Colombia

This morning, I had the privilege of testifying before the U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations at a hearing titled “Venezuela: Options for U.S. Policy.” Also joining me before the committee were David Smilde, Senior Fellow, Washington Office on Latin America, and Mark Feierstein, Senior Associate, Americas Program Center for Strategic and International Studies. You can read my written testimony, the written testimonies of my fellow witnesses, and watch a recording of the hearing on the U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations website.  

The Colombian government and FARC rebels have signed a historic peace agreement that charts a path to sustainable peace after decades of civil war.

Pollsters’ best bets were radically overturned in Colombia Sunday, as widespread apathy and torrential rains dampened turnout in the referendum on the peace deal. Opponents of the deal appeared as surprised as anyone at their own victory, triumphing by fewer than 55,000 votes in a country of 33 million voters. Abstention topped 60 percent, and the “No” side won with the support of less than one-fifth of total voters, by a margin of 0.16 percent of those eligible to vote. As the Washington Post’s Nick Miroff noted in a fast reaction piece, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) are probably the biggest losers of this surprising upset: voters did not buy the guerillas’ makeover into legitimate political actors or feel the need to offer them concessions, such as limited jail time or guaranteed legislative representation. President Juan Manuel Santos and his exhausted negotiators come a close second in the losing column. Although holding the plebiscite may now look like a mistake, it should be noted that there were good reasons to go down this path: the possibility of the plebiscite gave negotiators leverage to extract concessions in Havana, promised greater legitimacy, and was procedurally far preferable to the constitutional convention that the FARC had initially demanded. But now four years of very intense negotiations have landed in the dustbin, the opposition led by former President Álvaro Uribe will be emboldened, and any new deal seems likely to face an even steeper uphill battle. Several unanswered questions will guide developments in the aftermath of this cataclysmic vote: Did the Santos administration and the FARC mean it in September when they repeatedly said that this was the only deal possible? Both FARC leader Timochenko and Santos seemed to walk back their previous statements on Sunday night. Promisingly, Santos pledged to keep the ceasefire in effect and Timochenko said negotiations would resume. But the bargaining space for the government side has shrunk dramatically, which suggests that the only real way forward is through concessions by the FARC. Given that such concessions would probably involve losses that were unacceptable to the FARC the first time around—surrendering political rights or accepting jail time, for example—it is hard to envision the path forward. This leads to a second question: how representative is Timochenko’s leadership of the FARC? There were already small pockets of opposition to the deal reported within the FARC, and failure to achieve success in the voting booth could presumably further undermine leaders’ internal standing. The FARC leadership has already made costly concessions premised on peace, including opening the group to outside observers, initial demobilization, and the destruction of munitions. How strong is the current leadership’s grip on the force, and how many new concessions can the FARC negotiators make without losing internal support? More generally, what does the FARC do next? News reports out of the guerillas’ 10th Conference suggested that many fighters were looking forward to life at peace, sleeping in the open and starting up normal lives. Does the FARC have the capacity to return to violent opposition if negotiations falter, or has the past six months’ movement toward peace sapped individual fighters’ resolve? Do renewed negotiations serve as cover for regrouping, or is there genuine commitment to finding a deal? What form does a new peace deal take? The Constitutional Court’s August ruling on the peace deal suggested that the government would be not be permitted to implement any of the deal if it were rejected at the ballot box. But could there be a workaround through passage of alternative legislative bills, as La Semana suggested in a post-vote analysis? Or would legislating an alternative deal without the cover of a popular plebiscite be politically suicidal, if voters feel that the October 2 results should only really be overturned by another national vote?Already, Santos seems to be suggesting by his actions—including the return of negotiators to Havana and a call for broad discussion among all the political parties—that a new deal is the only way forward. But there may be a broad gamut of potential alternative strategies, ranging from deepening the ceasefire and complementing it with legislative changes that provide