In early May, the farming cooperative of El Bosque in Santa Tecla, one ofEl Salvador’s largest cities, received an eviction notice; a new battle in a decades-old fight for land. In response, community members organised a peaceful sit-in nearhardline President Nayib Bukele’s private residence, hoping to appeal directly for help.
Instead, they were confronted by military police.The protest ended in five detentions: four members of the cooperative and its lawyer.
The arrests were met by a wave of panic. The cooperative’s president, José Ángel Pérez, and Alejandro Henríquez, a lawyer and human rights activist supporting the group, were formally charged with public disorder. Under the government’s extended “state of exception”, which suspends certain constitutional protections, their legal status has caused uncertainty among people in El Bosque.
“Our leaders have been detained without cause just for speaking out. That is not a crime,” says Douglas, a cooperative member who prefers not to reveal his surname. “They took them to send us a message. If we organise, we’ll be next.”
According to another person who requested anonymity, members of the nearly 300 families being displaced attempted to leave El Bosque to join the protest that day but were stopped at a police checkpoint about 9km (6 miles) from the village.
Cars were turned back or the occupants fined $150 (£110), forcing many to continue on foot. The protest outside Bukele’s luxury Los Sueños home ended when military police and riot police arrived. “They hit many of us when we tried to stop them from taking our leaders,” the resident says.
El Bosque is not just any piece of land. Like many others in El Salvador, it was granted to landless peasants duringthe 12-year civil warthat started in 1980. Land redistribution was promised as a key step toward peace and social justice, a process that led to the formation of hundreds of rural cooperatives.
On the day of the protest, Bukeleposted a thread on X accusing the protestersof being manipulated by “self-proclaimed leftist groups and globalist NGOs”, whose real goal, he claimed, is to “attack the government”. In the same thread, he announced a new tax change that would withhold 30% from all foreign donations to local NGOs, a move likely to affect organisations involved in rural and human rights defence.
Originally justified as a tool to counter gang violence in El Salvador,the state of exception has now been extended more than 38 times. Critics argue it is increasingly used in contexts involving environmental or land-related conflict. On 20 May, the legislative assembly passed the foreign agents law, which imposes additional financial and legal requirements on NGOs that receive international funding.
“They turned the right to defend rights and peaceful protest into crimes,” says Ingrid Escobar, director ofSocorro Jurídico Humanitario(Humanitarian Legal Aid). “They have effectively applied the mechanisms of the state of exception, even though this is not a gang-related case. The leaders have been held longer than the law permits.”
This concern is supported by the attorney general’s charging document, which explicitly states that the charges against Pérez and Henríquez – public disorder and aggressive resistance – fall under the framework of the state of exception, citing national security justifications established by emergency decrees since March 2022.
The case of El Bosque resonates beyond Santa Tecla. In a coastal cooperative near the airport megaproject, Elmer Martínez and 35 households face eviction by 20 June. “My six acres of farmland were taken without compensation. I’m trying to get one last harvest from the land,” he says. “We never asked for much – just to live where we’ve always lived.”
Although the housing ministry has started building him a new home, Martínez adds, “I won’t stop until every family in my community has their property titles.”
According to Ángel Flores, a spokesperson for the rural advocacy groupMilpa, at least 45 similar land disputes are under way across the country.
“Megaprojects, extractivism, real estate and tourism developments, and agribusiness are all driving a new wave of dispossession,” Flores says. “About 11,000 families are in extreme vulnerability.” These families often face legal uncertainty and sudden eviction notices, backed by the presence of police or private security.
In the coastal village of Punta Mango, near thenewly inaugurated Surf City 2 project, fisher Rosa Romero describes how her community, settled more than three decades ago, has never received formal land titles from the state.
“We’ve lived here for more than 30 years. But now, with Surf City 2, people have shown up claiming to own this land,” she says, adding that the arrival of tourism-linked businesses has put mounting pressure on local people. “We’re about 300 families, and they’re pushing us out. We just want the government to recognise our right to stay.”
InEl Salvador, environmental assessments are rare, and local people are often excluded from consultations. Legal ambiguity, especially civil war-era unresolved land titles, has become a central point of tension in development projects. The 1980s land redistribution programme aimed to address rural inequality by transferring land to subsistence farmers. But many titles were never recognised by later governments, leaving communities vulnerable to dispossession.
Passed just days after the El Bosque arrests, El Salvador’s new foreign agents law requires any organisation receiving international funds to register with the interior ministry and pay a 30% tax on such donations. The authorities can impose fines and revoke the legal status of non-compliant organisations.
Bukele has presented the measure as a means to enhance transparency and national sovereignty. He also suggested that the revenue generated could help address debts related to the El Bosque land dispute.
Critics argue that the law not only fails to specify how the taxed money would be used but could also weaken civil society by restricting legal aid, curtailing public participation and reducing the operational capacity of NGOs and independent media.
Bukele has used his platforms to discredit NGOs, accusing them of staging protests and opposing development initiatives and portraying civil society groups as being aligned to foreign interests. Several NGOs are considering shutting downor relocating staff. Legal aid groups warn they may no longer be able to represent communities such as El Bosque.
The removal of the communities of El Triunfo, Las Granadillas and Cooperativa El Bosque has beentemporarily suspended by the courtswithout any reason being given for the suspension – but the fear remains. Police are still posted nearby, and local people tread cautiously. The decision to impose pretrial detention for Pérez and Henríquez added to the sense of despair in El Bosque.
Milpa’s Flores says: “We are witnessing a national project to redistribute and centralise land under the guise of modernisation and legal order. The legal system is no longer a neutral referee. It’s becoming a tool to decide who gets to belong.”