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.

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.

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.

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).

    Why El Salvador is Turning to Soft Power

    Sonja Wolf, Research Professor at the Panamerican University in Mexico City*

    El Salvador’s elected autocrat claims to have ended gang violence. Soft power is central to Bukele’s efforts to legitimize his rule through these results. Yet the tactic invites greater scrutiny, revealing the state’s inability to tackle violence effectively.

    Source: Wikimedia Commons

    El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele, a former advertising executive, first rose to power in 2019 promising to root out corruption and eradicate gang violence. In 2024 he won a second term in office, despite a constitutional ban on immediate presidential re-election. During his time in power, Bukele has systematically dismantled the country’s democratic institutions. The ongoing state of emergency has made headlines around the world for both its spectacle of cruelty and its controversial nature as a security policy. Police have detained over 91,500 citizens, including more than 33,000 people without gang involvement, and prison abuses have led to at least 523 deaths in state custody. Nonetheless, the measure remains widely popular with Salvadorans who, for decades, were terrorized by gangs.

    Bukele’s electoral autocracy hides behind a democratic façade to maintain legitimacy. To demonstrate effectiveness and maintain support, both domestically and abroad, the regime is building its soft power. According to the official narrative, the president is leading El Salvador’s transformation from the world’s murder capital into a safe and modern nation that is open to tourists and investors. To lend credence to this rhetoric, and to raise the brand visibility of Bukele and El Salvador, the country has been hosting major sports and cultural events. In recent years, it has held international surfing competitions, a Miss Universe pageant, and a five-show residency by Shakira. At the 2026 Venice Biennale, El Salvador debuts with its first-ever national pavilion. Adding to this soft power projection is the growing number of self-published hagiographies that extol Bukele’s leadership and the performance of his administration.

    A recent example is The Bukele Method by Andrés Guzmán. Until recently, the Colombian lawyer and cybersecurity consultant served as El Salvador’s Presidential Commissioner for Human Rights and Press Freedom. In this role, Guzmán was tasked with countering external criticism of the country’s backsliding on democracy and the rule of law. His text is a compilation of half-truths that appear designed to whitewash the Bukele regime’s human rights record and bolster its legitimacy by touting its alleged security gains.

    To take on the gangs, Guzmán asserts, the administration had to begin by stamping out the corruption that had permitted these groups to build their criminal empires. The author takes particular aim at the pacts that the traditional parties, ARENA and the FMLN, had brokered with the gangs to mobilize electoral support and reduce visible homicides. Rather than driving an institutional clean-up, Bukele’s lawmakers passed, in 2021, reforms that placed the justice system under the president’s control. Appointments of regime loyalists, mass firings of non-aligned state workers, and the dismantling of public sector unions concentrated power in the president’s hands. Investigations into government corruption and Bukele’s own gang pacts folded, while tighter transparency restrictions eroded independent oversight.

    Guzmán justifies the state of emergency by pointing to its alleged results. In typical populist rhetoric, he paints the autocrat as a hero who made tough decisions, defied his enemies (the opposition, the gangs, international watchdogs), and attained his goals: the dismantling of the gangs and a historic decline in homicides. Or, as the author puts it, mothers can finally sleep without the fear of a gang member knocking on the door at night. This story hides the fact that the “security miracle” relied on Bukele’s gang deals, whose breakdown triggered the state of emergency, as well as statistical manipulation — the homicide count excludes killings by police, murders in prisons, and bodies found in unmarked graves.

    Guzmán claims to have rigorously reviewed all human rights complaints and found them to have been exaggerated. But this contradicts independent reports showing that the state has hidden thousands of allegations and rejected thousands of habeas corpus petitions. A recent report by an international group of experts concluded that the human rights violations may in fact amount to crimes against humanity. Guzmán admits that mistakes were made, referring to arbitrary detentions. However, only some 8,000 citizens have been liberated, under conditions, and it was their testimonies that shed light on the prison abuses. The remains of dead detainees speak for themselves.

    In defending the state of emergency, the author poses a false dilemma: the government could pursue this measure, or do nothing in the face of an existential threat. But this either-or fallacy ignores that police intelligence about gang members had long existed. Bukele chose to act on this information only once he had institutional control and no longer needed the gangs.

    Following Bukele, who defines democracy as simply the will of the people, Guzmán contends that the president’s resounding re-election victory in 2024 validated his security strategy. In this deceptively simple logic, international watchdogs have no right to interfere in the domestic affairs of a sovereign nation. What matters is that Salvadorans endorsed the state of emergency by granting their leader a democratic mandate. But depicting “the people” as a homogenous group, unified in their support for Bukele, erases the voices of those who try to stand up to his abuse of power.

