El Salvador's 'Miracle' Hides Horrors: Is the U.S. Endorsing Authoritarianism?

When Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth welcomed Salvadoran Defense Minister René Francis Merino Monroy to the Pentagon, the room buzzed with mutual admiration. Hegseth lauded El Salvador’s 'miracle' in crushing crime, a nod to President Nayib Bukele’s unrelenting anti-gang campaign. The praise felt like a victory lap for a nation once paralyzed by violence. Yet beneath the applause lies a darker truth: El Salvador’s success comes at a staggering human cost, one that American policymakers seem all too eager to overlook.

Bukele’s approach, which has jailed over 84,000 people since 2022, roughly 1.7% of the population, is no miracle. It’s a calculated trade-off, swapping civil liberties for a veneer of security. The Pentagon’s warm embrace of this model raises urgent questions about the kind of partnerships the United States is forging in Central America. Are we championing stability, or are we endorsing authoritarianism dressed up as progress?

This isn’t just about El Salvador. It’s about the signal America sends to the hemisphere. By celebrating a campaign built on mass detentions and military overreach, the U.S. risks legitimizing tactics that undermine the very democratic values it claims to uphold. The stakes are high, and the consequences ripple far beyond San Salvador’s streets.

El Salvador’s state of emergency, in place since March 2022, has transformed the nation into a case study of extremes. Homicide rates have plummeted from 106 per 100,000 in 2015 to just 2.2 in 2023, a feat few could have imagined a decade ago. Bukele’s supporters point to safer streets and weakened gangs like MS-13 as proof of victory. But the price has been steep: over 300 deaths in custody, reports of torture, and thousands of arbitrary detentions, many with no proven gang ties.

Human rights groups, from the UN to the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, have sounded alarms. The mega-prison CECOT, housing up to 40,000 detainees, is a symbol of this new reality, where due process is a distant memory. Families wait in anguish, unsure if their loved ones are alive or languishing in cells without access to lawyers or sunlight. This isn’t justice; it’s a system that punishes first and asks questions later.

The U.S. has not just watched from the sidelines. By funding deportee detention in facilities like CECOT and donating patrol boats to bolster El Salvador’s navy, America is complicit in a system that flouts international human rights standards. Advocates for accountable governance argue that such support contradicts U.S. laws prohibiting aid to units credibly accused of violations. Yet the Pentagon doubles down, framing El Salvador as a shining example of bilateral success.

El Salvador’s reliance on its military to police its streets is another red flag. Since 2022, soldiers have cordoned off neighborhoods, set up checkpoints, and led mass arrests, often with minimal oversight. This blurring of lines between military and civilian roles echoes a troubling history. The 1992 Chapultepec Peace Accords, which ended El Salvador’s brutal civil war, explicitly limited the military’s role in internal security to prevent abuses. Bukele’s policies have unraveled those protections, reviving fears of a return to authoritarian control.

The Pentagon’s enthusiasm for this approach, evident in Hegseth’s praise for El Salvador’s 'punching above its weight,' ignores the long-term risks. Militarized policing doesn’t just suppress crime; it erodes trust in institutions and normalizes state violence. For a region still healing from decades of conflict, this is a dangerous precedent. Advocates for democratic reform warn that empowering militaries to act as police forces invites abuse and weakens civilian governance.

Some might argue that desperate times call for tough measures, and El Salvador’s gang crisis demanded bold action. But history shows that militarization rarely delivers lasting peace. The 'mano dura' policies of the 2000s, which also leaned heavily on military force, failed to curb violence and fueled cycles of retaliation. Today’s crackdown may be more effective in the short term, but it risks planting the seeds for future unrest by alienating communities and stifling dissent.

The U.S.-El Salvador partnership, deepened through joint drug interdictions and military exercises, is undeniably effective in some areas. The Salvadoran Navy’s Task Force Trident, backed by U.S. training and intelligence, seized over 11 tons of cocaine in 2024 alone. Joint Task Force-Bravo’s exercises have strengthened disaster response and regional coordination. These are tangible wins in a region plagued by transnational crime.

But effectiveness doesn’t justify moral compromise. The U.S. decision to cooperate on deportations, sending suspected gang members to CECOT’s brutal conditions, stains America’s commitment to human rights. Advocates for immigration reform argue that deporting individuals to face potential torture or death violates international law. Meanwhile, the focus on security cooperation distracts from addressing root causes like poverty and inequality, which fuel gang recruitment in the first place.

The Pentagon’s broader regional strategy, including recent agreements with Panama to counter China’s influence, suggests a return to Cold War-style geopolitics. Framing El Salvador as a bulwark against Chinese 'malign influence' prioritizes strategic rivalry over human welfare. Central America deserves better than being a pawn in great power games. A truly principled U.S. policy would invest in sustainable development and democratic institutions, not prop up regimes that sacrifice freedom for control.

El Salvador’s story is a cautionary tale, not a model to emulate. The United States has a chance to chart a different course, one that balances security with justice. Instead of applauding mass incarceration, American leaders could press for reforms that prioritize due process and rehabilitation. Instead of fueling militarization, the U.S. could support civilian-led policing and community programs that address the social drivers of crime.

The Partnership for Global Infrastructure and Investment, launched as a counter to China’s Belt and Road, offers a framework for meaningful engagement. By investing in education, healthcare, and economic opportunity, the U.S. can help build resilient societies that don’t need to resort to authoritarian tactics. This isn’t naive idealism; it’s a pragmatic recognition that lasting security comes from empowered communities, not prison cells.

America’s influence in Central America is still profound, but it must be wielded with care. Celebrating El Salvador’s iron-fisted tactics sends a message that results trump principles. For those who value democracy and human dignity, that’s a message we can’t afford to send. The U.S. must stand for something better, not just something stronger.