Latin America (Only for the_ideas)

El Salvador's Negotiated Transition: From Low-Intensity Conflict to Low-Intensity Democracy Author(syf Richard Stahler-Sholk Reviewed work(syf :

Source: Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs, Vol. 36, No. 4 (Winter, 1994yf , pp. 1-59 Published by: Center for Latin American Studies at the University of Miami Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/166318 .

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Center for Latin American Studies at the University of Miami is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserveand extend access to Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs. http://www.jstor.org El Salvador's Negotiated Transition: From Low-Intensity Conflict to Low-Intensity Democracy Richard Stahler-Sholk* INTRODUCTION IKE the reports of Mark Twain's death, the claims of a wave of democratization sweeping Latin America may be exaggerated. Yet the resurgence of electoral politics and the receding of military rule since the 1980s are trends that hold significance both for the future of Latin America and for inter- American relations. The transitions from bureaucratic- authoritarian rule in South America, and from the oligarchy- military alliances in Central America, have been a major focus of recent US policy attention. From the human rights approach of the Carter administration to the Reagan rollback doctrine, US policy became more actively engaged in controversial attempts to define and impose "democracy" in the region.l After the end of the Cold War, US action or inaction remained key factors in the events surrounding the 1989 elections in Panama and the 1990 elections in Haiti and Nicaragua. Democratization has become a global crusade, and election-monitoring and peacekeeping have become growth industries. These trends Richard Stahler-Sholk is Visiting Assistant Professor of Political Studies at Pitzer College. He has worked (1984-89) at the Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Econ6micas y Sociales (CRIES) and is the author of a number of articles and chapters on Nicaraguan politics and political economy. * Research for this article was conducted in El Salvador from January- April 1994 under a grant from Pitzer College/Research and Awards Commit- tee. The author extends particular thanks to Deborah Barry, Jack Spence, and Philip J. Williams for their helpful advice and comments, as well as to the JOURNAL's reviewers. 1 El Salvador's Negotiated Transition: From Low-Intensity Conflict to Low-Intensity Democracy Richard Stahler-Sholk* INTRODUCTION IKE the reports of Mark Twain's death, the claims of a wave of democratization sweeping Latin America may be exaggerated. Yet the resurgence of electoral politics and the receding of military rule since the 1980s are trends that hold significance both for the future of Latin America and for inter- American relations. The transitions from bureaucratic- authoritarian rule in South America, and from the oligarchy- military alliances in Central America, have been a major focus of recent US policy attention. From the human rights approach of the Carter administration to the Reagan rollback doctrine, US policy became more actively engaged in controversial attempts to define and impose "democracy" in the region.l After the end of the Cold War, US action or inaction remained key factors in the events surrounding the 1989 elections in Panama and the 1990 elections in Haiti and Nicaragua. Democratization has become a global crusade, and election-monitoring and peacekeeping have become growth industries. These trends Richard Stahler-Sholk is Visiting Assistant Professor of Political Studies at Pitzer College. He has worked (1984-89) at the Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Econ6micas y Sociales (CRIES) and is the author of a number of articles and chapters on Nicaraguan politics and political economy. * Research for this article was conducted in El Salvador from January- April 1994 under a grant from Pitzer College/Research and Awards Commit- tee. The author extends particular thanks to Deborah Barry, Jack Spence, and Philip J. Williams for their helpful advice and comments, as well as to the JOURNAL's reviewers. 1 El Salvador's Negotiated Transition: From Low-Intensity Conflict to Low-Intensity Democracy Richard Stahler-Sholk* INTRODUCTION IKE the reports of Mark Twain's death, the claims of a wave of democratization sweeping Latin America may be exaggerated. Yet the resurgence of electoral politics and the receding of military rule since the 1980s are trends that hold significance both for the future of Latin America and for inter- American relations. The transitions from bureaucratic- authoritarian rule in South America, and from the oligarchy- military alliances in Central America, have been a major focus of recent US policy attention. From the human rights approach of the Carter administration to the Reagan rollback doctrine, US policy became more actively engaged in controversial attempts to define and impose "democracy" in the region.l After the end of the Cold War, US action or inaction remained key factors in the events surrounding the 1989 elections in Panama and the 1990 elections in Haiti and Nicaragua. Democratization has become a global crusade, and election-monitoring and peacekeeping have become growth industries. These trends Richard Stahler-Sholk is Visiting Assistant Professor of Political Studies at Pitzer College. He has worked (1984-89) at the Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Econ6micas y Sociales (CRIES) and is the author of a number of articles and chapters on Nicaraguan politics and political economy. * Research for this article was conducted in El Salvador from January- April 1994 under a grant from Pitzer College/Research and Awards Commit- tee. The author extends particular thanks to Deborah Barry, Jack Spence, and Philip J. Williams for their helpful advice and comments, as well as to the JOURNAL's reviewers. 1 El Salvador's Negotiated Transition: From Low-Intensity Conflict to Low-Intensity Democracy Richard Stahler-Sholk* INTRODUCTION IKE the reports of Mark Twain's death, the claims of a wave of democratization sweeping Latin America may be exaggerated. Yet the resurgence of electoral politics and the receding of military rule since the 1980s are trends that hold significance both for the future of Latin America and for inter- American relations. The transitions from bureaucratic- authoritarian rule in South America, and from the oligarchy- military alliances in Central America, have been a major focus of recent US policy attention. From the human rights approach of the Carter administration to the Reagan rollback doctrine, US policy became more actively engaged in controversial attempts to define and impose "democracy" in the region.l After the end of the Cold War, US action or inaction remained key factors in the events surrounding the 1989 elections in Panama and the 1990 elections in Haiti and Nicaragua. Democratization has become a global crusade, and election-monitoring and peacekeeping have become growth industries. These trends Richard Stahler-Sholk is Visiting Assistant Professor of Political Studies at Pitzer College. He has worked (1984-89) at the Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Econ6micas y Sociales (CRIES) and is the author of a number of articles and chapters on Nicaraguan politics and political economy. * Research for this article was conducted in El Salvador from January- April 1994 under a grant from Pitzer College/Research and Awards Commit- tee. The author extends particular thanks to Deborah Barry, Jack Spence, and Philip J. Williams for their helpful advice and comments, as well as to the JOURNAL's reviewers. 1 El Salvador's Negotiated Transition: From Low-Intensity Conflict to Low-Intensity Democracy Richard Stahler-Sholk* INTRODUCTION IKE the reports of Mark Twain's death, the claims of a wave of democratization sweeping Latin America may be exaggerated. Yet the resurgence of electoral politics and the receding of military rule since the 1980s are trends that hold significance both for the future of Latin America and for inter- American relations. The transitions from bureaucratic- authoritarian rule in South America, and from the oligarchy- military alliances in Central America, have been a major focus of recent US policy attention. From the human rights approach of the Carter administration to the Reagan rollback doctrine, US policy became more actively engaged in controversial attempts to define and impose "democracy" in the region.l After the end of the Cold War, US action or inaction remained key factors in the events surrounding the 1989 elections in Panama and the 1990 elections in Haiti and Nicaragua. Democratization has become a global crusade, and election-monitoring and peacekeeping have become growth industries. These trends Richard Stahler-Sholk is Visiting Assistant Professor of Political Studies at Pitzer College. He has worked (1984-89) at the Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Econ6micas y Sociales (CRIES) and is the author of a number of articles and chapters on Nicaraguan politics and political economy. * Research for this article was conducted in El Salvador from January- April 1994 under a grant from Pitzer College/Research and Awards Commit- tee. The author extends particular thanks to Deborah Barry, Jack Spence, and Philip J. Williams for their helpful advice and comments, as well as to the JOURNAL's reviewers. 1 El Salvador's Negotiated Transition: From Low-Intensity Conflict to Low-Intensity Democracy Richard Stahler-Sholk* INTRODUCTION IKE the reports of Mark Twain's death, the claims of a wave of democratization sweeping Latin America may be exaggerated. Yet the resurgence of electoral politics and the receding of military rule since the 1980s are trends that hold significance both for the future of Latin America and for inter- American relations. The transitions from bureaucratic- authoritarian rule in South America, and from the oligarchy- military alliances in Central America, have been a major focus of recent US policy attention. From the human rights approach of the Carter administration to the Reagan rollback doctrine, US policy became more actively engaged in controversial attempts to define and impose "democracy" in the region.l After the end of the Cold War, US action or inaction remained key factors in the events surrounding the 1989 elections in Panama and the 1990 elections in Haiti and Nicaragua. Democratization has become a global crusade, and election-monitoring and peacekeeping have become growth industries. These trends Richard Stahler-Sholk is Visiting Assistant Professor of Political Studies at Pitzer College. He has worked (1984-89) at the Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Econ6micas y Sociales (CRIES) and is the author of a number of articles and chapters on Nicaraguan politics and political economy. * Research for this article was conducted in El Salvador from January- April 1994 under a grant from Pitzer College/Research and Awards Commit- tee. The author extends particular thanks to Deborah Barry, Jack Spence, and Philip J. Williams for their helpful advice and comments, as well as to the JOURNAL's reviewers. 1 2 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 2 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 2 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 2 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 2 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 2 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS raise questions about the conditions under which elections can bring democratization and the extent to which external actors can play a positive role. The Central American revolutions of the late 1970s and '80s pointed up the ambiguous influence of external actors in helping to effect transitions from authoritarian rule to democ- racy. Ironic moments, such as Carter's letter of congratulations to Nicaraguan dictator Anastasio Somoza for supposed im- provements in human rights in 1978 and Reagan's insistence that Guatemalan General Rios Montt was getting a "bum rap," served only to highlight the tension between democracy and the high priority which US policy accorded defeat of radical revolutionary movements. The US-allied sectors that were most committed to defeating the revolutionaries in Central America were highly resistant to democratization and often calculated that the US needed them more than they needed continued US support. To overcome public and congressional qualms about aiding repressive goverments, US policy relied on "low intensity conflict," a post-Vietnam strategy of minimiz- ing the visibility and domestic cost of US intervention. At the same time, US policy combined counterinsurgency with pres- sure for democratic reforms, often a problematical formula.2 With Central America no longer defined as a US policy priority in the post-Cold War era, the negotiated peace accords and 1994 elections in El Salvador provide a good opportunity to evaluate the prospects for democracy in this changing interna- tional environment.

Nowhere did the United States commit more resources to engineering the election of moderate reformers than in El Salvador. Since 1980, the revolutionary forces of the Frente FarabundoMartfdeLiberaci6nNacional(FMLN) had engaged in armed struggle to overthrow a system characterized by political exclusion, extreme social injustice, and repression of dissent (Baloyra, 1982; Montgomery, 1993 and 1995). Pressure from the United States helped to ensure a series of elections in the 1980s, and covert funding helped to bring Jose Napoleon Duarte and his Partido Dem6crata Cristiano (PDC) to office STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 3 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 3 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 3 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 3 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 3 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 3 from 1984-89. However, despite the formal election of a presumed Centrist, the oligarchy and military retained enough real power to impose severe limits on reform and perpetuate a system of widespread repression, which served only to highlight the inconsistencies of US policy.3 Elections, far from democratizing El Salvador, merely worked to rationalize in- creased US aid to a counterinsurgency government, thereby strengthening the armed forces and economic elites who were most implacably opposed to democracy. The war escalated, and politics became more polarized as the Christian Democratics were displaced by the far-Right Alianza Republicana Nacional (ARENA). During this time, the death toll climbed to 75,000 (mainly civilians) in a country of 5 million, and over a million refugees left El Salvador. Beginning in the late 1980s, a complex series of factors shifted Salvadoran politics from civil war to negotiated peace. In January 1992, the government and the FMLN signed peace accords brokered by the United Nations (UN), and in March 1994, the former guerrilla forces of the FMLN participated in elections for the first time. The origins of this transition can only be understood by analyzing closely a number of interrelated, internal and external factors.4 By the mid-1980s, the war had escalated, but the combatant remained locked in a dynamic stalemate (Karl, 1985). After the Central American Peace Plan was signed in Esquipulas in 1987, regional pressures for a negotiated solution increased. Low-intensity conflict strategists in the US began to admit that it was becoming increasingly unlikely that it would be possible to defeat the insurgents militarily (Bacevich et al., 1988; Montgomery, 1990). The November 1989 FMLN offensive in San Salvador, like the Tet offensive of the Vietnam War, demonstrated the guerrillas' capability despite massive government firepower and served as a political turning point in the war (LeoGrande, 1992). In the United States, both the shift in administrations (from Reagan to Bush) and the decline of the Cold War marked an unwilling- ness to continue high levels of military aid. When six Jesuit priests were killed by US-trained forces in December 1989, shortly after the November offensive, the US Congress reacted from 1984-89. However, despite the formal election of a presumed Centrist, the oligarchy and military retained enough real power to impose severe limits on reform and perpetuate a system of widespread repression, which served only to highlight the inconsistencies of US policy.3 Elections, far from democratizing El Salvador, merely worked to rationalize in- creased US aid to a counterinsurgency government, thereby strengthening the armed forces and economic elites who were most implacably opposed to democracy. The war escalated, and politics became more polarized as the Christian Democratics were displaced by the far-Right Alianza Republicana Nacional (ARENA). During this time, the death toll climbed to 75,000 (mainly civilians) in a country of 5 million, and over a million refugees left El Salvador. Beginning in the late 1980s, a complex series of factors shifted Salvadoran politics from civil war to negotiated peace. In January 1992, the government and the FMLN signed peace accords brokered by the United Nations (UN), and in March 1994, the former guerrilla forces of the FMLN participated in elections for the first time. The origins of this transition can only be understood by analyzing closely a number of interrelated, internal and external factors.4 By the mid-1980s, the war had escalated, but the combatant remained locked in a dynamic stalemate (Karl, 1985). After the Central American Peace Plan was signed in Esquipulas in 1987, regional pressures for a negotiated solution increased. Low-intensity conflict strategists in the US began to admit that it was becoming increasingly unlikely that it would be possible to defeat the insurgents militarily (Bacevich et al., 1988; Montgomery, 1990). The November 1989 FMLN offensive in San Salvador, like the Tet offensive of the Vietnam War, demonstrated the guerrillas' capability despite massive government firepower and served as a political turning point in the war (LeoGrande, 1992). In the United States, both the shift in administrations (from Reagan to Bush) and the decline of the Cold War marked an unwilling- ness to continue high levels of military aid. When six Jesuit priests were killed by US-trained forces in December 1989, shortly after the November offensive, the US Congress reacted from 1984-89. However, despite the formal election of a presumed Centrist, the oligarchy and military retained enough real power to impose severe limits on reform and perpetuate a system of widespread repression, which served only to highlight the inconsistencies of US policy.3 Elections, far from democratizing El Salvador, merely worked to rationalize in- creased US aid to a counterinsurgency government, thereby strengthening the armed forces and economic elites who were most implacably opposed to democracy. The war escalated, and politics became more polarized as the Christian Democratics were displaced by the far-Right Alianza Republicana Nacional (ARENA). During this time, the death toll climbed to 75,000 (mainly civilians) in a country of 5 million, and over a million refugees left El Salvador. Beginning in the late 1980s, a complex series of factors shifted Salvadoran politics from civil war to negotiated peace. In January 1992, the government and the FMLN signed peace accords brokered by the United Nations (UN), and in March 1994, the former guerrilla forces of the FMLN participated in elections for the first time. The origins of this transition can only be understood by analyzing closely a number of interrelated, internal and external factors.4 By the mid-1980s, the war had escalated, but the combatant remained locked in a dynamic stalemate (Karl, 1985). After the Central American Peace Plan was signed in Esquipulas in 1987, regional pressures for a negotiated solution increased. Low-intensity conflict strategists in the US began to admit that it was becoming increasingly unlikely that it would be possible to defeat the insurgents militarily (Bacevich et al., 1988; Montgomery, 1990). The November 1989 FMLN offensive in San Salvador, like the Tet offensive of the Vietnam War, demonstrated the guerrillas' capability despite massive government firepower and served as a political turning point in the war (LeoGrande, 1992). In the United States, both the shift in administrations (from Reagan to Bush) and the decline of the Cold War marked an unwilling- ness to continue high levels of military aid. When six Jesuit priests were killed by US-trained forces in December 1989, shortly after the November offensive, the US Congress reacted from 1984-89. However, despite the formal election of a presumed Centrist, the oligarchy and military retained enough real power to impose severe limits on reform and perpetuate a system of widespread repression, which served only to highlight the inconsistencies of US policy.3 Elections, far from democratizing El Salvador, merely worked to rationalize in- creased US aid to a counterinsurgency government, thereby strengthening the armed forces and economic elites who were most implacably opposed to democracy. The war escalated, and politics became more polarized as the Christian Democratics were displaced by the far-Right Alianza Republicana Nacional (ARENA). During this time, the death toll climbed to 75,000 (mainly civilians) in a country of 5 million, and over a million refugees left El Salvador. Beginning in the late 1980s, a complex series of factors shifted Salvadoran politics from civil war to negotiated peace. In January 1992, the government and the FMLN signed peace accords brokered by the United Nations (UN), and in March 1994, the former guerrilla forces of the FMLN participated in elections for the first time. The origins of this transition can only be understood by analyzing closely a number of interrelated, internal and external factors.4 By the mid-1980s, the war had escalated, but the combatant remained locked in a dynamic stalemate (Karl, 1985). After the Central American Peace Plan was signed in Esquipulas in 1987, regional pressures for a negotiated solution increased. Low-intensity conflict strategists in the US began to admit that it was becoming increasingly unlikely that it would be possible to defeat the insurgents militarily (Bacevich et al., 1988; Montgomery, 1990). The November 1989 FMLN offensive in San Salvador, like the Tet offensive of the Vietnam War, demonstrated the guerrillas' capability despite massive government firepower and served as a political turning point in the war (LeoGrande, 1992). In the United States, both the shift in administrations (from Reagan to Bush) and the decline of the Cold War marked an unwilling- ness to continue high levels of military aid. When six Jesuit priests were killed by US-trained forces in December 1989, shortly after the November offensive, the US Congress reacted from 1984-89. However, despite the formal election of a presumed Centrist, the oligarchy and military retained enough real power to impose severe limits on reform and perpetuate a system of widespread repression, which served only to highlight the inconsistencies of US policy.3 Elections, far from democratizing El Salvador, merely worked to rationalize in- creased US aid to a counterinsurgency government, thereby strengthening the armed forces and economic elites who were most implacably opposed to democracy. The war escalated, and politics became more polarized as the Christian Democratics were displaced by the far-Right Alianza Republicana Nacional (ARENA). During this time, the death toll climbed to 75,000 (mainly civilians) in a country of 5 million, and over a million refugees left El Salvador. Beginning in the late 1980s, a complex series of factors shifted Salvadoran politics from civil war to negotiated peace. In January 1992, the government and the FMLN signed peace accords brokered by the United Nations (UN), and in March 1994, the former guerrilla forces of the FMLN participated in elections for the first time. The origins of this transition can only be understood by analyzing closely a number of interrelated, internal and external factors.4 By the mid-1980s, the war had escalated, but the combatant remained locked in a dynamic stalemate (Karl, 1985). After the Central American Peace Plan was signed in Esquipulas in 1987, regional pressures for a negotiated solution increased. Low-intensity conflict strategists in the US began to admit that it was becoming increasingly unlikely that it would be possible to defeat the insurgents militarily (Bacevich et al., 1988; Montgomery, 1990). The November 1989 FMLN offensive in San Salvador, like the Tet offensive of the Vietnam War, demonstrated the guerrillas' capability despite massive government firepower and served as a political turning point in the war (LeoGrande, 1992). In the United States, both the shift in administrations (from Reagan to Bush) and the decline of the Cold War marked an unwilling- ness to continue high levels of military aid. When six Jesuit priests were killed by US-trained forces in December 1989, shortly after the November offensive, the US Congress reacted from 1984-89. However, despite the formal election of a presumed Centrist, the oligarchy and military retained enough real power to impose severe limits on reform and perpetuate a system of widespread repression, which served only to highlight the inconsistencies of US policy.3 Elections, far from democratizing El Salvador, merely worked to rationalize in- creased US aid to a counterinsurgency government, thereby strengthening the armed forces and economic elites who were most implacably opposed to democracy. The war escalated, and politics became more polarized as the Christian Democratics were displaced by the far-Right Alianza Republicana Nacional (ARENA). During this time, the death toll climbed to 75,000 (mainly civilians) in a country of 5 million, and over a million refugees left El Salvador. Beginning in the late 1980s, a complex series of factors shifted Salvadoran politics from civil war to negotiated peace. In January 1992, the government and the FMLN signed peace accords brokered by the United Nations (UN), and in March 1994, the former guerrilla forces of the FMLN participated in elections for the first time. The origins of this transition can only be understood by analyzing closely a number of interrelated, internal and external factors.4 By the mid-1980s, the war had escalated, but the combatant remained locked in a dynamic stalemate (Karl, 1985). After the Central American Peace Plan was signed in Esquipulas in 1987, regional pressures for a negotiated solution increased. Low-intensity conflict strategists in the US began to admit that it was becoming increasingly unlikely that it would be possible to defeat the insurgents militarily (Bacevich et al., 1988; Montgomery, 1990). The November 1989 FMLN offensive in San Salvador, like the Tet offensive of the Vietnam War, demonstrated the guerrillas' capability despite massive government firepower and served as a political turning point in the war (LeoGrande, 1992). In the United States, both the shift in administrations (from Reagan to Bush) and the decline of the Cold War marked an unwilling- ness to continue high levels of military aid. When six Jesuit priests were killed by US-trained forces in December 1989, shortly after the November offensive, the US Congress reacted 4 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 4 