    Ultimately, the state of emergency is a simulation of legality that tries to hide the state’s incapacity to deal with violence. Laws passed by Bukele’s Legislative Assembly have reshaped a justice system that lacked the capacity to successfully prosecute offenders. In mass trials involving hundreds of defendants in a single proceeding, citizens with no prior gang involvement sit alongside real gang members. In the absence of any meaningful defense, prosecutors present flimsy evidence and unreliable witnesses to achieve convictions of entire criminal structures. Soft power efforts such as Guzmán’s publication promise the kind of performance-based legitimacy that the Salvadoran regime craves. The “Bukele method” should indeed be examined — not because it constitutes a blueprint for security, but because closer scrutiny reveals it to be, like Bukele himself, a marketing product.

    *Sonja Wolf is the author of Mano Dura: The Politics of Gang Control in El Salvador (University of Texas Press, 2017).

    China, Taiwan and Paraguay

    By Esteban Caballero

    Political Scientist, Independent Investigator for FLACSO-Paraguay, and Columnist for Ultima Hora

    Secretary Marco Rubio meets with Paraguayan President Santiago Peña at the Department of State in Washington, D.C., January 21, 2025. (Official State Department photo by Freddie Everett) Source: Wikimedia Commons

    Xi Jinping’s warning that “the Taiwan issue is the most important matter in relations between China and the United States” will go down in history. However, for the government of Paraguay, Donald Trump’s subsequent statements on the subject could prove even more unsettling. Speaking in a measured tone, the U.S. President acknowledged that Xi “holds a very firm opinion and does not want to see an independence movement,” adding that he, too, “does not intend for anyone to declare independence.” Furthermore, he left it unclear whether or not he would authorize a new arms sale to Taiwan.

    Even if these amounted to only a few of the many assertions made by the heads of state of China and the United States at their recent summit, Santiago Peña and his Foreign Minister, Rubén Ramírez Lezcano, likely paused for a moment to reconsider Paraguay’s stance regarding Taiwan. Should they, perhaps, review their close relationship with Taipei in light of a potential shift in global geopolitics? Paraguay belongs to the small group of 12 countries that still recognize Taiwan; alongside Guatemala, it is one of only two Spanish-speaking nations to do so.

    The doubts to which we allude do not concern the progress of cooperative agreements and trade relations with Taiwan. Both are advancing favorably. These are matters involving technical cooperation, market access, and infrastructure financing. During Santiago Peña’s administration, this kind of cooperation with Taiwan has been significantly bolstered—a progression that culminated during the President’s recent visit to the island in May 2026. Returning from that visit, he announced an agreement for a massive AI data center project, although its feasibility remains to be assessed.

    What may well have generated uncertainty within the Paraguayan government is Trump’s apparent complacency in the face of warnings from Xi Jinping. Such an attitude on the part of the U.S. President would signal a departure from the tougher stance of American foreign policy hawks and would compel the Paraguayan Foreign Ministry to rethink its strategy—particularly the approach of presenting ties with Taiwan as proof of its firm rejection of Chinese influence in Latin America in order to ingratiate itself with the Trump administration. Nothing is set in stone, but this possibility is increasingly making its way into their deliberations.

    Management of relations with Taiwan forms part of the Santiago Peña administration’s—in our view, excessive—effort to draw closer to the Trump administration and align itself with the State Department, headed by Marco Rubio. In this vein, Paraguay has backed U.S. military intervention in Venezuela and Iran, declared itself an unwavering ally of Israel, and supported the Trump Corollary to the Monroe Doctrine. Furthermore, alongside Argentina, it is the only other Latin American country to serve on Trump’s Board of Peace. Added to this is its enthusiastic participation in the Shield of the Americas summit, held in Miami in March of this year.

    Demonstrations of alignment have also been made through measures of cooperation and collaboration regarding migration, security, and the fight against drug trafficking. The Peña administration has cooperated with the United States in the realm of migration, including a willingness to function as a “third country”[1] to process asylum applications for the U.S. It also endorsed a memorandum to facilitate the return of migrants denied admission to U.S. territory back to their countries of origin “with the assistance”[2] of Paraguay.

    In the realm of security, Peña announced the designation of the Cartel de los Soles, the Comando Vermelho, and the Primeiro Comando da Capital as terrorist organizations, in line with the U.S. narrative regarding transnational organized crime and its links to state networks in the region. Concurrently, Paraguay signed a Status of Forces Agreement with the U.S.—a legal instrument that governs the status of foreign troops, including their entry, criminal jurisdiction, taxation, immunities, and operational protocols. In practice, such agreements typically facilitate troop deployments, military exercises, and defense cooperation; however, they can also spark domestic debate concerning the scope of immunity of foreign personnel, the extent of the host state’s oversight, and the tensions they may trigger with neighboring nations, such as Brazil.

    This alignment has led to Paraguay being regarded as a reliable ally of the United States, and the measures adopted are presented as a reaffirmation of the historic alliance between the two countries. Today, that relationship is expressed within a new framework of cooperation, in which “security” and “counterterrorism” occupy a central place.

