6).

In December 2022 the U.S. Congress passed the “United States-Ecuador Partnership Act of 2022” as part of the “James M. Inhofe National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2023” (7). It authorized the initiation of a broad-spectrum intervention across all areas of Ecuadorian society and mandated that the State Department, together with other relevant federal departments and agencies, submit a comprehensive strategy for the law’s implementation within 180 days.

On July 19, 2023, Ecuador’s Minister of National Defense, General Luis Lara, traveled to Washington to sign a Memorandum of Understanding with the Department of Defense. This document outlined 169 tactical objectives with an implementation timeline extending to 2030 (8). This was followed by the signing of the Status of Forces Agreement on September 27, 2023, and the Agreement on maritime interdiction in Ecuadorian waters on October 6 of the same year.

By the time Daniel Noboa won the presidential election on October 15, 2023—following a turbulent campaign marked by the assassination of presidential candidate Fernando Villavicencio on August 9, 2023—the United States’ “intervention by invitation” was already in the works. The gun was loaded; all that remained was to pull the trigger.

The second event worth highlighting occurred on January 13, 2026. The vessel “Fiorella” set sail from Jaramijó with a nine-person crew to carry out artisanal fishing operations. Days later, the boat vanished. Relatives reported the incident, and one crew member was found alive; he recounted that they had been attacked by drones. To date, the other eight fishermen remain missing, with neither the Ecuadorian nor the U.S. government having issued a statement on the matter. However, in August, an investigation published by The Washington Post reported that the “Fiorella” had likely been intercepted as part of a covert action program led by the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) (9). Meanwhile, The New York Times analyzed flight data and discovered that a maritime patrol aircraft—based at a military facility in El Salvador and owned not by the Pentagon but by a Virginia-based company—had flown toward the vessels in the days leading up to the attack (10).

Frequent attacks on suspected drug-trafficking boats in the Caribbean Sea and the South Pacific —carried out as part of the Pentagon-led “Operation Southern Spear”—are not only leaving a trail of deaths and disappearances but are also forcing the displacement of artisanal fishermen who wish to avoid risking their lives. Harassed by criminal groups that extort or recruit them, and facing stealthy attacks by U.S. drones, families who rely on artisanal fishing are experiencing an accelerated process of “dispossession through militarization.”

The military operations carried out by the Department of Defense are deeply intertwined with Silicon Valley’s Big Tech companies. It is no longer just a matter of billion-dollar contracts, but also of the ongoing fusion of cutting-edge technological expertise and military innovation. On June 13, 2025, the Pentagon announced the creation of “Detachment 201”—known as the “Executive Innovation Corps”—and granted the highest military reserve rank to four senior executives from Palantir, Meta, and OpenAI (11).

On March 12, 2026, Cameron Stanley, director of artificial and digital intelligence at the Department of Defense, presented Palantir’s new software called the “Maven Smart System.” This comprehensive decision support system is based on artificial intelligence and can combine 8 to 9 separate massive data streams to deliver military objectives in real time (12). The Southern Command has already enlisted this system to operate in Ecuador. By automating the attack chain (find, fix, track, attack, and assess) using AI, the most sensitive decision-making process is delegated to an algorithm to generate attack targets continuously, replacing human discretion, which is modifying the nature of war. This subverts the concept of selective warfare. War becomes an infinite interface.

The use of Lavender software—designed by Palantir—to bomb the Gaza Strip by the Israeli Defense Forces is a dramatic example of this mutation in asymmetric conflict (13). The incessant attack on fishing boats in the Ecuadorian Pacific is helping the Southern Command to calibrate the use of these tools in aquatic spaces.

In August of this year, it was uncovered that the U.S. army was building an airfield at the Taura Air Base, the largest in the Ecuadorian Air Force (14). In September, the Southern Command reported that it had deployed its brand new HANX military drone in Ecuador, manufactured with 3D printing and designed by the United States Air Force (15). Later in October, Ecuador’s Minister of National Defense, Gian Carlos Loffredo, reported that two MQ-9 Reaper drones were already flying through the skies of Ecuador. The use of this military technology of “war without risks” confirms that Ecuador is a great field of military experimentation.

At the same time, a “digital cage” managed by Palantir is taking shape in Ecuador. In January 2025, with the backing of the United States Embassy, ​​the national government signed the “Alliance Framework Agreement” (AFA) with Google Cloud for the digital transformation of the public sector (16). In May 2025, Noboa signed his first agreement with Palantir, granting the corporation access to all data from Ecuador’s National Customs Service (SENAE) and Internal Revenue Service (SRI) with the goal of strengthening Ecuador’s border and customs control through artificial intelligence and data analysis tools (17). In January 2026, President Noboa used his visit to the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, to meet with Alex Karp, the CEO of Palantir. The only detail to emerge from the meeting was that Palantir would open a business office in Cuenca (18). However, by October of this year, it was revealed that the Financial and Economic Analysis Unit (UAFE)—a government entity attached to Ecuador’s National Intelligence Center—would use Palantir’s platform to track and monitor money laundering (19).

Ultimately, the critical situation of insecurity remains unresolved. Daniel Noboa’s government has chosen a path of convenient strategic subordination to Washington in exchange for the Trump administration’s approval to weaken democracy and leverage the business interests of a transnational oligarchy—featuring capital from the UAE, the United States, China, and Israel. The political cost for Ecuadorian society is immense: the republic is succumbing, becoming a vast laboratory for warfare.

  1. Córdova-Alarcón L. El Estado de Guerra como mecanismo de dominación política en Ecuador. Sociología y Política Hoy [Internet]. 2026 Feb 23 [cited 2026 Oct 7];11:137–57. Available from: https://revistadigital.uce.edu.ec/index.php/hoy/article/view/9714
  2. Ministerio de Defensa Nacional del Ecuador. Ministerio de Defensa Nacional del Ecuador [Internet]. 2026 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. Operación “Exterminio Total” destruye a los Comandos de Frontera”. Available from: https://www.defensa.gob.ec/operacion-exterminio-total-destruye-a-los-comandos-de-frontera/
  3. Rueda R. Daniel Noboa se reúne con el Comando Sur de Estados Unidos, que ve a Ecuador como un socio clave. Primicias [Internet]. 2026 Mar 2 [cited 2026 Mar 15]. Available from: https://www.primicias.ec/politica/daniel-noboa-reunion-comando-sur-estados-unidos-anuncio-operaciones-coordinacion-seguridad-117122/
  4. Ferré-Sadurní L, León Cabrera JM, Correal A, Schmitt E. The U.S. Said It Helped Bomb a Drug Camp. It Was a Dairy Farm. The New York Times [Internet]. 2026 Mar 24 [cited 2026 Mar 23]. Available from: https://www.nytimes.com/2026/03/24/world/americas/us-ecuador-drug-camp-bombing-dairy-farm.html
  5. Department of State. Integrated Country Strategy. Ecuador [Internet]. 2018 Sep [cited 2024 Sep 28]. Available from: https://2017-2021.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/ICS-Ecuador_UNCLASS_508.pdf
  6. Department of State. Integrated Country Strategy. Ecuador [Internet]. 2022 Apr [cited 2024 Sep 28]. Available from: https://www.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/ICS_WHA_Ecuador_Public-1.pdf
  7. 117th Congress. James M. Inhofe National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2023. 2022 Dec 23.
  8. Televistazo. El acuerdo de cooperación entre EE.UU. y Ecuador para fortalecer las Fuerzas Armadas se firmará el 20 de julio. Ecuavisa [Internet]. 2023 Jul 9 [cited 2024 Sep 28]. Available from: https://www.ecuavisa.com/noticias/ecuador/militares-estados-unidos-ecuador-acuerdo-cooperacion-YY5540346
  9. Echeverría G. La CIA estuvo detrás de los ataques a pesqueros en Ecuador, según The Washington Post. Expreso [Internet]. 2026 Aug 13 [cited 2026 Aug 16]. Available from: https://www.expreso.ec/justicia/cia-estuvo-detras-ataques-pesqueros-ecuador-the-washington-post-292401.html
  10. Abi-Habib M, Melen R, León JM. Hablaban inglés, llevaban banderas de EE. UU. y atacaron a los pescadores. ¿Quiénes eran? The New York Times [Internet]. 2026 Aug 12 [cited 2026 Sep 28]. Available from: https://www.nytimes.com/es/2026/08/12/espanol/america-latina/ecuador-ataques-barcos.html
  11. U.S. Army Public Affairs. Army Launches Detachment 201: Executive Innovation Corps to Drive Tech Transformation. U.S. Army [Internet]. 2025 Jun 13 [cited 2026 Jan 5]. Available from: https://www.army.mil/article/286317/army_launches_detachment_201_executive_innovation_corps_to_drive_tech_transformation
  12. Stanley C. @PalantirTech [Internet]. 2026 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. “This is Maven Smart System—Palantir’s software as a service product that we are deploying across the entire department.” Available from: https://x.com/PalantirTech/status/2032142543022960980
  13. Abraham Y. ‘Lavender’: The AI machine directing Israel’s bombing spree in Gaza. +972 Magazine [Internet]. 2024 Apr 3 [cited 2024 Dec 29]. Available from: https://www.972mag.com/lavender-ai-israeli-army-gaza/
  14. DVIDS. LCF-24: CLB-8 Airfield Clearing [Internet]. 2026 Sep [cited 2026 Sep 16]. Available from: https://www.dvidshub.net/image/9913386/lcf-24-clb-8-airfield-clearing
  15. Primicias. Estados Unidos despliega en Ecuador el HANK, un nuevo dron militar impreso en 3D, en medio de operaciones contra el narcotráfico. Primicias [Internet]. 2026 Sep 26 [cited 2026 Sep 27]. Available from: https://www.primicias.ec/seguridad/dron-hanx-militar-ecuador-estados-unidos-comando-sur-133498/
  16. U.S. Mission Ecuador. U.S. Mission Ecuador [Internet]. 2025 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. The United States supports Ecuador’s digital transformation through an agreement with Google Cloud. Available from: https://ec.usembassy.gov/the-united-states-supports-ecuadors-digital-transformation-through-an-agreement-with-google-cloud/
  17. Primicias. ADuanas de Ecuador busca una suscripción a la plataforma de Palantir por USD 17 millones, tras un año del primer contrato. Primicias [Internet]. 2026 May 27 [cited 2026 Jun 7]. Available from: https://www.primicias.ec/politica/aduanas-suscripcion-contrato-palantir-millones-cnt-123736/
  18. La Hora. Palantir Technologies abrirá oficina en Ecuador, Daniel Noboa se reunió con el CEO en Suiza. La Hora [Internet]. 2026 Jan 21 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. Available from: https://www.lahora.com.ec/politica/palantir-technologies-abrira-oficina-en-ecuador-daniel-noboa-se-reunio-con-el-ceo-en-suiza-20260121-0026.html
  19. Vélez R. Ecuador utilizará Palantir para detectar lavado de activos en apuestas deportivas desde 2027, dice Neira. Primicias [Internet]. 2026 Oct 6 [cited 2026 Oct 7]. Available from: https://www.primicias.ec/economia/ecuador-palantir-jose-julio-neira-apuestas-deportivas-lavado-activos-134294/