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 4 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 4 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 4 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 4 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS by suspending part of its aid. Meanwhile, the FMLN was also beginning to reassess the political cost of carrying on a protracted war (Villalobos, 1989a and 1989b; Bollinger, 1989), a lesson driven home by the defeat of the Sandinistas at the polls in Nicaragua in February 1990. Finally, the existing electoral institutions began to hold out some promise of reality (Baloyra, 1992), particularly after the 1991 legislative elections when the Center-Left Convergencia Democrttica (CD) coali- tion won representation. The transition from civil war to elections in El Salvador raises several broader questions. The first issue to be explored here is the extent to which such a negotiated transition can be a real forward step toward democratization. Careful examina- tion of two important factors - (a) the implementation of the 1992 Salvadoran peace accord and (b) the 1994 election - will facilitate an understanding of the conditions required for a negotiated transition to democracy. The second issue is whether (and to what extent) external actors can play a positive role in transitions from authoritarianism. Specifically, if the timetable and motivations of external actors are shaped by their own particular dynamics (in this case, decreasing US involve- ment and a growing UN role during the transition), will they contribute to democratization? Finally, the concluding section will reflect on the implications of El Salvador's transition both for resolution of the Central American conflicts as well as for democratic consolidation in the region. A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT WITH DEMOCRACY: FROM PEACE ACCORDS TO ELECTIONS N order to evaluate the 1992 peace accords and 1994 elections, it is always necessary to put these events in context and clarify the relation between elections and democracy. From 1931 to 1979, the Salvadoran military ruled directly in an alliance with agrarian elites that Baloyra (1983) aptly termed "reactionary despotism". A democratic facade was preserved v/a parties and elections, but there was no effective, legitimate link between civil society and the state (Walter and Williams, 1993). The by suspending part of its aid. Meanwhile, the FMLN was also beginning to reassess the political cost of carrying on a protracted war (Villalobos, 1989a and 1989b; Bollinger, 1989), a lesson driven home by the defeat of the Sandinistas at the polls in Nicaragua in February 1990. Finally, the existing electoral institutions began to hold out some promise of reality (Baloyra, 1992), particularly after the 1991 legislative elections when the Center-Left Convergencia Democrttica (CD) coali- tion won representation. The transition from civil war to elections in El Salvador raises several broader questions. The first issue to be explored here is the extent to which such a negotiated transition can be a real forward step toward democratization. Careful examina- tion of two important factors - (a) the implementation of the 1992 Salvadoran peace accord and (b) the 1994 election - will facilitate an understanding of the conditions required for a negotiated transition to democracy. The second issue is whether (and to what extent) external actors can play a positive role in transitions from authoritarianism. Specifically, if the timetable and motivations of external actors are shaped by their own particular dynamics (in this case, decreasing US involve- ment and a growing UN role during the transition), will they contribute to democratization? Finally, the concluding section will reflect on the implications of El Salvador's transition both for resolution of the Central American conflicts as well as for democratic consolidation in the region. A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT WITH DEMOCRACY: FROM PEACE ACCORDS TO ELECTIONS N order to evaluate the 1992 peace accords and 1994 elections, it is always necessary to put these events in context and clarify the relation between elections and democracy. From 1931 to 1979, the Salvadoran military ruled directly in an alliance with agrarian elites that Baloyra (1983) aptly termed "reactionary despotism". A democratic facade was preserved v/a parties and elections, but there was no effective, legitimate link between civil society and the state (Walter and Williams, 1993). The by suspending part of its aid. Meanwhile, the FMLN was also beginning to reassess the political cost of carrying on a protracted war (Villalobos, 1989a and 1989b; Bollinger, 1989), a lesson driven home by the defeat of the Sandinistas at the polls in Nicaragua in February 1990. Finally, the existing electoral institutions began to hold out some promise of reality (Baloyra, 1992), particularly after the 1991 legislative elections when the Center-Left Convergencia Democrttica (CD) coali- tion won representation. The transition from civil war to elections in El Salvador raises several broader questions. The first issue to be explored here is the extent to which such a negotiated transition can be a real forward step toward democratization. Careful examina- tion of two important factors - (a) the implementation of the 1992 Salvadoran peace accord and (b) the 1994 election - will facilitate an understanding of the conditions required for a negotiated transition to democracy. The second issue is whether (and to what extent) external actors can play a positive role in transitions from authoritarianism. Specifically, if the timetable and motivations of external actors are shaped by their own particular dynamics (in this case, decreasing US involve- ment and a growing UN role during the transition), will they contribute to democratization? Finally, the concluding section will reflect on the implications of El Salvador's transition both for resolution of the Central American conflicts as well as for democratic consolidation in the region. A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT WITH DEMOCRACY: FROM PEACE ACCORDS TO ELECTIONS N order to evaluate the 1992 peace accords and 1994 elections, it is always necessary to put these events in context and clarify the relation between elections and democracy. From 1931 to 1979, the Salvadoran military ruled directly in an alliance with agrarian elites that Baloyra (1983) aptly termed "reactionary despotism". A democratic facade was preserved v/a parties and elections, but there was no effective, legitimate link between civil society and the state (Walter and Williams, 1993). The by suspending part of its aid. Meanwhile, the FMLN was also beginning to reassess the political cost of carrying on a protracted war (Villalobos, 1989a and 1989b; Bollinger, 1989), a lesson driven home by the defeat of the Sandinistas at the polls in Nicaragua in February 1990. Finally, the existing electoral institutions began to hold out some promise of reality (Baloyra, 1992), particularly after the 1991 legislative elections when the Center-Left Convergencia Democrttica (CD) coali- tion won representation. The transition from civil war to elections in El Salvador raises several broader questions. The first issue to be explored here is the extent to which such a negotiated transition can be a real forward step toward democratization. Careful examina- tion of two important factors - (a) the implementation of the 1992 Salvadoran peace accord and (b) the 1994 election - will facilitate an understanding of the conditions required for a negotiated transition to democracy. The second issue is whether (and to what extent) external actors can play a positive role in transitions from authoritarianism. Specifically, if the timetable and motivations of external actors are shaped by their own particular dynamics (in this case, decreasing US involve- ment and a growing UN role during the transition), will they contribute to democratization? Finally, the concluding section will reflect on the implications of El Salvador's transition both for resolution of the Central American conflicts as well as for democratic consolidation in the region. A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT WITH DEMOCRACY: FROM PEACE ACCORDS TO ELECTIONS N order to evaluate the 1992 peace accords and 1994 elections, it is always necessary to put these events in context and clarify the relation between elections and democracy. From 1931 to 1979, the Salvadoran military ruled directly in an alliance with agrarian elites that Baloyra (1983) aptly termed "reactionary despotism". A democratic facade was preserved v/a parties and elections, but there was no effective, legitimate link between civil society and the state (Walter and Williams, 1993). The by suspending part of its aid. Meanwhile, the FMLN was also beginning to reassess the political cost of carrying on a protracted war (Villalobos, 1989a and 1989b; Bollinger, 1989), a lesson driven home by the defeat of the Sandinistas at the polls in Nicaragua in February 1990. Finally, the existing electoral institutions began to hold out some promise of reality (Baloyra, 1992), particularly after the 1991 legislative elections when the Center-Left Convergencia Democrttica (CD) coali- tion won representation. The transition from civil war to elections in El Salvador raises several broader questions. The first issue to be explored here is the extent to which such a negotiated transition can be a real forward step toward democratization. Careful examina- tion of two important factors - (a) the implementation of the 1992 Salvadoran peace accord and (b) the 1994 election - will facilitate an understanding of the conditions required for a negotiated transition to democracy. The second issue is whether (and to what extent) external actors can play a positive role in transitions from authoritarianism. Specifically, if the timetable and motivations of external actors are shaped by their own particular dynamics (in this case, decreasing US involve- ment and a growing UN role during the transition), will they contribute to democratization? Finally, the concluding section will reflect on the implications of El Salvador's transition both for resolution of the Central American conflicts as well as for democratic consolidation in the region. A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT WITH DEMOCRACY: FROM PEACE ACCORDS TO ELECTIONS N order to evaluate the 1992 peace accords and 1994 elections, it is always necessary to put these events in context and clarify the relation between elections and democracy. From 1931 to 1979, the Salvadoran military ruled directly in an alliance with agrarian elites that Baloyra (1983) aptly termed "reactionary despotism". A democratic facade was preserved v/a parties and elections, but there was no effective, legitimate link between civil society and the state (Walter and Williams, 1993). The by suspending part of its aid. Meanwhile, the FMLN was also beginning to reassess the political cost of carrying on a protracted war (Villalobos, 1989a and 1989b; Bollinger, 1989), a lesson driven home by the defeat of the Sandinistas at the polls in Nicaragua in February 1990. Finally, the existing electoral institutions began to hold out some promise of reality (Baloyra, 1992), particularly after the 1991 legislative elections when the Center-Left Convergencia Democrttica (CD) coali- tion won representation. The transition from civil war to elections in El Salvador raises several broader questions. The first issue to be explored here is the extent to which such a negotiated transition can be a real forward step toward democratization. Careful examina- tion of two important factors - (a) the implementation of the 1992 Salvadoran peace accord and (b) the 1994 election - will facilitate an understanding of the conditions required for a negotiated transition to democracy. The second issue is whether (and to what extent) external actors can play a positive role in transitions from authoritarianism. Specifically, if the timetable and motivations of external actors are shaped by their own particular dynamics (in this case, decreasing US involve- ment and a growing UN role during the transition), will they contribute to democratization? Finally, the concluding section will reflect on the implications of El Salvador's transition both for resolution of the Central American conflicts as well as for democratic consolidation in the region. A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT WITH DEMOCRACY: FROM PEACE ACCORDS TO ELECTIONS N order to evaluate the 1992 peace accords and 1994 elections, it is always necessary to put these events in context and clarify the relation between elections and democracy. From 1931 to 1979, the Salvadoran military ruled directly in an alliance with agrarian elites that Baloyra (1983) aptly termed "reactionary despotism". A democratic facade was preserved v/a parties and elections, but there was no effective, legitimate link between civil society and the state (Walter and Williams, 1993). The STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 5 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 5 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 5 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 5 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 5 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 5 system essentially functioned as a marriage of convenience between the military and oligarchy to exclude new contenders for power and to block the possibility of agrarian reform or other basic social change. This model came unraveled with the coup of October 1979. When the resulting civilian-military junta proved unable either to alter the existing power configuration or to prevent wholesale repression, a radicalized coalition of grassroots organizations and guerrilla forces - the Frente Democratico Revolucionario-Frente Farabundo Martf (FDR- FMLN) - sought change outside the system. Elections without Democracy in the 1980s As Karl (1986) has noted, the elections held in the 1980s during the civil war did not constitute the "founding" elections of a new democratic regime because they occurred before there was any fundamental consensus among the main political actors and social forces. In some important ways, these elections actually worked against democratization. The 1982 elections for a Constituent Assembly were characterized by some as "demonstration elections" (Herman and Brodhead, 1984), orchestrated by the United States to sanitize the external image of a repressive government. The repression effectively prevented participation by the FRD-FMLN, which represented a substantial segment of society.5 Moreover, when the 1982 election led to an alliance of the far-Right ARENA and the Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional(PCN), with its historical links to the military, which threatened to name Roberto D'Aubuisson as provisional president, the US exerted pressure and the military intervened to appoint businessman Alvaro Magafa (Magafa, 1984).6 Thus the 1982 election brought a president appointed by the military and a constitution which gutted the incipient agrarian reform while, at the same time, it served both to justify increased foreign intervention and to deflect proposals for a negotiated end to the civil war (Karl, 1986: 19-25). Similarly, the 1984 legislative, and 1985 presidential, elections were marked by US support for the victorious PDC in order to secure a major increase in US military involvement. system essentially functioned as a marriage of convenience between the military and oligarchy to exclude new contenders for power and to block the possibility of agrarian reform or other basic social change. This model came unraveled with the coup of October 1979. When the resulting civilian-military junta proved unable either to alter the existing power configuration or to prevent wholesale repression, a radicalized coalition of grassroots organizations and guerrilla forces - the Frente Democratico Revolucionario-Frente Farabundo Martf (FDR- FMLN) - sought change outside the system. Elections without Democracy in the 1980s As Karl (1986) has noted, the elections held in the 1980s during the civil war did not constitute the "founding" elections of a new democratic regime because they occurred before there was any fundamental consensus among the main political actors and social forces. In some important ways, these elections actually worked against democratization. The 1982 elections for a Constituent Assembly were characterized by some as "demonstration elections" (Herman and Brodhead, 1984), orchestrated by the United States to sanitize the external image of a repressive government. The repression effectively prevented participation by the FRD-FMLN, which represented a substantial segment of society.5 Moreover, when the 1982 election led to an alliance of the far-Right ARENA and the Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional(PCN), with its historical links to the military, which threatened to name Roberto D'Aubuisson as provisional president, the US exerted pressure and the military intervened to appoint businessman Alvaro Magafa (Magafa, 1984).6 Thus the 1982 election brought a president appointed by the military and a constitution which gutted the incipient agrarian reform while, at the same time, it served both to justify increased foreign intervention and to deflect proposals for a negotiated end to the civil war (Karl, 1986: 19-25). Similarly, the 1984 legislative, and 1985 presidential, elections were marked by US support for the victorious PDC in order to secure a major increase in US military involvement. system essentially functioned as a marriage of convenience between the military and oligarchy to exclude new contenders for power and to block the possibility of agrarian reform or other basic social change. This model came unraveled with the coup of October 1979. When the resulting civilian-military junta proved unable either to alter the existing power configuration or to prevent wholesale repression, a radicalized coalition of grassroots organizations and guerrilla forces - the Frente Democratico Revolucionario-Frente Farabundo Martf (FDR- FMLN) - sought change outside the system. Elections without Democracy in the 1980s As Karl (1986) has noted, the elections held in the 1980s during the civil war did not constitute the "founding" elections of a new democratic regime because they occurred before there was any fundamental consensus among the main political actors and social forces. In some important ways, these elections actually worked against democratization. The 1982 elections for a Constituent Assembly were characterized by some as "demonstration elections" (Herman and Brodhead, 1984), orchestrated by the United States to sanitize the external image of a repressive government. The repression effectively prevented participation by the FRD-FMLN, which represented a substantial segment of society.5 Moreover, when the 1982 election led to an alliance of the far-Right ARENA and the Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional(PCN), with its historical links to the military, which threatened to name Roberto D'Aubuisson as provisional president, the US exerted pressure and the military intervened to appoint businessman Alvaro Magafa (Magafa, 1984).6 Thus the 1982 election brought a president appointed by the military and a constitution which gutted the incipient agrarian reform while, at the same time, it served both to justify increased foreign intervention and to deflect proposals for a negotiated end to the civil war (Karl, 1986: 19-25). Similarly, the 1984 legislative, and 1985 presidential, elections were marked by US support for the victorious PDC in order to secure a major increase in US military involvement. system essentially functioned as a marriage of convenience between the military and oligarchy to exclude new contenders for power and to block the possibility of agrarian reform or other basic social change. This model came unraveled with the coup of October 1979. When the resulting civilian-military junta proved unable either to alter the existing power configuration or to prevent wholesale repression, a radicalized coalition of grassroots organizations and guerrilla forces - the Frente Democratico Revolucionario-Frente Farabundo Martf (FDR- FMLN) - sought change outside the system. Elections without Democracy in the 1980s As Karl (1986) has noted, the elections held in the 1980s during the civil war did not constitute the "founding" elections of a new democratic regime because they occurred before there was any fundamental consensus among the main political actors and social forces. In some important ways, these elections actually worked against democratization. The 1982 elections for a Constituent Assembly were characterized by some as "demonstration elections" (Herman and Brodhead, 1984), orchestrated by the United States to sanitize the external image of a repressive government. The repression effectively prevented participation by the FRD-FMLN, which represented a substantial segment of society.5 Moreover, when the 1982 election led to an alliance of the far-Right ARENA and the Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional(PCN), with its historical links to the military, which threatened to name Roberto D'Aubuisson as provisional president, the US exerted pressure and the military intervened to appoint businessman Alvaro Magafa (Magafa, 1984).6 Thus the 1982 election brought a president appointed by the military and a constitution which gutted the incipient agrarian reform while, at the same time, it served both to justify increased foreign intervention and to deflect proposals for a negotiated end to the civil war (Karl, 1986: 19-25). Similarly, the 1984 legislative, and 1985 presidential, elections were marked by US support for the victorious PDC in order to secure a major increase in US military involvement. system essentially functioned as a marriage of convenience between the military and oligarchy to exclude new contenders for power and to block the possibility of agrarian reform or other basic social change. This model came unraveled with the coup of October 1979. When the resulting civilian-military junta proved unable either to alter the existing power configuration or to prevent wholesale repression, a radicalized coalition of grassroots organizations and guerrilla forces - the Frente Democratico Revolucionario-Frente Farabundo Martf (FDR- FMLN) - sought change outside the system. Elections without Democracy in the 1980s As Karl (1986) has noted, the elections held in the 1980s during the civil war did not constitute the "founding" elections of a new democratic regime because they occurred before there was any fundamental consensus among the main political actors and social forces. In some important ways, these elections actually worked against democratization. The 1982 elections for a Constituent Assembly were characterized by some as "demonstration elections" (Herman and Brodhead, 1984), orchestrated by the United States to sanitize the external image of a repressive government. The repression effectively prevented participation by the FRD-FMLN, which represented a substantial segment of society.5 Moreover, when the 1982 election led to an alliance of the far-Right ARENA and the Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional(PCN), with its historical links to the military, which threatened to name Roberto D'Aubuisson as provisional president, the US exerted pressure and the military intervened to appoint businessman Alvaro Magafa (Magafa, 1984).6 Thus the 1982 election brought a president appointed by the military and a constitution which gutted the incipient agrarian reform while, at the same time, it served both to justify increased foreign intervention and to deflect proposals for a negotiated end to the civil war (Karl, 1986: 19-25). Similarly, the 1984 legislative, and 1985 presidential, elections were marked by US support for the victorious PDC in order to secure a major increase in US military involvement. system essentially functioned as a marriage of convenience between the military and oligarchy to exclude new contenders for power and to block the possibility of agrarian reform or other basic social change. This model came unraveled with the coup of October 1979. When the resulting civilian-military junta proved unable either to alter the existing power configuration or to prevent wholesale repression, a radicalized coalition of grassroots organizations and guerrilla forces - the Frente Democratico Revolucionario-Frente Farabundo Martf (FDR- FMLN) - sought change outside the system. Elections without Democracy in the 1980s As Karl (1986) has noted, the elections held in the 1980s during the civil war did not constitute the "founding" elections of a new democratic regime because they occurred before there was any fundamental consensus among the main political actors and social forces. In some important ways, these elections actually worked against democratization. The 1982 elections for a Constituent Assembly were characterized by some as "demonstration elections" (Herman and Brodhead, 1984), orchestrated by the United States to sanitize the external image of a repressive government. The repression effectively prevented participation by the FRD-FMLN, which represented a substantial segment of society.5 Moreover, when the 1982 election led to an alliance of the far-Right ARENA and the Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional(PCN), with its historical links to the military, which threatened to name Roberto D'Aubuisson as provisional president, the US exerted pressure and the military intervened to appoint businessman Alvaro Magafa (Magafa, 1984).6 Thus the 1982 election brought a president appointed by the military and a constitution which gutted the incipient agrarian reform while, at the same time, it served both to justify increased foreign intervention and to deflect proposals for a negotiated end to the civil war (Karl, 1986: 19-25). Similarly, the 1984 legislative, and 1985 presidential, elections were marked by US support for the victorious PDC in order to secure a major increase in US military involvement. 