    Nevertheless, the concrete benefits for Paraguay have not been particularly visible. It appears that Paraguay is conceding far more than the United States is yielding. Consequently, the prevailing opinion in various circles is that this has been too high a price to pay for the lifting of sanctions—imposed by the Treasury Department during the Biden administration—against the companies owned by Horacio Cartes, the former president and current chairman of the ruling party.

    This is also the reason why concerns are arising regarding the scope of current foreign policy. If one observes the steps that have been taken, a pattern seems to emerge: a short-term outlook and the absence of a cohesive state policy. Santiago Peña has committed himself to a U.S. administration that may not endure in its current form following the November 2026 midterm elections. President Trump’s popularity is on the decline; the Democrats are gaining ground. The decision to align with the U.S., even in violation of international law, overlooks the fact that small states must uphold the protections afforded by such law regarding the defense of their sovereignty. Forging such a close alliance with Israel, and the most radical elements of the Netanyahu government, has isolated Paraguay from the international community. Finally, coupling all of this with an adoption of far-right rhetoric may yield short-term gains; however, once that political cycle concludes—as was the case in Hungary—the ensuing disappointment could be profound.


    [1] See Signing of a Safe Third Country Agreement with Paraguay – United States Department of State

    [2] See: https://www.mre.gov.py/paraguay-y-ee-uu-amplian-cooperacion-migratoria/

    Muddling Through: Assessing Prospects for Brazil-U.S. Relations in an Election Year

    By Felipe Rezende, Research Fellow and Visiting Scholar in Residence at American University’s Center for Latin American and Latino Studies (AU-CLALS), from the University of Brasília (UnB), Brazil. 

    Meeting of U.S. President Donald Trump and Brazil’s President Luís Inácio Lula da Silva in Kuala Lumpur October 26, 2025. Source: Wikimedia Commons

    Notwithstanding the “excellent chemistry” cited by Donald Trump in reference to a brief September 2025 meeting with Lula da Silva on the sidelines of the 80th United Nations General Assembly, in recent times the bilateral Brazil–U.S. relationship has yet to produce the quantity and quality of results one might have expected. Whether a result of different national and international commitments, or differing approaches to foreign policy, at least for the short term the interplay of a variety of factors has cooled the potential for advances in the relationship between the two countries. Reviewing recent developments in the bilateral relationship between Brazil and the U.S., here I consider how the current pattern of this relationship, together with upcoming electoral considerations, are likely to determine its limits and possibilities for the near future.

    Sources of Direct and Indirect Friction between the White House and the Palácio do Planalto

    Trump’s preferred trade policy in his second term, based on the unilateral imposition of tariffs upon numerous countries, with the declared objective of establishing an alleged fair balance (“Leveling the Playing Field”) in U.S. trade relations with the world, has lately been a primary factor of direct friction in the bilateral relationship with Brazil.

    The historical U.S. surplus in trade with Brazil did not prevent the application in June 2025 of a 50 percent tariff on imports of Brazilian products. This imposition greatly hindered the flow of Brazilian agricultural production to North America, generating an oversupply in the South American country and inflation in the U.S. for such consumer products as beef, coffee, soybeans, orange juice, and other fruits.

    In November 2025, pressured by domestic demand in the U.S., and interested in advancing strategic talks with Brasília, Washington withdrew the tariff weeks before the U.S. Supreme Court declared such practices illegal. At that time, the Palácio do Planalto appeared to have avoided the domestic political consequences of the tariff standoff by successful mobilization a narrative appealing to Brazil’s sovereignty and to the impropriety of such practices.

    Since the inauguration of Trump’s second term, the influence campaign by groups linked to former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro – sentenced to 27 years in Brazil for an attempted coup d’état and violent abolition of the Democratic Rule of Law – has also been decisive in dampening official bilateral activity between Brazil and the U.S.

    This included months of lobbying with the MAGA movement and gatekeepers of the Trump administration by his son Eduardo Bolsonaro, who endorsed the decision to impose additional tariffs, and suggested that justices of Brazil’s Federal Supreme Court (STF) be sanctioned, which was understood as an attempt to constrain the Court’s role in judging the case concerning the attempted coup d’état on January 8th, 2023.

    In response the U.S. revoked valid visas for entry into the U.S. for almost all ministers of the Court, including Justice Alexandre de Moraes, who was rapporteur in the trial of the January 2023 rioters. The U.S. also applied financial sanctions under the Magnitsky Act, effective between July and December 2025, when they were withdrawn.

    Under Lula Brazil’s foreign policy, and Ministry of Foreign Affairs, has continued to follow certain traditional patterns of Brazilian diplomacy, grounded in multilateralism, pacifism, and the reform – rather than rejection – of already existing institutions, organizations, and regimes of global governance, beginning with the United Nations — something that does not necessarily converge with U.S. foreign policy practices under Trump.