*This post continues an ongoing series, as part of CLALS’s Ecuador Initiative, examining the country’s economic, governance, security, and societal challenges, made possible with generous support from Dr. Maria Donoso Clark, CAS/PhD ’91.

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by clalsstaff on October 19, 2026  •  Permalink
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Posted by clalsstaff on October 19, 2026

https://aulablog.net/2026/10/19/ecuador-as-laboratory-for-warfare/

Escazú Explained

Latin America’s Treaty for Environmental Defenders at a Crossroads

Belén Fernández Milmanda, Associate Professor, Trinity College

Giancarlo Madera, undergraduate student and research assistant, American University

Mariana Muñoz Restrepo, undergraduate student and research assistant, Trinity College

Andrea Vilán, Assistant Professor, American University

Photo: ECLAC / United Nations via the official Escazú Agreement COP 4 Portal.

While environmental and land defenders are under attack around the world, nowhere is this danger more palpable than in Latin America, which accounted for 85 percent of deadly attacks in 2025.[1] Four Latin American countries – Colombia, Brazil, Mexico, and Honduras – account for 58 percent of all murders of environmental activists around the world since record keeping began.[2]

In response to this dire situation, in 2018 the Latin American and Caribbean (LAC) countries established the Escazú Agreement, the first legally binding treaty to include provisions on the rights of environmental defenders. In this post, we explore its impact so far and what can be expected going forward.

What is the Escazú Agreement?

The Escazú Agreement is a landmark treaty that includes specific measures to protect environmental defenders. It also enshrines the rights of communities and individuals to access environmental information, participate in environmental decision-making, and access the judicial system when their rights have been violated, thus facilitating legal mobilization against environmental degradation. Specifically, Escazú instructs members to protect the physical integrity and freedom of expression of environmental and land activists (Article 9) and to guarantee public access to environmental information (Article 5). Moreover, it enshrines the rights of communities and individuals to participate in environmental decision-making (Article 7) and access justice in environmental matters (Article 8).

The Agreement was negotiated over six years, including three years of preparatory meetings and three of formal treaty drafting. The text was written over the course of nine committee meetings held virtually and in person and ultimately adopted in Escazú, Costa Rica, in 2018. After receiving the eleventh ratification, it entered into force in 2021.

Commitment to Escazú So far

While most countries participated in the negotiations of Escazú, to date commitment to its standards has been uneven. So far, only 19 countries out of 33 countries in Latin America and the Caribbean (LAC) have ratified or acceded to the treaty. In particular, it is worrisome that some of the countries with the highest deforestation rates in the world, such as Brazil or Paraguay, as well as some of the most biodiverse ones, like Peru, Costa Rica and Guatemala, have signed the treaty but failed to ratify it.[3]

Map of Escazú Agreement status across Latin America and the Caribbean (2018).
Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Some countries like Argentina or Mexico, ratified the agreement quickly. Strong opposition to the agreement, coming in particular from extractivist industries, has delayed or obstructed commitment in countries such as Brazil, Chile, Colombia, and Peru. In some cases, social mobilization in support of the agreement has been key to overcoming the reticence of business interests. Colombia – a country that we have studied in-depth with support from American University’s Public Affairs and Policy Lab – only committed to the agreement after a mass mobilization known as the Paro Nacional pressured then President Duque to sign and subsequently set in motion a political process that President Petro finished while in office in 2022.[4]

In the last few years, several Caribbean countries joined the agreement, including Dominica, the Bahamas, and Trinidad and Tobago. In fact, the fourth conference of state parties (COP4) – a multi-day event including state and elected representatives from the public – was held in Nassau in April of 2026. The region is one of the most vulnerable to climate change in the world, so their inclusion is important. However, their inclusion also introduces several complexities, since many state parties are not Spanish-speaking and do not follow civil law.

Ratification is only one of the first steps, and a growing group of countries are now working on implementation. Many countries have developed a national roadmap (hoja de ruta) for putting the treaty into practice, with support from the UN Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC). In 2023, Argentina and Ecuador produced the earliest roadmaps; Uruguay and Chile followed in 2024, Panama in 2025 and Belize and Colombia in 2026.[5]

What Lies Ahead

At the COP4 held in 2026, state parties made several key decisions,[6] including creating an official working group on “pollutant release and transfer registers,” intended to provide publicly available information systems and verifiable data on pollutants released into natural ecosystems. State delegates also approved the composition of new leadership, choosing Saint Kitts and Nevis to take the Chair, and electing the Bahamas, Belize, Colombia and Panama, as Vice-chairs. The election of the representatives of the public — a novel feature of the agreement designed to encourage participation on environmental matters — will be held in November of 2026.

The next conference of the parties will take place in 2028. In the meantime, states will have to navigate the political shifts in the region, including potential realignments due to presidential elections. The current shift to the right in the region could mean trouble for the agreement, as detractors took office.  In Brazil, a Flávio Bolsonaro administration would almost certainly lower the chances of the country ratifying the agreement – which awaits consideration in the Senate after having cleared the Chamber of Deputies in November of 2025 – to zero. In Argentina, Chile, and Colombia, even if withdrawing the agreement may prove difficult, governments may undermine the agreement by cutting public resources supporting implementation.

However, ratifying the agreement is no panacea for environmental defenders on the ground, as many implementation challenges remain. Ecuador is a case in point. While the country was the first in the world to enshrine the Rights of Nature in its national constitution in 2008 and among the first to ratify Escazú in 2020,[7] violence against environmental defenders remains high. The 2023 assassination of Eduardo Mendúa Vargas, a leader of the Indigenous Nations Confederation (CONAIE) and a key member in the implementation of Escazú who was fighting the state oil company Petroecuador, sent the country into uproar. Environmentalists demanded justice from President Guillermo Lasso, but the case remains open.[8] Presidents Lasso and Noboa have faced criticisms for not implementing Escazú and, more broadly, neglecting the constitutionally enshrined Rights of Nature. In 2025, for example, over 250 domestic and international organizations criticized the government for not implementing Escazú.[9] Still, in 2026 two environmental activists were killed in Santa Elena province, presumably due to their environmental and anti-corruption activism.[10]

Before states meet at the next Conference of the Parties in April 2028, several tests will show how strong the treaty really is. Will Brazil finally join? Will governments hollow it out from within? Will the implementation roadmaps help turn states’ commitments into concrete action? Will the newly elected representatives of the public decisively shape the path forward? The next years will show whether the agreement moves from promise to practice, and whether it can deliver for the people it was meant to protect.