6 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 6 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 6 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 6 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 6 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 6 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS Nevertheless, the 1984-85 elections were significant in several respects. First, the Duarte government brought a degree of liberalization, allowing labor and other popular sectors to reconstruct an organized presence in civil society. This upsurge in popular organizing from below - which was well underway in the 1970s before it was driven underground by repression - and the creation of new political spaces, were important steps in a country without previous democratic traditions (Lungo Ucles, 1984). Second, the elections registered the substantial support that existed for reforms and negotia- tions (Karl, 1985, 1988). Third, the elections established some degree of consensus, at least between the Center-Right and the Right, on constitutional and electoral rules of the political game (Baloyra, 1992: 72; Cordova Macias, 1992: 21-42). Ultimately, the Duarte government proved fatally dependent on US support for a military solution, which undermined the possibil- ity of real reforms or negotiations. The PDC failed to bring expected progress toward either peace or prosperity, and its period in office was marked, instead, by substantial corruption and internal fights that became public. ARENA adroitly ex- ploited popular frustration with these failures, along with nationalist resentment of US micromanagement, to win the legislative elections in 1988, and the presidency (Alfredo Cristiani, a wealthy coffee-grower with a moderate image) in 1989. Even these elections, however, indicated that the Right had to pay some attention to the electoral way of doing politics and to endorse negotiations, at least outwardly, in their campaign. Nevertheless, this bid for legitimacy was under- mined by a considerable degree of skepticism on the part of the general public who gave expression to their feelings via electoral abstention: almost 35% of the 1982 electorate had dropped out by 1989 (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 9). In short, although the 1980s elections failed to bring democracy, they did usher in a process of liberalized authoritarianism and established the "institutionalization of uncertainty" in elections if only for a limited part of the political spectrum. As Przeworski (1986, 1988) has noted, democratiza- tion is only one possible contingent outcome of such a process, Nevertheless, the 1984-85 elections were significant in several respects. First, the Duarte government brought a degree of liberalization, allowing labor and other popular sectors to reconstruct an organized presence in civil society. This upsurge in popular organizing from below - which was well underway in the 1970s before it was driven underground by repression - and the creation of new political spaces, were important steps in a country without previous democratic traditions (Lungo Ucles, 1984). Second, the elections registered the substantial support that existed for reforms and negotia- tions (Karl, 1985, 1988). Third, the elections established some degree of consensus, at least between the Center-Right and the Right, on constitutional and electoral rules of the political game (Baloyra, 1992: 72; Cordova Macias, 1992: 21-42). Ultimately, the Duarte government proved fatally dependent on US support for a military solution, which undermined the possibil- ity of real reforms or negotiations. The PDC failed to bring expected progress toward either peace or prosperity, and its period in office was marked, instead, by substantial corruption and internal fights that became public. ARENA adroitly ex- ploited popular frustration with these failures, along with nationalist resentment of US micromanagement, to win the legislative elections in 1988, and the presidency (Alfredo Cristiani, a wealthy coffee-grower with a moderate image) in 1989. Even these elections, however, indicated that the Right had to pay some attention to the electoral way of doing politics and to endorse negotiations, at least outwardly, in their campaign. Nevertheless, this bid for legitimacy was under- mined by a considerable degree of skepticism on the part of the general public who gave expression to their feelings via electoral abstention: almost 35% of the 1982 electorate had dropped out by 1989 (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 9). In short, although the 1980s elections failed to bring democracy, they did usher in a process of liberalized authoritarianism and established the "institutionalization of uncertainty" in elections if only for a limited part of the political spectrum. As Przeworski (1986, 1988) has noted, democratiza- tion is only one possible contingent outcome of such a process, Nevertheless, the 1984-85 elections were significant in several respects. First, the Duarte government brought a degree of liberalization, allowing labor and other popular sectors to reconstruct an organized presence in civil society. This upsurge in popular organizing from below - which was well underway in the 1970s before it was driven underground by repression - and the creation of new political spaces, were important steps in a country without previous democratic traditions (Lungo Ucles, 1984). Second, the elections registered the substantial support that existed for reforms and negotia- tions (Karl, 1985, 1988). Third, the elections established some degree of consensus, at least between the Center-Right and the Right, on constitutional and electoral rules of the political game (Baloyra, 1992: 72; Cordova Macias, 1992: 21-42). Ultimately, the Duarte government proved fatally dependent on US support for a military solution, which undermined the possibil- ity of real reforms or negotiations. The PDC failed to bring expected progress toward either peace or prosperity, and its period in office was marked, instead, by substantial corruption and internal fights that became public. ARENA adroitly ex- ploited popular frustration with these failures, along with nationalist resentment of US micromanagement, to win the legislative elections in 1988, and the presidency (Alfredo Cristiani, a wealthy coffee-grower with a moderate image) in 1989. Even these elections, however, indicated that the Right had to pay some attention to the electoral way of doing politics and to endorse negotiations, at least outwardly, in their campaign. Nevertheless, this bid for legitimacy was under- mined by a considerable degree of skepticism on the part of the general public who gave expression to their feelings via electoral abstention: almost 35% of the 1982 electorate had dropped out by 1989 (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 9). In short, although the 1980s elections failed to bring democracy, they did usher in a process of liberalized authoritarianism and established the "institutionalization of uncertainty" in elections if only for a limited part of the political spectrum. As Przeworski (1986, 1988) has noted, democratiza- tion is only one possible contingent outcome of such a process, Nevertheless, the 1984-85 elections were significant in several respects. First, the Duarte government brought a degree of liberalization, allowing labor and other popular sectors to reconstruct an organized presence in civil society. This upsurge in popular organizing from below - which was well underway in the 1970s before it was driven underground by repression - and the creation of new political spaces, were important steps in a country without previous democratic traditions (Lungo Ucles, 1984). Second, the elections registered the substantial support that existed for reforms and negotia- tions (Karl, 1985, 1988). Third, the elections established some degree of consensus, at least between the Center-Right and the Right, on constitutional and electoral rules of the political game (Baloyra, 1992: 72; Cordova Macias, 1992: 21-42). Ultimately, the Duarte government proved fatally dependent on US support for a military solution, which undermined the possibil- ity of real reforms or negotiations. The PDC failed to bring expected progress toward either peace or prosperity, and its period in office was marked, instead, by substantial corruption and internal fights that became public. ARENA adroitly ex- ploited popular frustration with these failures, along with nationalist resentment of US micromanagement, to win the legislative elections in 1988, and the presidency (Alfredo Cristiani, a wealthy coffee-grower with a moderate image) in 1989. Even these elections, however, indicated that the Right had to pay some attention to the electoral way of doing politics and to endorse negotiations, at least outwardly, in their campaign. Nevertheless, this bid for legitimacy was under- mined by a considerable degree of skepticism on the part of the general public who gave expression to their feelings via electoral abstention: almost 35% of the 1982 electorate had dropped out by 1989 (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 9). In short, although the 1980s elections failed to bring democracy, they did usher in a process of liberalized authoritarianism and established the "institutionalization of uncertainty" in elections if only for a limited part of the political spectrum. As Przeworski (1986, 1988) has noted, democratiza- tion is only one possible contingent outcome of such a process, Nevertheless, the 1984-85 elections were significant in several respects. First, the Duarte government brought a degree of liberalization, allowing labor and other popular sectors to reconstruct an organized presence in civil society. This upsurge in popular organizing from below - which was well underway in the 1970s before it was driven underground by repression - and the creation of new political spaces, were important steps in a country without previous democratic traditions (Lungo Ucles, 1984). Second, the elections registered the substantial support that existed for reforms and negotia- tions (Karl, 1985, 1988). Third, the elections established some degree of consensus, at least between the Center-Right and the Right, on constitutional and electoral rules of the political game (Baloyra, 1992: 72; Cordova Macias, 1992: 21-42). Ultimately, the Duarte government proved fatally dependent on US support for a military solution, which undermined the possibil- ity of real reforms or negotiations. The PDC failed to bring expected progress toward either peace or prosperity, and its period in office was marked, instead, by substantial corruption and internal fights that became public. ARENA adroitly ex- ploited popular frustration with these failures, along with nationalist resentment of US micromanagement, to win the legislative elections in 1988, and the presidency (Alfredo Cristiani, a wealthy coffee-grower with a moderate image) in 1989. Even these elections, however, indicated that the Right had to pay some attention to the electoral way of doing politics and to endorse negotiations, at least outwardly, in their campaign. Nevertheless, this bid for legitimacy was under- mined by a considerable degree of skepticism on the part of the general public who gave expression to their feelings via electoral abstention: almost 35% of the 1982 electorate had dropped out by 1989 (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 9). In short, although the 1980s elections failed to bring democracy, they did usher in a process of liberalized authoritarianism and established the "institutionalization of uncertainty" in elections if only for a limited part of the political spectrum. As Przeworski (1986, 1988) has noted, democratiza- tion is only one possible contingent outcome of such a process, Nevertheless, the 1984-85 elections were significant in several respects. First, the Duarte government brought a degree of liberalization, allowing labor and other popular sectors to reconstruct an organized presence in civil society. This upsurge in popular organizing from below - which was well underway in the 1970s before it was driven underground by repression - and the creation of new political spaces, were important steps in a country without previous democratic traditions (Lungo Ucles, 1984). Second, the elections registered the substantial support that existed for reforms and negotia- tions (Karl, 1985, 1988). Third, the elections established some degree of consensus, at least between the Center-Right and the Right, on constitutional and electoral rules of the political game (Baloyra, 1992: 72; Cordova Macias, 1992: 21-42). Ultimately, the Duarte government proved fatally dependent on US support for a military solution, which undermined the possibil- ity of real reforms or negotiations. The PDC failed to bring expected progress toward either peace or prosperity, and its period in office was marked, instead, by substantial corruption and internal fights that became public. ARENA adroitly ex- ploited popular frustration with these failures, along with nationalist resentment of US micromanagement, to win the legislative elections in 1988, and the presidency (Alfredo Cristiani, a wealthy coffee-grower with a moderate image) in 1989. Even these elections, however, indicated that the Right had to pay some attention to the electoral way of doing politics and to endorse negotiations, at least outwardly, in their campaign. Nevertheless, this bid for legitimacy was under- mined by a considerable degree of skepticism on the part of the general public who gave expression to their feelings via electoral abstention: almost 35% of the 1982 electorate had dropped out by 1989 (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 9). In short, although the 1980s elections failed to bring democracy, they did usher in a process of liberalized authoritarianism and established the "institutionalization of uncertainty" in elections if only for a limited part of the political spectrum. As Przeworski (1986, 1988) has noted, democratiza- tion is only one possible contingent outcome of such a process, STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 7 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 7 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 7 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 7 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 7 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 7 and "extrication" from authoritarian rule is particularly difficult in cases where the armed forces play a central role in defending the old regime. If the process of democratization is seen as two transitions (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 18), the 1992-94 period in El Salvador might represent the first phase of transition from authoritarianism to electoral democracy or polyarchy, which does not preclude the possibility of authoritarian regression. The second transition, if it were to occur, would involve the consolidation of a democratic regime and, perhaps, the exten- sion of democracy beyond the limited political sphere. What would it take for the 1994 elections to represent a break with the past and provide the founding basis for a transition to democracy in El Salvador? Two kinds of criteria are relevant. The first is an antecedent condition: whether, prior to the elections, the major political and social actors had been able to arrive at consensus on the rules of political competition, conflict resolution, economic production, and the role of the state and, in particular, the military (Karl, 1986: 9-10). In the case of El Salvador, the test is whether such a consensus was reached during the negotiation and implementation of the 1992 peace accords. While some uncertainty regarding the outcome may be a necessary precondition for actors to agree to enter into negotiations over a regime transition (Przeworski, 1986), once those negotiations begin, the options and resources open to the bargaining parties are shaped by the existing socioeco- nomic structures and political institutions (Karl, 1990: 6-7). The end of the war in El Salvador was tied to some basic agreement on the scope, and form, of political contest. All such transitions- by-agreement entail a certain ambivalence since, on the one hand, a diversity of democratic actors must agree on proce- dures for reining in the anti-democratic actors; on the other hand, excessive prior accord among political elites may spill over from the procedural to the substantive, thereby limiting the prospects for real competition (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 22-3). The second test is whether the organization and conduct of the 1994 elections themselves advanced formation of a democratic system of government. Definitions of democracy vary from the minimalist one of emphasizing mainly the and "extrication" from authoritarian rule is particularly difficult in cases where the armed forces play a central role in defending the old regime. If the process of democratization is seen as two transitions (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 18), the 1992-94 period in El Salvador might represent the first phase of transition from authoritarianism to electoral democracy or polyarchy, which does not preclude the possibility of authoritarian regression. The second transition, if it were to occur, would involve the consolidation of a democratic regime and, perhaps, the exten- sion of democracy beyond the limited political sphere. What would it take for the 1994 elections to represent a break with the past and provide the founding basis for a transition to democracy in El Salvador? Two kinds of criteria are relevant. The first is an antecedent condition: whether, prior to the elections, the major political and social actors had been able to arrive at consensus on the rules of political competition, conflict resolution, economic production, and the role of the state and, in particular, the military (Karl, 1986: 9-10). In the case of El Salvador, the test is whether such a consensus was reached during the negotiation and implementation of the 1992 peace accords. While some uncertainty regarding the outcome may be a necessary precondition for actors to agree to enter into negotiations over a regime transition (Przeworski, 1986), once those negotiations begin, the options and resources open to the bargaining parties are shaped by the existing socioeco- nomic structures and political institutions (Karl, 1990: 6-7). The end of the war in El Salvador was tied to some basic agreement on the scope, and form, of political contest. All such transitions- by-agreement entail a certain ambivalence since, on the one hand, a diversity of democratic actors must agree on proce- dures for reining in the anti-democratic actors; on the other hand, excessive prior accord among political elites may spill over from the procedural to the substantive, thereby limiting the prospects for real competition (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 22-3). The second test is whether the organization and conduct of the 1994 elections themselves advanced formation of a democratic system of government. Definitions of democracy vary from the minimalist one of emphasizing mainly the and "extrication" from authoritarian rule is particularly difficult in cases where the armed forces play a central role in defending the old regime. If the process of democratization is seen as two transitions (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 18), the 1992-94 period in El Salvador might represent the first phase of transition from authoritarianism to electoral democracy or polyarchy, which does not preclude the possibility of authoritarian regression. The second transition, if it were to occur, would involve the consolidation of a democratic regime and, perhaps, the exten- sion of democracy beyond the limited political sphere. What would it take for the 1994 elections to represent a break with the past and provide the founding basis for a transition to democracy in El Salvador? Two kinds of criteria are relevant. The first is an antecedent condition: whether, prior to the elections, the major political and social actors had been able to arrive at consensus on the rules of political competition, conflict resolution, economic production, and the role of the state and, in particular, the military (Karl, 1986: 9-10). In the case of El Salvador, the test is whether such a consensus was reached during the negotiation and implementation of the 1992 peace accords. While some uncertainty regarding the outcome may be a necessary precondition for actors to agree to enter into negotiations over a regime transition (Przeworski, 1986), once those negotiations begin, the options and resources open to the bargaining parties are shaped by the existing socioeco- nomic structures and political institutions (Karl, 1990: 6-7). The end of the war in El Salvador was tied to some basic agreement on the scope, and form, of political contest. All such transitions- by-agreement entail a certain ambivalence since, on the one hand, a diversity of democratic actors must agree on proce- dures for reining in the anti-democratic actors; on the other hand, excessive prior accord among political elites may spill over from the procedural to the substantive, thereby limiting the prospects for real competition (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 22-3). The second test is whether the organization and conduct of the 1994 elections themselves advanced formation of a democratic system of government. Definitions of democracy vary from the minimalist one of emphasizing mainly the and "extrication" from authoritarian rule is particularly difficult in cases where the armed forces play a central role in defending the old regime. If the process of democratization is seen as two transitions (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 18), the 1992-94 period in El Salvador might represent the first phase of transition from authoritarianism to electoral democracy or polyarchy, which does not preclude the possibility of authoritarian regression. The second transition, if it were to occur, would involve the consolidation of a democratic regime and, perhaps, the exten- sion of democracy beyond the limited political sphere. What would it take for the 1994 elections to represent a break with the past and provide the founding basis for a transition to democracy in El Salvador? Two kinds of criteria are relevant. The first is an antecedent condition: whether, prior to the elections, the major political and social actors had been able to arrive at consensus on the rules of political competition, conflict resolution, economic production, and the role of the state and, in particular, the military (Karl, 1986: 9-10). In the case of El Salvador, the test is whether such a consensus was reached during the negotiation and implementation of the 1992 peace accords. While some uncertainty regarding the outcome may be a necessary precondition for actors to agree to enter into negotiations over a regime transition (Przeworski, 1986), once those negotiations begin, the options and resources open to the bargaining parties are shaped by the existing socioeco- nomic structures and political institutions (Karl, 1990: 6-7). The end of the war in El Salvador was tied to some basic agreement on the scope, and form, of political contest. All such transitions- by-agreement entail a certain ambivalence since, on the one hand, a diversity of democratic actors must agree on proce- dures for reining in the anti-democratic actors; on the other hand, excessive prior accord among political elites may spill over from the procedural to the substantive, thereby limiting the prospects for real competition (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 22-3). The second test is whether the organization and conduct of the 1994 elections themselves advanced formation of a democratic system of government. Definitions of democracy vary from the minimalist one of emphasizing mainly the and "extrication" from authoritarian rule is particularly difficult in cases where the armed forces play a central role in defending the old regime. If the process of democratization is seen as two transitions (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 18), the 1992-94 period in El Salvador might represent the first phase of transition from authoritarianism to electoral democracy or polyarchy, which does not preclude the possibility of authoritarian regression. The second transition, if it were to occur, would involve the consolidation of a democratic regime and, perhaps, the exten- sion of democracy beyond the limited political sphere. What would it take for the 1994 elections to represent a break with the past and provide the founding basis for a transition to democracy in El Salvador? Two kinds of criteria are relevant. The first is an antecedent condition: whether, prior to the elections, the major political and social actors had been able to arrive at consensus on the rules of political competition, conflict resolution, economic production, and the role of the state and, in particular, the military (Karl, 1986: 9-10). In the case of El Salvador, the test is whether such a consensus was reached during the negotiation and implementation of the 1992 peace accords. While some uncertainty regarding the outcome may be a necessary precondition for actors to agree to enter into negotiations over a regime transition (Przeworski, 1986), once those negotiations begin, the options and resources open to the bargaining parties are shaped by the existing socioeco- nomic structures and political institutions (Karl, 1990: 6-7). The end of the war in El Salvador was tied to some basic agreement on the scope, and form, of political contest. All such transitions- by-agreement entail a certain ambivalence since, on the one hand, a diversity of democratic actors must agree on proce- dures for reining in the anti-democratic actors; on the other hand, excessive prior accord among political elites may spill over from the procedural to the substantive, thereby limiting the prospects for real competition (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 22-3). The second test is whether the organization and conduct of the 1994 elections themselves advanced formation of a democratic system of government. Definitions of democracy vary from the minimalist one of emphasizing mainly the and "extrication" from authoritarian rule is particularly difficult in cases where the armed forces play a central role in defending the old regime. If the process of democratization is seen as two transitions (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 18), the 1992-94 period in El Salvador might represent the first phase of transition from authoritarianism to electoral democracy or polyarchy, which does not preclude the possibility of authoritarian regression. The second transition, if it were to occur, would involve the consolidation of a democratic regime and, perhaps, the exten- sion of democracy beyond the limited political sphere. What would it take for the 1994 elections to represent a break with the past and provide the founding basis for a transition to democracy in El Salvador? Two kinds of criteria are relevant. The first is an antecedent condition: whether, prior to the elections, the major political and social actors had been able to arrive at consensus on the rules of political competition, conflict resolution, economic production, and the role of the state and, in particular, the military (Karl, 1986: 9-10). In the case of El Salvador, the test is whether such a consensus was reached during the negotiation and implementation of the 1992 peace accords. While some uncertainty regarding the outcome may be a necessary precondition for actors to agree to enter into negotiations over a regime transition (Przeworski, 1986), once those negotiations begin, the options and resources open to the bargaining parties are shaped by the existing socioeco- nomic structures and political institutions (Karl, 1990: 6-7). The end of the war in El Salvador was tied to some basic agreement on the scope, and form, of political contest. All such transitions- by-agreement entail a certain ambivalence since, on the one hand, a diversity of democratic actors must agree on proce- dures for reining in the anti-democratic actors; on the other hand, excessive prior accord among political elites may spill over from the procedural to the substantive, thereby limiting the prospects for real competition (G. O'Donnell, 1992: 22-3). The second test is whether the organization and conduct of the 1994 elections themselves advanced formation of a democratic system of government. Definitions of democracy vary from the minimalist one of emphasizing mainly the 8 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 8 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 8 