    This was reflected, for example, in the Lula administration’s reluctance to accept an invitation to join the so-called “Board of Peace” in January 2026, created by Trump as a better alternative – in his view – to managing international conflicts. Lula publicly commented that Trump’s initiative appears to overlap with the competences ascribed to the UN, an important institution for the pursuit of Brazil’s interests as a middle power.

    Lula’s skepticism toward Trump’s Board of Peace, with Trump as its self-appointed permanent Chairman and its likely promotion of U.S. foreign-policy interests, was compounded by the White House’s proposed Gaza peace plan even while the U.S. actively initiated global conflicts, especially its most recent incursion into Iran — a fact that delayed the meeting between Lula and Trump.

    The May 7th Meeting and What Comes Next: Between Appearances and Substance 

    The approximately three hour meeting between Lula and Trump revolved around three principal issues. First was the question of bilateral trade, where disagreement remained as to the use of tariffs and U.S. allegations of unfair trade, refuted by the Brazilian side. Brazil, instead, sought unsuccessfully to convince the Trump administration of a U.S. trade surplus of USD 400 billion over the last 15 years.

    With the possibility looming of the reapplication of a 30 percent tariff on Brazilian products, considered within the scope of ongoing investigations undertaken by the U.S. Trade Representative, Brazil achieved at least temporary relief, with the institution of a 30-day delay for the counterparts to reach a common understanding regarding the terms-of-trade scenario.

    Second was a potential partnership for the exploitation of critical rare earth minerals in the South American country, which holds the world’s second-largest reserve. The condition set by Brazil is U.S. investment in local processing of the minerals and integration into the production chain. The legal framework to regulate this is on the verge of approval in the Brazilian Congress, thus enabling the U.S. and other countries to invest in this sector in Brazil.

    What seems not to have been mentioned at this meeting is Brazil’s government-backed payment method, called PIX, often criticized by U.S. Vice President JD Vance. The White House is bothered that this payment method, in force since 2020, departs from the traditional payment models embraced by U.S. credit-card networks. Above all, the U.S. is concerned about the possibility of extending this model, currently being studied by the New Development Bank, to other BRICS countries.

    Third, the meeting addressed questions of public security and cooperation against organized crime. Brasília emphasized that at present there is no significant volume of narcotics produced in the country entering the U.S., while the number of synthetic drugs and American weapons—especially originating from the state of Delaware—entering Brazilian territory is increasing. Brazil’s interest lies in deepening cooperation around preventive measures to stem these illicit flows.

    On this topic, the principal unspoken point concerns the U.S. intention of characterizing Brazilian criminal factions, such as the Primeiro Comando da Capital (PCC) and Comando Vermelho (CV), as terrorist cells, which could provide a pretext for U.S. interference in domestic issues related to the repression of crime in Brazilian territory. The view of the Palácio do Planalto is that cooperation in public security and in combating organized crime should involve other approaches than mere classification of these groups as terrorists.

    The May 7th meeting between Trump and Lula at the White House highlighted the sensitivity of these and other topics, which have been sources of frictions in the official relationship between the countries. It became clear that during the meeting an effort was made by both parties to minimize potential disagreement or embarrassment.

    This does not mean, contrary to what the niceties of diplomacy might suggest, that the meeting was in fact productive. Despite appearances and exchanges of compliments between the two leaders – both of whom are facing declining popularity with decisive elections on the horizon – in objective terms this meeting does not seem to have gone much beyond a meeting to schedule other meetings, marking the triumph of aesthetics over politics.

    Final Considerations

    Despite a certain optimism generated by the May 7th meeting, the recent past demonstrates that a show of courtesies in the Brazil–U.S. relationship does not necessarily mean an absence of conflicts or, still less, indicate the likelihood of productive results in the short term. It is to be expected that evident foreign policy disagreements between Lula and Trump will not overturn a pattern of high-level pragmatism governing the relationship between the two great American powers, with more than two centuries of strong ties.

    However, when each pursues their own objectives, including those conflicting with the specific interests of maintaining the bilateral relationship, these meetings become little more than an empty performance. Meanwhile, international far right networks continue to show that they are capable of interfering in the official relationship between Brazil and the U.S., undermining or complicating opportunities to deepen mutual gains while threatening democratic process in both countries.

    The prevalence of ties among far-right movements continues to threaten the productivity of the official Brazil–U.S. relationship. Flávio Bolsonaro, another son of Brazil’s former president and a pre-candidate for the Brazilian presidency in the 2026 elections, visited the White House in late May to restore his reputation among voters, with his candidacy facing a setback after his name surfaced in the Banco Master scandal, the worst bank fraud in Brazil’s history. The next day, Marco Rubio declared both the PCC and CV terrorist groups.

    Amid distinct tones of populism, it is regrettable that the Brazil–U.S. relationship remains hostage to personalistic interests that often end in transactional bargaining without producing durable results. Overall, it seems unlikely that the Lula-Trump relationship will deliver anything substantive beyond cordial meetings used primarily to restore the domestic reputations of each, particularly given a polarized electoral landscape in Brazil that continues to treat the Bolsonaro-Trump relationship as a relevant factor.