partial gains, to calling a constituent assembly to address the issue. There is also, of course, the possibility of simply throwing in the towel, and waiting for the next president to deal with this in 2018. But Santos seems to have staked too much on a deal to spend the next two years sitting on his hands as a lame duck. What will the opposition do with this unexpected victory? It seems unlikely that the “No” victory would lead to Santos’ resignation, as some uribistas initially hinted, but how does the opposition translate this political manna into concrete policy? Does the victory enable Uribe or other opponents to push for a return to a get-tough policy against the FARC? Does it allow them to push for concessions for government actors, such as military personnel, involved in wrongdoing during the war? And is there any possible peace made by the Santos government that the uribistas could be convinced to support? Uribe seemed to be carefully calibrating his message on Sunday night: perhaps recognizing the narrow win and fearing a backlash, he noted that all Colombians want peace, but not any peace. How will the opposition position themselves next, and what levers will they use to ensure that they continue to be heard? Correction: October 5, 2016 An earlier version of this blog post included the following sentence. “Rural areas, which have been the primary victims of the violence, voted strongly against the agreement.” This was based on an early report from the Miami Herald. More recent data suggests that rural areas nationwide may not have lined up quite so solidly against the deal. Therefore, we have removed this assertion and thank our readers for their eye to detail.

We are ten days away from Colombia’s momentous October 2 plebiscite on the peace deal. Current polling suggests voters will choose “Sí,” bringing to an end a war that has killed nearly a quarter of a million Colombians and displaced as many as seven million more over the past half century. But although the outlook for approving the deal is good, the battle for the peace will be far longer and more uncertain, requiring a sustained effort for years to come. Five aspects of implementation are particularly thorny, with the fifth—funding the high cost of implementing the deal—undergirding all the rest: First, forgiveness. Acceptance of former members of the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionárias de Colombia (FARC) as legitimate political actors will be difficult for many Colombians, and suspended prison terms and the guarantees of FARC representation in the lower chamber and Senate stick in many a craw. The crimes committed by the FARC—bombings, kidnappings, conscription of minors as soldiers, disappearances, and drug running chief among them—may have had some justification in the revolutionary mindset of the FARC, but they have left deep and open wounds that will require the government to invest in providing security for its old foes. A determined revenge-seeker could easily destabilize the long-elusive peace. Second, creating and embedding an effective Colombian state. There is no hyperbole in the observation that the Colombian state has been weak and ineffective across large swathes of its territory. Indeed, one of the posited causes of the FARC’s success was precisely that it filled a vacuum in areas of the country that were alternately ignored or abdicated to local strongmen. Reclaiming Colombian territory will require massive investments in the more than a quarter of Colombia’s municipalities (nearly 300 out of 1,100) that were under de facto control by non-state actors. It also requires increasing social spending for the 1 in 3 Colombians who live in rural areas, who have borne the brunt of the fighting and are far poorer and less educated, on average, than their urban peers. Reaching these areas is a peacemaking challenge as well, given the widespread use of landmines by the warring parties: the United States and Norway this week committed to assist with the removal of landmines, contributing funds that will help the Colombians with the estimated $300 million price tag for mine removal. Third, preventing non-state actors from emerging in ungoverned spaces. The bulk of FARC forces will begin demobilizing next week, just ahead of the referendum, and congregating into special concentration zones for six months following. One of the most important challenges will be bringing these former combatants into the legal economy, after years in which many were deeply involved in violent and illegal contraband. The FARC long justified its claims by pointing to the inequality of land distribution, and partly as a consequence, land reform became a key pillar of the peace deal. The UN has committed to helping formalize land titles in rural areas, assisting a new national land agency that will redistribute as much as three million hectares and raise the formal land titling rate from its abysmal current level, estimated at only 52 percent of landholdings. The deal also commits the government to providing subsidies to former combatants for two years, with