[1] Global Witness. https://globalwitness.org/en/campaigns/land-and-environmental-defenders/collective-power/

[2] Authors’ calculations based on Global Witness,  https://globalwitness.org/en/campaigns/land-and-environmental-defenders/collective-power/

[3] UN Treaty Collection. https://treaties.un.org/pages/viewdetails.aspx?src=treaty&mtdsg_no=xxvii-18&chapter=27&clang=_en

[4] We explore these political dynamics in Fernández Milmanda & Vilan, “Who Protects Environmental Defenders? How Domestic Interest Groups Shape Latin American States’ Commitment to the Escazú Agreement,” presented at the 2026 APSA Annual Meeting. 

[5] See https://observatoriop10.cepal.org/es

[6] CEPAL. https://acuerdodeescazu.cepal.org/cop4/en/news/cop-4-escazu-agreement-approves-key-decisions-accelerating-treatys-implementation-latin-america

[7] Observatory on Principle 10, CEPAL https://observatoriop10.cepal.org/en/treaty/regional-agreement-access-information-public-participation-and-justice-environmental-matters

[8] Vargas assassination https://es.mongabay.com/2023/03/asesinato-de-eduardo-mendua-en-ecuador/

[9] Front line defenders (250 organizations protest) https://www.frontlinedefenders.org/en/statement-report/over-280-ecuadorian-and-international-organizations-speak-out-against

[10] Silva and Pezo assassination https://gk.city/2026/06/12/tres-activistas-hallados-sin-vida-ecuador-siete-meses/

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by clalsstaff on October 15, 2026  •  Permalink
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Posted by clalsstaff on October 15, 2026

https://aulablog.net/2026/10/15/escazu-explained/

El Salvador: Democracy Beyond the Ballot Box

Sonja Wolf, Research Professor, School of Government and Economics, Panamerican University, Mexico City

Image of Security Measures at CECOT in El Salvador. Source: Wikimedia Commons

In February 2027 El Salvador will hold general elections. Constitutional reforms passed in July 2025 moved the presidential contest from 2029 to 2027 to synchronize it with the legislative and municipal elections, eliminated limits on reelection, and scrapped the second-round runoff requirement. The scheduling change will allow the ruling party’s embattled lawmakers and mayors to ride the coattails of the country’s popular president, Nayib Bukele.

Bukele, unconstitutionally reelected in 2024 due to a controversial 2021 ruling by the Supreme Court, will stand for a third term and is widely expected to win. The political campaigns will formally kick off in October 2026, but some of the dynamics that will characterize the electoral process are already taking shape. Chief among them are the opposition’s dilemmas: participate in the elections or boycott them, and condemn the ongoing state of emergency or run on platforms that avoid alienating voters who support the measure.

Since 2019, Bukele has swiftly and systematically dismantled the democracy that propelled him to the highest office. Behind a democratic façade exists an electoral autocracy—a hybrid regime that holds regular but unfair elections, lacks institutional checks and balances, undermines the rule of law, and imposes media and civic restrictions. The state of emergency, in force since March 2022 ostensibly to dismantle the country’s gangs, has become a tool to silence dissent. Together with a burgeoning surveillance state, it has once again reduced Salvadoran society to one of fear.

The electoral playing field has been rigged so extensively—through gerrymandered districts, an altered voting formula, and the elimination of public financing—that the opposition faces an uphill battle to make strategic gains. For Bukele, on the other hand, the elections serve no purpose other than to legitimize his power.

For now, the president’s continued high citizen support rests on three sources. First, both the conservative ARENA and the leftist FMLN came to be seen as incompetent and corrupt; widespread dissatisfaction with these traditional parties opened the door to a leader who tapped into people’s frustrations, fears, and hopes. Second, an extensive propaganda apparatus relentlessly pitches Bukele as a savior transforming El Salvador from an impoverished, violence-torn country into a safe, technologically advanced, and investor-friendly nation. Third, the state of emergency—declared in response to a gang massacre that followed the breakdown of Bukele’s secret pact with gang leaders—has reduced violence and restored freedom of movement in formerly gang-controlled neighborhoods.

The measure continues to enjoy widespread backing; according to a recent survey by the local Jesuit university, seven out of ten Salvadorans believe it should even be extended. Images of gang members detained in the CECOT maximum-security prison have made headlines around the world. Coupled with domestic support for the president’s security policy, these visuals have fueled the myth of the “Bukele security model” that politicians across the region now tout to court voters.

In El Salvador, the manipulation of official crime statistics raises doubts about the extent to which violence has actually declined. Furthermore, the respite that the arrests of suspected gang members has brought to many communities contrasts with widespread human rights abuses, including arbitrary detention and due process violations, alongside ill-treatment and deaths in custody. By September 2026, the NGO Socorro Jurídico Humanitario had documented 570 such deaths. An international group of experts has concluded that the human rights violations committed under the state of emergency are sufficiently widespread and systematic to amount to crimes against humanity.

Compounding this issue are mass trials in which prosecutors group defendants with no gang affiliation alongside actual gang members, submitting them to bulk judicial processes and securing lengthy convictions using unsubstantiated evidence. Legal reforms have not only suspended core constitutional guarantees but have fundamentally reshaped the Salvadoran justice system. This autocratic legalism creates a veneer of legality for abuses of power, setting the current mass incarceration apart from earlier periods of mano dura policing. Today, the state of emergency can be wielded against anyone the regime perceives as a threat, as indicated by the scores of journalists and human rights defenders who have fled the country for fear of arbitrary arrest.

Salvadorans have largely accepted the premise that the state of emergency is required to keep gang members in prison. The Bukele administration stokes this belief by arguing that an opposition victory would hand thousands of gang members a “get-out-of-jail-free-card.” Even families whose loved ones have been arbitrarily detained often view the measure positively; they frequently assume that in their own case the state simply made a mistake, leading them to plead with the president to intercede and order their relative’s release.

Human rights defenders tread a fine line to avoid being labeled as defenders of criminals or terrorists. The Movimiento de Víctimas del Régimen (MOVIR), for example, explicitly demands justice and freedom solely for innocent victims. Its leader, Samuel Ramírez, has insisted: “I don’t care about the human rights of gang members.” By adopting a narrative that distinguishes between worthy and unworthy victims, advocacy groups run the risk of inadvertently reinforcing the logic that the state of emergency would be acceptable if applied only to gang members, and thereby weakening the universal fight for human rights and the rule of law.

The state of emergency also complicates the political campaigns of the remnants of the opposition. In an electoral autocracy, opposition parties might decide to boycott elections to deny the incumbent the legitimacy they crave. However, hybrid regimes typically end through the electoral arena—either when the opposition successfully mobilizes voters to defeat the autocrat or when citizens take to the streets to protest rigged ballots. For El Salvador’s opposition to achieve the former, it would require strategic coordination, a compelling alternative platform, and, above all, an insider defector capable of splitting the regime’s base. Instead, challengers continue to run under “polluted brands”—the parties that Bukele has spent much of his political capital discrediting. At present, none of these conditions are being met.

ARENA, the FMLN, and VAMOS—a centrist, Christian humanist party—all plan to participate in the 2027 elections. The first two will field presidential candidates, as will two of the Bukele-aligned satellite parties. Claudia Ortiz, a VAMOS lawmaker first elected in 2021, has emerged as the opposition’s most distinctive voice. She has argued that to become a competitive alternative to Bukele’s Nuevas Ideas, VAMOS must open its doors to independent citizen candidates and build broad civic alliances. However, she is currently facing a disciplinary process aimed at expelling her from the party, a move that threatens to further debilitate El Salvador’s fragmented opposition.

Amid the asymmetric conditions they face, opposition parties would be unlikely to act as a meaningful counterweight in the Legislative Assembly or to govern effectively in the municipalities they won. Instead, by participating, they could secure their survival within the party system, use the legislative floor to advance alternative narratives, and exercise oversight in municipal councils. The presidential candidates, for their part, may struggle to articulate a platform that resonates with voters. Rafael Aguirre, the FMLN’s presidential hopeful, has voiced support for the state of emergency — a position calculated to avoid alienating voters who back the measure, but one that risks turning away those who oppose it.

Regime critics continue to document and resist autocratization and emergency rule in El Salvador. Exiled journalists report on corruption and impunity, activists denounce human rights violations at press conferences and demonstrations, and citizen journalists cover these events or offer analysis on their social media channels. All of this is necessary, but the risk is that echo chambers will prevail over attempts to engage Bukele’s supporters and systematically deconstruct their arguments.

In other contexts, political activists and influencers go into public squares and strategically confront authoritarian or far-right supporters, interviewing them to expose contradictions or falsehoods in their claims. These encounters are then filmed and repackaged into fact-checked, contextualized social media content. Ultimately, this form of grassroots activism works by forcing people to interrogate their own beliefs and political choices. In El Salvador, such an approach might do more to blunt Bukele’s appeal than facts addressed to an audience he won over through emotion. The 2027 elections may not bring significant opposition gains, but the painstaking work of reducing polarization and building democracy from the ground up can begin now.