    Magical Thinking Won’t Produce Cuba’s Final Hour 

    Robert Albro, Associate Director, Center for Latin American and Latino Studies, American University 

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

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

    William LeoGrande, Associate Vice Provost for Academic Affairs and Professor of Government, American University 

    “A block in the Vedado neighborhood of Havana, Cuba.” Source: Robert Albro 

    In 1992, veteran Miami Herald journalist Andrés Oppenheimer brazenly forecast the downfall of the Cuban government. He reportedly asked Simon & Schuster to rush Castro’s Final Hour into print because the collapse seemed imminent. In the wake of the U.S. abduction of Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro and his wife Cilia, pundits are once again predicting that the Havana government’s days are numbered. Based on our research during a recent visit* to Cuba, we conclude that headlines echoing Oppenheimer’s prediction are wrong again. 

    The feeding frenzy has been fueled by President Donald Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio. Early in January Trump called Cuba a “very badly failing nation,” and later asserted that “Cuba looks like it is ready to fall.” Rubio remarked at Trump’s January 3rd press conference that “Cuba is a disaster…it’s in total collapse.” Sources tell us that the Trump team believes regime change will occur by the end of 2026: the deepening immiseration of the Cuban people will lead dissenting government officials or military officers to declare that it’s time for the country to become a capitalist democracy, and poof, as if by magic, it will happen. Exactly how is unclear. Recent reports say Washington does not actually have a plan to bring this about but is in search of someone to lead the rebellion. Meanwhile, the U.S. goal remains fixed on creating a humanitarian disaster in Cuba.   

    The electrical blackouts that have plagued Cuba for the past several years will certainly get worse as Trump maintains the current policy of blocking Venezuelan oil shipments to the island. The small increase in oil coming from Mexico is hardly enough to replace the reduced supply from Venezuela. Most of the Cuban population already is suffering from shortages of food, medicine, medical care, gasoline, and necessities that regular electrical power would provide, such as functioning water pumps, lights, and working refrigerators. U.S. sanctions – which include severe limitations on tourism, remittances, and most trade, as well as the financial straitjacket the Trump administration imposed without justification by placing Cuba on the State Department’s list of “State Sponsors of Terrorism” – are the major source of Cuba’s misery.  

    But the organization of Cuba’s economy also contributes to its dysfunction. Subsidies for inefficient state enterprises, regulations that discourage foreign investment, and limitations imposed on farmers and private sector companies stifle productive economic activity. Cuba imports roughly seventy percent of its food despite an abundance of arable land and supply of fish. In 2025 it purchased more than $300 million in agricultural commodities, such as frozen chicken, from the United States. Notably the government had to sell some of its precious Venezuelan oil to China to earn enough hard currency to continue that level of food importation.  

    Lists of proposed economic reforms circulate in Havana, but while proposals may have merit in theory, they rarely take into account the constraints—both economic and political—under which the government is operating. Cuba is trying to implement a macroeconomic stabilization program with almost no foreign reserves, an intensifying U.S. embargo, and no access to help from the World Bank or International Monetary Fund.   

    On prior trips to Cuba, we were dismayed that some Cuban officials expressed little recognition that Cubans were becoming desperate and the government was facing a crisis of legitimacy. But in December we found this attitude had changed. The change became evident earlier in the year when President Miguel Díaz-Canel fired the Minister of Labor and Social Security for denying that there were real beggars looking for food in trash bins. Now there seems to be a sense of urgency, a recognition that the Cuban regime can no longer survive by muddling through. 

    Shortly after we arrived, the Communist Party took the unusual step of canceling the party congress scheduled to convene in April. In the past, party congresses have been the venue for announcing major reforms, so the reason for the cancellation became the focus of widespread speculation. One explanation we dismissed was that under the circumstances, the cost of bringing and housing so many delegates would be prohibitive or at least unseemly. Three other explanations struck us as more plausible. One was that party leaders were still arguing over which economic reforms the government should make. A congress that did not announce major changes would demoralize the population even further. A second explanation was that popular discontent was so great the leadership feared a convocation of grassroots party delegates might produce harsh criticism of the leadership’s handling of the crisis. A third, about which several of us are skeptical, was that national party leaders had reached consensus on reform measures but felt a need to move swiftly rather than wait for four months to conduct the grassroots discussion that normally precedes a party congress.  

    In any event, it appears that serious economic change might actually occur this year. While we were there, the government took two steps it had long resisted: it legalized the use of U.S. dollars in retail sales and floated the Cuban peso against the dollar and various other foreign currencies.  Frustrated with the lack reforms, Vietnam and China have made deeper cooperation contingent on change. With the loss of Venezuelan oil, Cuba will need to rely even more on its international friends and will need to make the reforms necessary to reassure them that Havana is a reliable economic partner.   