one-time payments of about $3,500 to those who surrender their weapons, as well as a monthly allowance. But land reform and temporary subsidies alone are a small carrot: other economic alternatives need to be made available to former combatants to prevent them from simply turning to other illicit activities in which their military training would provide them with a comparative advantage. Fourth, and related: reducing the recrudescent drug trade. The Santos government’s suspension of aerial glyphosate spraying of cocaine has not been accompanied by effective manual eradication efforts, and what efforts are being made have been hampered by local resistance. As a consequence, drug production is estimated to have expanded by nearly 40 percent in 2015, nearly double the low recorded in 2012. Whatever one’s perspective on the effectiveness of the drug war, the simple fact is that on the ground, larger crop production means more potential revenues for organized illicit groups, whether these are criminal or political in nature. Already, there are fears that the National Liberation Army (ELN; which has not participated in the peace deal) or criminal groups might take control of the huge portion of the trade—estimated at 60 to 70 percent of total national production—that might be freed up by the FARC’s exit. New criminal groups are reportedly emerging in former FARC territories, and the possibility that several thousand former FARC members could suddenly swell the ranks of the bacrim (bandas criminales, or criminal gangs) bodes poorly. No one is so naïve as to think that the peace will bring a complete end to violence—especially given the large numbers of armed forces operating in Colombia. But it would be a shame if it were to generate destabilizing new criminal organizations or spark a bloody contest for the FARC’s old territories. Fifth, and underlying all the other challenges, paying for peace. The cost of the multipronged effort described above has been estimated at between $31 billion and $90 billion over the next decade. In other words, somewhere between 0.8 and 2.4 percent of GDP each year for the next ten years, in addition to all of the other pressing needs facing Colombia. This is at a time of falling oil revenues, a depreciating peso, a fiscal deficit that is approaching 4 percent of GDP, and a threatened downgrade in the country’s sovereign debt rating. The Santos government’s tax reform proposal—expected to go forward by the end of the year—will be closely watched to see how committed Colombian legislators are to financing the peace. But it will be insufficient on its own, especially because significant amounts of money and willpower for post-conflict reconstruction will be needed quickly. For all of the gains of recent years, the Colombian government is clearly stronger on the military-security front than it has been in post-conflict civilian reconstruction efforts. Already, there is a clear split emerging between urban and rural areas with regard to support for the peace deal, which suggests that urban support for the required post-conflict spending may diminish over time. Adding to the complications will be the upcoming 2018 presidential elections, which could further fracture support, given that the leading candidates will not have many incentives to fully endorse the deal. In Washington, the peace deal is being heralded on both sides of the aisle as a vindication of the huge investment in Plan Colombia. Indeed, the plan invested $10 billion dollars over sixteen years, with clear consequences in terms of degrading the capabilities of the FARC and increasing the effectiveness of the Colombian state, both of which contributed to driving a deal. But while it is welcome, the half billion dollars that the U.S. Congress is moving in rare bipartisan fashion to contribute to the peace effort next year probably represents only around one-twentieth of the annual cost of doing peace right. If past experience is any guide, furthermore, there will be enormous temptations for budget appropriators to move on to other pressing needs as time goes by and the flaws of the peace process become more apparent. Other countries that stand to gain from the peace seem even less willing to contribute. It would be a tragedy if the peace deal were to receive public approval on October 2 only for the peace itself to fail. From a U.S. perspective, a failed peace would endanger a nearly two-decade-long strategic effort. It would undermine a key ally in security matters, which has become especially valued for its role in sharing hard-earned expertise in combating drug trafficking and organized crime with Latin American neighbors. From a Colombian perspective, the peace is potentially one of the most momentous historical breaks since the late 1940s. The FARC appears to be largely a spent force, but the conditions that permitted it to emerge and become a potent problem remain. Difficult though it will be, there may never be a better opportunity for Colombia to create an effective state presence in the countryside or to rein in illicit non-state actors.

