Oops, too late…”. It was Nayib Bukele – the current constitutional president and soon, no one doubts president “for life” of the Republic of El Salvador – who days ago said or, more precisely, delivered in writing to social media these words with very obvious sardonic overtones. Recipient of the message: the whole world, of course, but more particularly the US federal judge who, hours before, had dared to block, with a judgment that pointed out its absolute unconstitutionality, the first major deportation of illegal immigrants, or alleged such, by Trump spectacularly sent to the CECOT (Cetrno de Confinamiento de terroristas) , a mega-prison located in Tecoluca, not far from San Salvador, the capital of the small Central American country. Meaning of the message: a mocking “take that, you liberal fuckers”. The deportees are now in our hands, and, in defiance of the laws and free of niceties of whatever sort, they will never come back to see the light of day…
This is what Bukele wrote. And it is worth starting right from here – from this kind of macabre “marameo” – to analyze “Trumpism” in its most essential, deep substance. Or, more precisely: to understand, beyond politics and the logic of international relations, what in terms of human values the presidency of Donald J. Trump really represents.
Let’s make a step back to clarify the context. Or rather: to explain what CECOT is, how and why it was born and how it has become, in recent years, the flagship of Nayib Bukele, the young president of El Salvador who today, mocking his critics, likes to call himself “el dictador mas cool”, the coolest dictator of the planet. In 2019, Bukele won the presidential race based on a platform of, let’s call il this way, generic “modernity” and a promise to reverse the history of corruption and inefficiency – inefficiency especially regarding security – of the bipartisan democracy that emerged in the 1990s from the long and bloody years of the civil war (on the one hand the ex-guerrillas of the FMLN and on the other ARENA, the political force that operated, under the protection of the USA, the notorious death squads). In front of him Bukele had a country actually controlled by the so-called “pandillas”, or “maras”. That is: by criminal gangs – essentially two: The Mara Salvatrucha and the Barrio 18, both of them generated by other processes deportation of immigrants from the United States – which guaranteed El Salvador a sad world record: that of the highest percentage of murders in relation to the population, a tragic result of a widespread criminality that – between drug trafficking, prostitution, extortion and violence of all kinds – in fact made life in Salvador a real hell.
After trying in vain to negotiate with “las maras” – something that Bukele now denies, but which is well documented – the new president suddenly changed his policy. And he did it, everyone gives him credit for that, with great efficiency and spectacular results. Within less than a year, Bukele has certainly, in the name of an indisputable “emergency”, cancelled all legal guarantees. But he has also – as he does not tire of repeating – transformed the country from a theatre of daily carnage, into a place where people could “live without fear”. And he has, for this reason, become by far- only the Mexican Claudia Sheinbaum contends him the record – the most popular head of state in Latin America, perhaps in the world. How did Bukele get to this point? By decreeing a permanent “state of emergency” that granted him full powers. And using these full powers to organize, using the army, mass raids wherever the “maras” (that is: everywhere) have their predations and “territorial wars”. All by zeroing the old prison system (from the “maras” completely controlled) and replacing it in record time with a new mega-prison of maximum security.
It is possible that – as many argue – the statistics provided nowadays by the Salvadoran government are sweetened for propaganda purposes. However, it is an indisputable fact that, reigning Bukele, every corner of El Salvador has become, as almost everyone testifies, far more safe than before. It is also a fact that, thanks to this cleansing of the country, Bukele has won the love of an overwhelming majority of the population, reason for which, a year ago, he won with very wide margins a presidential race in which – according to the letter of a Constitution that clearly prohibits re-election – should not have participated.
How CECOT became the symbol of Bukele’s absolute power
Nayib Bukele, in fact, has not defeated, at least temporarily, just the maras. Along the way it has – and not temporarily, as it has become more and more obviously by the day – defeated also the division of powers, indispensable for every democracy. Bukele controls everything today: from the judiciary (starting with the Supreme Court which, with laughable arguments, two years ago approved of his re-election), to the Parliament (which opens and closes at will) to the media (which, always at will, he limits and punishes). And the CECOT has in all respects become the symbol – bright and macabre at the same time – of his race towards absolute power.
Bright – at least for him and his many followers and admirers – because it is, in effect, the central element, the symbol, the mirror of that which, in perfect harmony with the worst cases of personality cult and “caudillismo” in Latin America, is rapidly becoming a process of personal deification. And at the same time macabre because, architecturally and functionally conceived as a kind of “chicken farm”, one of those overcrowded poultry-breeding center whose cruelty are constantly denounced not just by the animalists, the CECOT has gone far beyond its original function as an emergency structure designed to eliminate a scourge – that of the pandillas – which was transforming El Salvador into a classic failed state. Today that “model prison” is, in the logic of Bukele, a monument to be displayed as an exaltation of the glory of the homeland, the proof, the visible symbol of the power and invincibility of a merciless God. Or, more to the point , of a “libertador” that will be very difficult to be liberated from in the near and, probably distant future.
