Whither Nicaragua Three Years On?

As I write these lines, three years have passed since the political upheaval and violence that shook Nicaragua in April 2018 and reverberated around the world. For those who were not directly touched by the violence that followed April 19, the events may now seem like a distant memory, since a kind of “normalcy” has returned to everyday life in Nicaragua. COVID-19 aside, today’s normalcy is nevertheless different. Despite the usual public events promoting health, education, and tourist services and government propaganda celebrating its accomplishments in favor of the poor, something is palpably off. After April 19, the social and political atmosphere saw a dramatic change.

The saga began the day before, with clashes between government sympathizers and protesters against a social security reform that Daniel Ortega had enacted by presidential decree. Violent confrontations took place in at least three cities and, upon being reported in the news, attracted more protesters. The next day, the first three mortal victims were announced: two civilians and a police officer. Over the following weeks, barricades went up in the popular neighborhoods of Managua and all over the country. The scenes were reminiscent of the days preceding the final insurrection against the Somoza dictatorship that brought the Sandinistas to power in July 1979. In an ironic twist of fate, however, this time it was the Sandinistas who were trying to hold onto power as popular resistance grew and Nicaragua once again made international headlines.

Citing the nation’s long trajectory as victim of foreign intervention, the government denounced a “soft coup” attempt inspired by Gene Sharp’s handbook for regime change (Álvarez, 2018). In its account, the rebellion had been orchestrated by nongovernmental organizations “created and maintained thanks to the funding of U.S. government agencies.” As the number of deaths and arrests escalated, the Catholic Church and the entrepreneurial class sided with protesters against state repression. On the other end, and similarly to the situation in the 1980s, militants of the Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional (Sandinista National Liberation Front—FSLN) were called to defend the Revolution against what the government regarded as an imperialist threat. Many of the fractures that had fed the war more than two decades ago resurfaced.

Shortly after the first clashes, Ortega rescinded the social security reform decree that had sparked the popular uprising. At that point, however, the protests had little to do with what had ignited them. Now they were against the repression that had been unleashed, which in the eyes of many breached the contract upon which the FSLN had governed since 2006. Part of that contract was alliances with three sectors: the former Contras, the business class, and the Catholic Church. At first, the alliance with the former insurgents played a key role, as it showed the Nicaraguan public that past animosities had been left behind and that the FSLN was serious about its commitment to build a government with the participation of former foes. In fact, the FSLN government made good on its promise to give continuity to many unfulfilled aspects of the peace accords, establishing a Verification, Reconciliation, Peace, and Justice Commission that sought to benefit veterans on both sides of the conflict. As the demands of this sector were attended to and the ghosts of war disappeared from the collective memory of the younger generations, the former Contras ceased to be relevant actors in the Nicaraguan political landscape.

The Church and the business sector, however, remained powerful actors whose words and actions represented forces to be contended with. The administration’s slogan of striving for a “Christian, socialist, and solidary Nicaragua” needed their blessing to promote an imaginary that would ensure public support—one that capitalized on Nicaraguans’ strong Christian values, the socialist/revolutionary mystique of the FSLN as compatible with a prosperous market economy, and a commitment to social justice in one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere. Ortega was successful in building and maintaining fruitful relations with both sectors, whose main representatives were Cardinal Miguel Obando y Bravo and the Consejo Superior de la Empresa Privada (Superior Council of Private Enterprise—COSEP). Obando y Bravo, an archenemy of the Revolution in the 1980s, became a supporter of a Sandinista comeback after numerous gestures had convinced him that Ortega was a changed man. From 2006 on, Obando was often present at official government events, always sitting next to the president and his wife (since 2016 vice president), Rosario Murillo. Within the Catholic hierarchy dissenting voices were common, but even after he retired the moral authority he commanded was second to none in the Nicaraguan Church. The cardinal passed away in 2018, only a few weeks after the incidents of April. His death left a void that would increasingly be filled with critical voices within the Church, which assumed a leading role against the Ortega-Murillo governing style.