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by clalsstaff on September 30, 2026  •  Permalink
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Posted by clalsstaff on September 30, 2026

https://aulablog.net/2026/09/30/el-salvador-democracy-beyond-the-ballot-box/

U.S. Cuba Policy: Might Makes Wrong

Fulton Armstrong, Research Fellow, Center for Latin American and Latino Studies, American University

Philip Brenner, Emeritus Professor of International Relations and History, American University

View of Havana, Cuba. Source: Robert Albro

The Trump administration has been applying to Cuba its credo that might makes right. At the United Nations President Donald Trump pointed to Cuba shortly after musing that he might “annihilate the Islamic Republic [of Iran]”, driving the Iranian people “into hell with no chance of survival.” U.S. escalation of its “extreme pressure” measures to effect regime change in Cuba, especially the oil blockade in place since January, amounts to the strongest attack from the United States since Fidel Castro marched into Havana more than 66 years ago, with little prospect of an outcome pleasing to the United States.

The across-the-board economic, diplomatic, and military steps to block all oil shipments to the Cuban oil processing and distribution industry – allowing only one small Russian shipment and a variety of small shipments of finished products to cash-paying clients in the private sector – are causing a multi-tiered humanitarian crisis. The blockade covers even solar panels, and shippers afraid of U.S. sanctions are delaying delivery of containers of food, medicine, and other essentials. Legal experts say these measures amount to a violation of international law.

Blackouts last 20 hours a day, and the whole national grid has crashed six times since January. Numerous press reports indicate that homes have no water because pumps cannot function without electricity. Patients needing hospital care are dying, with an estimated 100,000 people unable to obtain essential surgeries. Without fuel for trucks, garbage is piled high on city street corners, increasing the spread of mosquitoes bearing a range of diseases including chikungunya, dengue, and zika. The energy system has long been vulnerable because of previous embargo measures, such as prohibitions on the sale of spare parts with 10 percent or more of U.S. content, and because of inconsistent government policies. But the new U.S. actions have, by far, been the decisive cause of the current crises.

The underlying premise of U.S. policy since the 1960s is to spark a popular uprising that would lead to government collapse. The $60 million-$70 million a year the U.S. spends on information programs and other psychological operations directed at the island, primarily through social media, are clearly aimed at fomenting discontent, and many Cubans do blame their own government more than they do the U.S. for the lack of meaningful reform in past years.

But the government retains residual strengths that have enabled it to resist the U.S. pressure over these nine months. The people’s stoic and often creative survival strategies indicate that, even though they want change that will improve living conditions, they don’t want it dictated by Washington or Miami. The government has initiated and begun implementing significant economic reforms – at lightning speed compared to the past – that give the private sector huge new operating space, welcome foreign investment (including from expatriates) with very few conditions, and finally begin to dismantle inefficient state enterprises. Government officials say they’re not embracing capitalism, but their statements increasingly reflect acceptance of market mechanisms, decentralization, and a commitment to get the bureaucrats out of citizens’ way. Although they point out that Vietnam and China had drastically different conditions under which they implemented economic reforms in the 1980s, they’re not shy about signaling that they’re clearly moving toward a similarly mixed economy.  The people won’t feel relief for some time, but change is in the air.

The U.S. Administration seems to think it will win this race for time – that Cuba will “fail” or “collapse” before the benefits of reform can be felt. It is doing all it can to fan the flames on the island, including through threats of military intervention. Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio want to make Cuba a “failed state,” but they don’t want to face the consequences of the humanitarian disaster that their aggression is creating. In response to deteriorating conditions, an estimated 1.5 million-to 2 million Cubans already have migrated in the last five years, mainly to Spain and Latin America. But those options are drying up, and Trump and Rubio certainly don’t want Cubans to take to the boats and arrive on Florida shores. 

Even if the U.S. were to achieve its dream of effecting “regime collapse,” the island isn’t going to fall into its lap like a ripe fruit. The economic, infrastructural, and social damage will take decades to mend – and any new regime is going to face serious challenges to its legitimacy as a U.S. puppet and will struggle to maintain order. Indeed, government failure would probably benefit disciplined, orthodox enforcers rather than pro-democracy citizens with no experience. There is no pretty scenario at this point, but the less-ugly scenario would be to let the Cubans, without expressly excluding the party in charge, decide their own future. Cubans want change, but they want it to be evolutionary.

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by clalsstaff on September 30, 2026  •  Permalink
Posted in Cuba, Uncategorized, United States
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Posted by clalsstaff on September 30, 2026

https://aulablog.net/2026/09/30/u-s-cuba-policy-might-makes-wrong/

Reclaim or Rebuild?

Reclaim or Rebuild? Washington’s Uneven Push for Regional Realignment

By Víctor Ortiz

Researcher, Instituto de Estudios Nacionales, Universidad de Panamá

President Donald Trump greets Chinese President Xi Jinping before a bilateral meeting at the Gimhae International Airport terminal, Thursday, October 30, 2025 (Official White House Photo by Daniel Torok)

In his second term, US president Donald Trump placed the “reclaiming” of the Panama Canal among the central goals of his foreign policy. But this rhetoric cannot be read in isolation. It reflects a phenomenon that runs across all of Latin America, one in which the Canal occupies a central, though not exclusive, place. This raises two questions: Is Washington seeking to reclaim a hegemony it believes it has lost, or is it reacting to the perception that its hegemony has weakened? The distinction matters. In the first reading, this is simply a new edition of an old hemispheric discourse. In the second, a great power finds itself having to actively rebuild conditions it once took for granted, in the face of old and new threats: the fight against drug trafficking, illegal migration, and China’s growing influence in the region.

The concern did not begin with Trump. Under the Biden administration, then Southern Command chief Laura Richardson already had warned that US security depended on Latin America’s stability in the face of China’s growing presence, a power that had established itself as capable of contesting an area of control Washington had held almost unchallenged for two centuries — without regional economic dependence automatically translating into political subordination. One example: under President Juan Carlos Varela, Panama became the first country in the region to join the Belt and Road Initiative, in June 2017, and to break relations with Taiwan.

With Trump’s second administration, the shift was radical. Since December 2024 he has insisted that the United States give the Canal “to Panama, not to China,” and that the US was going to “take it back.” In February 2025, after meeting with Secretary of State Marco Rubio, President José Raúl Mulino announced that Panama would not renew its memorandum of understanding with China on the Belt and Road Initiative, without going so far as to break bilateral relations. Beijing, through its foreign ministry, called the move regrettable and accused Washington of resorting to pressure.

On April 8, 2025, Panama’s Minister of Public Security, Frank Ábrego, signed a memorandum with US Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth that restored a rotational US military presence at the former American bases of Fort Sherman, Rodman and Howard in the former Canal Zone, and guaranteed priority transit for US warships through the Canal. Mulino insisted the agreement did not compromise Panamanian sovereignty; critics, however, argued that Washington had obtained, through a technical memorandum, a fraction of what Trump had openly demanded. Panama retains legal sovereignty over the canal zone, but that sovereignty now coexists with specific operational concessions — US military access to infrastructure outside the Canal itself, framed under the umbrella of protecting it and regional security.

The dispute has also extended to the ports of Balboa and Cristóbal, operated since 1997 by Panama Ports Company (PPC), a subsidiary of the Hong Kong-based CK Hutchison group. In March 2025, CK Hutchison agreed to sell its global port business, including the Panamanian terminals, to a consortium led by the US company BlackRock. But in January 2026, Panama’s Supreme Court declared the 1997 contract-law unconstitutional, ruling that it granted disproportionate benefits to PPC; the decision was published in the Official Gazette on February 23, 2026. The outcome, however, was not a transfer of the ports to the Panamanian state: PPC was left without legal standing, and temporary administration passed to APM Terminals, a subsidiary of Denmark’s Maersk group, while the state prepares a new international tender.

Beijing’s response did not stop at the diplomatic protest of February 2025. After the Supreme Court ruling, China warned that Panama “will pay a high political and economic price” if it did not reverse the annulment of the concession. That warning translated into action: China detained 96 Panamanian-flagged vessels in March 2026 and 136 in April, 6.4 times the previous year’s average, in what the United States described as economic retaliation aimed at punishing Panama.

This episode reveals something about the nature of the “reclaiming” narrative. On March 4, 2025, before Congress, Trump presented the sale from Hutchison to BlackRock as if it constituted, in itself, the recovery of the Canal, and days later said on television that he preferred to see the asset in BlackRock’s hands rather than a Chinese company’s. Panama’s president responded that no such “recovery” had taken place: the ports do not control the Canal, since the two are run under entirely separate arrangements, with the Canal itself administered by the Panama Canal Authority (ACP). The sequence is telling: a private transaction, in which the Panamanian state was not a negotiating party, was narrated by the White House as a geostrategic victory over China. And when Panama did intervene directly on the ports front, it did not do so to hand the asset to Washington, but to annul the concession and open it to a new tender.

