El Salvador Passes New Law Allowing Presidents to Be Reelected Without Limits and Extends Term Length to Six Years

So, imagine this.

You wake up one morning and find out your country just quietly rewrote the rules—rules that were supposed to protect democracy—and barely anyone blinked. That’s what just happened in El Salvador.

On Thursday, lawmakers from President Nayib Bukele’s party voted to approve a set of constitutional changes that could change everything. And when I say everything, I mean it. These changes now allow Bukele—or any future president—to be reelected indefinitely. Forever. No term limits. No second-round elections. Just one vote, one round, and boom—back in power. Again and again.

And the craziest part? This isn’t exactly a surprise.

Back in 2021, Bukele’s party took over Congress and swiftly removed the constitutional court judges—the very people meant to stop things like this. That was the first crack. Then came the reelection in 2024, which happened even though the constitution said he couldn’t run again. But the new judges, handpicked by his party, waved it through. And people cheered.

Because here’s the thing—Bukele is incredibly popular. He promised to crush the country’s violent gangs, and in the eyes of many, he delivered. Neighborhoods that once felt like war zones now feel safer. For a country long haunted by crime, that kind of peace feels like a miracle. People trust him. They believe in him. They call him a savior.

Even when the cost was enormous—tens of thousands arrested in a sweeping crackdown, human rights groups silenced, lawyers jailed, critics exiled—his support only grew. The fear people once had of gangs? It’s now turned into a different kind of fear: speaking out.

Now that Donald Trump has returned to the White House, Bukele isn’t standing alone—he’s got a powerful friend in his corner. In a bold move, he offered to take in hundreds of deportees, placing them in a massive prison originally designed for gang members. It’s clear—while others are still figuring out the game, Bukele’s already ten moves ahead.

Not everyone is cheering, though. One brave lawmaker, Marcela Villatoro, stood up and said what so many are afraid to: “Democracy in El Salvador has died.”

Because when one man can change the rules, eliminate checks, rewrite terms, and silence opposition, is it still democracy? Or is it something else entirely?

Here’s the chilling part—Bukele hasn’t said a single word about the vote. But honestly, he didn’t have to. The silence is the message—and everyone hears it loud and clear.

In the end, maybe the question isn’t whether El Salvador still has a democracy.

Maybe the question is: how many people are willing to give it up for the illusion of peace?

And how long until the rest of the world follows?