    Reforms are not the only reason the Cuban government is unlikely to collapse. Economic despair does not automatically generate an opposition movement capable of overthrowing the government. Foreign diplomats in Havana told us that they perceive organized opposition in Cuba is weaker today than at any time in recent memory. Spontaneous anti-government demonstrations are likely to continue. But without a sustained organization to channel discontent security forces will be able to contain occasional outbursts. Moreover, the “maximum pressure” policy of the Trump administration is having exactly the opposite of its intended effect. Even Cubans who freely criticize government policies and leaders told us they resent U.S. actions and statements they view as exploiting their current difficult conditions to humiliate and dominate them.  

    In short, President Trump is more likely to realize his commercial interests in Cuba by sitting down with the government to see what sort of a deal can be made rather than waiting for the government to collapse—something U.S. presidents have been anticipating ever since 1959. 

    *The authors traveled to Cuba this past December 14-19. 

    Does Colombia Pose a Threat to U.S. Security?

    By Jorge Rojas Rodríguez

    Former Deputy Foreign Minister of Colombia 

    Gustavo Petro in 2022. (Source: Wikimedia)

    The question in the title would seem to have no logical basis were it not for the fact that President Donald Trump, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Secretary of War Pete Hegseth have all accused the president of the South American nation, Gustavo Petro, of being “a drug trafficking leader” and “sponsor of narco-terrorists,” and the U.S. has cancelled his visa and put him on the sanctions list of the Treasury’s Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC).

    At the same time the Trump administration implemented operation “Southern Spear,” deploying U.S. naval and air forces in the Caribbean and directing attacks, with missiles, against vessels accused of transporting cocaine in the Caribbean and Pacific. As of this writing, 23 boats have been destroyed and 87 persons killed. Official sources indicate that at least one of these attacks occurred in Colombian waters.

    Initially, Washington justified these actions in terms of the need to “protect our homeland from drugs that kill our people.” But the U.S. has subsequently begun referencing “antiterrorist actions,” accompanied by assertions of operations along the Colombian-Venezuelan border involving armed groups such as the FARC dissident groups,[1] the ELN,[2] and Hezbollah.

    Clearly this military deployment by the U.S., and attacks, are disproportionate, leading to civilian deaths that could be declared war crimes, because they violate international humanitarian law. In addition, the cocaine allegedly destroyed represents a fraction of the volume of drugs transported on ships that cross the Pacific Ocean, not the Caribbean. Furthermore, as has been explained by U.S. intelligence agencies, neither Colombia nor Venezuela produces or traffics in fentanyl, the cause of most drug deaths in the U.S. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, in 2023, 107,500 Americans died from overdoses, 74,700 from fentanyl, and 29,000 from cocaine. In 2024, deaths totaled 70,596, with fentanyl the main cause of death from overdoses.

    Drug policy in Colombia changed since leftist Gustavo Petro became president in 2022; his administration decided to attack the clandestine laboratories, seize the cocaine already processed (especially at sea), extradite large-scale drug-traffickers and go after their wealth. Petro’s is a very different policy from that of previous administrations, which focused their efforts on attacking those who grow the coca leaf, considered the weakest link in the chain.

    The result is that the current administration has seized 2,700 tons of cocaine, destroyed approximately 15,000 laboratories, and extradited 400 drug traffickers to the U.S. In contrast to these figures, the volume of coca leaf grown has expanded during the same period. According to the UN’s Integrated System for Monitoring Illicit Crops, Colombia today has 255,000 hectares of coca and produces approximately 2,664 tons of cocaine that is exported illegally to the U.S., Europe, and Asia.

    The government of Colombia has undertaken a policy of the voluntary eradication of coca crops, substituting legal agricultural alternatives in place of coca, while supporting peasant farmers with agricultural land –  a policy that has shown positive results, even though its effects are slower in coming.

    It is clear that the government of Colombia is engaged in combatting drug-trafficking, the president has been firm in fighting the drug mafias, and the arguments brandished by Washington show a profound lack of knowledge of what drug-trafficking has meant for this Andean country.

    President Petro has proposed a policy of cooperation to Trump to combat the cultivation of coca leaf, production and commercialization of cocaine, as has been done with prior governments over the course of the long strategic relationship between the two countries. There has been no response and some have begun to wonder whether drug-trafficking isn’t just a pretext for the Trump administration to intervene politically in Latin America, encouraged by sectors of the far right in Florida, as has now happened in Venezuela.

    The paradox is that the problem of cocaine cannot be resolved by militarizing the Caribbean, invading countries and killing civilians on the high seas but instead by adopting a harm reduction policy that works to better understand the harms to both producers  and consumers, to prevent continued drug consumption, and provide effective and publicly available treatment options for those who continue to be trapped in the world of drugs. In this way the current figure of 5.3 million habitual users of cocaine in the U.S. would decline.