The Panamanian case is only one instance within this broader regional realignment. Since September 2025, Washington has sustained a military campaign in international waters against vessels accused of drug-trafficking activity in the Caribbean and the eastern Pacific, known as Operation Southern Spear, under which boats are destroyed even though doing so violates the flag state’s rights under international maritime law. In parallel, in March 2026 the “Shield of the Americas” was founded, a security and intelligence coalition that Panama joined at its inaugural summit in Doral, Florida, alongside Argentina, Ecuador, El Salvador, the Dominican Republic and Trinidad and Tobago; Peru and Colombia joined later that year.

This alignment reflects a prior structural subordination: these countries’ economies remain dependent on US trade and credit, their security forces — with the exceptions of Cuba and Nicaragua — are trained and equipped by the United States, and their political elites and economic power groups depend on staying on good terms with Washington.

Panama’s membership in the Shield adds to the 2025 memorandum and the port dispute — it does not replace them. While other governments in the hemisphere are linking themselves to Washington almost exclusively through that multilateral coalition, Panama is accumulating commitments at both levels simultaneously, the collective and the bilateral, making it the one point in the region where both layers of pressure converge on the same territory.

The evidence gathered suggests that the two readings posed at the outset are not mutually exclusive. Regional subordination is real and visible, as shown by the shift toward Washington-aligned governments across much of the hemisphere. Yet this subordination can no longer be taken for granted; it must be actively produced, through instruments ranging from security coalitions and lethal military campaigns, as in the Venezuelan case, to the simultaneous accumulation of bilateral and multilateral commitments, as in the Panamanian case.

If US hegemony were as solid today as it was in the era of the Monroe Doctrine or the Cold War, a single framework — one doctrine — would be enough to produce alignment across the region. What we observe instead is a deployment of distinct instruments, adapted to each country’s specific circumstances, at a political and legal cost that a comfortably exercised hegemony would not have to pay: allegations of possible war crimes in the naval campaign against drug trafficking, Panama’s judicial resistance that ended up annulling the concession despite US pressure, and China’s retaliation through the systematic detention of Panamanian vessels. That cost, repeated case by case, is the best evidence that Washington does not exercise the control it claims to have, but is rebuilding it — unevenly, country by country. Finally, it is worth asking whether this order will hold up regardless of who occupies the White House, as part of a consensus driven by the US national-security apparatus, one that Richardson had already flagged before Trump.

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by clalsstaff on September 22, 2026  •  Permalink
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Posted by clalsstaff on September 22, 2026

https://aulablog.net/2026/09/22/reclaim-or-rebuild/

The Complex Mexico-U.S. Relationship

The Complex Mexico-U.S. Relationship: Claudia Sheinbaum’s Responses to Donald Trump’s Bullying

By Tomás Milton Muñoz Bravo

Professor of Political and Social Sciences and Researcher at the Center for International Relations of the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México

Image of Claudia Sheinbaum. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Following the entry into force of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) in 1994, relations between Mexico and the United States centered primarily on three major issues—trade, security, and migration—and institutional channels were established to address each issue separately. However, everything changed in January 2017 when Donald Trump took office; as an outsider, he damaged established relationships, complicated the bilateral agenda, and used coercion as a primary tactic in his dealings with former presidents Enrique Peña Nieto and Andrés Manuel López Obrador.

Joe Biden’s presidency (January 2021–January 2025) largely marked a return to traditional bilateral relations with Mexico. With few exceptions—such as the July 2024 arrest of drug trafficker Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada in Sinaloa and his subsequent transfer to Texas, an operation involving U.S. agents and conducted without consultation with Mexican authorities—both governments regularly used institutional channels to address shared issues and challenges. Yet, Trump’s return to the presidency on January 20, 2025, once again upended the bilateral agenda. Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo—Mexico’s first female president, who had been in office for just over three months— had to contend with Trump’s return and his aggressive political style.

Beginning with the 2024 election campaign and continuing throughout his second term, Trump has once again set his sights on Mexico. As he did during his first administration, he conflates issues, distorts reality, uses threats to gain political leverage, and places additional demands on the Mexican president—most notably, that politicians accused of collusion with organized crime be handed over to the United States.

Through media, political, and economic pressure, “Trump 2.0” has ensured that the Sheinbaum administration continues to act as an extension of the U.S. border—preventing migrants from passing through Mexican territory and accepting migrants, asylum seekers, and refugees from other countries who have been expelled by the United States. He has also secured commitments to allocate additional security resources to combat criminal groups, shut down fentanyl-producing laboratories, increase drug seizures, and expel members of organized crime groups from Mexico without extradition proceedings to hand them over to U.S. authorities.

On trade, pressure from the United States has forced the Sheinbaum administration to limit its relations and exchanges with China and operate under constant uncertainty concerning the imposition of new tariffs and the hostile attitude of U.S. negotiators during the ongoing review of the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA).

Against this backdrop, Trump has employed a “praise and punishment” strategy in his dealings with the Mexican leader. Within a single day, he might describe her as a “good person,” a “great woman,” and “beautiful,” with a “great voice,” only to question her capabilities minutes later and claim that she is “terrified” of drug cartels, thereby demanding that she accept the presence of U.S. armed forces on Mexican soil to combat criminal groups.

The bilateral relationship has historically been complex, but it has become even more fraught due to Trump’s attitudes, slights, and systematic bullying —from renaming the Gulf of Mexico the “Gulf of America” and ignorantly and maliciously claiming that Mexico exports nothing but tamales and tomatoes to the U.S. to posting AI-generated memes that disparage Mexico and its migrants or depict the entire continent draped in the U.S. flag.  More than a year and a half after Trump’s return to office, it is possible to make an initial assessment of the hostile policies and actions that Washington has directed at the Sheinbaum administration in the areas of migration, politics, trade, and security.

On migration, Trump has achieved his goal: Mexico has become yet another containment barrier for migrants and asylum seekers. In addition to a reduction of more than 90 percent in unauthorized crossings through Mexican territory into the United States, the Sheinbaum administration has agreed—without asking for anything in return—that Mexico will once again serve as a de facto “safe third country,” where migrants become stranded, unable to enter the United States yet lacking the means to fully integrate into Mexican society. These migrants are joined by deportees—both Mexican nationals and nationals of other countries—who arrive in Mexico after being expelled from the United States.

Turning to Trump’s political attacks on Mexico, it is important to emphasize that they have indeed tarnished the image of the Mexican president’s political project. She has repeatedly refused to hand over members of the ruling MORENA party sought by the United States in connection with their alleged ties to organized crime groups. To date, the most prominent politicians whose arrest and extradition to the United States the State Department has requested are Rubén Rocha Moya—the governor of the northern state of Sinaloa (currently on leave)—and Enrique Inzunza Cázarez, a senator representing the same state.

In Mexico, ties between politicians and organized crime have plagued the country since the mid-20th century. However, these ties solidified during the administration of Andrés Manuel López Obrador—founder of MORENA—creating a legacy that the current Mexican leader must confront. Yet, in an effort to avoid weakening her party or fracturing the alliance that backed her presidential bid, she has chosen to downplay these connections and refrain from taking decisive legal action.

Various polls continue to show MORENA as the party with the highest voter support ahead of the 2027 elections—which will include contests for 17 governorships and seats in the federal Chamber of Deputies. Nevertheless, the protection the Mexican executive branch has extended to MORENA politicians—as well as to at least two of former President López Obrador’s sons, who have been implicated in corruption schemes and alliances with criminal gangs through media reports and formal accusations—has become a weapon for the Trump administration,[1] which has toyed with the idea of ​​intervening on Mexican soil to combat drug trafficking groups, which the current U.S. administration has designated as terrorist organizations.

On trade, despite threats, insults, and pressure from Washington, Mexico has solidified its position as the United States’s top trading partner, with the trade balance increasingly favoring Mexico. In July 2026 alone, Mexico recorded a $26.31 billion trade surplus with the United States.

Finally, regarding U.S. pressure on security matters, Trump can claim victory, as the Mexican government has intensified its fight against major drug cartels—leading to increased seizures of drugs and weapons, more arrests of criminals, and the dismantling of fentanyl laboratories. Yet, insecurity remains rampant in Mexico; drug trafficking groups multiply like a many-headed hydra, continuing to terrorize the population, while the United States offers no reciprocity—even as it is the world’s leading consumer of narcotics. The equation remains unchanged: Mexico bears the brunt of the death and violence, while the United States provides the market for consumption and recreation in a losing war on drugs—a conflict addressed through a military and security approach rather than one grounded in public health and prevention.

[1] U.S. Vice President J. D. Vance has stated that his administration reserves the right to attack Mexican cartels within that Latin American country’s territory. The last time this occurred was on June 17, 2026.