The relationship with the business sector had suffered a serious blow shortly before the protests began. In the eyes of COSEP, the presidential decree that enacted the social security reform contravened the economic dialogue model that had prevailed since the FSLN comeback. That model established that all major economic decisions would be made in tripartite consensus among workers, business, and government. It had been key to ensuring stability, growth, and the setting of expectations for all parties involved until the social security reform decree. After months of unsuccessful negotiations and pressed by the demands of international financial institutions, the government proceeded to put forward its own version of the reform without having their blessing. For business, this was a sign that the government had begun to govern without taking it into account.

These dynamics played against the background of a strong economy for Nicaragua, which led most of its regional neighbors in growth terms. According to the World Bank, for almost two decades its economy had grown by an average 4.6 percent per year until 2018 thanks to “sound macroeconomic management and a number of reforms geared towards transforming the country into a market economy” (World Bank, 2021). Despite its revolutionary rhetoric, the Ortega-Murillo government did not assume power with a plan to undo capitalism or threaten U.S. interests in the region. Rather, the goal was to manage the market economy, diversify and strengthen ties with global markets, and distribute benefits to local elites and the working class. Bearing this context in mind contributes to an assessment of the allegations of a U.S.-led soft coup attempt.

It is undeniable that for over a century Nicaragua has been a target of U.S. intervention for both geopolitical and economic reasons. That history is well documented and generally accepted, from the days of the filibuster William Walker to the U.S. Marine intervention repelled by Sandino and the Contra War of the 1980s. After the FSLN’s electoral defeat in 1990, U.S. interventionism manifested itself mostly in the conditioning of economic aid on the implementation of neoliberal reforms. To varying degrees, the Chamorro, Alemán, and Bolaños administrations that governed from 1990 until 2006 complied with the conditionalities imposed by the international financial institutions, often out of conviction but mostly out of need. With the advent of the FSLN government in 2006 these ongoing macroeconomic reforms were maintained. The Sandinistas had pledged to stay the course of developing a market economy that would bring increased benefits to the business class. Not keeping that promise would have started them off on the wrong foot, risking much of what they had achieved through carefully crafted alliances. Rather than carrying out a “second revolution,” they focused on reinstating popular welfare-state measures and implementing new social programs consistent with a capitalist development path. These included free health and education services, low-interest microcredit loans, low-cost social housing, and the distribution of material benefits to the poor through programs such as Zero Hunger and the Roof Plan. Most of these social programs were funded not through tax revenue but by ALBA de Nicaragua, S.A., a private company co-owned by Petroleos de Venezuela in a complex scheme that even today allows the Ortega-Murillo regime to use its proceeds for discretionary purposes without being subject to checks and balances from other state institutions.

While the government’s early and continuous implementation of these social policies had lent some credibility to its claim of being on the path to dismantling the neoliberal structure, after more than a decade in power it had become clear that this was not the case. The Ortega-Murillo regime made good on the promise to provide COSEP and its associates with economic incentives, asking them to trust the government’s ability to intervene as a broker to ensure stability and social control. The entrepreneurs’ trust paid off in the years that followed. Business boomed in an environment characterized by social peace, exclusive purchase contracts from Venezuela, and profits rolling in from the Central American Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA-DR). To the benefit of entrepreneurs, the tax structure remained virtually unchanged after the negotiation of an International Monetary Fund–mandated reform that increased taxes on the lower bracket from 10 to 15 percent and left the tax on capital gains untouched at 10 percent (Medal, 2012). ¹ Overall, the unprecedented incentives for capital accumulation—without redistribution of wealth—had the effect of widening the gap between rich and poor. Instead of a socialist transformation, these actions laid the foundation for a populist model designed to contain extreme poverty and reduce its levels while expanding the partisan structure at the grassroots through clientelist mechanisms geared toward helping to maintain popular support. The Ortega-Murillo economic model amounted to “neoliberalism lite.”