The Colombian peace process began in 2012, and by June 2016, appeared to have reached preliminary agreement on a deal that would result in the cessation of hostilities, ending a war that has killed more than a quarter of a million Colombians. Yet somewhat surprisingly, while the deal was initially celebrated as a milestone, recent polling suggests that a declining share of Colombians would actually support it: 39 percent in August, down from 56 percent in July. The reasons for opposition are multiple, including belief that some abuses by the FARC are too atrocious to merit amnesty, annoyance at the possibility that FARC representatives may be given congressional seats, fear that state capacity to effectively implement the accords is too weak in previously contested regions of the country, opposition to land restitution programs, and resentment at the possibility that government forces may be judged by the same tribunal that judges FARC members. Domestic political considerations also play a role, including the long-standing feud between President Juan Manuel Santos and his conservative predecessor, Álvaro Uribe; and declining support for Santos, which may drag down support for the deal. But surely the Santos government was aware of most of these challenges? And why on earth pledge to have the deal ratified by the public, if doing so would subject it to all sorts of criticism and the possibility of defeat? The answer may lie in the three intertwined strategic explanations: First, academics point to the importance of strategic calculations in ending civil wars: reaching peace depends on what sort of incentives dissident groups have to resort to violence rather than committing to peace. Oftentimes the situation must get so bad that opposing sides have little choice but to reach agreement, painful though that may be. But even once both sides are committed to negotiating, structuring the post-conflict incentives is often a case of the pragmatic and artful bending of each side’s desired outcomes toward a core of commonly acceptable, if seldom entirely desirable, compromises. By all accounts, the FARC’s leadership is near exhaustion, but they had some advantages, including the ability to hold on indefinitely in impenetrable terrain and cause murderous violence at will. The big challenge was to ensure that they saw benefits to negotiating an end to the conflict, which implied government concessions that would bring them to the table. Second, achieving the peace is a game with many players, in which the negotiators may not have unconditional support at home. Even in a two-sided conflict, each side’s negotiators must go home to their constituents and explain the deal, often to second-guessing armchair negotiators who have no reason to reflect on how many late nights and what sorts of complex concessions went into each element of the treaty, and who may be more focused on the war than on the peace (suffice it to note, by way of example, that even as the United States’ Civil War wound down, Abraham Lincoln was unable to push forward his amnesty resolution for the South because of homegrown opposition in the North). Third, the logic behind ending the violence is quite different from the logic of maintaining the peace: there is an inherent tension between the types of commitments that both sides need to make in order to end aggression and the long-term conditions that would maintain the peace. All sides to the conflict need to be able to offer some sort of credible guarantee that they have abjured violence: the winning side has to offer some credible assurance that it won’t simply use the peace to obliterate the losers, while the disadvantaged side needs to offer good reasons why it won’t try to improve its bargaining position through violence once the winning side begins to make concessions for the long-term. In committing to public ratification of any peace deal, the Santos government added a broad range of voters to the mix of implicit parties to the negotiations, in ways that may increase the legitimacy of the peace, enhance the transparency of the process, and lock in the treaty politically. Santos also scored an important victory in the constitutional court’s decision that the plebiscite should face an up or down vote, rather than a messy set of votes on each point of the agreement. Although it adds to the difficulties of the peace agreement, the fact that the deal was always subject to public ratification may also have provided a strategic advantage to Colombian government negotiators. From the negotiating table in Havana, Colombian negotiators could point south at Uribe and other hardliners, warning their FARC counterparts that there were limits to what they plausibly concede. The prospect of democratic ratification, in other words, may have shrunk the possible range of options the Colombian government could agree to, but by narrowing the negotiating space, it may also have made the government’s commitment to its bargaining position more credible. Going forward, the most complex challenge will be to finalize the negotiations with the FARC even as the plebiscite campaign is simultaneously underway. Already “Yes” and “No” supporters are locked in rhetorical battle over how to frame the issues in the public eye. The silver lining is that the need to obtain democratic approval may have enabled the Santos government to obtain a better deal from the FARC than might have otherwise been possible. Whether that deal will prove acceptable to voters, of course, is the big question that will dominate Colombian politics for the remainder of the year.

