Since the popular uprising that, in April of 2018, surprised Nicaragua and much of the world, what was already a de facto institutional dictatorship under Daniel Ortega, along with his wife and vice president Rosario Murillo, has since converted into a military dictatorship. The presidential pair fiercely stamped out the flares of rebellion in May and June of that year, using the national police and former combatants as paramilitary goons. More than 300 people dead, the majority university youth, 800 political prisoners, and more than 100,000 exiled was the result of the protests the students launched in response to a proposed change in a social security law. Since those first days, and up until today, the crackdown has not paused. The government has used force, intimidation, and the majority of the obedient National Assembly to push forward stricter and stricter laws intended to asphyxiate the still-beating and unbending resistance.
Before taking over media outlets such as Confidencial, Esta Semana, and Esta Noche, directed by Caros Fernando Chamorro, or the cable show 100% Noticias whose director Miguel Mora and press chief Lucía Pineda Ubau were jailed for eight months for “inciting hate,” Nicaraguan journalism in the past few years developed digital versions or launched completely new outlets. Social media, for its part, remains a daily swarm of news and opinion that continuously challenges the regime. Through these outlets we learn of daily kidnappings, arbitrary detentions, threats and harassment that keep resistance leaders from leaving their homes or freely transiting through the country.
The citizens’ resistance that the regime has failed in silencing, such as the planning of an array of organizations and opposition parties working to consolidate a united block to confront Ortega in the 2021 elections, are why, in the last weeks of November, Ortega’s National Assembly introduced and swiftly approved three laws that seek to strangle the freedom of expression and to cut off foreign financing for political parties, NGOs, or independent media outlets. At the same time, they reformed the Nicaraguan constitution to allow for lifetime sentences instead of the previous maximum of 30 years in prison.
The new Cyber Crimes law promises prison time and property confiscation to people who defame, propagate false news, incite hate, or act in a manner that the state considers “a threat to national security.” The law is written in such ambiguous terms that the Justice Department, completely controlled by the regime, has broad powers to characterize practically any publication as criminal. The law can even be used against a Nicaraguan who, living abroad, writes “unacceptable” criticisms on social media, and threatens to request their extradition to submit them to the full force of the law.
The Foreign Agents Law, meanwhile, forces any citizen who receives financing from foreign governments, foundations, or NGOs to register as a foreign agent. People who are thus registered lose their right to political participation, they cannot run for office or be appointed to a public office, or be involved in politics. The law, nicknamed Putin’s Law for its similarities to a measure taken in Russia, is a bald attempt — especially right before elections and during a period of growth in digital media outlets — to cut further funding, and it comes on top of already restrictive conditions.
Using acts of violence that have shaken the country, such as the rape and murder of young girls, or the scourge of femicides that have taken the life of 70 women this year, Ortega has also brought about life sentencing for crimes of “hate” and cruelty. Once again with the intention of dragging down the opposition, Vice President Murillo frequently levies such accusations against political enemies, wielding what amounts to a Damocles’ sword against critics who are subjected to judges and trials controlled by the governing party.
Since 2018, the Ortega regime has described these protests as a coup attempt financed by the U.S. government. Starting in 1990, when Violeta Chamorro took power, and lasting until 2006, when Ortega returned to power, the Nicaraguan National Police professionalized and became nonpartisan. That ended under the current regime’s heavy, repressive arm. The police’s quick transformation since has been alarming. The viciousness with which the police raid the homes of Nicaraguans without legal warrants, or the way officers stand before homes to block the exit of their inhabitants, has brought to memory the nefarious role played by Somoza’s National Guard. Led by Francisco Díaz, the father-in-law of one of Ortega’s children, the Nicaraguan police force has been stripped of its old cadres and populated by new officers and personnel whose loyalty to the Ortega regime turns them into a threat to those labeled “golpistas” — “coup plotters” — who are treated as criminals. In the state’s prisons, numerous cases of torture have come to light, and the one hundred and nine political prisoners who remain in detention regularly face denigrating treatment.
It is estimated that Ortega and Murillo’s popular support has shrunk to about 20 to 25 percent over the last few years, while the public’s discontent grows. The level of repression and the recently enacted laws clearly indicate that the governing couple is willing to defend its power come hell or high water. The couple’s vigilance is a constant on the streets and avenues of the city. Any attempt to protest results in calls for hundreds of anti-riot police units.
Given that there is an extended consensus among parties, organizations and residents that an armed uprising is not the means of achieving change, the majority of Nicaraguans hope that it will be possible, with international pressure, to obtain from the regime a promise that the November 2021 elections will be held under rules that ensure that no electoral fraud will occur. It is unlikely that Ortega will agree to any conditions that could put his power at risk. There is still no clear answer on whether it is worth it to even participate in the election. The Nicaraguan opposition has encountered multiple obstacles in its search for unity among its different forces but, despite the highs and lows, the process continues.
To top this distressing news, Nicaraguans are currently navigating the pandemic with a blindfold as the government isn’t providing accurate information, Plus the country was hit in November by two hurricanes, Eta and Iota, which destroyed crops and left the nation’s Atlantic region in ruin.
Nicaragua seems to be the land of Sisyphus, the mythological character forced to push a boulder to the top of a hill only to see it roll back down to his starting point.
“Where should I hide this country of my soul so no one else can hurt it?” I once wrote in a poem. As a survivor of the fight to bring down Anastasio Somoza in 1979, I never imagined that I would encounter yet another tyrant in my lifetime. Still, I’m fighting against pessimism and I force myself daily to see the beauty of my country and remain optimistic that I will not die without once again seeing it free. After all, a nation’s fight against major obstacles is not foreign to me.