Against this background, until April 19 relations between Washington and Managua under the Sandinistas remained stable. Throughout the course of three U.S. administrations, both Republican and Democrat, the Ortega-Murillo government bet heavily on its economic relations with China and the Bolivarian Alliance countries, Venezuela in particular, while constantly motivated to maintain and develop its economic relations with the United States. Through its membership in CAFTA-DR, over the years the United States has remained the main destination of Nicaraguan exports, which amounted to almost 50 percent of all exports in 2020. According to the Office of the U.S. Trade Representative (n.d.), “U.S. goods exports to Nicaragua in 2019 were $1.7 billion, up 1.4% ($23 million) from 2018 and up 131.0% from 2009. U.S. exports to Nicaragua are up 164% from 2005 (pre-FTA).” Of all of Nicaragua’s economic partners, none rivals the United States in magnitude and importance. Rhetoric aside, in the absence of any major event that would alter the status quo there is little to suggest that either side would be interested in subverting this order. Besides a reliable and cooperative economic partner in the region, the Ortega-Murillo regime has also proved an asset to Washington in terms of migration, in 2015 blocking the passage of thousands of Cubans heading to the United States from Costa Rica. While it could be regarded as the result of various factors, ² in practice the prohibition of Cuban passage through Nicaraguan territory served to curb the flow of migrants and most likely to dissuade others from leaving the island to take the Central American route to the United States. Roughly a year after the incident, President Barack Obama eliminated the long-held “wet foot–dry foot” policy for Cubans, the same that Ortega had publicly denounced as promoting illegal migration from the island (BBC Mundo, 2015).

Also, in line with its two-tiered revolutionary discourse, upon assuming power in 2006 Ortega had urged the United States to disburse a US$1 billion regional aid package to finance the war on drugs in Central America. Although aid in that amount has never materialized, the Ortega-Murillo regime has opposed efforts by other regional presidents to discuss drug legalization, instead accepting millions of dollars from the United States destined for Nicaraguan security forces. According to a 2012 report from the U.S. embassy in Managua (Davis, 2012), Nicaragua had done its part to “protect its territory as best it could with limited resources,” an end to which Washington economically contributed to establish “random checkpoints at strategic points on the national highway system.” ³

But the Nicaraguan government has not been alone in using a two-tiered approach to profitable bilateral relations. In 2016, in response to an election plagued by irregularities, U.S. Representative Ileana Ros-Lehtinen introduced the Nicaragua Investment Conditionality Act (NICA Act), seeking to block assistance from international financial institutions until the Nicaraguan government took “effective steps to hold free, fair, and transparent elections” (Wroughton and Pretel, 2016). In contrast, the Obama administration continued to maintain cordial relations with the Ortega-Murillo regime, limiting itself to expressing its “deep concern” for “the flawed presidential and legislative electoral process in Nicaragua.” Ros-Lehtinen’s bill never made it to the Senate floor, nor did Nicaragua face sanctions from the U.S. executive until after April 19. On July 5, 2018, the United States imposed sanctions on three top Nicaraguan officials under the Global Magnitsky Act, “accusing them of corruption and human rights violations” (Edmonson, 2018). In December 2018, Donald Trump signed the NICA Act into law. The sanctions against the Ortega-Murillo government should not be understood as born of a desire to asphyxiate an uncooperative or troublesome regime. Rather, they are best explained as the result of a political need to make a strong statement in the aftermath of April 19. With the U.S. midterm elections coming up a few months later, Nicaragua had the potential of becoming a hot topic among Latino voters. Neither Republicans nor Democrats could risk losing votes over the matter, making it necessary to send a message of where Congress and the president stood after the last string of events. Sanctions notwithstanding, however, bilateral commercial relations and U.S. foreign direct investment remained.