18 million Latin Americans—1 in 5 of those between the ages of 15 and 24—neither work nor attend school. Commonly dubbed “ninis” (ni estudian ni trabajan), a new World Bank report looks at this phenomenon across the region. Latin America’s share falls near the world average—far better than the Middle East and North Africa, where one in three roam the streets, but nearly double the rate of industrialized nations. It also varies by nation. In Peru there are fewer ninis than in the United States, while in Central America over a quarter of adolescents are disconnected. The majority are young poor urban women who drop out of school or the workforce after a teen pregnancy or early marriage. The men come from similar backgrounds, leaving school for a precarious job market. In general, conditions are getting better—the share of ninis fell from 23 to 19 percent of young people between 1992 and 2010. These percentage improvements come almost solely from young women, who now stay in school longer, and, when they do leave, find jobs. For men, those that abandon school struggle to find work, filling the ranks of the 2 million more ninis than in the past. Latin America’s disengaged youth threaten the region’s economic advancement. Studies show that lifetime earning power dissipates with just a few years out of the workforce, as individuals stop accumulating human capital and skills. Once excluded, many will only find work in the informal sector—where they will earn less, be less productive, and receive fewer benefits. This reinforces the region’s inequality—with most ninis coming from the lower socioeconomic ranks, they and their families will likely stay there. Excluding millions of young people also wastes Latin America’s current demographic bonus. If these countries are to grow rich before they grow old, they can’t have 18 million working age people on the sidelines. And the disconnectedness links to rising violence, particularly in Mexico, Colombia, and Central America where levels of violence and ninis spiked together. A report by the Wilson Center shows the single most predictive factor of Central American violence is schooling—the more education local youths have the less violent their neighborhood. Broader criminology studies echo this finding—that as education rises crime falls. For policymakers taking on the ninis problem, one challenge is keeping young people in school. They need to convince kids and their families that school matters, and help support this choice—in the form of conditional cash transfers, scholarships, and other policies—so that children don’t have to choose between the classroom and sustenance. Another challenge is ensuring that when kids graduate they find work. Through job training, entrepreneurship programs, and employment services, governments can help link jobseekers with companies and opportunities. The regional economic downturn, leaving so many more vulnerable, makes a response all the more important.

Hillel Soifer’s new book, State Building in Latin America, presents an interesting historical perspective on today’s current state capacity in Latin America, and why some countries are so much better able than others to not just control territory but also to deliver for their people. Somewhat dispiritingly, he finds that state capacity, measured in terms of education, health care, military mobilization, and other indicators has changed little over the last century. Government agencies’ abilities haven’t deviated much, despite the rise and fall of conservatives and populists, of democrats and dictators, of economic booms and busts. None seem to have fundamentally altered the ability of states to provide public goods. Those that were strong in 1900 are strong now; those weak then remain so. So what made the difference? He lays out two factors that emerged in the nineteenth century: whether political elites tried to build a strong state and then whether they succeeded. These in turn depend on other causes. The decision to try depends on whether elites clustered in one or in many cities or regions. Those with a single center were more likely to see state building as the way to “order and progress,” extending the center toward the periphery. Those with multiple hubs of economic and political activity were less likely to develop a coherent ideology, much less one that involved building up the central government. For those countries that did embark on a state building mission, other factors determined whether it worked or not. If the national government sent out its own bureaucrats to deliver services, the state grew in abilities and reach. If they left it to local elites, little happened. He then shows how these arguments apply to four cases: Colombia, Peru, Chile, and Mexico. Colombia never tried to create a stronger state; Peru tried and failed; Mexico and Chile both tried and succeeded to varying degrees. Soifer’s empirical chapters draw on government archives, newspaper announcements, immunization records, school enrollments, and many other sources, tracing the efforts and outcomes to try and build up the central government’s capacity. In his exhaustive research, he finds some interesting kernels that shed light on today’s pressing topics. For instance in Mexico in the late 1800s, school systems developed differently by state. In Michoacán and Guerrero local elites controlled the rollout, and enrollment stagnated, even back then. In Sonora and other northern states, the building out of their educational systems was turned over to bureaucrats from out-of-town; the number of