Omar keeps his eyes on the road as his taxi pulls into La Campanera, in Soyapango, eastern San Salvador. He rolls off without hesitation, as if surprised by his audacity. The street is lit by a few shops open late in the evening. Children are playing. Passersby walk quietly, without hurrying their pace. Three years ago, this journey was unthinkable.
For decades, El Salvador lived under the law of maras. This small country of 6.3 million inhabitants was then among the most violent states in the world. Entire neighborhoods escaped state authority. The gangs decided everything: who could enter, leave, work, live. The country had become synonymous with fear, extortion and daily deaths. The coming to power of Nayib Bukele marked a brutal break. In March 2022, after a weekend of violence that left 87 dead, the president declared a state of emergency and launched an unprecedented security offensive: mass arrests, deployment of the army, resumption of territories controlled by gangs, construction of a megaprison. In three years, the face of the country has changed.
Today, according to the authorities, nearly 90,000 people are detained, including around 25,000 in Cecot, the giant prison inaugurated in 2023. The homicide rate has collapsed. And in neighborhoods formerly controlled by the infamous MS-13 or Barrio 18, daily life has returned to normal. It was to these formerly banned colonies that JDNews visited.
“Before, we left people near the main road, at a correct time,” Omar continues, maneuvering through the narrow streets of Soyapango. To enter here was to risk one’s life. » A taxi driver for thirty years, he carefully avoided these areas of the capital for fifteen years. La Campanera and La Margarita were among those areas where taxis did not enter. At night, no one was moving around. Today, Omar drives straight and is almost surprised at this regained freedom.
Reinvesting neighborhoods
At the entrance to the colony, Camila, 51, observes the street from her small improvised sales post. She lived here twenty-five years before leaving. “I left the neighborhood in 2015 with my daughters. It had become unbearable. We lived in constant fear”she says. She came back recently. “Today, thanks to the government, I feel safe. People can’t imagine the level of violence we faced. »
Bryan is 32 years old. He is a street vendor and grew up in La Campanera. He speaks without anger, as one lists once obvious rules. “Everything was controlled. To work, to open a business, you had to pay every week. If someone refused, they received threats, and sometimes disappeared. Certain streets were off-limits depending on which gang controlled the area. Crossing the wrong street could cost your life. » Around him, poverty is still there. On certain facades, bullet holes remain visible. However, children play outside, businesses close later, buses run without being charged. “Tranquility has returned”he admits. Then he adds, further down: “But after so many years of violence, people remain suspicious. » Even real estate has changed. “The houses here were worth next to nothing two years ago. Today, prices have tripled, sometimes quadrupled. »
“After the security miracle, we want the economic miracle”
In the neighboring municipality of Apopa, once marked by deadly clashes between gangs, military patrols still punctuate daily life. Escorted by soldiers during a patrol, the Minister of Defense René Francis Merino Monroy assumes this constant presence. “The homicide rate has fallen from 106 per 100,000 residents in 2015 to around 1.3 today. These are the results of continuous intelligence work, targeted operations and the resumption of territories controlled by the pandillas (another name for the maras). » According to him, the objective is no longer just to neutralize the gangs, but to prevent their reconstitution. “Approximately 5,000 members are still at large. We must remain present and visible. In some areas, the army had not entered for decades. Now the State is there. »
In the historic center of San Salvador, this presence is less martial, but just as visible in its effects. Where drug trafficking and prostitution once reigned, the terraces are full until late at night. The national library never closes. “Before, you could rob a tourist at any time”testifies the manager of a shop near the cathedral. Driven by the spectacular improvement in security, tourism has become one of the country’s driving forces. El Salvador welcomed nearly four million visitors in 2025. Better yet, expatriates are returning, as are investors.
Met in San Salvador, Vice-President Félix Ulloa summarizes the official ambition: to transform the newfound stability into sustainable economic development. Infrastructure, ports, airports, jobs: the government wants to turn the page on a country reduced to violence. “After the security miracle, we want the economic miracle”he professes. The expansion of the international airport has begun, as has the modernization of the ports of Acajutla and La Union, which the government wants to transform into regional logistics hubs. The result will be thousands of jobs in the coming years.
In neighborhoods formerly dominated by maras, many are enjoying this new tranquility, without yet daring to completely believe in it. Fear has retreated from the streets, but the facades of buildings often retain the scars of this violence. She remains remembered. Here, peace is real. She is also closely monitored.