All this brings us back to the allegations of a U.S.-led soft-coup attempt. While it would be naïve to dismiss the Ortega-Murillo allegations, given the trajectory of U.S. interventionism in Nicaragua, there is not enough evidence to suggest their likelihood. ⁴ From the geopolitical standpoint, one possible rationale might have been Nicaragua’s increasing ties to governments on Washington’s watch list such as Venezuela, China, and Russia, but, besides expressing their solidarity with Nicaragua and voting against a 2021 UN resolution condemning human rights violations there, none of them took compelling action in defense of the Ortega-Murillo regime. A more likely scenario is that the massive protests served as a conduit for gathering numerous sectors with very different motivations. As in 1990, when parties ranging from the Conservatives to the Communists gathered under the flag of the National Opposition Union coalition to vote the FSLN out of power, the protests signified the tipping point of a set of grievances that had accumulated in Nicaraguan society over the years. ⁵ Among those who endorsed the protests were well-known figures from the right as well as people with solid socialist credentials who had abandoned their FSLN militancy for various reasons. Lastly, as the protests continued over time, many FSLN militants abandoned its ranks, either because they or their families were victims of government repression or because they saw a side of the Ortega-Murillo regime that they had not seen until then. The repressive overreaction of security forces, whose alleged victims were mostly young people and even children, produced a snowball effect that took popular indignation to a higher level. One possibility is that, in light of the way the events unfolded, some of the protesters could have sought the support of foreign agents to help them with resources for mobilization and logistical purposes. This is, however, a far cry from a well-thought-out, orchestrated effort to overthrow the government.

The fact that protesters ran the gamut of ideological preferences and political positions is key to understanding the driving force behind the protests and the way the government responded to them. The first days of the crisis were managed by Vice President Murillo. Ortega was nowhere to be found. The surprise element of the protests led Murillo to the erratic response of “shooting” in all directions to keep the unexpected threat at bay. It was not until after April 22, when Ortega made his first appearance, that a more sophisticated and calibrated response was implemented. In the weeks to come, bands of armed and masked FSLN militants took to the streets, often escorted by the police, to detect and raid the barricades that had been raised throughout the country. Many suspected protesters were arrested and taken to El Chipote, La Modelo, and La Esperanza prisons without their families’ knowing the charges or their exact whereabouts for days on end. The systematic (as opposed to random) repression had begun. According to the Office of the High Commissioner of the United Nations for Human Rights (OHCUNHR, 2018), from April thru August no fewer than 300 people were imprisoned for their participation in the protests. A report endorsed by the Inter-American Human Rights Commission of the Organization of American States said that in February 2021 12 more people were imprisoned for political reasons in the guise of crimes such as drug possession or trafficking, robbery, attempted manslaughter, and use of restricted weapons and that as of March 2021 there were 115 imprisoned for reasons related to the events of 2018. ⁶ That same month, Amnesty International reported that “1,614 political prisoners [had] passed through Nicaragua’s jails since the April 2018 rebellion, with different lengths of incarceration” (Envío, 2021).

As for deaths associated with the conflict, there are wide differences among reports. The OHCUNHR report cites various sources, of which the most conservative is the Nicaraguan police, who reported 192 deaths between April and July, allegedly all of them at the hands of opposition groups. On the other end, the Nicaraguan Association for Human Rights gave a preliminary estimate of 448 casualties, including 21 children, during the same period. Three years after, it is not known exactly how many deaths were intentional and how many accidental or how many were caused by state agents, by protesters, or by others. Anecdotal evidence reported several casualties of friendly fire among police officers, as well as cases of people caught in the crossfire or wounded or killed in the context of a looting episode. Perhaps one of the most reliable estimates was from the Mothers of April Association, made up of families of victims, which had gathered testimonials from survivors that led them to infer that most of the deaths were caused by repression of the state. ⁷ It attributed 325 deaths to government forces.