kids entering school surged. These trajectories led to the deep divides that continue today and are at the center of the current struggle to reform Mexico’s education system. With “nation building” an at times uneasy part of U.S. foreign policy, Soifer’s carefully constructed argument and analysis provides insight into why it is so hard to do. It isn’t a lack of resources that many bemoan. It is oftentimes alliances with local elites. While they may quell unrest in the short term, they also can undermine the project itself, elevating challengers rather than allies in the quest to build government capacity. His work shows too that ideas matter: without leaders committed to a stronger state little will occur, whatever the intentions of outside participants and donors. For Latin America, his work leads to a clear eyed but somewhat pessimistic conclusion. The World Bank, Inter-American Development Bank, IMF, and others routinely identify the same set of factors as holding the region back: bad infrastructure, poor schools, weak rule of law, inequality, low productivity. Soifer’s conclusions suggest the usual policy recommendations—doling out concessions and forming public-private partnerships, writing new textbooks and instituting teacher evaluations, or retraining police and rewriting judicial rules—won’t change things. The challenge is a more fundamental one of capacity. And the question remaining is are there other paths than those he expertly illustrates to creating a better and stronger state.

During the summer of 2014 tens of thousands of unaccompanied minors surged across the U.S-Mexico border. Over the course of the fiscal year, nearly 70,000—mostly from the Northern Triangle countries of El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras—endured brutal and at times even deadly conditions as they made their way to the United States. While most of these children were between the ages of 13 and 17, the fastest growing group was 6 to 12 years old. Of the many factors that influenced their individual decisions, four stand out. U.S. Customs and Border Patrol, “Unaccompanied Alien Children Encountered by Fiscal Year,” 2015. The first is violence. In 2012, the homicide rate in Honduras reached 90 per 100,000—the highest in the world. El Salvador and Guatemala’s homicide rates were 41 and 40 per 100,000, respectively, some of the highest in the hemisphere. Much of this violence is gang related, fueled by robbery, kidnapping, extortion, and drug trafficking. Extreme poverty and inequality also leads children north. Nearly 67 percent of Hondurans, 45 percent of Salvadorans, and 55 percent of Guatemalans live in poverty. One in two Guatemalan children under five suffer from chronic malnutrition, affecting their physical and cognitive development for life. Add in bad schools and few good jobs, there is little reason to stay. The third driving force is family. Over 3 million Central Americans live in the United States, the result of past migration waves. Surveys by Fulbright Scholar Elizabeth Kennedy found that 90 percent of the unaccompanied minors she interviewed from El Salvador had a family member living in the United States. One in three said reuniting with them was the main motivation for leaving home. The importance of family networks is reflected in the disparities in migration paths: despite extreme poverty, few Nicaraguans head to the United States; instead they flock to Costa Rica. Finally, misinformation from client-seeking coyotes pushed many to come. Last spring and summer these traffickers spread rumors that for a limited time United States government would give children amnesty. Pushed out through social media, many families spent upwards of US$8,000 to take advantage of this supposed relaxation in rules. The surge seemed to end as quickly as it began. By September illegal apprehensions were less than half May numbers. One reason for this rapid decline is seasonality. More Central Americans (and Mexicans) come in the spring and summer months when labor needs spike. A second are U.S. efforts to counteract coyotes’ erroneous claims. A US$1 million Spanish-language multi-media “Dangers and Awareness” Campaign ran some 6,500 radio and television advertisements in El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala to dispel the falsehoods being spread. Perhaps most importantly, Mexico stepped up its southern border and transit route enforcement; curtailing, for instance, migrants riding the infamous train “The Beast.”In 2014, deportations back to Central America jumped by a third. Still, the United States should prepare for a new influx this spring. Poverty, inequality, and violence continue unabated in the region. And a decent U.S. economy provides opportunities that, for many, outweigh the dangers of the trip. If early trends hold, unaccompanied minors heading north in 2015 will likely be second in number only to the record breaking 2014 flows. To help tackle the root causes, President Obama has asked for over US$1 billion to, in the words of Vice President Joe Biden, support the “difficult reforms and investments required to address the region’s interlocking security, governance and economic challenges.” Skeptics may argue that the billions of dollars spent in the past have little to show. Others may question whether just US$1 billion, divided between three troubled nations, can make a difference. Leadership and political resolve will matter just as much as resources. But without steps to change the calculus, Central America’s youth will continue their treks to the U.S. border.