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 8 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 8 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 8 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS procedural aspects of multiparty competition, to a more comprehensive definition that includes socioeconomic justice for the majority. A mid-range assessment (Karl, 1990: 2) may be more appropriate for El Salvador, however, due to its history of formal electoral mechanisms that were vitiated by military and paramilitary forces to the point that both representation and accountability were limited. For example, one list of relevant indicators suggested for evaluating Central American elections (Booth, 1989: 16-21) includes: (1) the range of political participation afforded by the election; (2) the breadth of participation (as reflected in voter turnout); (3) the depth of participation (actual influence of voters on important issues); (4) whether the electoral environment/conduct allowed free expression and equal rights to all participants; (5) whether the election helped consolidate a stable regime under democratic rules; and (6) whether it helped build a political culture of support for democratic participation. These last two criteria, in particular, are useful for assessing El Salvador's prospects for what Guillermo O'Donnell (1992) calls the "second transition" to a consolidated democ- racy. Rather than conceiving of democracy as a two-part variable, it may facilitate comparison to think of it as a layered series of attributes above and beyond the holding of contested elections, which may be combined in a number of different ways to yield diverse types of democracy (Collier and Mahon, 1993; Schmitter and Karl, 1993). The fairness with which elections are held and the degree and quality of civil participa- tion would thus be relevant factors in helping to evaluate electoral democracy. Protection of political rights, as well as accountability of leaders to the citizens (implying subordina- tion of the military, and independence from external control), would thus be key components of liberal democracy (Schmitter and Karl, 1993: 45-6) . A collective commitment to giving a high priority to socioeconomic equality might also be a distinguish- ing characteristic of participatory democracy. By applying these different kinds of criteria to the 1992 peace accords and to the 1994 elections, it is possible to find the appropriate adjectives to attach to "democracy" in El Salvador. procedural aspects of multiparty competition, to a more comprehensive definition that includes socioeconomic justice for the majority. A mid-range assessment (Karl, 1990: 2) may be more appropriate for El Salvador, however, due to its history of formal electoral mechanisms that were vitiated by military and paramilitary forces to the point that both representation and accountability were limited. For example, one list of relevant indicators suggested for evaluating Central American elections (Booth, 1989: 16-21) includes: (1) the range of political participation afforded by the election; (2) the breadth of participation (as reflected in voter turnout); (3) the depth of participation (actual influence of voters on important issues); (4) whether the electoral environment/conduct allowed free expression and equal rights to all participants; (5) whether the election helped consolidate a stable regime under democratic rules; and (6) whether it helped build a political culture of support for democratic participation. These last two criteria, in particular, are useful for assessing El Salvador's prospects for what Guillermo O'Donnell (1992) calls the "second transition" to a consolidated democ- racy. Rather than conceiving of democracy as a two-part variable, it may facilitate comparison to think of it as a layered series of attributes above and beyond the holding of contested elections, which may be combined in a number of different ways to yield diverse types of democracy (Collier and Mahon, 1993; Schmitter and Karl, 1993). The fairness with which elections are held and the degree and quality of civil participa- tion would thus be relevant factors in helping to evaluate electoral democracy. Protection of political rights, as well as accountability of leaders to the citizens (implying subordina- tion of the military, and independence from external control), would thus be key components of liberal democracy (Schmitter and Karl, 1993: 45-6) . A collective commitment to giving a high priority to socioeconomic equality might also be a distinguish- ing characteristic of participatory democracy. By applying these different kinds of criteria to the 1992 peace accords and to the 1994 elections, it is possible to find the appropriate adjectives to attach to "democracy" in El Salvador. procedural aspects of multiparty competition, to a more comprehensive definition that includes socioeconomic justice for the majority. A mid-range assessment (Karl, 1990: 2) may be more appropriate for El Salvador, however, due to its history of formal electoral mechanisms that were vitiated by military and paramilitary forces to the point that both representation and accountability were limited. For example, one list of relevant indicators suggested for evaluating Central American elections (Booth, 1989: 16-21) includes: (1) the range of political participation afforded by the election; (2) the breadth of participation (as reflected in voter turnout); (3) the depth of participation (actual influence of voters on important issues); (4) whether the electoral environment/conduct allowed free expression and equal rights to all participants; (5) whether the election helped consolidate a stable regime under democratic rules; and (6) whether it helped build a political culture of support for democratic participation. These last two criteria, in particular, are useful for assessing El Salvador's prospects for what Guillermo O'Donnell (1992) calls the "second transition" to a consolidated democ- racy. Rather than conceiving of democracy as a two-part variable, it may facilitate comparison to think of it as a layered series of attributes above and beyond the holding of contested elections, which may be combined in a number of different ways to yield diverse types of democracy (Collier and Mahon, 1993; Schmitter and Karl, 1993). The fairness with which elections are held and the degree and quality of civil participa- tion would thus be relevant factors in helping to evaluate electoral democracy. Protection of political rights, as well as accountability of leaders to the citizens (implying subordina- tion of the military, and independence from external control), would thus be key components of liberal democracy (Schmitter and Karl, 1993: 45-6) . A collective commitment to giving a high priority to socioeconomic equality might also be a distinguish- ing characteristic of participatory democracy. By applying these different kinds of criteria to the 1992 peace accords and to the 1994 elections, it is possible to find the appropriate adjectives to attach to "democracy" in El Salvador. procedural aspects of multiparty competition, to a more comprehensive definition that includes socioeconomic justice for the majority. A mid-range assessment (Karl, 1990: 2) may be more appropriate for El Salvador, however, due to its history of formal electoral mechanisms that were vitiated by military and paramilitary forces to the point that both representation and accountability were limited. For example, one list of relevant indicators suggested for evaluating Central American elections (Booth, 1989: 16-21) includes: (1) the range of political participation afforded by the election; (2) the breadth of participation (as reflected in voter turnout); (3) the depth of participation (actual influence of voters on important issues); (4) whether the electoral environment/conduct allowed free expression and equal rights to all participants; (5) whether the election helped consolidate a stable regime under democratic rules; and (6) whether it helped build a political culture of support for democratic participation. These last two criteria, in particular, are useful for assessing El Salvador's prospects for what Guillermo O'Donnell (1992) calls the "second transition" to a consolidated democ- racy. Rather than conceiving of democracy as a two-part variable, it may facilitate comparison to think of it as a layered series of attributes above and beyond the holding of contested elections, which may be combined in a number of different ways to yield diverse types of democracy (Collier and Mahon, 1993; Schmitter and Karl, 1993). The fairness with which elections are held and the degree and quality of civil participa- tion would thus be relevant factors in helping to evaluate electoral democracy. Protection of political rights, as well as accountability of leaders to the citizens (implying subordina- tion of the military, and independence from external control), would thus be key components of liberal democracy (Schmitter and Karl, 1993: 45-6) . A collective commitment to giving a high priority to socioeconomic equality might also be a distinguish- ing characteristic of participatory democracy. By applying these different kinds of criteria to the 1992 peace accords and to the 1994 elections, it is possible to find the appropriate adjectives to attach to "democracy" in El Salvador. procedural aspects of multiparty competition, to a more comprehensive definition that includes socioeconomic justice for the majority. A mid-range assessment (Karl, 1990: 2) may be more appropriate for El Salvador, however, due to its history of formal electoral mechanisms that were vitiated by military and paramilitary forces to the point that both representation and accountability were limited. For example, one list of relevant indicators suggested for evaluating Central American elections (Booth, 1989: 16-21) includes: (1) the range of political participation afforded by the election; (2) the breadth of participation (as reflected in voter turnout); (3) the depth of participation (actual influence of voters on important issues); (4) whether the electoral environment/conduct allowed free expression and equal rights to all participants; (5) whether the election helped consolidate a stable regime under democratic rules; and (6) whether it helped build a political culture of support for democratic participation. These last two criteria, in particular, are useful for assessing El Salvador's prospects for what Guillermo O'Donnell (1992) calls the "second transition" to a consolidated democ- racy. Rather than conceiving of democracy as a two-part variable, it may facilitate comparison to think of it as a layered series of attributes above and beyond the holding of contested elections, which may be combined in a number of different ways to yield diverse types of democracy (Collier and Mahon, 1993; Schmitter and Karl, 1993). The fairness with which elections are held and the degree and quality of civil participa- tion would thus be relevant factors in helping to evaluate electoral democracy. Protection of political rights, as well as accountability of leaders to the citizens (implying subordina- tion of the military, and independence from external control), would thus be key components of liberal democracy (Schmitter and Karl, 1993: 45-6) . A collective commitment to giving a high priority to socioeconomic equality might also be a distinguish- ing characteristic of participatory democracy. By applying these different kinds of criteria to the 1992 peace accords and to the 1994 elections, it is possible to find the appropriate adjectives to attach to "democracy" in El Salvador. procedural aspects of multiparty competition, to a more comprehensive definition that includes socioeconomic justice for the majority. A mid-range assessment (Karl, 1990: 2) may be more appropriate for El Salvador, however, due to its history of formal electoral mechanisms that were vitiated by military and paramilitary forces to the point that both representation and accountability were limited. For example, one list of relevant indicators suggested for evaluating Central American elections (Booth, 1989: 16-21) includes: (1) the range of political participation afforded by the election; (2) the breadth of participation (as reflected in voter turnout); (3) the depth of participation (actual influence of voters on important issues); (4) whether the electoral environment/conduct allowed free expression and equal rights to all participants; (5) whether the election helped consolidate a stable regime under democratic rules; and (6) whether it helped build a political culture of support for democratic participation. These last two criteria, in particular, are useful for assessing El Salvador's prospects for what Guillermo O'Donnell (1992) calls the "second transition" to a consolidated democ- racy. Rather than conceiving of democracy as a two-part variable, it may facilitate comparison to think of it as a layered series of attributes above and beyond the holding of contested elections, which may be combined in a number of different ways to yield diverse types of democracy (Collier and Mahon, 1993; Schmitter and Karl, 1993). The fairness with which elections are held and the degree and quality of civil participa- tion would thus be relevant factors in helping to evaluate electoral democracy. Protection of political rights, as well as accountability of leaders to the citizens (implying subordina- tion of the military, and independence from external control), would thus be key components of liberal democracy (Schmitter and Karl, 1993: 45-6) . A collective commitment to giving a high priority to socioeconomic equality might also be a distinguish- ing characteristic of participatory democracy. By applying these different kinds of criteria to the 1992 peace accords and to the 1994 elections, it is possible to find the appropriate adjectives to attach to "democracy" in El Salvador. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 9 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 9 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 9 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 9 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 9 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 9 The 1992 Peace Accords El Salvador's negotiated transition involved two overlap- ping sets of issues; one over the basic rules of the political system, and the other over the political projects of the opposing parties. Because of the impossibility of achieving perfect harmony and agreement in implementing all the points under discussion, and until trust could be built, it was felt that external actors, if mutually acceptable, might possibly play an important role, similar to that of the King of Spain in the post-Franco transition. The United Nations had sponsored the two years of negotiations that led to theJanuary 1992 peace accords and still maintained an observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) to monitor both the accords and the March 1994 elections, which were inseparable parts of the negotiated package.7 Two external factors shifted to favor agreement on new rules of the political game: US commitment to a particular outcome de- clined, while UN involvement in reinforcing civilian political institutions expanded. Aside from the election, which was supposed to include guarantees that would allow full participation, the peace accords covered five other major areas: (1) human rights, with an international Truth Commission to investigate and redress the abuses of the past 12 years; (2) demilitarization, including a phased relinquishing of arms by the FMLN as well as reform and reduction of the armed forces; (3) police reform, replac- ing the old police and security apparatus with a new Civilian National Police; (4) judicialreform, which would overhaul the Supreme Court and establish a Human Rights Ombudsman office, and (5) land reform and other economic and social issues (UN, 1993a). Implementing the electoral mechanisms and the rest of the peace accords turned out to be a tortuous, conflict-ridden process (Vickers and Spence, 1992; Spence and Vickers, 1994; Spence etal., 1994). A brief review of each of the five major areas of the peace accords suggests that not only did the opposing sides of the old conflict have different kinds of democracy in mind (not surprisingly), but shortcomings in fulfilling the accords also limited progress toward the narrower goal of electoral democracy. The 1992 Peace Accords El Salvador's negotiated transition involved two overlap- ping sets of issues; one over the basic rules of the political system, and the other over the political projects of the opposing parties. Because of the impossibility of achieving perfect harmony and agreement in implementing all the points under discussion, and until trust could be built, it was felt that external actors, if mutually acceptable, might possibly play an important role, similar to that of the King of Spain in the post-Franco transition. The United Nations had sponsored the two years of negotiations that led to theJanuary 1992 peace accords and still maintained an observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) to monitor both the accords and the March 1994 elections, which were inseparable parts of the negotiated package.7 Two external factors shifted to favor agreement on new rules of the political game: US commitment to a particular outcome de- clined, while UN involvement in reinforcing civilian political institutions expanded. Aside from the election, which was supposed to include guarantees that would allow full participation, the peace accords covered five other major areas: (1) human rights, with an international Truth Commission to investigate and redress the abuses of the past 12 years; (2) demilitarization, including a phased relinquishing of arms by the FMLN as well as reform and reduction of the armed forces; (3) police reform, replac- ing the old police and security apparatus with a new Civilian National Police; (4) judicialreform, which would overhaul the Supreme Court and establish a Human Rights Ombudsman office, and (5) land reform and other economic and social issues (UN, 1993a). Implementing the electoral mechanisms and the rest of the peace accords turned out to be a tortuous, conflict-ridden process (Vickers and Spence, 1992; Spence and Vickers, 1994; Spence etal., 1994). A brief review of each of the five major areas of the peace accords suggests that not only did the opposing sides of the old conflict have different kinds of democracy in mind (not surprisingly), but shortcomings in fulfilling the accords also limited progress toward the narrower goal of electoral democracy. The 1992 Peace Accords El Salvador's negotiated transition involved two overlap- ping sets of issues; one over the basic rules of the political system, and the other over the political projects of the opposing parties. Because of the impossibility of achieving perfect harmony and agreement in implementing all the points under discussion, and until trust could be built, it was felt that external actors, if mutually acceptable, might possibly play an important role, similar to that of the King of Spain in the post-Franco transition. The United Nations had sponsored the two years of negotiations that led to theJanuary 1992 peace accords and still maintained an observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) to monitor both the accords and the March 1994 elections, which were inseparable parts of the negotiated package.7 Two external factors shifted to favor agreement on new rules of the political game: US commitment to a particular outcome de- clined, while UN involvement in reinforcing civilian political institutions expanded. Aside from the election, which was supposed to include guarantees that would allow full participation, the peace accords covered five other major areas: (1) human rights, with an international Truth Commission to investigate and redress the abuses of the past 12 years; (2) demilitarization, including a phased relinquishing of arms by the FMLN as well as reform and reduction of the armed forces; (3) police reform, replac- ing the old police and security apparatus with a new Civilian National Police; (4) judicialreform, which would overhaul the Supreme Court and establish a Human Rights Ombudsman office, and (5) land reform and other economic and social issues (UN, 1993a). Implementing the electoral mechanisms and the rest of the peace accords turned out to be a tortuous, conflict-ridden process (Vickers and Spence, 1992; Spence and Vickers, 1994; Spence etal., 1994). A brief review of each of the five major areas of the peace accords suggests that not only did the opposing sides of the old conflict have different kinds of democracy in mind (not surprisingly), but shortcomings in fulfilling the accords also limited progress toward the narrower goal of electoral democracy. The 1992 Peace Accords El Salvador's negotiated transition involved two overlap- ping sets of issues; one over the basic rules of the political system, and the other over the political projects of the opposing parties. Because of the impossibility of achieving perfect harmony and agreement in implementing all the points under discussion, and until trust could be built, it was felt that external actors, if mutually acceptable, might possibly play an important role, similar to that of the King of Spain in the post-Franco transition. The United Nations had sponsored the two years of negotiations that led to theJanuary 1992 peace accords and still maintained an observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) to monitor both the accords and the March 1994 elections, which were inseparable parts of the negotiated package.7 Two external factors shifted to favor agreement on new rules of the political game: US commitment to a particular outcome de- clined, while UN involvement in reinforcing civilian political institutions expanded. Aside from the election, which was supposed to include guarantees that would allow full participation, the peace accords covered five other major areas: (1) human rights, with an international Truth Commission to investigate and redress the abuses of the past 12 years; (2) demilitarization, including a phased relinquishing of arms by the FMLN as well as reform and reduction of the armed forces; (3) police reform, replac- ing the old police and security apparatus with a new Civilian National Police; (4) judicialreform, which would overhaul the Supreme Court and establish a Human Rights Ombudsman office, and (5) land reform and other economic and social issues (UN, 1993a). Implementing the electoral mechanisms and the rest of the peace accords turned out to be a tortuous, conflict-ridden process (Vickers and Spence, 1992; Spence and Vickers, 1994; Spence etal., 1994). A brief review of each of the five major areas of the peace accords suggests that not only did the opposing sides of the old conflict have different kinds of democracy in mind (not surprisingly), but shortcomings in fulfilling the accords also limited progress toward the narrower goal of electoral democracy. The 1992 Peace Accords El Salvador's negotiated transition involved two overlap- ping sets of issues; one over the basic rules of the political system, and the other over the political projects of the opposing parties. Because of the impossibility of achieving perfect harmony and agreement in implementing all the points under discussion, and until trust could be built, it was felt that external actors, if mutually acceptable, might possibly play an important role, similar to that of the King of Spain in the post-Franco transition. The United Nations had sponsored the two years of negotiations that led to theJanuary 1992 peace accords and still maintained an observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) to monitor both the accords and the March 1994 elections, which were inseparable parts of the negotiated package.7 Two external factors shifted to favor agreement on new rules of the political game: US commitment to a particular outcome de- clined, while UN involvement in reinforcing civilian political institutions expanded. Aside from the election, which was supposed to include guarantees that would allow full participation, the peace accords covered five other major areas: (1) human rights, with an international Truth Commission to investigate and redress the abuses of the past 12 years; (2) demilitarization, including a phased relinquishing of arms by the FMLN as well as reform and reduction of the armed forces; (3) police reform, replac- ing the old police and security apparatus with a new Civilian National Police; (4) judicialreform, which would overhaul the Supreme Court and establish a Human Rights Ombudsman office, and (5) land reform and other economic and social issues (UN, 1993a). Implementing the electoral mechanisms and the rest of the peace accords turned out to be a tortuous, conflict-ridden process (Vickers and Spence, 1992; Spence and Vickers, 1994; Spence etal., 1994). A brief review of each of the five major areas of the peace accords suggests that not only did the opposing sides of the old conflict have different kinds of democracy in mind (not surprisingly), but shortcomings in fulfilling the accords also limited progress toward the narrower goal of electoral democracy. The 1992 Peace Accords El Salvador's negotiated transition involved two overlap- ping sets of issues; one over the basic rules of the political system, and the other over the political projects of the opposing parties. Because of the impossibility of achieving perfect harmony and agreement in implementing all the points under discussion, and until trust could be built, it was felt that external actors, if mutually acceptable, might possibly play an important role, similar to that of the King of Spain in the post-Franco transition. The United Nations had sponsored the two years of negotiations that led to theJanuary 1992 peace accords and still maintained an observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) to monitor both the accords and the March 1994 elections, which were inseparable parts of the negotiated package.7 Two external factors shifted to favor agreement on new rules of the political game: US commitment to a particular outcome de- clined, while UN involvement in reinforcing civilian political institutions expanded. Aside from the election, which was supposed to include guarantees that would allow full participation, the peace accords covered five other major areas: (1) human rights, with an international Truth Commission to investigate and redress the abuses of the past 12 years; (2) demilitarization, including a phased relinquishing of arms by the FMLN as well as reform and reduction of the armed forces; (3) police reform, replac- ing the old police and security apparatus with a new Civilian National Police; (4) judicialreform, which would overhaul the Supreme Court and establish a Human Rights Ombudsman office, and (5) land reform and other economic and social issues (UN, 1993a). Implementing the electoral mechanisms and the rest of the peace accords turned out to be a tortuous, conflict-ridden process (Vickers and Spence, 1992; Spence and Vickers, 1994; Spence etal., 1994). A brief review of each of the five major areas of the peace accords suggests that not only did the opposing sides of the old conflict have different kinds of democracy in mind (not surprisingly), but shortcomings in fulfilling the accords also limited progress toward the narrower goal of electoral democracy. 