    While the United Nations takes steps to improve upon failed models of the past, and is forming an independent commission to evaluate the “war on drugs” of the last 50 years, the U.S.  is backsliding toward militaristic policies that, while they might serve any number of purposes, will not overcome the trafficking and consumption of cocaine.


    [1]   Factions of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, some of which did not go along with the 2016 peace deal between the Government of Colombia and FARC, and others that demobilized in 2016 and then took up weapons anew.

    [2]   ELN: National Liberation Army, which has fought the government continuously since 1964.

    This piece was authored by Jorge Rojas Rodríguez, translated by Charlie Roberts, and edited by Robert Albro, CLALS Associate Director.

    El Salvador Risks Becoming a Zone of Silence  

    By Sonja Wolf 

    Research Professor, School of Government and Economics, Panamerican University, Mexico

    Nayib Bukele on Salvadoran Independence Day in 2024. (Source: Wikimedia)

    On December 17, 2025, a local court released lawyer Alejandro Henríquez and pastor José Ángel Pérez. Seven months earlier, the two activists had been arbitrarily detained under El Salvador’s state of emergency and charged with public disorder and aggressive resistance. The arrests occurred when Henríquez and Pérez were attending a peaceful rally of the El Bosque cooperative outside President Nayib Bukele’s private residence. The El Bosque cooperative is a farming community that had obtained its lands because of agrarian reforms in the 1980s and was now making a last-ditch effort to prevent the eviction of more than 300 families from their plots. In a bittersweet turn of events, Henríquez and Pérez pled guilty to regain their freedom after an abbreviated judicial process. Each received a suspended three-year prison sentence that essentially prohibits them from participating in protests during this time. The verdict criminalizes social movement activity and is a reminder that the state of emergency has become a tool to silence critical voices. 

    Generalized citizen discontent with the country’s traditional parties and his own anti-establishment campaign had propelled Bukele to the presidency of El Salvador in 2019. Since then, he has quickly established an electoral authoritarian regime that retains a democratic façade but sees him wield executive control over other branches of government. His party, Nuevas Ideas, obtained a legislative supermajority in both the 2021 and 2024 elections. Bukele capitalized on these wins to neutralize all checks and balances on his power and to engineer his successful run for an unconstitutional second mandate in 2024. A secret pact with the country’s street gangs helped mobilize voters and contributed to Bukele’s early triumphs at the ballot box. In late March 2022, the breakdown of this agreement prompted gang members to kill 87 people in three days. By then, Bukele no longer needed the gangs to consolidate his rule.  

    Following this latest escalation in violence, he asked the Legislative Assembly to declare a state of emergency to crack down on these groups. The measure, which suspends certain constitutional rights and allows extended pretrial detention, dismantled the gangs as the country knew them and sharply cut the number of registered homicides. While the administration appears to be manipulating crime statistics, its perceived results made the state of emergency widely popular with Salvadorans and helped Bukele’s re-election in 2024. Far from being of a temporary nature, the measure has come to fulfill an essential function in the regime’s propaganda and repression. Some 90,000 people have thus far been detained, including human rights defenders and political opponents. Often apprehended on the spurious charge of illicit association, individuals find themselves mired in a justice system that does not ensure a fair trial. Civil society groups have extensively documented the systematic human rights violations committed under the state of emergency. The abuses are particularly egregious in the prisons where, by December 2025, they had occasioned at least 473 deaths. 

    The weaponization of the state of emergency follows the progressive closure of El Salvador’s civic space. Bukele’s regime has severely restricted access to public information, making it difficult for reporters and transparency activists to obtain data about government policies, contracts, spending, and statistics. If anything, this opacity has increased under the state of emergency. Since he came to power, Bukele has denied independent journalists access to press briefings and subjected them to systematic campaigns of stigmatization and delegitimization. Efforts aimed at undermining critical media workers range from online harassment and defamation to surveillance and abusive legal tactics such as Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation or SLAPPs, initiated to exhaust targets financially and emotionally.  

    At El Faro, an award-winning investigative outlet, journalists received physical threats and Pegasus spyware attacks. Advertisers were harassed, and the newspaper faced spurious money laundering accusations and frivolous audits. Jorge Beltrán is a veteran reporter who had been covering organized crime and gangs for El Diario de Hoy, one of El Salvador’s oldest mainstream newspapers. In 2022 Beltrán was targeted with a $10 million SLAPP after an exposé about Israeli cyber espionage firms in Mexico. A relative of the director of El Salvador’s state intelligence agency was mentioned in the piece and subsequently sued both the newspaper and Beltrán for moral damage. While the court rejected the compensation claim, it required El Diario de Hoy to publish an apology and withdraw the article. Beltrán himself went into exile in June 2025 because of a reasonable fear of being arrested on fabricated criminal charges.  