The region will hold just two presidential elections this year, choosing new leaders in Guatemala and Argentina. More prevalent will be congressional and local elections. Midterms in Mexico, Venezuela, and Colombia in particular may prove bellwethers for the direction of these three important regional economies. With term limits barring Otto Pérez Molina from running again, Guatemalans will head to the polls in September. The current front-runner is Manuel Baldizón of the Libertad Democrática Renovada (LIDER), returning to the electoral ring to try and avenge his second round defeat by Pérez Molina in 2011. The president’s Partido Patriota (PP) has thrown its support behind former Minister of Communications, Infrastructure, and Housing Alejandro Sinibaldi. Sandra Torres of the Unidad Nacional de la Esperanza (UNE), who divorced former President Álvaro Colom to be constitutionally eligible to run for office, also has significant name recognition and possibilities. Early polls suggest that none of the candidates has the 50 percent needed to avoid a second round. More closely watched, at least from the global financial world hoping to resolve the current debt impasse, will be Argentina’s October presidential elections. President Cristina Kirchner has yet to throw her weight behind any of the precandidates, though most expect her to (grudgingly) endorse Daniel Scioli, current governor of the province of Buenos Aires, who comes from her Frente Peronista para la Victoria (FPV) and is the front-runner in most polls. Other favorites include Sergio Massa, a Kirchner defector and current federal legislator attracting dissident peronist and opposition support behind his candidacy and party, the Frente Renovador. Mauricio Macri represents the one non-peronist in the leading bunch, leveraging his track record as a well-known businessman, former president of the storied Boca Juniors soccer team, and now mayor of Buenos Aires. To win in the first round Scioli would need to convince 45 percent of voters to stick with the FPV (or 40 percent and a 10 percent advantage over the second-place finisher), otherwise he will face a November run-off. Among midterm elections, Mexico’s president Enrique Peña Nieto and his Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI) may face significant challenges come July, when the entire lower house, nine governorships, and control of Mexico City’s delegations are up for grabs. The lack of immediate benefits from the recent spate of economic reforms combined with an evolving and deepening political crisis due to several instances of state associated violence and corruption make the PRI vulnerable. The question is whether the fractured PAN and PRD opposition can overcome their own problems to take advantage of their governing rival’s weakness. Colombia will hold regional elections in October that, among other positions, will determine the next mayor of Bogotá—the second most powerful elected office in the country. With well-known leftist Gustavo Petro stepping down, candidates from across the political spectrum have jumped into the race. In polls, the leftist Polo Democrático Alternativo (PDA) leads with Clara López. President Santos’ coalition, the Unidad Nacional, will likely endorse Rafael Pardo of Partido Liberal Colombiano (PLC), while former president Álvaro Uribe is already pushing Francisco Santos of the Centro Democrático (CD). Finally, Venezuelans are scheduled to head to the polls in December to renew all 165 members of its National Assembly. In the face of falling public support—with just 25 percent approving of Maduro’s performance—rising inflation, food and basic good shortages, the government has responded with increasingly authoritarian measures. Opposition leader Leopoldo Lopez has been in pre-trial detention since February and Maria Corina Machado has been recently charged with conspiring to assassinate President Maduro (along with the U.S. Ambassador to Colombia, Kevin Whitaker). Assuming the elections occur as planned, the opposition will have to overcome its own deep historic divisions to do well—a challenge for newly elected executive-secretary of the opposition coalition Democratic Unity (MUD) Jesús Torrealba. If they do, and the Partido Socialisto Unido de Venezuela (PSUV) loses its legislative majority, the stage will be set for the potential recall of Maduro in 2016.  