Three years after the 2018 uprising, where is Nicaragua headed? National elections are scheduled to take place in November 2021, and once again the Ortega-Murillo formula will represent the FSLN. This electoral contest has special significance because it will be the first time that Nicaraguans have gone to the polls since April 19. The electorate will speak to what happened then and the course the country has taken since. The Ortega-Murillo government knows that, and with good reason it is setting the stage to prevent an unexpected defeat like the one suffered by the FSLN in 1990. To date, the FSLN-dominated National Assembly has passed two laws and an electoral reform that effectively block the participation of opposition candidates and give absolute electoral advantage to the FSLN. The Law of Foreign Agents (No. 1040) and the Law for the Defense of the Rights of the People to Independence, Sovereignty, and Self-Determination for Peace (No. 1055) have the effect of preventing anyone accused of being a golpista from running for office. As for the reform to the Electoral Law (No. 331), it turned out to be, according to the electoral expert José Antonio Peraza (2021), “much less than the little that was expected” by the opposition. The changes to it include the elimination of international observers (leaving only electoral “companions”) and the tightening of controls and permits for partisan activities during the campaign. Lastly, the National Assembly nominated and confirmed seven new members for the Supreme Electoral Council, the branch of government that oversees elections, of whom six were identified as sympathizers of the FSLN. The opposition is united in its resistance to these changes.

Against the Ortega-Murillo regime, there are 10 aspirants to the presidency grouped in two different alliances: the National Coalition and the Citizens’ Alliance. Both are struggling at the time of writing (May 2021) to find common ground that would allow them to appear on a single ticket in the November election. As things stand, only a united front will allow them a real shot at defeating the presidential couple. Unequivocally, the FSLN remains the single most powerful and best-organized party in Nicaragua. Without a single candidate to face off against the Sandinistas, Nicaragua is likely facing five more years of FSLN government. We can expect a return to a modified version of the consensus model that existed prior to the 2018 rebellion, with more emphasis on the consolidation of a power structure founded upon close family ties as means to ensure the political continuation of the regime. It is likely to extend an olive branch to the business sector and seek to make amends to return to the path of economic growth. Out of self-interest, business is likely to accept the gesture.

At the end of 2020, fissures were already starting to show within COSEP; two of its member chambers sent a joint letter to Ortega asking for dialogue about a revision of the 2019 tax reform that increased the tax burden on entrepreneurs. Ten days later, COSEP President Michael Healy tweeted that the letter did not represent the feeling of the 26 chambers that made up his organization and added that, although it respected the position of those two chambers, COSEP “would continue demanding free elections, the liberty of prisoners, the return of exiles, and a halt to repression before engaging in any dialogue” (100% Noticias, 2020). Considering Nicaragua’s post-2018 economic downturn, COSEP’s position is not sustainable in the long run if the Ortega- Murillo government remains in power.

In terms of relations with the Catholic Church, the situation is different. While the religious discourse still constitutes an important pillar of Ortega-Murillo’s political projection to the Nicaraguan public, a relationship like the one that existed prior to 2018 does not seem plausible anytime soon. The Church has maintained a strong stance in its denunciation of human rights violations by the government and has had to pay a price in return. ⁸ The damaged relationship between the Catholic hierarchy and the government has led the regime to seek increased support from the Evangelical sector. Besides the granting of hundreds of property titles to Evangelical churches of various denominations (La Voz del Sandinismo, 2020), ⁹ a powerful indicator of the partnership between Evangelicals and the government has been the creation of the Reconciliation, Justice, and Peace Commissions led by FSLN congressman Carlos Emilio López. Since 2018 these commissions, composed of government sympathizers and Evangelical pastors, have been working toward the “objective of contributing to overcome the situation of confrontation imposed by the failed coup attempt” by “promoting and practicing social convergence, human encounters, peaceful coexistence, and reconciliation among peoples, all this connected with the programs and laws promoted by [the] government of reconciliation and national unity” (Ortega Ramírez, 2019). In practical terms, they have served as a public relations campaign for the government at the grassroots level, promoting the idea that, despite what happened, they are willing to forgive and move forward. To date, thousands of communities have participated in their activities while political opponents of the government continue to be watched and imprisoned.