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by clalsstaff on September 14, 2026  •  Permalink
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Posted by clalsstaff on September 14, 2026

https://aulablog.net/2026/09/14/the-complex-mexico-u-s-relationship/

Peru’s 205th Independence Day: A Bleeding State, a Divided Society, and a Country Still Unpaved

By Diana Garay, Research Fellow at American University’s Center for Latin American and Latino Studies

Source: “Presidential inauguration of Keiko Fujimori”

On July 28, 2026, Keiko Fujimori was sworn in as the country’s ninth president in a decade. Inside Congress, the ceremony displayed the full apparatus of a functioning democracy: a presidential sash, with a king and half a dozen visiting heads of state in attendance. Outside, a different reality was on display. In front of the Palacio de Justicia, demonstrators performed a symbolic lavado de banderas (“washing of the flags”), scrubbing the national colors clean, rejecting the incoming government and demanding justice for victims of state violence. Inside, a nation performing normalcy. Outside, a nation still counting its dead. This contradiction captures Peru’s central political dilemma. The institutions responsible for governing the country are also institutions that many citizens associate with years of instability, corruption, and unaddressed grievances. The question facing Peru is therefore not simply whether democracy can continue to hold elections, but whether it can produce legitimate and effective governance.

A Crisis of Governability

Peru’s crisis is not a failure of democratic procedure but of what those procedures have been used to do. Since 2016, the country has cycled through presidents at a pace virtually unmatched among democracies. Fuerza Popular, the right-wing populist party of the new president, became the most visible actor in this period of institutional instability, particularly after securing congressional dominance after the 2016 elections. Under its leadership, Congress transformed oversight mechanisms into instruments of political pressure against the government of Pedro Pablo Kuczynski, whose resignation in 2018 came amid repeated attempts to remove him through the vacancy process, a mechanism that allows Congress to declare the presidency vacant under specific constitutional grounds, including “permanent moral incapacity.” The confrontation continued under Martín Vizcarra, whose presidency ended in 2020 when Congress declared the presidency vacant on grounds of “permanent moral incapacity.”

Yet the political crisis that followed revealed that Peru’s instability extended beyond any single party or president. Manuel Merino’s brief government collapsed after widespread protests against Vizcarra’s removal, during which two young demonstrators, Inti Sotelo and Bryan Pintado, were killed by police forces, further intensifying public outrage and demands for accountability. Francisco Sagasti’s transitional administration provided only a temporary pause in a deeper institutional conflict. Pedro Castillo’s presidency exposed the opposite side of the same dysfunction: a president elected without a stable governing coalition who ultimately attempted to dissolve Congress and rule by decree before being removed in December 2022. Dina Boluarte’s subsequent administration deepened the legitimacy crisis, particularly after the deaths of protesters during the 2022-2023 demonstrations. Together, these episodes demonstrate that Peru’s problem is not simply presidential turnover; it is a political system in which neither presidents nor Congress have consistently possessed the legitimacy, institutional capacity, and public trust required to govern.

Institutions Designed for Conflict

Peru’s institutional landscape, however, has now entered a new phase. Fujimori’s inauguration marked the return of a bicameral Congress, but the reform itself was not the result of a new public mandate. In the 2018 referendum, more than 90 percent of voters rejected the proposal to restore a bicameral legislature, while also approving restrictions on congressional reelection. Despite those outcomes, in 2024 Congress reserved both through constitutional reforms, approving the restoration of the Senate and Chamber of Deputies and congressional reelection. This has fueled skepticism toward bicameralism, not necessarily because of opposition to a two-chamber legislature, but because it reinforces the perception that political actors can reshape institutional rules despite previous expressions of popular will.

Under the new system, at least theoretically no political force possesses enough power to govern without negotiation. The president’s supporters do not automatically control the legislative agenda, while opposition parties lack the votes to independently impose their own program or fundamentally alter the balance of power. This distribution of power means that governing will require agreements across political lines.

The difficulty, however, is that Peru’s recent crisis has not emerged because political actors lacked opportunities to negotiate. It has emerged because political competition has increasingly rewarded confrontation. Since 2016, Congress and the executive have repeatedly used constitutional mechanisms as instruments of political struggle, transforming checks and balances into tools for weakening opponents. The result has been a political system in which institutional rules exist, but the incentives surrounding those rules have encouraged obstruction rather than cooperation.

Bicameralism may make abrupt institutional breakdowns more difficult, but it does not guarantee governability. Without a change in political behavior, the country risks replacing one form of instability with another: not the rapid removal of presidents, but prolonged paralysis in which competing factions possess enough power to block each other but insufficient willingness to govern together.

Peru’s challenge, therefore, is not simply a question of institutional design. It is whether a political class has repeatedly contributed to the erosion of public trust can operate within institutions that depend on trust to function. The new Congress may prevent some of the excesses of the previous decade, but it cannot resolve the deeper question at the heart of Peru’s crisis: How can any type of sustained governance take place, either from the right or the left, given the bad faith of political actors that appears to undermine democratic institutional mechanisms of checks and balances?

A Society Mistreated

Peru’s governability crisis cannot be separated from the society it seeks to govern. The country is often described as politically polarized, but polarization alone does not explain the depth of Peru’s instability. The deeper fracture is historical: millions of Peruvians do not share the same experience of the state. For some, the state represents economic opportunity, security, and national progress. For others, particularly communities that have experienced decades of exclusion, violence, and limited public investment, the state has often appeared distant, ineffective, and harmful.

This distinction was recently captured by Cardinal Carlos Castillo during the Mass and Te Deum commemorating Peru’s independence, when he emphasized that Peru is not only a divided country, but also one marked by citizens who have been mistreated and forgotten by its institutions. His message reflected a broader reality: Peru’s crisis is not simply that citizens disagree about political solutions; it is that many citizens question whether the political system has recognized their suffering at all. In such a context, governability becomes inseparable from legitimacy. A government can win an election and possess constitutional authority yet still struggle to govern if large segments of society believe that the state has repeatedly failed them.

The country’s electoral geography reflects these unresolved tensions. Fujimori’s strongest support came from Lima and much of the coastal regions, while the losing leftist candidate Roberto Sánchez received stronger backing from the Andean highlands and areas where poverty, inequality, and distrust toward central institutions remain especially pronounced. These differences are not merely electoral preferences. They reflect contrasting relationships with the state itself: between a coastal economy that has benefited more visibly from Peru’s market-oriented growth model and regions that continue to experience the consequences of unequal development.

However, Peru’s divisions are not only geographic. They are also historical. Keiko Fujimori’s return to the presidency reopened unresolved questions about the legacy of Fujimorismo and its role in the country’s current crisis of trust. Alberto Fujimori’s government remains one of Peru’s most contested periods: remembered by supporters for defeating the Shining Path insurgency, but remembered by critics for authoritarianism, corruption, the weakening of democratic institutions, and serious human rights violations.

For Keiko Fujimori, the challenge is therefore larger than inheriting a controversial family name. She inherits the unresolved wounds associated with that political project while also representing a movement that has played a central role in furthering Peru’s protracted institutional conflicts after 2016.

What Lies Ahead

Peru’s future will not be determined by whether Keiko Fujimori completes her presidential term. That would represent progress compared to the instability of the past decade, but it would not, by itself, resolve the country’s governability crisis. The more difficult question is whether Peru’s institutions can once again become arenas for democratic representation rather than instruments of political conflict.

For Keiko Fujimori, the challenge extends beyond managing Congress or implementing policy. She must govern a society where many citizens associate the political movement she leads with the institutional deterioration she now promises to reverse. That credibility gap cannot be closed through rhetoric alone. It will depend on concrete choices: strengthening judicial independence rather than weakening it, addressing the demands for accountability that continue to resonate after the 2022-2023 protests, and demonstrating that public institutions serve citizens rather than political interests.

The question is no longer whether Peru can hold elections or transfer power peacefully. It is whether those elected can rebuild the legitimacy that makes democratic government possible. Until that question is answered, Peru’s greatest challenge is not simply to preserve democracy, but to make it believable again.

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by clalsstaff on August 11, 2026  •  Permalink
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Posted by clalsstaff on August 11, 2026

https://aulablog.net/2026/08/11/perus-205th-independence-day-a-bleeding-state-a-divided-society-and-a-country-still-unpaved/

Lethality and Illegality in the U.S. Boat Strikes Campaign: Why Characterization Matters for Regional Accountability Efforts

Marie Miller, Program Associate, Reiss Center on Law and Security, NYU School of Law

Source: Wikimedia Commons

On September 2, 2025, President Donald Trump announced that he had ordered a kinetic strike against a boat off the coast of Venezuela. U.S. military forces, he said, had identified those onboard as “narcoterrorists” of Tren de Aragua (TdA), a decentralized criminal organization with Venezuelan origins and a transnational reach. Thirteen days later, another strike, and a glimpse into the administration’s purported rationale: to disrupt narcotics networks affecting Americans—notwithstanding that Venezuela plays essentially no role in fentanyl production and smuggling. And then came another. Now, nearly a year later, more than 200 have been killed in 66 strikes by the U.S. Without evidence, without interdiction and trial, nor the administration’s stated legal authority made public, there’s still no telling when Operation Southern Spear, as the U.S. calls the campaign, will truly end.