10 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 10 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 10 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 10 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 10 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 10 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS Human Rights. The international Truth Commission set up under the peace accords was entrusted with the task of investigating the overall pattern of past human rights abuses, as well as of particularly notorious massacres or assassinations of prominent individuals. The Commission found that 60% of political killings had been perpetrated by the armed forces, 25% by government security forces, 10% by death squads condoned by the state, and just 5% by guerrilla forces (UN, 1993b: 27,43). It confirmed that ARENA founder Roberto D'Aubuisson ordered the 1980 murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero and operated death squads; it named the military officers involved in the 1981 massacre at El Mozote; and it linked the military High Command to the planning and cover- up of the murders of the six Jesuit priests in 1989 (Popkin etal., 1993: 5-6).8 Among its supposedly binding recommendations, the Commission's report (15 March 1993) advocated (a) that all military and judicial officials named in the report be removed from office, (b) that those responsible for abuses be banned from holding public office for 10 years, and (c) that investiga- tion of the death squads be instituted immediately. Noting that prosecutions could not go forward because of serious deficien- cies in the judicial system, the report called for judicial reform and the resignation of the Supreme Court. Implementation of the peace accord provisions on human rights was poor. Within days of publication of the Truth Commission report, the ruling ARENA party pushed through the legislature a sweeping, and apparently unconstitutional, am- nesty law.9 After nearly a year of intense pressure from the UN to implement the Truth Commission's call for an "immediate" investigation of death squads, a "Joint Group for the Investiga- tion of Politically Motivated Illegal Armed Groups" was finally set up on 8 December 1993. TheJoint Group was given a limited 6-month mandate so its report would not be due until after the election, and observers had no expectations that it would produce results.10 As though to underline the inability of the Joint Group to rein in the death squads, the day after announc- ing its creation, FMLN leader Mario L6pez was killed, the third high-ranking FMLN leader killed since the peace accords. Human Rights. The international Truth Commission set up under the peace accords was entrusted with the task of investigating the overall pattern of past human rights abuses, as well as of particularly notorious massacres or assassinations of prominent individuals. The Commission found that 60% of political killings had been perpetrated by the armed forces, 25% by government security forces, 10% by death squads condoned by the state, and just 5% by guerrilla forces (UN, 1993b: 27,43). It confirmed that ARENA founder Roberto D'Aubuisson ordered the 1980 murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero and operated death squads; it named the military officers involved in the 1981 massacre at El Mozote; and it linked the military High Command to the planning and cover- up of the murders of the six Jesuit priests in 1989 (Popkin etal., 1993: 5-6).8 Among its supposedly binding recommendations, the Commission's report (15 March 1993) advocated (a) that all military and judicial officials named in the report be removed from office, (b) that those responsible for abuses be banned from holding public office for 10 years, and (c) that investiga- tion of the death squads be instituted immediately. Noting that prosecutions could not go forward because of serious deficien- cies in the judicial system, the report called for judicial reform and the resignation of the Supreme Court. Implementation of the peace accord provisions on human rights was poor. Within days of publication of the Truth Commission report, the ruling ARENA party pushed through the legislature a sweeping, and apparently unconstitutional, am- nesty law.9 After nearly a year of intense pressure from the UN to implement the Truth Commission's call for an "immediate" investigation of death squads, a "Joint Group for the Investiga- tion of Politically Motivated Illegal Armed Groups" was finally set up on 8 December 1993. TheJoint Group was given a limited 6-month mandate so its report would not be due until after the election, and observers had no expectations that it would produce results.10 As though to underline the inability of the Joint Group to rein in the death squads, the day after announc- ing its creation, FMLN leader Mario L6pez was killed, the third high-ranking FMLN leader killed since the peace accords. Human Rights. The international Truth Commission set up under the peace accords was entrusted with the task of investigating the overall pattern of past human rights abuses, as well as of particularly notorious massacres or assassinations of prominent individuals. The Commission found that 60% of political killings had been perpetrated by the armed forces, 25% by government security forces, 10% by death squads condoned by the state, and just 5% by guerrilla forces (UN, 1993b: 27,43). It confirmed that ARENA founder Roberto D'Aubuisson ordered the 1980 murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero and operated death squads; it named the military officers involved in the 1981 massacre at El Mozote; and it linked the military High Command to the planning and cover- up of the murders of the six Jesuit priests in 1989 (Popkin etal., 1993: 5-6).8 Among its supposedly binding recommendations, the Commission's report (15 March 1993) advocated (a) that all military and judicial officials named in the report be removed from office, (b) that those responsible for abuses be banned from holding public office for 10 years, and (c) that investiga- tion of the death squads be instituted immediately. Noting that prosecutions could not go forward because of serious deficien- cies in the judicial system, the report called for judicial reform and the resignation of the Supreme Court. Implementation of the peace accord provisions on human rights was poor. Within days of publication of the Truth Commission report, the ruling ARENA party pushed through the legislature a sweeping, and apparently unconstitutional, am- nesty law.9 After nearly a year of intense pressure from the UN to implement the Truth Commission's call for an "immediate" investigation of death squads, a "Joint Group for the Investiga- tion of Politically Motivated Illegal Armed Groups" was finally set up on 8 December 1993. TheJoint Group was given a limited 6-month mandate so its report would not be due until after the election, and observers had no expectations that it would produce results.10 As though to underline the inability of the Joint Group to rein in the death squads, the day after announc- ing its creation, FMLN leader Mario L6pez was killed, the third high-ranking FMLN leader killed since the peace accords. Human Rights. The international Truth Commission set up under the peace accords was entrusted with the task of investigating the overall pattern of past human rights abuses, as well as of particularly notorious massacres or assassinations of prominent individuals. The Commission found that 60% of political killings had been perpetrated by the armed forces, 25% by government security forces, 10% by death squads condoned by the state, and just 5% by guerrilla forces (UN, 1993b: 27,43). It confirmed that ARENA founder Roberto D'Aubuisson ordered the 1980 murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero and operated death squads; it named the military officers involved in the 1981 massacre at El Mozote; and it linked the military High Command to the planning and cover- up of the murders of the six Jesuit priests in 1989 (Popkin etal., 1993: 5-6).8 Among its supposedly binding recommendations, the Commission's report (15 March 1993) advocated (a) that all military and judicial officials named in the report be removed from office, (b) that those responsible for abuses be banned from holding public office for 10 years, and (c) that investiga- tion of the death squads be instituted immediately. Noting that prosecutions could not go forward because of serious deficien- cies in the judicial system, the report called for judicial reform and the resignation of the Supreme Court. Implementation of the peace accord provisions on human rights was poor. Within days of publication of the Truth Commission report, the ruling ARENA party pushed through the legislature a sweeping, and apparently unconstitutional, am- nesty law.9 After nearly a year of intense pressure from the UN to implement the Truth Commission's call for an "immediate" investigation of death squads, a "Joint Group for the Investiga- tion of Politically Motivated Illegal Armed Groups" was finally set up on 8 December 1993. TheJoint Group was given a limited 6-month mandate so its report would not be due until after the election, and observers had no expectations that it would produce results.10 As though to underline the inability of the Joint Group to rein in the death squads, the day after announc- ing its creation, FMLN leader Mario L6pez was killed, the third high-ranking FMLN leader killed since the peace accords. Human Rights. The international Truth Commission set up under the peace accords was entrusted with the task of investigating the overall pattern of past human rights abuses, as well as of particularly notorious massacres or assassinations of prominent individuals. The Commission found that 60% of political killings had been perpetrated by the armed forces, 25% by government security forces, 10% by death squads condoned by the state, and just 5% by guerrilla forces (UN, 1993b: 27,43). It confirmed that ARENA founder Roberto D'Aubuisson ordered the 1980 murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero and operated death squads; it named the military officers involved in the 1981 massacre at El Mozote; and it linked the military High Command to the planning and cover- up of the murders of the six Jesuit priests in 1989 (Popkin etal., 1993: 5-6).8 Among its supposedly binding recommendations, the Commission's report (15 March 1993) advocated (a) that all military and judicial officials named in the report be removed from office, (b) that those responsible for abuses be banned from holding public office for 10 years, and (c) that investiga- tion of the death squads be instituted immediately. Noting that prosecutions could not go forward because of serious deficien- cies in the judicial system, the report called for judicial reform and the resignation of the Supreme Court. Implementation of the peace accord provisions on human rights was poor. Within days of publication of the Truth Commission report, the ruling ARENA party pushed through the legislature a sweeping, and apparently unconstitutional, am- nesty law.9 After nearly a year of intense pressure from the UN to implement the Truth Commission's call for an "immediate" investigation of death squads, a "Joint Group for the Investiga- tion of Politically Motivated Illegal Armed Groups" was finally set up on 8 December 1993. TheJoint Group was given a limited 6-month mandate so its report would not be due until after the election, and observers had no expectations that it would produce results.10 As though to underline the inability of the Joint Group to rein in the death squads, the day after announc- ing its creation, FMLN leader Mario L6pez was killed, the third high-ranking FMLN leader killed since the peace accords. Human Rights. The international Truth Commission set up under the peace accords was entrusted with the task of investigating the overall pattern of past human rights abuses, as well as of particularly notorious massacres or assassinations of prominent individuals. The Commission found that 60% of political killings had been perpetrated by the armed forces, 25% by government security forces, 10% by death squads condoned by the state, and just 5% by guerrilla forces (UN, 1993b: 27,43). It confirmed that ARENA founder Roberto D'Aubuisson ordered the 1980 murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero and operated death squads; it named the military officers involved in the 1981 massacre at El Mozote; and it linked the military High Command to the planning and cover- up of the murders of the six Jesuit priests in 1989 (Popkin etal., 1993: 5-6).8 Among its supposedly binding recommendations, the Commission's report (15 March 1993) advocated (a) that all military and judicial officials named in the report be removed from office, (b) that those responsible for abuses be banned from holding public office for 10 years, and (c) that investiga- tion of the death squads be instituted immediately. Noting that prosecutions could not go forward because of serious deficien- cies in the judicial system, the report called for judicial reform and the resignation of the Supreme Court. Implementation of the peace accord provisions on human rights was poor. Within days of publication of the Truth Commission report, the ruling ARENA party pushed through the legislature a sweeping, and apparently unconstitutional, am- nesty law.9 After nearly a year of intense pressure from the UN to implement the Truth Commission's call for an "immediate" investigation of death squads, a "Joint Group for the Investiga- tion of Politically Motivated Illegal Armed Groups" was finally set up on 8 December 1993. TheJoint Group was given a limited 6-month mandate so its report would not be due until after the election, and observers had no expectations that it would produce results.10 As though to underline the inability of the Joint Group to rein in the death squads, the day after announc- ing its creation, FMLN leader Mario L6pez was killed, the third high-ranking FMLN leader killed since the peace accords. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 11 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 11 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 11 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 11 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 11 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 11 Flawed implementation of the human rights aspects of the peace accords posed several problems for the democratizing process. First, failure to put the Truth Commission's recom- mendations into effect served to maintain, and perpetuate, the practice of letting the death squads, and the wealthy families that financed them, go unpunished.1 Second, the escalation of death squad killings in 1992-93, though still below wartime levels, followed a selective, methodical pattern that appeared calculated to create fear and threaten the peace process.12 Given the past history of terror, a few public killings without prosecution could have a chilling effect. Third, unlike a pardon, which carries the potential for national reconciliation, an amnesty prevents any investigation or determination of where the individual or institutional fault may lie. Indeed, prior to the 1994 election, the political consensus so essential to democratic procedure was jeopardized by lack of agreement on the subject of accountability. The head of the Supreme Court, in defiance of the Truth Commission, an- nounced that only God could remove him from office before expiration of his term (AI, 1993: 5). The Minister of Defense, General Rene Emilio Ponce, denounced the Commission pub- licly, calling it "prejudiced, unjust, and partial," and praised the military for "the most successful counter-subversive military campaign of the contemporary epoch" (Ponce, 1993: 782-83). Even though the retiring Defense Minister could hardly be expected to support democratization, advancing the transition to a consolidated democracy would require that such defend- ers of the old order be effectively stripped of their veto power. To the extent that the new political rules did not clearly establish the principle of accountability and set limits on state power, progress toward liberal democracy remained in jeop- ardy. For example, one ARENA landowner and candidate for the legislature rationalized vigilantism: Those gentlemen in cassocks [i.e., Archbishop Rivera y Damas] think that one's private security personnel, or the National Police or Treasury Police, are death squads just because they take justice into their own hands ... As for the Truth Commission, well, they are foreigners. We are Salvadorans (Zelaya, 1994). Flawed implementation of the human rights aspects of the peace accords posed several problems for the democratizing process. First, failure to put the Truth Commission's recom- mendations into effect served to maintain, and perpetuate, the practice of letting the death squads, and the wealthy families that financed them, go unpunished.1 Second, the escalation of death squad killings in 1992-93, though still below wartime levels, followed a selective, methodical pattern that appeared calculated to create fear and threaten the peace process.12 Given the past history of terror, a few public killings without prosecution could have a chilling effect. Third, unlike a pardon, which carries the potential for national reconciliation, an amnesty prevents any investigation or determination of where the individual or institutional fault may lie. Indeed, prior to the 1994 election, the political consensus so essential to democratic procedure was jeopardized by lack of agreement on the subject of accountability. The head of the Supreme Court, in defiance of the Truth Commission, an- nounced that only God could remove him from office before expiration of his term (AI, 1993: 5). The Minister of Defense, General Rene Emilio Ponce, denounced the Commission pub- licly, calling it "prejudiced, unjust, and partial," and praised the military for "the most successful counter-subversive military campaign of the contemporary epoch" (Ponce, 1993: 782-83). Even though the retiring Defense Minister could hardly be expected to support democratization, advancing the transition to a consolidated democracy would require that such defend- ers of the old order be effectively stripped of their veto power. To the extent that the new political rules did not clearly establish the principle of accountability and set limits on state power, progress toward liberal democracy remained in jeop- ardy. For example, one ARENA landowner and candidate for the legislature rationalized vigilantism: Those gentlemen in cassocks [i.e., Archbishop Rivera y Damas] think that one's private security personnel, or the National Police or Treasury Police, are death squads just because they take justice into their own hands ... As for the Truth Commission, well, they are foreigners. We are Salvadorans (Zelaya, 1994). Flawed implementation of the human rights aspects of the peace accords posed several problems for the democratizing process. First, failure to put the Truth Commission's recom- mendations into effect served to maintain, and perpetuate, the practice of letting the death squads, and the wealthy families that financed them, go unpunished.1 Second, the escalation of death squad killings in 1992-93, though still below wartime levels, followed a selective, methodical pattern that appeared calculated to create fear and threaten the peace process.12 Given the past history of terror, a few public killings without prosecution could have a chilling effect. Third, unlike a pardon, which carries the potential for national reconciliation, an amnesty prevents any investigation or determination of where the individual or institutional fault may lie. Indeed, prior to the 1994 election, the political consensus so essential to democratic procedure was jeopardized by lack of agreement on the subject of accountability. The head of the Supreme Court, in defiance of the Truth Commission, an- nounced that only God could remove him from office before expiration of his term (AI, 1993: 5). The Minister of Defense, General Rene Emilio Ponce, denounced the Commission pub- licly, calling it "prejudiced, unjust, and partial," and praised the military for "the most successful counter-subversive military campaign of the contemporary epoch" (Ponce, 1993: 782-83). Even though the retiring Defense Minister could hardly be expected to support democratization, advancing the transition to a consolidated democracy would require that such defend- ers of the old order be effectively stripped of their veto power. To the extent that the new political rules did not clearly establish the principle of accountability and set limits on state power, progress toward liberal democracy remained in jeop- ardy. For example, one ARENA landowner and candidate for the legislature rationalized vigilantism: Those gentlemen in cassocks [i.e., Archbishop Rivera y Damas] think that one's private security personnel, or the National Police or Treasury Police, are death squads just because they take justice into their own hands ... As for the Truth Commission, well, they are foreigners. We are Salvadorans (Zelaya, 1994). Flawed implementation of the human rights aspects of the peace accords posed several problems for the democratizing process. First, failure to put the Truth Commission's recom- mendations into effect served to maintain, and perpetuate, the practice of letting the death squads, and the wealthy families that financed them, go unpunished.1 Second, the escalation of death squad killings in 1992-93, though still below wartime levels, followed a selective, methodical pattern that appeared calculated to create fear and threaten the peace process.12 Given the past history of terror, a few public killings without prosecution could have a chilling effect. Third, unlike a pardon, which carries the potential for national reconciliation, an amnesty prevents any investigation or determination of where the individual or institutional fault may lie. Indeed, prior to the 1994 election, the political consensus so essential to democratic procedure was jeopardized by lack of agreement on the subject of accountability. The head of the Supreme Court, in defiance of the Truth Commission, an- nounced that only God could remove him from office before expiration of his term (AI, 1993: 5). The Minister of Defense, General Rene Emilio Ponce, denounced the Commission pub- licly, calling it "prejudiced, unjust, and partial," and praised the military for "the most successful counter-subversive military campaign of the contemporary epoch" (Ponce, 1993: 782-83). Even though the retiring Defense Minister could hardly be expected to support democratization, advancing the transition to a consolidated democracy would require that such defend- ers of the old order be effectively stripped of their veto power. To the extent that the new political rules did not clearly establish the principle of accountability and set limits on state power, progress toward liberal democracy remained in jeop- ardy. For example, one ARENA landowner and candidate for the legislature rationalized vigilantism: Those gentlemen in cassocks [i.e., Archbishop Rivera y Damas] think that one's private security personnel, or the National Police or Treasury Police, are death squads just because they take justice into their own hands ... As for the Truth Commission, well, they are foreigners. We are Salvadorans (Zelaya, 1994). Flawed implementation of the human rights aspects of the peace accords posed several problems for the democratizing process. First, failure to put the Truth Commission's recom- mendations into effect served to maintain, and perpetuate, the practice of letting the death squads, and the wealthy families that financed them, go unpunished.1 Second, the escalation of death squad killings in 1992-93, though still below wartime levels, followed a selective, methodical pattern that appeared calculated to create fear and threaten the peace process.12 Given the past history of terror, a few public killings without prosecution could have a chilling effect. Third, unlike a pardon, which carries the potential for national reconciliation, an amnesty prevents any investigation or determination of where the individual or institutional fault may lie. Indeed, prior to the 1994 election, the political consensus so essential to democratic procedure was jeopardized by lack of agreement on the subject of accountability. The head of the Supreme Court, in defiance of the Truth Commission, an- nounced that only God could remove him from office before expiration of his term (AI, 1993: 5). The Minister of Defense, General Rene Emilio Ponce, denounced the Commission pub- licly, calling it "prejudiced, unjust, and partial," and praised the military for "the most successful counter-subversive military campaign of the contemporary epoch" (Ponce, 1993: 782-83). Even though the retiring Defense Minister could hardly be expected to support democratization, advancing the transition to a consolidated democracy would require that such defend- ers of the old order be effectively stripped of their veto power. To the extent that the new political rules did not clearly establish the principle of accountability and set limits on state power, progress toward liberal democracy remained in jeop- ardy. For example, one ARENA landowner and candidate for the legislature rationalized vigilantism: Those gentlemen in cassocks [i.e., Archbishop Rivera y Damas] think that one's private security personnel, or the National Police or Treasury Police, are death squads just because they take justice into their own hands ... As for the Truth Commission, well, they are foreigners. We are Salvadorans (Zelaya, 1994). Flawed implementation of the human rights aspects of the peace accords posed several problems for the democratizing process. First, failure to put the Truth Commission's recom- mendations into effect served to maintain, and perpetuate, the practice of letting the death squads, and the wealthy families that financed them, go unpunished.1 Second, the escalation of death squad killings in 1992-93, though still below wartime levels, followed a selective, methodical pattern that appeared calculated to create fear and threaten the peace process.12 Given the past history of terror, a few public killings without prosecution could have a chilling effect. Third, unlike a pardon, which carries the potential for national reconciliation, an amnesty prevents any investigation or determination of where the individual or institutional fault may lie. Indeed, prior to the 1994 election, the political consensus so essential to democratic procedure was jeopardized by lack of agreement on the subject of accountability. The head of the Supreme Court, in defiance of the Truth Commission, an- nounced that only God could remove him from office before expiration of his term (AI, 1993: 5). The Minister of Defense, General Rene Emilio Ponce, denounced the Commission pub- licly, calling it "prejudiced, unjust, and partial," and praised the military for "the most successful counter-subversive military campaign of the contemporary epoch" (Ponce, 1993: 782-83). Even though the retiring Defense Minister could hardly be expected to support democratization, advancing the transition to a consolidated democracy would require that such defend- ers of the old order be effectively stripped of their veto power. To the extent that the new political rules did not clearly establish the principle of accountability and set limits on state power, progress toward liberal democracy remained in jeop- ardy. For example, one ARENA landowner and candidate for the legislature rationalized vigilantism: Those gentlemen in cassocks [i.e., Archbishop Rivera y Damas] think that one's private security personnel, or the National Police or Treasury Police, are death squads just because they take justice into their own hands ... As for the Truth Commission, well, they are foreigners. We are Salvadorans (Zelaya, 1994). 