Walk into a courtroom in San Salvador right now, and you won't see individual justice at work. You'll see a stadium-like assembly line where hundreds of defendants are tried at the exact same moment. President Nayib Bukele’s celebrated crackdown on gangs has transformed the nation's homicide rates, but the mechanism keeping that security machine running is built on collective, mass trials that strip away individual accountability.
If you want to understand how a country trades constitutional guarantees for temporary safety, look no further than the courtrooms where hundreds face charges bundled together under vague umbrella offenses. For a more detailed analysis into this area, we suggest: this related article.
The Mechanics of Collective Justice
For years, the story out of El Salvador was simple: a brutal crackdown, the suspension of constitutional rights under a permanent state of emergency, and the construction of massive megaprisons designed to hold tens of thousands of suspected gang members from groups like MS-13 and Barrio 18. But as the detained population ballooned past 90,000 people, the judicial system faced a logistical wall. Traditional trials for every individual arrest would take decades.
The state's solution was mass trials. Authorities began grouping hundreds of defendants together based on broad organizational ties rather than distinct criminal actions. A single public defender might find themselves assigned to hundreds of people simultaneously. For additional context on this issue, comprehensive coverage can be read at Reuters.
Prosecutors rely heavily on a catch-all crime known as unlawful association. This charge doesn't require proof that someone pulled a trigger or sold drugs. It criminalizes anyone who allegedly promotes, helps, or benefits from a gang structure in any way. When the state brings these charges in bulk, the courtroom procedure turns into a formality.
Weak Evidence and Secret Witnesses
How do you secure convictions for hundreds of people at once without an endless paper trail? You lean entirely on a standardized script.
Legal watchdogs and human rights reports reveal that the evidence in these mass proceedings usually consists of three recurring items:
- A standardized police arrest report.
- A police-generated criminal profile of the defendant.
- Testimony from anonymous, protected witnesses who have secured plea deals.
In many cases reviewed by human rights organizations, these anonymous witnesses offer sweeping, uncorroborated claims without specifying dates, locations, or concrete actions. A witness might label a defendant as a lookout or a collaborator without providing any context. When defense attorneys point out that their clients are local fishermen, farmers, or housewives with zero gang ties, judges frequently side with the protected witnesses anyway.
The conviction rate in these collective hearings sits near 100 percent. Sentences of 30, 45, or even 60 years are handed down en masse, completely bypassing individual assessments of guilt or innocence.
The Shrinking Space for Defense
Practicing criminal defense in El Salvador under these conditions has become nearly impossible. Lawyers report being blocked from reviewing case files properly, with judges often slapping strict seals on documents or limiting access to courthouse visits only. Private consultations with defendants are restricted, and the overwhelming caseload leaves public defenders stretched thin across hundreds of clients.
The financial backing for public defense has lagged far behind the staggering volume of arrests. With hundreds of cases per defender, meaningful individualized defense is structurally choked out. Meanwhile, a pervasive climate of fear discourages independent attorneys and witnesses from speaking out or pushing back against procedural shortcuts.
The Cost of Safe Streets
Bukele remains wildly popular domestically because the strategy delivered what decades of previous administrations could not: streets free from the constant extortion and violence of transnational gangs. Citizens who once lived in mortal terror can now walk through neighborhoods that were previously no-go zones.
That trade-off—immense security bought at the price of civil liberties and due process—presents a profound dilemma. Supporters argue that extreme measures were the only way to rescue a failed state from criminal domination. Critics warn that building a judicial system designed to convict hundreds at a time with virtually no mechanism to separate the innocent from the guilty creates a ticking time bomb of wrongful incarcerations.
When hundreds of people stand in a single dock and face identical decades-long sentences based on a police report and an anonymous whisper, the definition of justice shifts entirely. El Salvador chose its path to peace, but the long-term consequences of mass, secretive trials are only just beginning to unfold.