Earlier this week, Salvadorans headed to the polls to cast their ballots in a presidential runoff election, since on February 2 the candidates failed to reach the 50 percent threshold to avoid a second round. In the runoff’s lead up, Salvador Sánchez Cerén, a former guerrilla commander and the current vice president from the ruling party, looked poised for an easy win over his closest opponent Norman Quijano from the conservative Nationalist Republican Alliance (ARENA). But with the final ballot count separating the candidates by some 0.2 percent of the votes and with allegations of fraud, it seems that the protests and debates surrounding this election are far from over. The Costa Rican elections were also held on February 2 and similarly, were pushed into a run-off scheduled for April 6. With second place finisher Johnny Araya’s (from the ruling National Liberation Party) recent exit from the race, Leftist Luis Guillermo Solís’s (from the Citizens’ Action Party) victory is all but assured. While neither of these two elections are yet resolved, there are others on the horizon in Latin America. On May 4, Panamanians will elect their president for the next five years. Current President Ricardo Martinelli’s time in office is coming to an end, at least for now, given Panama’s restriction that presidents must wait two terms before trying again for office. Though Martinelli and his conservative Democratic Change (CD) party led Panama through a period of extraordinary 8 percent (on average) economic growth and declining crime, the country’s stark income inequality (which I talk about in this blog post) combined with shifting political alliances, could provide headwinds for the party’s candidate José Domingo Arias. On May 25, Colombians will head to the ballot boxes to decide whether or not to reelect President Juan Manuel Santos. As of now, Santos’s odds look fairly good—garnering 26 percent of the vote in a hypothetical “next-day election” scenario; 19 percent more than his nearest rival, Óscar Iván Zuluaga of the Democratic Center party, 18 percent more than Enrique Peñalosa of the Green Alliance party, and far above the more recent entrant to the race, Marta Lucía Ramírez from the Conservative Party. Santos  is staking much of his campaign on the peace agreement with the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (even as Colombians become increasingly pessimistic over its success), and he will also face tough questioning over his economic policies and subsequent handling of rural protests (that pushed his approval ratings down to 25 percent last August). Still, his popular support has rebounded—up to near 40 percent in March—and this momentum, without a strong challenger, will likely take him back to the Casa de Nariño. October brings presidential elections in Brazil, Bolivia, and Uruguay. In Brazil, most expect President Dilma Rousseff of the Worker’s Party (PT) to win reelection against Aecio Neves (from the PSBD party) and Eduardo Campos (from the PSB party). Still, with economic growth faltering, worries about the coming World Cup (with latest reports questioning both the sporting event’s expense and the country’s readiness), and still vivid memories of last summer’s widespread protests, a unified challenger could make the race interesting. That same day Bolivians will also be casting their ballots. Evo Morales is up for his third term, after a constitutional amendment in 2009 allowed for reelection and a 2013 constitutional court decision decided that his first term did not count toward the two term limit (since it began before the new Constitution). With twelve parties and a crowded race, no serious challenger has emerged to take on Morales. Still, questions remain whether the president’s Movement for Socialism (MAS) can gain an absolute majority—potentially frustrating any major policy changes. Uruguay’s famously spartan President Jose Mujica will bid goodbye to a presidential palace in which he never lived. The frontrunner for his position is former president and Broad Front colleague Tabaré Vázquez, who left office in 2010 with an approval rating of over 60 percent. A Vázquez victory would mean continuity for the country and a continuation of Mujica’s policies, such as the country’s marijuana regulation and renewable energy promotion.