12 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 12 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 12 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 12 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 12 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 12 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS Another ARENA candidate dismissed the distinction be- tween death squads and legitimate warfare on the grounds that "it was a dirty war" and "El Salvador has always been a violent society." He insisted that the issue was not relevant to the elections: Every time elections come, they bring up [the assassina- tion ofl Monsignor Romero. But people have other priorities ... People want reconstruction, they want the telephones to work. All the rest is for people who have full stomachs (Valiente, 1994). FMLN campaigners claimed that, two days before the presidential run-off election, when a Salvadoran television station began to run a report about recently declassified US documents that linked the ARENA presidential candidate, Armando Calder6n Sol, to death squad activities, the electricity was cut off to terminate the broadcast.13 This avoidance of human rights issues undermined confidence that the elections marked a commitment to the rules of peaceful political competition. Demilitarization. The second area covered in the peace accords, demilitarization, was clearly crucial to the success of democratic transition (Walter and Williams, 1993: 64-73). Beginning with a ceasefire, the accords called for the FMLN to demobilize in five stages over the course of 1992. An Ad Hoc Commission of three prominent Salvadorans was set up to evaluate and purge the officer corps of the armed forces. The National Guard and Treasury Police, previously attached to the armed forces, were to be dissolved, along with the special counter-insurgency battalions, and the total size of the military/ security forces was to be reduced: from about 55,000 to 31,000. The military was to be clearly subordinated to civilian control, and its role strictly limited to national defense. Implementation of the demilitarization part of the accords was mixed, since distrust was endemic among the negotiating parties, and both sides sought to preserve privileges and escape unpalatable options. Although the government an- nounced that it had dissolved the National Guard and Treasury Another ARENA candidate dismissed the distinction be- tween death squads and legitimate warfare on the grounds that "it was a dirty war" and "El Salvador has always been a violent society." He insisted that the issue was not relevant to the elections: Every time elections come, they bring up [the assassina- tion ofl Monsignor Romero. But people have other priorities ... People want reconstruction, they want the telephones to work. All the rest is for people who have full stomachs (Valiente, 1994). FMLN campaigners claimed that, two days before the presidential run-off election, when a Salvadoran television station began to run a report about recently declassified US documents that linked the ARENA presidential candidate, Armando Calder6n Sol, to death squad activities, the electricity was cut off to terminate the broadcast.13 This avoidance of human rights issues undermined confidence that the elections marked a commitment to the rules of peaceful political competition. Demilitarization. The second area covered in the peace accords, demilitarization, was clearly crucial to the success of democratic transition (Walter and Williams, 1993: 64-73). Beginning with a ceasefire, the accords called for the FMLN to demobilize in five stages over the course of 1992. An Ad Hoc Commission of three prominent Salvadorans was set up to evaluate and purge the officer corps of the armed forces. The National Guard and Treasury Police, previously attached to the armed forces, were to be dissolved, along with the special counter-insurgency battalions, and the total size of the military/ security forces was to be reduced: from about 55,000 to 31,000. The military was to be clearly subordinated to civilian control, and its role strictly limited to national defense. Implementation of the demilitarization part of the accords was mixed, since distrust was endemic among the negotiating parties, and both sides sought to preserve privileges and escape unpalatable options. Although the government an- nounced that it had dissolved the National Guard and Treasury Another ARENA candidate dismissed the distinction be- tween death squads and legitimate warfare on the grounds that "it was a dirty war" and "El Salvador has always been a violent society." He insisted that the issue was not relevant to the elections: Every time elections come, they bring up [the assassina- tion ofl Monsignor Romero. But people have other priorities ... People want reconstruction, they want the telephones to work. All the rest is for people who have full stomachs (Valiente, 1994). FMLN campaigners claimed that, two days before the presidential run-off election, when a Salvadoran television station began to run a report about recently declassified US documents that linked the ARENA presidential candidate, Armando Calder6n Sol, to death squad activities, the electricity was cut off to terminate the broadcast.13 This avoidance of human rights issues undermined confidence that the elections marked a commitment to the rules of peaceful political competition. Demilitarization. The second area covered in the peace accords, demilitarization, was clearly crucial to the success of democratic transition (Walter and Williams, 1993: 64-73). Beginning with a ceasefire, the accords called for the FMLN to demobilize in five stages over the course of 1992. An Ad Hoc Commission of three prominent Salvadorans was set up to evaluate and purge the officer corps of the armed forces. The National Guard and Treasury Police, previously attached to the armed forces, were to be dissolved, along with the special counter-insurgency battalions, and the total size of the military/ security forces was to be reduced: from about 55,000 to 31,000. The military was to be clearly subordinated to civilian control, and its role strictly limited to national defense. Implementation of the demilitarization part of the accords was mixed, since distrust was endemic among the negotiating parties, and both sides sought to preserve privileges and escape unpalatable options. Although the government an- nounced that it had dissolved the National Guard and Treasury Another ARENA candidate dismissed the distinction be- tween death squads and legitimate warfare on the grounds that "it was a dirty war" and "El Salvador has always been a violent society." He insisted that the issue was not relevant to the elections: Every time elections come, they bring up [the assassina- tion ofl Monsignor Romero. But people have other priorities ... People want reconstruction, they want the telephones to work. All the rest is for people who have full stomachs (Valiente, 1994). FMLN campaigners claimed that, two days before the presidential run-off election, when a Salvadoran television station began to run a report about recently declassified US documents that linked the ARENA presidential candidate, Armando Calder6n Sol, to death squad activities, the electricity was cut off to terminate the broadcast.13 This avoidance of human rights issues undermined confidence that the elections marked a commitment to the rules of peaceful political competition. Demilitarization. The second area covered in the peace accords, demilitarization, was clearly crucial to the success of democratic transition (Walter and Williams, 1993: 64-73). Beginning with a ceasefire, the accords called for the FMLN to demobilize in five stages over the course of 1992. An Ad Hoc Commission of three prominent Salvadorans was set up to evaluate and purge the officer corps of the armed forces. The National Guard and Treasury Police, previously attached to the armed forces, were to be dissolved, along with the special counter-insurgency battalions, and the total size of the military/ security forces was to be reduced: from about 55,000 to 31,000. The military was to be clearly subordinated to civilian control, and its role strictly limited to national defense. Implementation of the demilitarization part of the accords was mixed, since distrust was endemic among the negotiating parties, and both sides sought to preserve privileges and escape unpalatable options. Although the government an- nounced that it had dissolved the National Guard and Treasury Another ARENA candidate dismissed the distinction be- tween death squads and legitimate warfare on the grounds that "it was a dirty war" and "El Salvador has always been a violent society." He insisted that the issue was not relevant to the elections: Every time elections come, they bring up [the assassina- tion ofl Monsignor Romero. But people have other priorities ... People want reconstruction, they want the telephones to work. All the rest is for people who have full stomachs (Valiente, 1994). FMLN campaigners claimed that, two days before the presidential run-off election, when a Salvadoran television station began to run a report about recently declassified US documents that linked the ARENA presidential candidate, Armando Calder6n Sol, to death squad activities, the electricity was cut off to terminate the broadcast.13 This avoidance of human rights issues undermined confidence that the elections marked a commitment to the rules of peaceful political competition. Demilitarization. The second area covered in the peace accords, demilitarization, was clearly crucial to the success of democratic transition (Walter and Williams, 1993: 64-73). Beginning with a ceasefire, the accords called for the FMLN to demobilize in five stages over the course of 1992. An Ad Hoc Commission of three prominent Salvadorans was set up to evaluate and purge the officer corps of the armed forces. The National Guard and Treasury Police, previously attached to the armed forces, were to be dissolved, along with the special counter-insurgency battalions, and the total size of the military/ security forces was to be reduced: from about 55,000 to 31,000. The military was to be clearly subordinated to civilian control, and its role strictly limited to national defense. Implementation of the demilitarization part of the accords was mixed, since distrust was endemic among the negotiating parties, and both sides sought to preserve privileges and escape unpalatable options. Although the government an- nounced that it had dissolved the National Guard and Treasury Another ARENA candidate dismissed the distinction be- tween death squads and legitimate warfare on the grounds that "it was a dirty war" and "El Salvador has always been a violent society." He insisted that the issue was not relevant to the elections: Every time elections come, they bring up [the assassina- tion ofl Monsignor Romero. But people have other priorities ... People want reconstruction, they want the telephones to work. All the rest is for people who have full stomachs (Valiente, 1994). FMLN campaigners claimed that, two days before the presidential run-off election, when a Salvadoran television station began to run a report about recently declassified US documents that linked the ARENA presidential candidate, Armando Calder6n Sol, to death squad activities, the electricity was cut off to terminate the broadcast.13 This avoidance of human rights issues undermined confidence that the elections marked a commitment to the rules of peaceful political competition. Demilitarization. The second area covered in the peace accords, demilitarization, was clearly crucial to the success of democratic transition (Walter and Williams, 1993: 64-73). Beginning with a ceasefire, the accords called for the FMLN to demobilize in five stages over the course of 1992. An Ad Hoc Commission of three prominent Salvadorans was set up to evaluate and purge the officer corps of the armed forces. The National Guard and Treasury Police, previously attached to the armed forces, were to be dissolved, along with the special counter-insurgency battalions, and the total size of the military/ security forces was to be reduced: from about 55,000 to 31,000. The military was to be clearly subordinated to civilian control, and its role strictly limited to national defense. Implementation of the demilitarization part of the accords was mixed, since distrust was endemic among the negotiating parties, and both sides sought to preserve privileges and escape unpalatable options. Although the government an- nounced that it had dissolved the National Guard and Treasury STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 13 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 13 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 13 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 13 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 13 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 13 Police (2 March 1992), it had, in fact, only renamed the units and transferred them, intact, into the army. Protests from the FMLN and intercession by UN mediators led to a new agree- ment to dissolve these forces by 28 June 1992, but, once again, many of their members were actually transferred to the police, thus violating other provisions of the peace accords. When the Ad Hoc Commission presented its confidential report a few months later (23 September 1992), which called for the removal of 102 military officers, including most of the generals and many colonels, the government balked (Spence etal., 1994: 14- 17). Once more, UN mediation was able to bring about a new commitment from the government: this time it promised to remove the officers by January 1993. However, even after the last 20% of the FMLN forces had been demobilized (on 15 December 1992), the government still failed to remove 15 of the top officers, including the Minister and Vice-Minister of Defense. At long last, with public release of the Truth Commis- sion report (March 1993) and under pressure from the Clinton administration (which held up $11 million in military aid), the military high command finally stepped down on 30 June 1993. The whole demilitarization process hit a major snag when, on 23 May 1993, a clandestine FMLN arsenal, maintained by one of its five organizations, exploded in Managua. While that discovery clearly undermined trust, the FMLN had already demobilized and dismantled its military structures by that time (in contrast to the situation in Nicaragua before the 1990 election). When the FMLN subsequently turned over other arms caches to the United Nations team, it apparently com- pleted its side of the demilitarization. Although the peace accords were effective in bringing about disengagement of the two combatant forces, their success was far less clear in establishing the principle of the military's subordination to civilian authority. Despite the government's claim that troop levels had been reduced by 50%, both the military budget and the size of the officer corps remained essentially untouched.14 The military continued to retain control over key state institutions, and the departing Defense Minister Ponce was named to head the Administraci6n Police (2 March 1992), it had, in fact, only renamed the units and transferred them, intact, into the army. Protests from the FMLN and intercession by UN mediators led to a new agree- ment to dissolve these forces by 28 June 1992, but, once again, many of their members were actually transferred to the police, thus violating other provisions of the peace accords. When the Ad Hoc Commission presented its confidential report a few months later (23 September 1992), which called for the removal of 102 military officers, including most of the generals and many colonels, the government balked (Spence etal., 1994: 14- 17). Once more, UN mediation was able to bring about a new commitment from the government: this time it promised to remove the officers by January 1993. However, even after the last 20% of the FMLN forces had been demobilized (on 15 December 1992), the government still failed to remove 15 of the top officers, including the Minister and Vice-Minister of Defense. At long last, with public release of the Truth Commis- sion report (March 1993) and under pressure from the Clinton administration (which held up $11 million in military aid), the military high command finally stepped down on 30 June 1993. The whole demilitarization process hit a major snag when, on 23 May 1993, a clandestine FMLN arsenal, maintained by one of its five organizations, exploded in Managua. While that discovery clearly undermined trust, the FMLN had already demobilized and dismantled its military structures by that time (in contrast to the situation in Nicaragua before the 1990 election). When the FMLN subsequently turned over other arms caches to the United Nations team, it apparently com- pleted its side of the demilitarization. Although the peace accords were effective in bringing about disengagement of the two combatant forces, their success was far less clear in establishing the principle of the military's subordination to civilian authority. Despite the government's claim that troop levels had been reduced by 50%, both the military budget and the size of the officer corps remained essentially untouched.14 The military continued to retain control over key state institutions, and the departing Defense Minister Ponce was named to head the Administraci6n Police (2 March 1992), it had, in fact, only renamed the units and transferred them, intact, into the army. Protests from the FMLN and intercession by UN mediators led to a new agree- ment to dissolve these forces by 28 June 1992, but, once again, many of their members were actually transferred to the police, thus violating other provisions of the peace accords. When the Ad Hoc Commission presented its confidential report a few months later (23 September 1992), which called for the removal of 102 military officers, including most of the generals and many colonels, the government balked (Spence etal., 1994: 14- 17). Once more, UN mediation was able to bring about a new commitment from the government: this time it promised to remove the officers by January 1993. However, even after the last 20% of the FMLN forces had been demobilized (on 15 December 1992), the government still failed to remove 15 of the top officers, including the Minister and Vice-Minister of Defense. At long last, with public release of the Truth Commis- sion report (March 1993) and under pressure from the Clinton administration (which held up $11 million in military aid), the military high command finally stepped down on 30 June 1993. The whole demilitarization process hit a major snag when, on 23 May 1993, a clandestine FMLN arsenal, maintained by one of its five organizations, exploded in Managua. While that discovery clearly undermined trust, the FMLN had already demobilized and dismantled its military structures by that time (in contrast to the situation in Nicaragua before the 1990 election). When the FMLN subsequently turned over other arms caches to the United Nations team, it apparently com- pleted its side of the demilitarization. Although the peace accords were effective in bringing about disengagement of the two combatant forces, their success was far less clear in establishing the principle of the military's subordination to civilian authority. Despite the government's claim that troop levels had been reduced by 50%, both the military budget and the size of the officer corps remained essentially untouched.14 The military continued to retain control over key state institutions, and the departing Defense Minister Ponce was named to head the Administraci6n Police (2 March 1992), it had, in fact, only renamed the units and transferred them, intact, into the army. Protests from the FMLN and intercession by UN mediators led to a new agree- ment to dissolve these forces by 28 June 1992, but, once again, many of their members were actually transferred to the police, thus violating other provisions of the peace accords. When the Ad Hoc Commission presented its confidential report a few months later (23 September 1992), which called for the removal of 102 military officers, including most of the generals and many colonels, the government balked (Spence etal., 1994: 14- 17). Once more, UN mediation was able to bring about a new commitment from the government: this time it promised to remove the officers by January 1993. However, even after the last 20% of the FMLN forces had been demobilized (on 15 December 1992), the government still failed to remove 15 of the top officers, including the Minister and Vice-Minister of Defense. At long last, with public release of the Truth Commis- sion report (March 1993) and under pressure from the Clinton administration (which held up $11 million in military aid), the military high command finally stepped down on 30 June 1993. The whole demilitarization process hit a major snag when, on 23 May 1993, a clandestine FMLN arsenal, maintained by one of its five organizations, exploded in Managua. While that discovery clearly undermined trust, the FMLN had already demobilized and dismantled its military structures by that time (in contrast to the situation in Nicaragua before the 1990 election). When the FMLN subsequently turned over other arms caches to the United Nations team, it apparently com- pleted its side of the demilitarization. Although the peace accords were effective in bringing about disengagement of the two combatant forces, their success was far less clear in establishing the principle of the military's subordination to civilian authority. Despite the government's claim that troop levels had been reduced by 50%, both the military budget and the size of the officer corps remained essentially untouched.14 The military continued to retain control over key state institutions, and the departing Defense Minister Ponce was named to head the Administraci6n Police (2 March 1992), it had, in fact, only renamed the units and transferred them, intact, into the army. Protests from the FMLN and intercession by UN mediators led to a new agree- ment to dissolve these forces by 28 June 1992, but, once again, many of their members were actually transferred to the police, thus violating other provisions of the peace accords. When the Ad Hoc Commission presented its confidential report a few months later (23 September 1992), which called for the removal of 102 military officers, including most of the generals and many colonels, the government balked (Spence etal., 1994: 14- 17). Once more, UN mediation was able to bring about a new commitment from the government: this time it promised to remove the officers by January 1993. However, even after the last 20% of the FMLN forces had been demobilized (on 15 December 1992), the government still failed to remove 15 of the top officers, including the Minister and Vice-Minister of Defense. At long last, with public release of the Truth Commis- sion report (March 1993) and under pressure from the Clinton administration (which held up $11 million in military aid), the military high command finally stepped down on 30 June 1993. The whole demilitarization process hit a major snag when, on 23 May 1993, a clandestine FMLN arsenal, maintained by one of its five organizations, exploded in Managua. While that discovery clearly undermined trust, the FMLN had already demobilized and dismantled its military structures by that time (in contrast to the situation in Nicaragua before the 1990 election). When the FMLN subsequently turned over other arms caches to the United Nations team, it apparently com- pleted its side of the demilitarization. Although the peace accords were effective in bringing about disengagement of the two combatant forces, their success was far less clear in establishing the principle of the military's subordination to civilian authority. Despite the government's claim that troop levels had been reduced by 50%, both the military budget and the size of the officer corps remained essentially untouched.14 The military continued to retain control over key state institutions, and the departing Defense Minister Ponce was named to head the Administraci6n Police (2 March 1992), it had, in fact, only renamed the units and transferred them, intact, into the army. Protests from the FMLN and intercession by UN mediators led to a new agree- ment to dissolve these forces by 28 June 1992, but, once again, many of their members were actually transferred to the police, thus violating other provisions of the peace accords. When the Ad Hoc Commission presented its confidential report a few months later (23 September 1992), which called for the removal of 102 military officers, including most of the generals and many colonels, the government balked (Spence etal., 1994: 14- 17). Once more, UN mediation was able to bring about a new commitment from the government: this time it promised to remove the officers by January 1993. However, even after the last 20% of the FMLN forces had been demobilized (on 15 December 1992), the government still failed to remove 15 of the top officers, including the Minister and Vice-Minister of Defense. At long last, with public release of the Truth Commis- sion report (March 1993) and under pressure from the Clinton administration (which held up $11 million in military aid), the military high command finally stepped down on 30 June 1993. The whole demilitarization process hit a major snag when, on 23 May 1993, a clandestine FMLN arsenal, maintained by one of its five organizations, exploded in Managua. While that discovery clearly undermined trust, the FMLN had already demobilized and dismantled its military structures by that time (in contrast to the situation in Nicaragua before the 1990 election). When the FMLN subsequently turned over other arms caches to the United Nations team, it apparently com- pleted its side of the demilitarization. Although the peace accords were effective in bringing about disengagement of the two combatant forces, their success was far less clear in establishing the principle of the military's subordination to civilian authority. Despite the government's claim that troop levels had been reduced by 50%, both the military budget and the size of the officer corps remained essentially untouched.14 The military continued to retain control over key state institutions, and the departing Defense Minister Ponce was named to head the Administraci6n 14 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 14 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 14 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 14 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 14 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 14 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS Nacional de Telecomunicaciones (ANTEL), a post which gave him potential control over both lucrative contracts and intelli- gence sources.15 The new Minister of Defense, Colonel Jose Humberto Corado Figueroa, opposed both civilian oversight of the military budget or training as well as the whole idea of having a civilian as Defense Minister (Walter and Williams, 1993: 68-9).

