These scenes are extraordinary; astonishing. Thousands of accused gang members herded into a newly built
super max prison. Barefoot and shackled; heads shaved and bowed; pushed, poked and prodded by
armed and masked guards as they are forced into their new high-security home, where the
government says they might never leave. In many places, treatment like this would be scandalous.
But this footage wasn't smuggled from behind bars by human rights whistleblowers. It was
professionally choreographed, shot, and edited by the very government that's doing it. And then it
was sent for the world to marvel over by El Salvador's president, Nayib Bukele, boasting
that he now runs the world's most criticized prison. The Mob Reporter here with news of a
state of emergency, declared one year ago, that allows special powers for a purge of street
gangs that controlled many Salvadoran communities. And the government publicizes it with in-your-face
images, turning the strong-arm tactic into a slick publicity campaign. Its cinematic
brutishness. Bukele's crime revolution is being televised. Let me tell you about it.
It has been a year since the swaggering president of El Salvador, a country of more than 6 million
people in Central America, declared war on criminal gangs. The main targets are two rivals: MS-13 and
Barrio 18. That's why you see so many tattoos on the inmates bearing those numbers. 13 and
18 are now deep and deadly divisions. Signifying loyalty to one means being an enemy of the other.
El Salvador's war on gangs came quickly after a gang truce — allegedly engineered
by the government — fell apart, leading to a wave of inter-gang violence. Bukele then
declared a state of emergency, back in March 2022, giving special powers to police, military and the
courts. It is a form of martial law. El Salvador's Constitution only allows this to last for 30 days,
but it has been renewed for another 30 days every month since. That's 13 times now; 13. The
special rules have allowed the government to do some wild things. Gang members were
declared terrorists; police can grab and imprison anyone suspected of gang involvement with little
evidence — an aggressive tattoo is sometimes enough. The government says an astounding 65,000
suspected gangsters have been rounded up. They needed somewhere to put them, so they built a new
supermax prison, 45 miles east of the country's capital, San Salvador. They call it the biggest
prison in the Americas. In the declarative language of Bukele's campaign, though, this really isn't
a prison. It's called the Terrorism Confinement Center. The government says it's escape proof and
high tech, blocking cell phone signals and drones, surrounded by 30-foot walls. It can hold 40,000
inmates. The first of those residents arrived in February 2023; that's what you see here.
The first wave of two thousand were bused in and processed, welcomed to their new home by
batons and strict orders. This is the largest, most direct attack targeting gangs I've ever seen. The
government had cameras ready; the images are incredible. Cinematically it is gripping stuff,
like a Hollywood movie, perhaps some dystopian future. Vivid tattoos are an important part of
gang culture, marking support publicly and permanently. Having all inmates wear just
boxers makes sure those tattoos are displayed to maximum effect for the cameras. Many are garish and
gruesome. Many extol gangster life and culture. A lot of them declare where their loyalty lies.
The overt submission of the prisoners — heads bowed, running meekly, obeying commands, crowded
into uncomfortable positions with nary a peep or challenge, at least in view, sends a message
of absolute government control. For Salvadorans who have been hurt or frightened by the gangs, attacked,
robbed, extorted, or seen family members kidnapped or killed, these images must make their hearts sing.
The government's publicity machine was geared to the one-year anniversary of the emergency measures,
and another wave of 2,000 inmates arrived in the days leading up to yet another request to extend
the special powers. The government declared that they would never again return to their communities.
Human rights and civil rights groups complain of the measures. Many of those arrested don't have
access to lawyers, their families, or timely judicial scrutiny. Police have wide latitude
of search and arrest, and more than a thousand soldiers have joined in. There are complaints of
prisoner abuse and wrongful arrest, with little means of correcting or appealing imprisonment.
Most people in El Salvador, though, seem to love it. "Very good, El Salvador." A recent poll gave Bukele a 90 percent
approval rating, with the anti-gang crackdown supported by 96 percent, according to government numbers.
Just eight years ago, El Salvador was notorious for having the world's highest murder rate, most
of it gang-related. 2022, by contrast, was the least violent year in the country's history,
the government says, boasting of more than 200 days without a murder. These restrictions on liberties
mean, in the government's words, "true freedom." That's a bit uncomfortable for some. Bukele
has certainly shown authoritarian inclinations. His official Twitter bio once read "world's coolest
dictator." He changed it to "CEO of El Salvador" when he was feverishly pitching Bitcoin as
the answer to the country's financial problems. "Museums, entertainment, bars, restaurants, airport,
rail, everything devoted to Bitcoin..." That policy proved less popular with the people. Now that
he's found his domestic mojo with his get-tough-on-crime policies, in his bio he's going for the more
refined: "President of El Salvador." Bukele has long embraced memes as a key tool of political
messaging. He isn't missing this chance to chuckle over his success. He mocks human rights concerns
over his crackdown. Here he asks if he should be giving the inmates tuxedos, or what brand of shoes
he should be buying them, and if the money should be moved from the budget for a children's hospital.
That's arch polemics. And then there is this image he sent on Twitter. All in English, it's aimed at
Middle America: "Move to El Salvador," it says, "the new land of the free." The small print says the country
has no fentanyl crisis, no shootings, no lootings, the lowest crime rate in the Americas, as well
as great coffee, weather, and beaches. Now that's a strong sales pitch. And the vivid video productions
of Bukele's crime control policies are certainly another pitch — a pitch for re-election. Please share
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