Abandon all hope, ye ho enter here. You enter CECOT without any prior judgment. And only a small minority is then subjected to trials “in remote” with sentences already written, and in no case less than one hundred years. Who crosses that threshold – it does not matter if they are innocent, because “this is a war” and every war has its “collateral damage” – loses all of his humanity. And, with his humanity, he also loses, of course, all rights, including the right to die. Because beyond those reinforced concrete walls and in those metal shelves where they amass like chickens beings that used to be human beings – often criminals of the worst sort, but still human beings – you can only wish to die. And that, given the continuous vigilance, with no chance to commit suicide. And if in fact you die (in the absence of official data it is estimated that at least 200-300 of the current 14 thousand prisoners recognized by the government have died in these two years in the “gironi” of that Dantesque hell) simply vanishes in a nothingness that, as in Dante’s original, nothing but a way of eternizing your punishment. In the CECOT no one has a name and no one has a grave. In the CECOT there is no life, no memory. Therefore, there is no death. Or, more properly, there is only death.
It was inevitable that, in a relationship of real love, all this sooner or later (sooner rather than later) would cross paths with Trump and his policy of deportation of immigrants. Or better said: non-people that without exception – unless of course they are people of white race full of degrees, PhD and money to invest – are by Trump considered (how many times has he repeated that?) “delinquents, rapists, murderers and mentally ill” who “poison the blood of the nation”. And it is exactly what has happened. Once he enthusiastically applauded the victory of the new/old US president, last November, Bukele almost immediately generously offered to Trump his services as a “global” jailer. He did so by offering to him – and every other potential client in the world – a reversed version of the phrase inscribed at the foot of the Statue of Liberty, the one that, at the entrance to the Bay of New York, reads “give me your tired, your poor… You want to get rid of “delinquents, rapists etc. etc…” that cross your borders illegally (not a few of them Salvadoran)? Give them to me. Send them here. Low prices (20 thousand dollars per subject) and no return of the goods absolutely guaranteed. A flight, a delivery and off you go, you have freed yourself from the burden forever. Gone all. Disappeared, as the “difficult” stains in the old detergent advertisment.
Invoking the Alien Enemy Act of 1798
First shipment, carried out invoking the Alien Enemy Act of 1798, a law applied until now only during the two world wars: 288 Venezuelan immigrants. All, according to the immigration authorities of ICE, the border police in charge of deportations, part of what Trump considers an “invasion” and violent violent “occupation” of national territory. That is: all very dangerous members of another of the most nefarious criminal gangs of “Latin” origin: the Tren de Aragua, born relatively recently in the prisons of Tocorón, a couple of years ago a theater of a bloody battle between the prisoners and the Venezuelan army, and then spread across the continent. To lead the operation was, in first person, Kristi Noem, current secretary of the Homeland Security – more or less the equivalent of a Ministry of the Interior – that had already gloomily jumped to the headlines a year ago for having told with very proud accents, in her autobiography, how she had executed, in a gravel pit near his home, both a wirehair pointer puppy, Cricket, guilty of ruining her, for indiscipline, a hunting trip, and a goat whose smell – presumably a goat smell – she did not like.
Noem did not miss the opportunity to walk through the corridors of the CECOT, and to launch, in front of one of the chickens jail, a very stern warning: “This – she said pointing at the men-chickens amassed behind bars – is what awaits those who enter illegally in the USA and violates our laws”. Too bad, really, that Cricket couldn’t hear it. He would have understood, that wee puppy, how benevolent his fate had been, years ago in that gravel pit. A shot and off. Without even the obligation, as is often request in similar circumstances, to dig your own grave in advance.
Are all of the 288 deportees really members of the notorious Tren de Aragua? The operation – a “war operation”, they called it – was conducted in absolute secrecy in the name of “national security”. No figures (except the total number of deportees), no names, no evidence. Very accurate press inquiries – in America, despite Trump, the freedom of the press still exists – have however come to this conclusion with minor differences among them. The deportees accused of serious crimes resulting from gang activities – murders, kidnappings, extortions – are not actually, approximately more than 3 percent of the total. Another 10 percent appear responsible for minor crimes, petty shoplifting, or driving without a license. All the others do not have, in the USA, any criminal record of any kind. The ICE generally claims that they have, beyond reasonable doubt, identified them as members of the TdA, thanks to the tattoos imprinted on their skin. Small detail. Unlike the members of the Salvadoran maras – Salvatrucha and Barrio 18- the members of Tren de Aragua do not use tattoos that reveal their affiliation. So?
So, it seems more than likely that many of the deportees have nothing to do with any criminal gang. And one can easily imagine that many of them are, on the evidence, legal residents or, more often, refugees waiting to have their case examined, as required by law, by a judge. Already many and very different are the stories that in this regard are, day after day, coming to light. Stories of men and tattoos. Criminal stories. Stories where the only real crime is not that allegedly committed by the deportee, but their deportation itself. There is the story of Andri José Hernández Romero, a professional makeup artist, homosexual, arrested, deported and imprisoned inside CECOT because of two tattoos with crown (a figure from the ICE quite arbitrarily considered a symbol of the TdA): one on the right arm with the name of the father and one on the left arm with the name of the mother (both recently deceased). As if to say: they are my king and my queen. And there is the story of Jerci Reyes Barrios, aspiring professional footballer, with no criminal record, who had tattooed on his forearm, obviously surmounted by a crown, the coat of arms of his favorite team, Real Madrid.