With each strike, the administration has failed to make public any evidence that these boats are transporting drugs, much less that the passengers on board are affiliated with cartels or are participants in an “armed attack.” Most of the victims have not been identified, yet reports suggest victims include farmworkers and fishermen, compelled to participate in the trafficking network as independent laborers without ownership over the illicit product. With regard to cases where boats have been unusually crowded, one military official suggested that human trafficking victims could have been amongst those killed.

The Trump administration has claimed that the laws of war permit the killing of passengers smuggling narcotics in support of cartels designated as Foreign Terrorist Organizations (FTOs). In 2025, TdA was designated as such by Trump’s State Department, under a statutory authority delegated by Congress. Typically, the military can stop instances of trafficking with far less lethal force. If a vessel is suspected of ferrying drugs, it can be intercepted by the U.S. Coast Guard and its passengers arrested. Instead, it appears that boats merely suspected of drug trafficking have been blown to bits from above, taking the lives of those on board and occasionally leaving survivors who, eventually, are also presumed dead or missing at sea. Even if evidence had been provided that these individuals were indeed associated with TdA—and it has not—the administration’s justification for these strikes relies on a flawed legal basis.

An FTO designation made by the U.S. government can include financial, criminal, and immigration consequences for its material supporters. Importantly, despite having led to military operations in the past, the designation by itself does not create a state of war or armed conflict, nor does it authorize “wartime” authorities like targeting or detention. Nonetheless, in a classified memo notifying Congress of the administration’s legal basis for the operation, the “President determined that the United States is in a non-international armed conflict with these designated terrorist organizations.” The president can surely repel threats of terrorism when a sudden attack is imminent. Yet there is no evidence that this high threshold was met at the onset of Operation Southern Spear. The initial strikes were framed as “self-defense” against a critical threat to American life and security. A state’s self-defense is justified under the U.N. Charter’s Article 51 only in the case of preventing an armed attack or subduing an ongoing one.

In an undisclosed notice to Congress, the Trump administration apparently shifted its basis, indicating that the strikes go beyond discrete acts of self-defense, labeling the targeted cartels as “nonstate armed groups” whose actions amount to “an armed attack” against the U.S. Many legal experts, on the other hand, contend that drug trafficking and its effects cannot constitute an “armed attack” triggering the right of self-defense. In its description of non-international armed conflict, the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia refers to it as “protracted armed violence between governmental authorities and organized armed groups or between such groups within a State.” While the Trump administration has indicated that TdA is engaged in “irregular warfare” in the U.S., it has yet to define what this entails. Whether this amounts to “protracted armed violence” is uncertain and unsupported by available evidence.

In the absence of such an organized group engaged in protracted armed violence with the U.S., the law of armed conflict does not apply. Thus, the passengers on the boats—alleged associates of TdA, though not identified as such in the formal report from President Trump informing Congress of the initial strike—would not be combatants, nor civilians within an armed conflict. (If there was an armed conflict, the boaters’ civilian status would render them prohibited targets). Subsequently, the strikes would not be classified as war crimes. Outside of armed conflict, premeditated killing of suspected criminals is called murder. And under U.S. domestic law, it is prohibited. Article 6(1) of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, to which the U.S. is a party, further prohibits arbitrary deprivation of life. Those responsible for authorizing the strikes may also be guilty of murder under Article 118 of the U.S. Uniform Code of Military Justice.

According to former U.S. State Department attorney Charlie Trumbull, with each of the 66 strikes constituting discrete acts of murder across a ten month window, the attacks can arguably be described as “widespread.” Crimes against humanity (CAH), one of three atrocity crimes alongside genocide and war crimes, are understood as part of a “widespread or systemic attack directed against a civilian population” in “furtherance of a State or organizational policy to commit such an attack.” A named policy—Operation Southern Spear—implemented by U.S. Southern Command in an organized manner, therefore, may meet the “state or organizational policy” requirement for CAH.

Operation Southern Spear appears to be one of many prongs of the Trump administration’s aggressive aims to reassert the U.S. preeminence in the western hemisphere, as part of the National Security Strategy’s “Trump Corollary to the Monroe Doctrine.” In spite of condemnation from civil society, a largely tepid response from Caribbean states met the U.S. militarization of the Caribbean and the capture of Maduro in January. While Cuba’s representative to the U.N. decried the “military aggression” of the United States against Venezuela, Trinidad and Tobago—whose military has partnered with the U.S. for joint exercises in Caribbean waters—verbally committed to the “cooperative efforts led by the United States to disrupt and dismantle networks that enable transnational crime,” remaining “steadfast” in support of U.S. “initiatives that strengthen regional security.” When Colombian President Gustavo Petro called one of the strikes “murder,” President Trump sanctioned members of his family, threatening to reduce aid and raise tariffs on the country. Since ending intelligence sharing with the U.S. (to, in his words, refrain from “collaborating with a crime against humanity”) Petro has reportedly toned down his criticism of U.S. Southern Command. Colombian authorities, moreover, have been slow to identify bodies that have washed ashore.

In the wake of Operation Absolute Resolve, which removed Venezuela’s president Nicolás Maduro from power, and the reported preparation of indictments against Cuba’s “political and military leadership,” Caribbean and Latin American states may be hesitant to further push back on the campaign, lest they risk falling into disfavor with a highly unpredictable Trump administration. In March, Ecuador began joint military exercises with U.S. Southern Command, with the intention of combatting drug trafficking. These led to various land and sea strikes, property destructions, and detentions. Since Operation Southern Spear appears to rely on a presumption that the U.S. is in an armed conflict with TdA, would the U.S. further target perceived associates—potentially including civilians—on land in Latin America? It is not outside the bounds of possibility.

If the relevant crime is indeed murder under U.S. law, the U.S. would hold prosecutorial jurisdiction. An ACLU case brought on behalf of the boat strikes victims’ families for wrongful death and extrajudicial killing is currently pending in Massachusetts, for instance. But if the killings are recognized as a crime against humanity, states outside of the U.S. may have universal jurisdiction status, in which international or foreign courts could step in when the U.S. fails to hold perpetrators accountable. This is why the distinction between war crimes and crimes against humanity matters. Despite President Trump’s ability to pardon those who have executed his orders in his chain of command, a determination that Operation Southern Spear is a crime against humanity would open new routes of accountability on the international level.

The International Criminal Court (ICC), for instance, can assert jurisdiction over crimes committed within the territory and maritime space of states that have ratified the Rome Statute. A point of comparative interest lies with the case of former Philippine president Rodrigo Duterte, who is now jailed after the ICC confirmed charges of crimes against humanity against him. In light of the murders of persons involved in drug-related criminal activity under the supervision of Philippines law enforcement, the ICC found reasonable grounds for the elements of crimes against humanity to be met. States can also prosecute crimes committed against their citizens abroad, such as the victims of the boat strikes, if they embrace passive personality jurisdiction and are able to either acquire prosecutorial custody or allow in absentia prosecution.

The geopolitical risks of accountability-seeking by victims’ states—Colombia or Trinidad, for instance—are evident. But the Trump administration won’t last forever. Right now, if they are able to muster the political will, Caribbean and Latin American states can quietly gather evidence of the strikes and secure witnesses. Once President Trump is out of office, indictments of perpetrators responsible for driving Operation Southern Spear on the state’s behalf can still come about.

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by clalsstaff on August 11, 2026  •  Permalink
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Posted by clalsstaff on August 11, 2026

https://aulablog.net/2026/08/11/lethality-and-illegality-in-the-u-s-boat-strikes-campaign-why-characterization-matters-for-regional-accountability-efforts/

Guatemala’s President Arévalo: When Honesty is Not Enough

By Ricardo Barrientos*

Source: Guatemala’s Ministerio de Desarrollo Social (MIDES)

Around the world, increasing numbers of voters are electing rulers with authoritarian, anti-democratic, or even, openly dictatorial profiles. Disenchantment with democracy is on the rise, while respect for basic freedoms, inclusion, equality, and progressive thinking – or, just thinking – is on the decline. When Bernardo Arévalo took office in January of 2024, after a legal battle to defend the previous year’s electoral results, Guatemala appeared a notable exception in the global slide towards authoritarianism. Recognized as a politician highly committed to democracy, human rights, and the rule of law, Arévalo emerged as a beacon for democracy and freedom in Central America and beyond.