    For Salvadoran civil society, however, it was the arbitrary detention of Ruth López that constituted a watershed moment. As lead anti-corruption investigator for Cristosal, a prominent human rights NGO, López had worked on cases of government corruption and irregularities in public contracts involving Bukele’s relatives. Her arrest in May 2025 on spurious grounds of illicit enrichment had a chilling effect. Since 2020, at least 130 journalists and human rights defenders have gone into exile, though most of them left El Salvador in the aftermath of López’s capture to avoid meeting a similar fate. In addition to individual departures, NGOs and independent media organizations also felt compelled to exit the country. El Faro had already moved its legal office to Costa Rica in 2023, whereas Focos and the Journalists’ Association of El Salvador (APES) did so two years later. As government repression increased throughout 2025, El Faro and Cristosal moved all of their staff abroad for their own safety. The decision to reduce the organizations’ in-country presence,  while understandable, will pose new challenges to documenting abuses of power, defending its victims, and holding officials accountable. 

    Bukele’s regime found an additional mechanism to quash dissent with the Foreign Agents’ Law passed in May 2025. The legislation requires non-profits to register with the interior ministry and pay a 30 percent tax on all foreign funding they receive. The decree gives the administration broad powers to monitor, sanction, and dissolve organizations that fail to register or that engage in political activities that threaten the stability of the country. In response, some NGOs voluntarily decided to close, many others try to keep operating with a low profile. The Jesuit Central American University, long a vocal advocate for the poor and oppressed, is known in El Salvador for its research, public opinion surveys, and human rights reports. Its leadership, however, must now hope to avoid a repeat of what happened in Nicaragua where the Ortega regime seized the school’s property and assets in 2023. In El Salvador, meanwhile, proposed reforms to the rules governing communal associations suggest a government intent upon hindering community organizing. For anyone working in NGOs, media, and academia, self-censorship becomes a survival strategy. As journalist Raymundo Riva Palacio remarked, regarding the erosion of press freedom in his native Mexico, self-censorship is the most effective form of censorship, because it leaves no trace, creates no scandal, and normalizes silence.  

    Self-imposed exile and self-censorship are turning El Salvador into what the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights has called a “zone of silence.” The term is typically associated with areas where violence against journalists leaves entire communities misinformed, as has happened in Mexico. A similar trend is occurring in El Salvador since the Bukele administration is deploying “technologies of censorship” to inhibit public scrutiny and criticism. The resultant information vacuum is filled by the official narrative, extensively promoted through government-controlled television channels, newspapers, and social media accounts. Influencers and pro-Bukele trolls do their part to spread regime propaganda and attack human rights defenders, journalists, and opposition politicians. Since citizens primarily rely on television and social media to access information, Salvadorans are likely relatively unaware of major government decisions and their impacts on people’s lives. 

    Exiles may have escaped state terror at home. Some stay out of the public eye to keep their relatives in El Salvador out of harm’s way. Others continue their professional work as best as they can, but they have started to be impacted by Bukele’s methods of transnational repression. The United Nations Human Rights Office defines transnational repression as acts that a state or its proxy commits to deter or punish advocacy directed towards it from abroad. It can take various forms, including digital attacks, reprisals against in-country relatives, the arbitrary refusal of consular services, harassment through INTERPOL red notices, and physical violence. Ingrid Escobar directs Socorro Jurídico Humanitario, a legal aid organization that assists victims of the state of emergency, and has repeatedly been subjected to online defamation campaigns. Ivania Cruz and Rudy Joya of the human rights organization UNIDEHC were targeted with INTERPOL red notices but managed to have these lifted. 

    Given the Bukele regime’s persistent attempts to intimidate journalists and activists, it is vital that these groups create international pressure to denounce abuses and demand respect for human rights. It is equally important that exiles find spaces for collective solidarity and resistance. Their ability to continue their work is key, more so since parts of the international community are either reluctant to criticize the democratically elected Bukele or perceive his security “model” as effective. APES documents and reports abuses against journalists and offers media workers safety guides and legal assistance. In Mexico City, Casa Centroamérica has become a home for Central Americans fleeing political and legal persecution. The NGO can provide recent arrivals with temporary shelter, is building an archive of national publications, and researches the causes of exile. 

    Realistically, the state of emergency only stands a chance of being dismantled if El Salvador returns to democracy. Many citizens choose not to report abuses or speak out against Bukele’s regime for fear of being arbitrarily detained. Constitutional reforms passed in July 2025 extend the presidential term to six years, permit indefinite re-election, abolish the runoff election, and brought the next presidential election forward to 2027. Bukele can comfortably perpetuate himself in power if abstention levels are high and the political opposition fails to present a compelling alternative to his vision of the country. During Bukele’s time in government, economic growth has been weak, and poverty has increased as soaring debt and corruption have depleted state resources. A fiscal adjustment insisted upon by the International Monetary Fund requiring a smaller public sector has already led to massive job losses in areas such as health and education. These cuts will affect the quality of public services and likely fuel social discontent. The country’s economic woes, which Bukele will be unable to resolve as quickly as the security situation, may ultimately help bring about the demise of his regime.