But the most significant story – because in this case it was impossible, despite the “war secrets”, not to recognize the absolute arbitrariness of his arrest and, above all, his deportation – is that of Kilmar Armando Abrego, Salvadoran, in the USA with regular refugee visa, married to an American citizen and father of a five years old child with a disability. Due to an anonymous complaint, Kilmar had already been evaluated years ago by the American justice as a possible member of the Mara Salvatrucha. And had come out of the trial cleaner than ever. The sentence, in fact, not only freed him from the charge, but recognized that, precisely because of the threats received by the Mara Salvatrucha, he had to leave his country. For all these reasons, the final verdict had, expressly, prohibited his deportation.
Kilmar Armando Abrego, therefore, was not only not a member of any gang, but he was a victim of the pandillas. And he was, by law, “non-deportable. For this reason even the lawyer who in the hearing represented the Department of Justice – now directed by Pam Bondi, already a personal lawyer of Donald Trump and trumpismo vera e propria pasdaran – could not but acknowledge the error (euphemistically defined as an “administrative error’, like a signature in the wrong place) of his deportation.
Error recognized, error corrected? Not at all. The Department of Justice has since then fiercely opposed, bringing the case before the Supreme Court, the stern sentence of Paula Xinis, the federal judge in question had, ordering in the name of the most elementary human decency, the deportee to be returned home by midnight last Monday. And not only. that. Pam Bondi has also fired, accusing him of not having fought properly, the lawyer who, in front of Xinis had recognized – nor could he do otherwise – the “administrative error” mentioned above. For Trump, when it comes to immigrants, there is no error or judgment that holds. They all poison the blood of the nation. All of them are, regardless, to be deported. Better if in a place you cannot exit from, neither alive or dead. For the Trumpian DOJ, Kilmar not only must not, but cannot be taken home, because it is now outside the jurisdiction of the United States. Bukele will take care of him.
The Supreme Court’s answer? Before a sober, detached communication by which the Chief Justice John Roberts, last Monday, annulled the sentence issued by judge Paula Xinis, pending a more thorough assessment of the case. Then, 24 hours later, the Court sent to Kristi Noem – yes the same Kristi Noem that hours before had performed in front of the henhouse – an “unsigned order” (in fact a kind of non-binding exhortation) asking Homeland Security to initiate procedures “to facilitate the return of Mr Abrego Garcia to the USA”. At the time of writing this article, the government’s response was not known yet. But it is logical to assume that, in the face of this “exhortation”, it will end up reiterating, before the district court which must examine the case – his original thesis. That of the technical impossibility to order the return of a prisoner who is, by now, outside the US jurisdiction. This seems to herald, at best, a long legalistic push and pull with an uncertain ending. Kilmar can, in the meantime, remain quietly – and stay forever, should the government’s will prevail against the very timid opinion of the Supreme Court – in the hell of CECOT. Free to become the first real “desaparecido” of this splendid post-democratic America, projected, for the glory of Donald Trump, towards a new “golden age”.
Oops, too late, the grin of the coolest torturer on planet Earth
The first, presumably, of a long series. On the same day, the Supreme Court, this time convened in plenary session, also answered, five votes to four, to another peremptory judicial order – that, already mentioned, issued by federal judge James Boasberg, immediately defined by Trump “lunatic left” – which imposed, in the name of the Constitution’ssacred principle of the right to a “fair trial”, the return home, for a fair assessment of their case, of the 288 Venezuelan deportees already swallowed by the black hole of CECOT. And he did it with a sentence that – ignoring “every aspect of human suffering”, as reported in their dissent by the four minority judges – seems destined to remain in history as a very shameful masterpiece of hypocrisy and cynicism.
Of course, reads in essence the judgment that annuls the order issued by James Boasberg, all people – and therefore also the deportees – have the right to a prior “judicial review”. It is a pity, however, that the request for this verification was, in this case, filed in the jurisdiction of Washington D.C. and not, as it should have been, in that of Texas, where the “deportees” were at that time.
Another “administrative error”. Another “Oops, too late”. The “president for life” Nayib Bukele had, in his divine foresight, seen correctly. The deportees, having passed the ceremonies of humiliation and dehumanization imposed by the rite of admission, have entered CECOT. And, like the diamond, CECOT is forever. For them – no matter who they are or what they are guilty of – time has run out. What a pity, too late. Too late for them, the deportees, too late for American democracy. Too late for everything. “Oops, too late”. Four words that sound like a prophecy. O, properly, like the grin of a torturer. That of Nayib Bukele, the coolest torturer on planet Earth.