If a unified opposition were to win the presidency, a convoluted term could be expected. Ortega would be likely to revive the pledge he made upon accepting his defeat in the 1990 election—that the FSLN would continue “governing from below.” In practice, that meant preventing the National Opposition Union government from rolling back the achievements of the Revolution, dismantling the state, and implementing a neoliberal counterreform. It also meant defending the massive transfer by the outgoing Sandinista government, in the wake of the 1990 elections, of state assets to individual Sandinistas, collectives, and the FSLN in what became known as la piñata. This time around, and depending on the agenda of the prospective new government, “governing from below” is more likely to mean defending the shares of power accumulated by the Ortega-Murillo regime in the past decade and a half to continue exerting strong influence in the national economic arena. Given that their power is grounded in family-controlled private interests ¹⁰ and not, as in the 1980s, in the institutions of a revolutionary government, this might be a tougher sell. At the same time, if any new government made the mistake of doing away with many of the social programs implemented by the FSLN, this would give the Ortega-Murillo regime what it needed to portray itself, once again, as defending the rights of the people.

Currently, the FSLN controls 140 out of 153 municipalities in the country. As noted by Peraza (2021), leading a new government with 140 out of 153 municipalities in the hands of the FSLN poses a formidable challenge. This is not only because Sandinista mayors will serve as a powerful countervailing force capable of limiting the reach of presidential policies at the local level but also because they will have the ability to mobilize and push through, for better or for worse, FSLN initiatives that could be financed through ALBA de Nicaragua, S.A., and potentially other economic entities controlled by the Ortega-Murillo family and its close associates.

As things stand, the idea of the emergence of a viable political option to advance a redistributive agenda in favor of the impoverished majorities is far-fetched. The one aspiration that unites those who seek to remove the Ortega-Murillo regime from power is a return to the rule of law and the protection of individual rights. The opposition, already vulnerable, would likely be further weakened by resistance from the right wing within its ranks were more progressive elements to push for an agenda involving redistribution or other social justice measures.

One thing is certain: the April rebellion unveiled the presence of numerous young leaders born after 1990 and unaligned with the traditional parties. They grew up amidst the harsh reality of the neoliberal counterreform and without being exposed directly to war and inherited many of the values with which Nicaraguans resisted and fought for what they thought was right. Those values, however, coexist with a new notion of the left, more inclusive, less partisan, more wide-ranging in its political scope. In this new conception, the caudillos of old are gradually losing ground, and here is where I see hope.

In August 2008, the leader of Nicaragua’s National Literacy Crusade, Fernando Cardenal, gave an interview in which he predicted that “youth [would] return to the streets to make history” and explained: ¹¹

Two conditions are needed for young persons, adults, human beings, to commit themselves: first a great, noble, important cause—if it is difficult, even better. . . . Society is not offering them any cause. There is no one saying, “We are going to do such-and-such a thing.” And the second thing is for the one who says, “Let’s go,” to have moral authority. When the cause and a moral authority that calls us to do something come together, young persons, adults, human beings will devote themselves [to that cause].

After April 19, the first of Cardenal’s two conditions was met. Today there is a cause in Nicaragua. The problem is that the leaders saying, “Let’s go,” lack the moral authority to gather the masses. Many other Nicaraguans have come out of this juncture with enough moral authority to confront the status quo and lead others into action. Perhaps it is simply that the time is not ripe or that they need further projection for more people to heed their call. But in time, I venture to say, April 19 is likely to be known as the door leading to a new era of progressive change inspired by the same spirit that led Nicaragua to make headlines on July 19, 1979.