Arévalo’s campaign was simple: be honest and fight corruption. This proved to be a highly effective electoral offer, as voters were tired after several administrations plagued with corruption scandals, and the ominous capture of important public institutions, most notably the General Attorney’s Office. After more than half of his four-year presidential term, Arévalo has carried through on that promise. He and most of this cabinet are perceived as honest, and corruption is not understood to be a problem within the Executive branch. Arévalo is also highly praised internationally, in contrast to his predecessors and some of his current regional neighbors. His administration has proved highly sagacious in managing international and diplomatic relations, achieving the best possible results with such challenging topics as dealing with the Trump administration in the US.

    Arévalo’s time in office would appear to be an outstanding success, deserving of applause by the Guatemalan people. Well, not quite.

    A survey conducted in May of 2026 shows that citizen support for Arévalo has plummeted. Only around 37 percent of Guatemalans approve of his government, putting him among the six worst rated presidents in Latin America. His popularity is well below several of the least democratic presidents, like Nayib Bukele of El Salvador or Daniel Ortega of Nicaragua, who enjoy high levels of citizen support. The reason is simple: since the beginning of his tenure, the Arévalo administration has suffered severe difficulties managing the budget, most notably, public investment in infrastructure.

    With four ministerial changes in just two years and the lowest rate of budgetary execution among all ministries, the Ministry of Communications, Infrastructure, and Housing is surely a particular nightmare for the president. It continues to suffer from deeply rooted structures of corruption, contractors linked to organized crime and campaign financing for rival parties, compounded by a lack of technical experts within Arévalo’s own party, Movimiento Semilla, capable of assuming high-profile ministerial positions. This chaotic situation is reflected in roads that are in very bad condition and no construction of new ones. Understandably, Guatemalans become angry when poorly maintained roads aren’t improved, and not even a kilometer of new road has been built.

    Arévalo’s administration has also proven extremely weak when dealing with Congress. Since 2024, the only way the Executive branch has managed to get the legislation it needed approved is by increasing the money for what congressional members and mayors most want: fully flexible budget allocations to local governments, especially through so-called “extraordinary” transfers to local development councils. In 2024 this tactic seemed to work, as the Arevalo administration finally got its budget expansion approved, followed by extensions and modifications of the 2025 and 2026 budgets. But this “solution” for Congress to pass legislation worked only for those bills that Congress members, mayors, and the Executive all wanted. It did not work for other measures to protect children and youth, or to regulate the use of water, among many others.

    Of course, the tactic of “buying” the will of Congress is never sustainable over the long term. Arévalo’s team discovered that the appetite of congressional members and mayors for extraordinary transfers to local development councils proved insatiable: in 2026 extraordinary transfers rose to around US $1,420 million, or more than 18 times what they were in 2022. However, the actual execution of this huge increase through transfers is very low. In 2025, execution was only 59 percent of what was allocated. And as of July 2026, it stands at 16 percent, while the rest of the budget’s execution averages around 42 percent. Among the reasons is technical incompetence. But the most worrisome is that Congress has been passing exceptions to the Organic Budget Law, allowing non-executed allocations to be carried over to the next year. This effectively allows mayors and congressmembers to accumulate and finally execute them all in 2027, when general elections will be held. It will also likely be too tempting for mayors and congressional representatives not to divert these funds to their own re-election campaigns.

    Thus, due to the Arévalo administration’s weakness when dealing with Congress and its inability to deliver public investment works through Central Government ministries, it has not only transferred huge amounts of money, but a large share of political power to mayors and Congress. And, if the general perception is that Arévalo and his ministers are honest, that perception is surely not the same with regard to mayors and members of Congress: they belong to the “old politics”; many have been accused of corruption and of having links to organized crime, which is why such colloquial terms as “narco-mayor” or “narco-deputy” continue to be widely used.

    President Arévalo is highly praised for his honesty and recognized internationally as a true democrat. But most Guatemalans reject him for not being an effective ruler in delivering the needed public investment in goods and services. The worst possible outcome of this mess is that Guatemalans approve of honesty and democracy, while also believing that they are not enough to achieve the necessary results. As is happening around the world, many Guatemalans have become convinced that not only are democracy and honesty not enough, but that they prefer less democratic and less honest rulers in exchange for more effectiveness in delivering real products and results. This is perhaps the most probable outcome in Guatemala for the upcoming 2027 election: if mayors and members of Congress manage to execute the accumulated budget through their local development councils, this will show that, they, local narco-politicians and practitioners of the “old politics,” are in fact more reliable for delivering the public goods and services, such as roads, that people desperately need. In the wake of a new electoral cycle, Guatemalans could be applying to President Arévalo the old saying, “Street lamp, darkness at home.”

    * Ricardo Barrientos is the executive director of the Central American Institute for Fiscal Studies (ICEFI).

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    by clalsstaff on July 7, 2026  •  Permalink
    Posted in Guatemala
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    Posted by clalsstaff on July 7, 2026

    https://aulablog.net/2026/07/07/guatemalas-president-arevalo-when-honesty-is-not-enough/

    The U.S. Supreme Court Immigration Rulings: Citizenship, Asylum, Metering, and TPS

    By Ernesto Castañeda

    American University

    By Ernesto Castañeda

    In recent weeks, the conservative majority in the U.S. Supreme Court has issued several rulings affecting the U.S. immigration system. One of these rulings states that people cannot seek asylum in the United States until they are physically inside U.S. territory. This has significant implications for people arriving—especially at the U.S.-Mexico border—who were requesting entry at the border wall or at ports of entry, turning themselves over to immigration agents to ask for admission with the stated goal of seeking asylum. Now, according to the Supreme Court, the U.S. government will view them as being in Mexico, and since they will largely be denied entry, they cannot apply for asylum while still outside U.S. territory. That is, the Court treated people waiting on the Mexican side of the border as not yet having entered the United States for asylum purposes. This is curious because in some cases the side of the border wall facing Mexico is already U.S. territory because clearly the U.S. cannot build on Mexican territory. Meaning that in many places, by reaching the wall, one is technically already on U.S. soil. Future suits may test this. However, given these new legal precedents, it appears the U.S. government would deny entry for the purpose of seeking asylum inside the country. This will affect many people, particularly those from Latin America and regions experiencing armed conflict or political turmoil. 

    Another ruling related to what is known as “metering”—essentially a slow, controlled trickle of people allowed into U.S. territory when there is congestion of asylum seekers at the border, or when large numbers of people wish to enter the United States. It is not the first time this border-processing policy, which limits how many asylum seekers are admitted or processed at a time, has been brought up. During the pandemic—and even earlier, under programs like “Remain in Mexico”—the U.S. government stated it would only accept, say, five hundred, two hundred, or two thousand people per day across the entire border. Consequently, even though many people sought asylum, they were not immediately admitted. The U.S. government claimed this was necessary to maintain order and manage logistics—handling the entry process in a way they could manage without people sleeping on the streets or needing more hostels for migrants or overcrowded immigration detention centers. Metering was an “emergency” policy that began under Obama, continued under Trump, was paused during most of Biden’s term, though it was brought back towards the end, and continued under the Trump administration. The Supreme Court has allowed the policy to proceed into the future by lifting the lower-court block.

    The third topic is Temporary Protected Status (TPS), which allows legal residence in the United States to whole groups of people from particular countries due to events like earthquakes, hurricanes, civil conflict, or other crises—as seen in Honduras, Haiti, El Salvador, and other countries—where nationals could stay in the U.S. without fear of deportation. However, the Supreme Court has now ruled that, in the case of Haitians and Syrians, this status of temporary protection can be completely revoked despite motives and the decision-making process. But the Supreme Court conservative majority went further, arguing that TPS designation is a matter that falls under executive authority, specifically the president’s power to decide whom, how, when, and for how long TPS is granted. Therefore, the decision strengthens the executive’s ability to terminate TPS designations and may affect other TPS holders. So, although the ruling did not directly address cases involving, for example, Salvadorans, it grants the president greater power to revoke TPS at will without explanation, preventing even lower courts from blocking such decisions—something they had done in recent years. 

    Altogether, these decisions have many implications that make it harder for people to enter the U.S. legally or to seek asylum, and make it difficult for those already inside the country to apply for asylum, given the lengthy, difficult process, made even worse by recent procedures implemented by the second Trump administration. Now, regarding people holding TPS, deportations will begin—starting with Haitians and Syrians—but the issue likely will not stop there. People with TPS have been in the U.S. for decades, working, paying taxes, contributing to the economy and the arts. They have children born in the U.S. who are U.S. citizens under the current practice of granting birthright citizenship; soon, the Court will rule on the future of birthright citizenship, which is so common in many countries in the Americas, which started as European colonies with an important proportion of the population born from parents and ancestors born elsewhere.  

    Ernesto Castañeda is a political, social, and cultural analyst. Edited by Esmeralda Alverde Duarte, Research Intern at the Immigration Lab

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    by clalsstaff on July 1, 2026  •  Permalink
    Posted in U.S. Supreme Court, United States
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    Posted by clalsstaff on July 1, 2026

    https://aulablog.net/2026/07/01/the-u-s-supreme-court-immigration-rulings-citizenship-asylum-metering-and-tps/

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