There were other indications that the peace accords failed to produce full demilitarization. Despite the fact that they confined the role of the military strictly to national defense and explicitly excluded "economic, political, and social aspects" of security (UN, 1993a: 49-50), the armed forces significantly expanded their involvement in civic action and public works (Sollis, 1993:33-42). In July 1993, President Cristiani not only ordered the army to patrol highways and other high crime areas, but also later deployed troops to "protect" the coffee harvest (Spence et al., 1994: 17). Politically, the FMLN found it difficult to be very open in its criticism of using the army in a police capacity since most Salvadorans accepted this as a necessary measure for controlling the then-rampant crime. Equally questionable was the government's deployment of combat troops on election day to maintain order in those zones which had been under the control of the FMLN during the recent conflict.16 Thus, the formal agreement to demilitarize did not necessarily mean that all parties fully accepted the implications of that agreement and were prepared to comply with the new rules of the political system. The resignation of the military High Command was finally achieved, but only after a combi- nation of threats and inducements that included the US threat to suspenid military aid on the one hand, and President Cristiani's appointment of high-ranking officers in the military command to other plum positions (like that of Ponce to ANTEL) on the other. The second tier of officers had their own motives for cheering the departure of their superior, who had, in their view, obstructed the normal promotion of later graduating classes of the military academy (tandas), stained the military institution, and negotiated with only self-interest in STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 15 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 15 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 15 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 15 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 15 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 15 mind.17 On the other side, the FMLN leadership had withheld missiles and other weaponry from its initial inventory of arms turned over to the UN for destruction, which they had used as bargaining chips (in December 1992) to ensure the purging of the army's officer corps, as well as an extra package of credits and management courses for their own demobilized com- manders (Benavides, 1994; Vickers and Spence, 1992: 3). As the post-1990 Nicaraguan experience had testifed, there was potential danger that disgruntled ex-combatants on both sides - especially those whose cooperation was being rewarded less generously than that of their superiors - might well disrupt the transition to a democratic, civilian government. Programs for "re-inserting" the former combatants into civilian life hinged precariously on the vagaries of external financing, idiosyncratic conditions imposed by the funding agencies, land conflicts, and the nation's economic recovery. When a group of war-wounded from the armed forces and the FMLN staged a peaceful, joint demonstration over pension payments in May 1993, they were met by a riot unit from the National Police that fired into the crowd, killing one and wounding six (Montgom- ery, 1995: 246). In the months preceding the election, an ARENA deputy denounced the FMLN's "confrontational mobi- lizations," and the departing Defense Minister, General Ponce, rejected as undemocratic such "hidden arms ... [as] street demonstrations that cause damage to people or property; political strikes with supposedly labor-related pretexts; illegal land takeovers ... " (Ponce, 1993: 783; and Valiente, 1994). In short, demilitarization had ended the civil war. However, as the political arena was transformed from the military to the militant, there was still no consensus on the bounds of acceptable confrontation. Police Reform. The third major area of the peace accords -police reform - was somewhat related to the issue of demilitarization. For the first time, internal security was to be clearly separated from the military. The old National Guard and Treasury Police were to be abolished, and the former Policfa Nacional (PN) were to be replaced by a new Policfa Nacional Civilista (PNC), to be organized under the supervision of the mind.17 On the other side, the FMLN leadership had withheld missiles and other weaponry from its initial inventory of arms turned over to the UN for destruction, which they had used as bargaining chips (in December 1992) to ensure the purging of the army's officer corps, as well as an extra package of credits and management courses for their own demobilized com- manders (Benavides, 1994; Vickers and Spence, 1992: 3). As the post-1990 Nicaraguan experience had testifed, there was potential danger that disgruntled ex-combatants on both sides - especially those whose cooperation was being rewarded less generously than that of their superiors - might well disrupt the transition to a democratic, civilian government. Programs for "re-inserting" the former combatants into civilian life hinged precariously on the vagaries of external financing, idiosyncratic conditions imposed by the funding agencies, land conflicts, and the nation's economic recovery. When a group of war-wounded from the armed forces and the FMLN staged a peaceful, joint demonstration over pension payments in May 1993, they were met by a riot unit from the National Police that fired into the crowd, killing one and wounding six (Montgom- ery, 1995: 246). In the months preceding the election, an ARENA deputy denounced the FMLN's "confrontational mobi- lizations," and the departing Defense Minister, General Ponce, rejected as undemocratic such "hidden arms ... [as] street demonstrations that cause damage to people or property; political strikes with supposedly labor-related pretexts; illegal land takeovers ... " (Ponce, 1993: 783; and Valiente, 1994). In short, demilitarization had ended the civil war. However, as the political arena was transformed from the military to the militant, there was still no consensus on the bounds of acceptable confrontation. Police Reform. The third major area of the peace accords -police reform - was somewhat related to the issue of demilitarization. For the first time, internal security was to be clearly separated from the military. The old National Guard and Treasury Police were to be abolished, and the former Policfa Nacional (PN) were to be replaced by a new Policfa Nacional Civilista (PNC), to be organized under the supervision of the mind.17 On the other side, the FMLN leadership had withheld missiles and other weaponry from its initial inventory of arms turned over to the UN for destruction, which they had used as bargaining chips (in December 1992) to ensure the purging of the army's officer corps, as well as an extra package of credits and management courses for their own demobilized com- manders (Benavides, 1994; Vickers and Spence, 1992: 3). As the post-1990 Nicaraguan experience had testifed, there was potential danger that disgruntled ex-combatants on both sides - especially those whose cooperation was being rewarded less generously than that of their superiors - might well disrupt the transition to a democratic, civilian government. Programs for "re-inserting" the former combatants into civilian life hinged precariously on the vagaries of external financing, idiosyncratic conditions imposed by the funding agencies, land conflicts, and the nation's economic recovery. When a group of war-wounded from the armed forces and the FMLN staged a peaceful, joint demonstration over pension payments in May 1993, they were met by a riot unit from the National Police that fired into the crowd, killing one and wounding six (Montgom- ery, 1995: 246). In the months preceding the election, an ARENA deputy denounced the FMLN's "confrontational mobi- lizations," and the departing Defense Minister, General Ponce, rejected as undemocratic such "hidden arms ... [as] street demonstrations that cause damage to people or property; political strikes with supposedly labor-related pretexts; illegal land takeovers ... " (Ponce, 1993: 783; and Valiente, 1994). In short, demilitarization had ended the civil war. However, as the political arena was transformed from the military to the militant, there was still no consensus on the bounds of acceptable confrontation. Police Reform. The third major area of the peace accords -police reform - was somewhat related to the issue of demilitarization. For the first time, internal security was to be clearly separated from the military. The old National Guard and Treasury Police were to be abolished, and the former Policfa Nacional (PN) were to be replaced by a new Policfa Nacional Civilista (PNC), to be organized under the supervision of the mind.17 On the other side, the FMLN leadership had withheld missiles and other weaponry from its initial inventory of arms turned over to the UN for destruction, which they had used as bargaining chips (in December 1992) to ensure the purging of the army's officer corps, as well as an extra package of credits and management courses for their own demobilized com- manders (Benavides, 1994; Vickers and Spence, 1992: 3). As the post-1990 Nicaraguan experience had testifed, there was potential danger that disgruntled ex-combatants on both sides - especially those whose cooperation was being rewarded less generously than that of their superiors - might well disrupt the transition to a democratic, civilian government. Programs for "re-inserting" the former combatants into civilian life hinged precariously on the vagaries of external financing, idiosyncratic conditions imposed by the funding agencies, land conflicts, and the nation's economic recovery. When a group of war-wounded from the armed forces and the FMLN staged a peaceful, joint demonstration over pension payments in May 1993, they were met by a riot unit from the National Police that fired into the crowd, killing one and wounding six (Montgom- ery, 1995: 246). In the months preceding the election, an ARENA deputy denounced the FMLN's "confrontational mobi- lizations," and the departing Defense Minister, General Ponce, rejected as undemocratic such "hidden arms ... [as] street demonstrations that cause damage to people or property; political strikes with supposedly labor-related pretexts; illegal land takeovers ... " (Ponce, 1993: 783; and Valiente, 1994). In short, demilitarization had ended the civil war. However, as the political arena was transformed from the military to the militant, there was still no consensus on the bounds of acceptable confrontation. Police Reform. The third major area of the peace accords -police reform - was somewhat related to the issue of demilitarization. For the first time, internal security was to be clearly separated from the military. The old National Guard and Treasury Police were to be abolished, and the former Policfa Nacional (PN) were to be replaced by a new Policfa Nacional Civilista (PNC), to be organized under the supervision of the mind.17 On the other side, the FMLN leadership had withheld missiles and other weaponry from its initial inventory of arms turned over to the UN for destruction, which they had used as bargaining chips (in December 1992) to ensure the purging of the army's officer corps, as well as an extra package of credits and management courses for their own demobilized com- manders (Benavides, 1994; Vickers and Spence, 1992: 3). As the post-1990 Nicaraguan experience had testifed, there was potential danger that disgruntled ex-combatants on both sides - especially those whose cooperation was being rewarded less generously than that of their superiors - might well disrupt the transition to a democratic, civilian government. Programs for "re-inserting" the former combatants into civilian life hinged precariously on the vagaries of external financing, idiosyncratic conditions imposed by the funding agencies, land conflicts, and the nation's economic recovery. When a group of war-wounded from the armed forces and the FMLN staged a peaceful, joint demonstration over pension payments in May 1993, they were met by a riot unit from the National Police that fired into the crowd, killing one and wounding six (Montgom- ery, 1995: 246). In the months preceding the election, an ARENA deputy denounced the FMLN's "confrontational mobi- lizations," and the departing Defense Minister, General Ponce, rejected as undemocratic such "hidden arms ... [as] street demonstrations that cause damage to people or property; political strikes with supposedly labor-related pretexts; illegal land takeovers ... " (Ponce, 1993: 783; and Valiente, 1994). In short, demilitarization had ended the civil war. However, as the political arena was transformed from the military to the militant, there was still no consensus on the bounds of acceptable confrontation. Police Reform. The third major area of the peace accords -police reform - was somewhat related to the issue of demilitarization. For the first time, internal security was to be clearly separated from the military. The old National Guard and Treasury Police were to be abolished, and the former Policfa Nacional (PN) were to be replaced by a new Policfa Nacional Civilista (PNC), to be organized under the supervision of the mind.17 On the other side, the FMLN leadership had withheld missiles and other weaponry from its initial inventory of arms turned over to the UN for destruction, which they had used as bargaining chips (in December 1992) to ensure the purging of the army's officer corps, as well as an extra package of credits and management courses for their own demobilized com- manders (Benavides, 1994; Vickers and Spence, 1992: 3). As the post-1990 Nicaraguan experience had testifed, there was potential danger that disgruntled ex-combatants on both sides - especially those whose cooperation was being rewarded less generously than that of their superiors - might well disrupt the transition to a democratic, civilian government. Programs for "re-inserting" the former combatants into civilian life hinged precariously on the vagaries of external financing, idiosyncratic conditions imposed by the funding agencies, land conflicts, and the nation's economic recovery. When a group of war-wounded from the armed forces and the FMLN staged a peaceful, joint demonstration over pension payments in May 1993, they were met by a riot unit from the National Police that fired into the crowd, killing one and wounding six (Montgom- ery, 1995: 246). In the months preceding the election, an ARENA deputy denounced the FMLN's "confrontational mobi- lizations," and the departing Defense Minister, General Ponce, rejected as undemocratic such "hidden arms ... [as] street demonstrations that cause damage to people or property; political strikes with supposedly labor-related pretexts; illegal land takeovers ... " (Ponce, 1993: 783; and Valiente, 1994). In short, demilitarization had ended the civil war. However, as the political arena was transformed from the military to the militant, there was still no consensus on the bounds of acceptable confrontation. Police Reform. The third major area of the peace accords -police reform - was somewhat related to the issue of demilitarization. For the first time, internal security was to be clearly separated from the military. The old National Guard and Treasury Police were to be abolished, and the former Policfa Nacional (PN) were to be replaced by a new Policfa Nacional Civilista (PNC), to be organized under the supervision of the 16 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 16 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 16 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 16 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 16 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 16 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS United Nations and trained at a new National Public Security Academy (ANSP). Some 60% of the new civilian police force were to be made up of civilians who had not taken part in the armed conflict; the remaining 40% were to come, in equal parts, from the former PN [20%] and the FMLN [20%] (Stanley, 1993: 4). The entire process of replacing the old PN and reconstituting the new PNC was to take place over a 2-year period that would end in October 1994. Reforming the police reform was a most important part of the Salvadoran transition because (1) elimination of the former PN represented a dismantling of the counter-insurgency state, (2) the new PNC would represent, and provide a graphic symbol of, the ascendancy of civilian over military rule, and (3) more concretely, the PNC would provide the best guarantee of security for the demobilized former FMLN guerrilla troops. Implementing this aspect of the accords, however, was rife with problems (Stanley, 1993: 6-15). First, the government resisted phasing out the PN at every turn and did its best to circumvent UN supervision in order to transfer military person- nel into the police. Meanwhile, this meant that, during the sensitive transition period, the morale of one critical group- the PN - was extremely low as both the prospect of, and the date for, its disbanding approached (Lopez Nuila, 1994). Second, two special units, whose records on human rights were notoriously bad, were transferred into the PNC. Because of FMLN concerns on this point, the UN had brokered a side agreement (in December 1992) which stipulated not only the strict screening of individuals, but also the restraining of these personnel, as well as the imposition of other restrictions - all of which the government violated during 1993 (Montgomery, 1995: 237-8).18 Third, the government held back funding, training, and deployment of the PNC which, in turn, provided a rationale for maintaining PN and army involvement in policing functions and dragging out the replacement process. As with other terms of the peace accord, this "end-loading" of the implementation schedule raised suspicions that the gov- ernment was buying time until after the elections when the international spotlight would dim. United Nations and trained at a new National Public Security Academy (ANSP). Some 60% of the new civilian police force were to be made up of civilians who had not taken part in the armed conflict; the remaining 40% were to come, in equal parts, from the former PN [20%] and the FMLN [20%] (Stanley, 1993: 4). The entire process of replacing the old PN and reconstituting the new PNC was to take place over a 2-year period that would end in October 1994. Reforming the police reform was a most important part of the Salvadoran transition because (1) elimination of the former PN represented a dismantling of the counter-insurgency state, (2) the new PNC would represent, and provide a graphic symbol of, the ascendancy of civilian over military rule, and (3) more concretely, the PNC would provide the best guarantee of security for the demobilized former FMLN guerrilla troops. Implementing this aspect of the accords, however, was rife with problems (Stanley, 1993: 6-15). First, the government resisted phasing out the PN at every turn and did its best to circumvent UN supervision in order to transfer military person- nel into the police. Meanwhile, this meant that, during the sensitive transition period, the morale of one critical group- the PN - was extremely low as both the prospect of, and the date for, its disbanding approached (Lopez Nuila, 1994). Second, two special units, whose records on human rights were notoriously bad, were transferred into the PNC. Because of FMLN concerns on this point, the UN had brokered a side agreement (in December 1992) which stipulated not only the strict screening of individuals, but also the restraining of these personnel, as well as the imposition of other restrictions - all of which the government violated during 1993 (Montgomery, 1995: 237-8).18 Third, the government held back funding, training, and deployment of the PNC which, in turn, provided a rationale for maintaining PN and army involvement in policing functions and dragging out the replacement process. As with other terms of the peace accord, this "end-loading" of the implementation schedule raised suspicions that the gov- ernment was buying time until after the elections when the international spotlight would dim. United Nations and trained at a new National Public Security Academy (ANSP). Some 60% of the new civilian police force were to be made up of civilians who had not taken part in the armed conflict; the remaining 40% were to come, in equal parts, from the former PN [20%] and the FMLN [20%] (Stanley, 1993: 4). The entire process of replacing the old PN and reconstituting the new PNC was to take place over a 2-year period that would end in October 1994. Reforming the police reform was a most important part of the Salvadoran transition because (1) elimination of the former PN represented a dismantling of the counter-insurgency state, (2) the new PNC would represent, and provide a graphic symbol of, the ascendancy of civilian over military rule, and (3) more concretely, the PNC would provide the best guarantee of security for the demobilized former FMLN guerrilla troops. Implementing this aspect of the accords, however, was rife with problems (Stanley, 1993: 6-15). First, the government resisted phasing out the PN at every turn and did its best to circumvent UN supervision in order to transfer military person- nel into the police. Meanwhile, this meant that, during the sensitive transition period, the morale of one critical group- the PN - was extremely low as both the prospect of, and the date for, its disbanding approached (Lopez Nuila, 1994). Second, two special units, whose records on human rights were notoriously bad, were transferred into the PNC. Because of FMLN concerns on this point, the UN had brokered a side agreement (in December 1992) which stipulated not only the strict screening of individuals, but also the restraining of these personnel, as well as the imposition of other restrictions - all of which the government violated during 1993 (Montgomery, 1995: 237-8).18 Third, the government held back funding, training, and deployment of the PNC which, in turn, provided a rationale for maintaining PN and army involvement in policing functions and dragging out the replacement process. As with other terms of the peace accord, this "end-loading" of the implementation schedule raised suspicions that the gov- ernment was buying time until after the elections when the international spotlight would dim. United Nations and trained at a new National Public Security Academy (ANSP). Some 60% of the new civilian police force were to be made up of civilians who had not taken part in the armed conflict; the remaining 40% were to come, in equal parts, from the former PN [20%] and the FMLN [20%] (Stanley, 1993: 4). The entire process of replacing the old PN and reconstituting the new PNC was to take place over a 2-year period that would end in October 1994. Reforming the police reform was a most important part of the Salvadoran transition because (1) elimination of the former PN represented a dismantling of the counter-insurgency state, (2) the new PNC would represent, and provide a graphic symbol of, the ascendancy of civilian over military rule, and (3) more concretely, the PNC would provide the best guarantee of security for the demobilized former FMLN guerrilla troops. Implementing this aspect of the accords, however, was rife with problems (Stanley, 1993: 6-15). First, the government resisted phasing out the PN at every turn and did its best to circumvent UN supervision in order to transfer military person- nel into the police. Meanwhile, this meant that, during the sensitive transition period, the morale of one critical group- the PN - was extremely low as both the prospect of, and the date for, its disbanding approached (Lopez Nuila, 1994). Second, two special units, whose records on human rights were notoriously bad, were transferred into the PNC. Because of FMLN concerns on this point, the UN had brokered a side agreement (in December 1992) which stipulated not only the strict screening of individuals, but also the restraining of these personnel, as well as the imposition of other restrictions - all of which the government violated during 1993 (Montgomery, 1995: 237-8).18 Third, the government held back funding, training, and deployment of the PNC which, in turn, provided a rationale for maintaining PN and army involvement in policing functions and dragging out the replacement process. As with other terms of the peace accord, this "end-loading" of the implementation schedule raised suspicions that the gov- ernment was buying time until after the elections when the international spotlight would dim. United Nations and trained at a new National Public Security Academy (ANSP). Some 60% of the new civilian police force were to be made up of civilians who had not taken part in the armed conflict; the remaining 40% were to come, in equal parts, from the former PN [20%] and the FMLN [20%] (Stanley, 1993: 4). The entire process of replacing the old PN and reconstituting the new PNC was to take place over a 2-year period that would end in October 1994. Reforming the police reform was a most important part of the Salvadoran transition because (1) elimination of the former PN represented a dismantling of the counter-insurgency state, (2) the new PNC would represent, and provide a graphic symbol of, the ascendancy of civilian over military rule, and (3) more concretely, the PNC would provide the best guarantee of security for the demobilized former FMLN guerrilla troops. Implementing this aspect of the accords, however, was rife with problems (Stanley, 1993: 6-15). First, the government resisted phasing out the PN at every turn and did its best to circumvent UN supervision in order to transfer military person- nel into the police. Meanwhile, this meant that, during the sensitive transition period, the morale of one critical group- the PN - was extremely low as both the prospect of, and the date for, its disbanding approached (Lopez Nuila, 1994). Second, two special units, whose records on human rights were notoriously bad, were transferred into the PNC. Because of FMLN concerns on this point, the UN had brokered a side agreement (in December 1992) which stipulated not only the strict screening of individuals, but also the restraining of these personnel, as well as the imposition of other restrictions - all of which the government violated during 1993 (Montgomery, 1995: 237-8).18 Third, the government held back funding, training, and deployment of the PNC which, in turn, provided a rationale for maintaining PN and army involvement in policing functions and dragging out the replacement process. As with other terms of the peace accord, this "end-loading" of the implementation schedule raised suspicions that the gov- ernment was buying time until after the elections when the international spotlight would dim. United Nations and trained at a new National Public Security Academy (ANSP). Some 60% of the new civilian police force were to be made up of civilians who had not taken part in the armed conflict; the remaining 40% were to come, in equal parts, from the former PN [20%] and the FMLN [20%] (Stanley, 1993: 4). The entire process of replacing the old PN and reconstituting the new PNC was to take place over a 2-year period that would end in October 1994. Reforming the police reform was a most important part of the Salvadoran transition because (1) elimination of the former PN represented a dismantling of the counter-insurgency state, (2) the new PNC would represent, and provide a graphic symbol of, the ascendancy of civilian over military rule, and (3) more concretely, the PNC would provide the best guarantee of security for the demobilized former FMLN guerrilla troops. Implementing this aspect of the accords, however, was rife with problems (Stanley, 1993: 6-15). First, the government resisted phasing out the PN at every turn and did its best to circumvent UN supervision in order to transfer military person- nel into the police. Meanwhile, this meant that, during the sensitive transition period, the morale of one critical group- the PN - was extremely low as both the prospect of, and the date for, its disbanding approached (Lopez Nuila, 1994). Second, two special units, whose records on human rights were notoriously bad, were transferred into the PNC. Because of FMLN concerns on this point, the UN had brokered a side agreement (in December 1992) which stipulated not only the strict screening of individuals, but also the restraining of these personnel, as well as the imposition of other restrictions - all of which the government violated during 1993 (Montgomery, 1995: 237-8).18 Third, the government held back funding, training, and deployment of the PNC which, in turn, provided a rationale for maintaining PN and army involvement in policing functions and dragging out the replacement process. As with other terms of the peace accord, this "end-loading" of the implementation schedule raised suspicions that the gov- ernment was buying time until after the elections when the international spotlight would dim. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 17 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 17 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 17 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 17 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 17 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 17 Judicial Reform. The fourth major area covered by the peace accords, reform of the judiciary, gained little ground in the period before the 1994 elections. The office of the Human Rights Ombudsman, created by the accords, was slow to establish its authority and to take over from the ONUSAL Human Rights Division (Spence et al., 1994: 7). The Truth Commission's request that the Supreme Court resign was ignored. The accords also provided for establishing a new National Council on the Judiciary, which would have more independence from the Supreme Court. The Council was supposed to assume the task of naming judges to the lower courts, previously a function of the Supreme Court. The Council would also be empowered to submit nominations for the Supreme Court (half of them proposed by Salvadoran bar associations). From that list the legislature would elect Su- preme Court justices by a 2/3rds vote for staggered terms of 9 years, instead of electing justices by a simple majority to serve only a single 5-year term (Popkin et al., 1993: 9-12). Political wrangling held up the judicial reforms until after the elections. Disputes between ARENA, which wanted to maintain the existing Supreme Court's control over the Na- tional Council on the Judiciary, and opposition parties, who wanted the National Council to be independent, delayed selection of a new Council until April 1993. Debate over composition of the Supreme Court continued after the March 1994 election, and the Assembly deadlocked after the Court's term expired on June 30th, leaving the country technically without a Supreme Court. Because of the 2/3rds majority requirement, a Court could only be formed if the governing party could reach a compromise with one of its opponents. Although initially couched in procedural terms, the debate over the composition of the Court was highly politicized (Montgom- ery, 1995: 235-6). After the horse-trading was over, a surpris- ingly diverse Court was elected that included none of the old justices, reflecting broad agreement on the need to overhaul a particularly corrupt, inefficient judicial system that embar- rassed even some of the ARENA leaders. Judicial Reform. The fourth major area covered by the peace accords, reform of the judiciary, gained little ground in the period before the 1994 elections. The office of the Human Rights Ombudsman, created by the accords, was slow to establish its authority and to take over from the ONUSAL Human Rights Division (Spence et al., 1994: 7). The Truth Commission's request that the Supreme Court resign was ignored. The accords also provided for establishing a new National Council on the Judiciary, which would have more independence from the Supreme Court. The Council was supposed to assume the task of naming judges to the lower courts, previously a function of the Supreme Court. The Council would also be empowered to submit nominations for the Supreme Court (half of them proposed by Salvadoran bar associations). From that list the legislature would elect Su- preme Court justices by a 2/3rds vote for staggered terms of 9 years, instead of electing justices by a simple majority to serve only a single 5-year term (Popkin et al., 1993: 9-12). Political wrangling held up the judicial reforms until after the elections. Disputes between ARENA, which wanted to maintain the existing Supreme Court's control over the Na- tional Council on the Judiciary, and opposition parties, who wanted the National Council to be independent, delayed selection of a new Council until April 1993. Debate over composition of the Supreme Court continued after the March 1994 election, and the Assembly deadlocked after the Court's term expired on June 30th, leaving the country technically without a Supreme Court. Because of the 2/3rds majority requirement, a Court could only be formed if the governing party could reach a compromise with one of its opponents. Although initially couched in procedural terms, the debate over the composition of the Court was highly politicized (Montgom- ery, 1995: 235-6). After the horse-trading was over, a surpris- ingly diverse Court was elected that included none of the old justices, reflecting broad agreement on the need to overhaul a particularly corrupt, inefficient judicial system that embar- rassed even some of the ARENA leaders. Judicial Reform. The fourth major area covered by the peace accords, reform of the judiciary, gained little ground in the period before the 1994 elections. The office of the Human Rights Ombudsman, created by the accords, was slow to establish its authority and to take over from the ONUSAL Human Rights Division (Spence et al., 1994: 7). The Truth Commission's request that the Supreme Court resign was ignored. The accords also provided for establishing a new National Council on the Judiciary, which would have more independence from the Supreme Court. The Council was supposed to assume the task of naming judges to the lower courts, previously a function of the Supreme Court. The Council would also be empowered to submit nominations for the Supreme Court (half of them proposed by Salvadoran bar associations). From that list the legislature would elect Su- preme Court justices by a 2/3rds vote for staggered terms of 9 years, instead of electing justices by a simple majority to serve only a single 5-year term (Popkin et al., 1993: 9-12). Political wrangling held up the judicial reforms until after the elections. Disputes between ARENA, which wanted to maintain the existing Supreme Court's control over the Na- tional Council on the Judiciary, and opposition parties, who wanted the National Council to be independent, delayed selection of a new Council until April 1993. Debate over composition of the Supreme Court continued after the March 1994 election, and the Assembly deadlocked after the Court's term expired on June 30th, leaving the country technically without a Supreme Court. Because of the 2/3rds majority requirement, a Court could only be formed if the governing party could reach a compromise with one of its opponents. Although initially couched in procedural terms, the debate over the composition of the Court was highly politicized (Montgom- ery, 1995: 235-6). After the horse-trading was over, a surpris- ingly diverse Court was elected that included none of the old justices, reflecting broad agreement on the need to overhaul a particularly corrupt, inefficient judicial system that embar- rassed even some of the ARENA leaders. Judicial Reform. The fourth major area covered by the peace accords, reform of the judiciary, gained little ground in the period before the 1994 elections. The office of the Human Rights Ombudsman, created by the accords, was slow to establish its authority and to take over from the ONUSAL Human Rights Division (Spence et al., 1994: 7). The Truth Commission's request that the Supreme Court resign was ignored. The accords also provided for establishing a new National Council on the Judiciary, which would have more independence from the Supreme Court. The Council was supposed to assume the task of naming judges to the lower courts, previously a function of the Supreme Court. The Council would also be empowered to submit nominations for the Supreme Court (half of them proposed by Salvadoran bar associations). From that list the legislature would elect Su- preme Court justices by a 2/3rds vote for staggered terms of 9 years, instead of electing justices by a simple majority to serve only a single 5-year term (Popkin et al., 1993: 9-12). Political wrangling held up the judicial reforms until after the elections. Disputes between ARENA, which wanted to maintain the existing Supreme Court's control over the Na- tional Council on the Judiciary, and opposition parties, who wanted the National Council to be independent, delayed selection of a new Council until April 1993. Debate over composition of the Supreme Court continued after the March 1994 election, and the Assembly deadlocked after the Court's term expired on June 30th, leaving the country technically without a Supreme Court. Because of the 2/3rds majority requirement, a Court could only be formed if the governing party could reach a compromise with one of its opponents. Although initially couched in procedural terms, the debate over the composition of the Court was highly politicized (Montgom- ery, 1995: 235-6). After the horse-trading was over, a surpris- ingly diverse Court was elected that included none of the old justices, reflecting broad agreement on the need to overhaul a particularly corrupt, inefficient judicial system that embar- rassed even some of the ARENA leaders. Judicial Reform. The fourth major area covered by the peace accords, reform of the judiciary, gained little ground in the period before the 1994 elections. The office of the Human Rights Ombudsman, created by the accords, was slow to establish its authority and to take over from the ONUSAL Human Rights Division (Spence et al., 1994: 7). The Truth Commission's request that the Supreme Court resign was ignored. The accords also provided for establishing a new National Council on the Judiciary, which would have more independence from the Supreme Court. The Council was supposed to assume the task of naming judges to the lower courts, previously a function of the Supreme Court. The Council would also be empowered to submit nominations for the Supreme Court (half of them proposed by Salvadoran bar associations). From that list the legislature would elect Su- preme Court justices by a 2/3rds vote for staggered terms of 9 years, instead of electing justices by a simple majority to serve only a single 5-year term (Popkin et al., 1993: 9-12). Political wrangling held up the judicial reforms until after the elections. Disputes between ARENA, which wanted to maintain the existing Supreme Court's control over the Na- tional Council on the Judiciary, and opposition parties, who wanted the National Council to be independent, delayed selection of a new Council until April 1993. Debate over composition of the Supreme Court continued after the March 1994 election, and the Assembly deadlocked after the Court's term expired on June 30th, leaving the country technically without a Supreme Court. Because of the 2/3rds majority requirement, a Court could only be formed if the governing party could reach a compromise with one of its opponents. Although initially couched in procedural terms, the debate over the composition of the Court was highly politicized (Montgom- ery, 1995: 235-6). After the horse-trading was over, a surpris- ingly diverse Court was elected that included none of the old justices, reflecting broad agreement on the need to overhaul a particularly corrupt, inefficient judicial system that embar- rassed even some of the ARENA leaders. Judicial Reform. The fourth major area covered by the peace accords, reform of the judiciary, gained little ground in the period before the 1994 elections. The office of the Human Rights Ombudsman, created by the accords, was slow to establish its authority and to take over from the ONUSAL Human Rights Division (Spence et al., 1994: 7). The Truth Commission's request that the Supreme Court resign was ignored. The accords also provided for establishing a new National Council on the Judiciary, which would have more independence from the Supreme Court. The Council was supposed to assume the task of naming judges to the lower courts, previously a function of the Supreme Court. The Council would also be empowered to submit nominations for the Supreme Court (half of them proposed by Salvadoran bar associations). From that list the legislature would elect Su- preme Court justices by a 2/3rds vote for staggered terms of 9 years, instead of electing justices by a simple majority to serve only a single 5-year term (Popkin et al., 1993: 9-12). Political wrangling held up the judicial reforms until after the elections. Disputes between ARENA, which wanted to maintain the existing Supreme Court's control over the Na- tional Council on the Judiciary, and opposition parties, who wanted the National Council to be independent, delayed selection of a new Council until April 1993. Debate over composition of the Supreme Court continued after the March 1994 election, and the Assembly deadlocked after the Court's term expired on June 30th, leaving the country technically without a Supreme Court. Because of the 2/3rds majority requirement, a Court could only be formed if the governing party could reach a compromise with one of its opponents. Although initially couched in procedural terms, the debate over the composition of the Court was highly politicized (Montgom- ery, 1995: 235-6). After the horse-trading was over, a surpris- ingly diverse Court was elected that included none of the old justices, reflecting broad agreement on the need to overhaul a particularly corrupt, inefficient judicial system that embar- rassed even some of the ARENA leaders. 18 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 18 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 18 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 18 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 18 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 18 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS Agrarian Reform. The fifth area under consideration, which was perhaps the most complex but least specific, involved land ownership and other socioeconomic issues. The inequality of land distribution was a central factor that contrib- uted to the polarization of Salvadoran society and served as one of the underlying causes in its long-drawn-out armed conflict. The accords called for implementing agrarian reform provi- sions, already in existence, that committed the government to transfer properties exceeding 245 hectares to the landless, on favorable credit terms, along with other national lands or lands voluntarily sold to the state Land Bank. In the zones of former conflict, the accords established the principle that ownership would be transferred to current occupants of the land. The FMLN was to present an inventory of the land that had been under its control during the conflict, along with a registry of those occupying the land, which would subsequently be verified by a joint commission. The government would then grant property titles to the occupants of the land and compen- sate the former owners at market value or, if the landowner refused to sell, provide the peasants with equivalent land elsewhere. In either case, the government was to facilitate the granting of credit and technical assistance so that the peasants could eventually be able to repay the debt. In addition to these land provisions, the accords included rather sketchy commitments to other social and economic reforms. The government was to adopt "measures to alleviate the social cost of structural adjustment programs," including measures to protect the consumer, a privatization policy that would offer workers access to ownership of privatized firms, and some social safety nets or compensation to the poorest sector. Mechanisms were to be created for channeling foreign aid to community development without bias towards one or the other side of those engaged in the armed conflict. A Forum for Social and Economic Concertactln was set up, with represen- tation from government, labor, and business. The government agreed to submit its National Reconstruction Plan (PRN) to the FMLN for recommendations and to work with them to meet the needs of former combatants, of both sides, as well as of the populations affected by the conflict (UN, 1993a:80-9). Agrarian Reform. The fifth area under consideration, which was perhaps the most complex but least specific, involved land ownership and other socioeconomic issues. The inequality of land distribution was a central factor that contrib- uted to the polarization of Salvadoran society and served as one of the underlying causes in its long-drawn-out armed conflict. The accords called for implementing agrarian reform provi- sions, already in existence, that committed the government to transfer properties exceeding 245 hectares to the landless, on favorable credit terms, along with other national lands or lands voluntarily sold to the state Land Bank. In the zones of former conflict, the accords established the principle that ownership would be transferred to current occupants of the land. The FMLN was to present an inventory of the land that had been under its control during the conflict, along with a registry of those occupying the land, which would subsequently be verified by a joint commission. The government would then grant property titles to the occupants of the land and compen- sate the former owners at market value or, if the landowner refused to sell, provide the peasants with equivalent land elsewhere. In either case, the government was to facilitate the granting of credit and technical assistance so that the peasants could eventually be able to repay the debt. In addition to these land provisions, the accords included rather sketchy commitments to other social and economic reforms. The government was to adopt "measures to alleviate the social cost of structural adjustment programs," including measures to protect the consumer, a privatization policy that would offer workers access to ownership of privatized firms, and some social safety nets or compensation to the poorest sector. Mechanisms were to be created for channeling foreign aid to community development without bias towards one or the other side of those engaged in the armed conflict. A Forum for Social and Economic Concertactln was set up, with represen- tation from government, labor, and business. The government agreed to submit its National Reconstruction Plan (PRN) to the FMLN for recommendations and to work with them to meet the needs of former combatants, of both sides, as well as of the populations affected by the conflict (UN, 1993a:80-9). Agrarian Reform. The fifth area under consideration, which was perhaps the most complex but least specific, involved land ownership and other socioeconomic issues. The inequality of land distribution was a central factor that contrib- uted to the polarization of Salvadoran society and served as one of the underlying causes in its long-drawn-out armed conflict. The accords called for implementing agrarian reform provi- sions, already in existence, that committed the government to transfer properties exceeding 245 hectares to the landless, on favorable credit terms, along with other national lands or lands voluntarily sold to the state Land Bank. In the zones of former conflict, the accords established the principle that ownership would be transferred to current occupants of the land. The FMLN was to present an inventory of the land that had been under its control during the conflict, along with a registry of those occupying the land, which would subsequently be verified by a joint commission. The government would then grant property titles to the occupants of the land and compen- sate the former owners at market value or, if the landowner refused to sell, provide the peasants with equivalent land elsewhere. In either case, the government was to facilitate the granting of credit and technical assistance so that the peasants could eventually be able to repay the debt. In addition to these land provisions, the accords included rather sketchy commitments to other social and economic reforms. The government was to adopt "measures to alleviate the social cost of structural adjustment programs," including measures to protect the consumer, a privatization policy that would offer workers access to ownership of privatized firms, and some social safety nets or compensation to the poorest sector. Mechanisms were to be created for channeling foreign aid to community development without bias towards one or the other side of those engaged in the armed conflict. A Forum for Social and Economic Concertactln was set up, with represen- tation from government, labor, and business. The government agreed to submit its National Reconstruction Plan (PRN) to the FMLN for recommendations and to work with them to meet the needs of former combatants, of both sides, as well as of the populations affected by the conflict (UN, 1993a:80-9). Agrarian Reform. The fifth area under consideration, which was perhaps the most complex but least specific, involved land ownership and other socioeconomic issues. The inequality of land distribution was a central factor that contrib- uted to the polarization of Salvadoran society and served as one of the underlying causes in its long-drawn-out armed conflict. The accords called for implementing agrarian reform provi- sions, already in existence, that committed the government to transfer properties exceeding 245 hectares to the landless, on favorable credit terms, along with other national lands or lands voluntarily sold to the state Land Bank. In the zones of former conflict, the accords established the principle that ownership would be transferred to current occupants of the land. The FMLN was to present an inventory of the land that had been under its control during the conflict, along with a registry of those occupying the land, which would subsequently be verified by a joint commission. The government would then grant property titles to the occupants of the land and compen- sate the former owners at market value or, if the landowner refused to sell, provide the peasants with equivalent land elsewhere. In either case, the government was to facilitate the granting of credit and technical assistance so that the peasants could eventually be able to repay the debt. In addition to these land provisions, the accords included rather sketchy commitments to other social and economic reforms. The government was to adopt "measures to alleviate the social cost of structural adjustment programs," including measures to protect the consumer, a privatization policy that would offer workers access to ownership of privatized firms, and some social safety nets or compensation to the poorest sector. Mechanisms were to be created for channeling foreign aid to community development without bias towards one or the other side of those engaged in the armed conflict. A Forum for Social and Economic Concertactln was set up, with represen- tation from government, labor, and business. The government agreed to submit its National Reconstruction Plan (PRN) to the FMLN for recommendations and to work with them to meet the needs of former combatants, of both sides, as well as of the populations affected by the conflict (UN, 1993a:80-9). Agrarian Reform. The fifth area under consideration, which was perhaps the most complex but least specific, involved land ownership and other socioeconomic issues. The inequality of land distribution was a central factor that contrib- uted to the polarization of Salvadoran society and served as one of the underlying causes in its long-drawn-out armed conflict. The accords called for implementing agrarian reform provi- sions, already in existence, that committed the government to transfer properties exceeding 245 hectares to the landless, on favorable credit terms, along with other national lands or lands voluntarily sold to the state Land Bank. In the zones of former conflict, the accords established the principle that ownership would be transferred to current occupants of the land. The FMLN was to present an inventory of the land that had been under its control during the conflict, along with a registry of those occupying the land, which would subsequently be verified by a joint commission. The government would then grant property titles to the occupants of the land and compen- sate the former owners at market value or, if the landowner refused to sell, provide the peasants with equivalent land elsewhere. In either case, the government was to facilitate the granting of credit and technical assistance so that the peasants could eventually be able to repay the debt. In addition to these land provisions, the accords included rather sketchy commitments to other social and economic reforms. The government was to adopt "measures to alleviate the social cost of structural adjustment programs," including measures to protect the consumer, a privatization policy that would offer workers access to ownership of privatized firms, and some social safety nets or compensation to the poorest sector. Mechanisms were to be created for channeling foreign aid to community development without bias towards one or the other side of those engaged in the armed conflict. A Forum for Social and Economic Concertactln was set up, with represen- tation from government, labor, and business. The government agreed to submit its National Reconstruction Plan (PRN) to the FMLN for recommendations and to work with them to meet the needs of former combatants, of both sides, as well as of the populations affected by the conflict (UN, 1993a:80-9). Agrarian Reform. The fifth area under consideration, which was perhaps the most complex but least specific, involved land ownership and other socioeconomic issues. The inequality of land distribution was a central factor that contrib- uted to the polarization of Salvadoran society and served as one of the underlying causes in its long-drawn-out armed conflict. The accords called for implementing agrarian reform provi- sions, already in existence, that committed the government to transfer properties exceeding 245 hectares to the landless, on favorable credit terms, along with other national lands or lands voluntarily sold to the state Land Bank. In the zones of former conflict, the accords established the principle that ownership would be transferred to current occupants of the land. The FMLN was to present an inventory of the land that had been under its control during the conflict, along with a registry of those occupying the land, which would subsequently be verified by a joint commission. The government would then grant property titles to the occupants of the land and compen- sate the former owners at market value or, if the landowner refused to sell, provide the peasants with equivalent land elsewhere. In either case, the government was to facilitate the granting of credit and technical assistance so that the peasants could eventually be able to repay the debt. In addition to these land provisions, the accords included rather sketchy commitments to other social and economic reforms. The government was to adopt "measures to alleviate the social cost of structural adjustment programs," including measures to protect the consumer, a privatization policy that would offer workers access to ownership of privatized firms, and some social safety nets or compensation to the poorest sector. Mechanisms were to be created for channeling foreign aid to community development without bias towards one or the other side of those engaged in the armed conflict. A Forum for Social and Economic Concertactln was set up, with represen- tation from government, labor, and business. The government agreed to submit its National Reconstruction Plan (PRN) to the FMLN for recommendations and to work with them to meet the needs of former combatants, of both sides, as well as of the populations affected by the conflict (UN, 1993a:80-9). STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 19 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 19 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 19 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 19 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 19 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 19 The actual transfer of land was not only extremely limited but also slow, which meant that one of the main substantive components of the rebuilding process contemplated by the accords was still in doubt by the time the 1994 election rolled around. The initial inventory of land submitted by the FMLN listed some 12,000 parcels which, after 6 months of further negotiation, was whittled down to 4,600 parcels, representing only 16% of the arable land (Spence et al., 1994: 19). An impasse in the land negotiations in September 1992 was finally broken by a UN proposal which offered the potential to benefit a maximum of 7,500 former FMLN combatants, 15,000 mem- bers of the armed forces, and some 25,000 residents of the conflict zones (UN, 1992). Even if fully implemented, this would have affected no more than 12% of the land, the equivalent of only half the land transferred under the agrarian reform of 1980 (Wood, 1994: 3). Moreover, by January 1994, only 8% of even these UN-proposed lands had been fully transferred due to a combination of reluctance on the part of landowners to sell, administrative complications, peasant wari- ness about assuming large debts on commercially valued land, and what one UN official privately referred to as "politicized sectors in the Land Bank and ISTA [Instituto Salvadoreno de TransormaclonAgraria] who are blocking the process" (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994).19 While land redistribution might be seen as part of a broader definition of democracy that ARENA did not share with the FMLN, the issues surrounding land and reconstruction were also relevant to electoral democracy. Frustration over the stalled land reform may have undermined confidence among FMLN supporters in the entire package of peace accords and electoral transition. One peasant was quoted asking, "We shed blood all these years in order to buy land at market prices?" (Wood, 1994: 2). In the former combat zones, FMLN candidates for municipal office found it difficult to get supporters to take part in campaign activities when, two years after the peace accords, most families had yet to receive title to the lands they occupied and the lion's share of reconstruction funds were being distributed through ARENA's patronage networks (Hernandez, 1994).20 The actual transfer of land was not only extremely limited but also slow, which meant that one of the main substantive components of the rebuilding process contemplated by the accords was still in doubt by the time the 1994 election rolled around. The initial inventory of land submitted by the FMLN listed some 12,000 parcels which, after 6 months of further negotiation, was whittled down to 4,600 parcels, representing only 16% of the arable land (Spence et al., 1994: 19). An impasse in the land negotiations in September 1992 was finally broken by a UN proposal which offered the potential to benefit a maximum of 7,500 former FMLN combatants, 15,000 mem- bers of the armed forces, and some 25,000 residents of the conflict zones (UN, 1992). Even if fully implemented, this would have affected no more than 12% of the land, the equivalent of only half the land transferred under the agrarian reform of 1980 (Wood, 1994: 3). Moreover, by January 1994, only 8% of even these UN-proposed lands had been fully transferred due to a combination of reluctance on the part of landowners to sell, administrative complications, peasant wari- ness about assuming large debts on commercially valued land, and what one UN official privately referred to as "politicized sectors in the Land Bank and ISTA [Instituto Salvadoreno de TransormaclonAgraria] who are blocking the process" (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994).19 While land redistribution might be seen as part of a broader definition of democracy that ARENA did not share with the FMLN, the issues surrounding land and reconstruction were also relevant to electoral democracy. Frustration over the stalled land reform may have undermined confidence among FMLN supporters in the entire package of peace accords and electoral transition. One peasant was quoted asking, "We shed blood all these years in order to buy land at market prices?" (Wood, 1994: 2). In the former combat zones, FMLN candidates for municipal office found it difficult to get supporters to take part in campaign activities when, two years after the peace accords, most families had yet to receive title to the lands they occupied and the lion's share of reconstruction funds were being distributed through ARENA's patronage networks (Hernandez, 1994).20 The actual transfer of land was not only extremely limited but also slow, which meant that one of the main substantive components of the rebuilding process contemplated by the accords was still in doubt by the time the 1994 election rolled around. The initial inventory of land submitted by the FMLN listed some 12,000 parcels which, after 6 months of further negotiation, was whittled down to 4,600 parcels, representing only 16% of the arable land (Spence et al., 1994: 19). An impasse in the land negotiations in September 1992 was finally broken by a UN proposal which offered the potential to benefit a maximum of 7,500 former FMLN combatants, 15,000 mem- bers of the armed forces, and some 25,000 residents of the conflict zones (UN, 1992). Even if fully implemented, this would have affected no more than 12% of the land, the equivalent of only half the land transferred under the agrarian reform of 1980 (Wood, 1994: 3). Moreover, by January 1994, only 8% of even these UN-proposed lands had been fully transferred due to a combination of reluctance on the part of landowners to sell, administrative complications, peasant wari- ness about assuming large debts on commercially valued land, and what one UN official privately referred to as "politicized sectors in the Land Bank and ISTA [Instituto Salvadoreno de TransormaclonAgraria] who are blocking the process" (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994).19 While land redistribution might be seen as part of a broader definition of democracy that ARENA did not share with the FMLN, the issues surrounding land and reconstruction were also relevant to electoral democracy. Frustration over the stalled land reform may have undermined confidence among FMLN supporters in the entire package of peace accords and electoral transition. One peasant was quoted asking, "We shed blood all these years in order to buy land at market prices?" (Wood, 1994: 2). In the former combat zones, FMLN candidates for municipal office found it difficult to get supporters to take part in campaign activities when, two years after the peace accords, most families had yet to receive title to the lands they occupied and the lion's share of reconstruction funds were being distributed through ARENA's patronage networks (Hernandez, 1994).20 The actual transfer of land was not only extremely limited but also slow, which meant that one of the main substantive components of the rebuilding process contemplated by the accords was still in doubt by the time the 1994 election rolled around. The initial inventory of land submitted by the FMLN listed some 12,000 parcels which, after 6 months of further negotiation, was whittled down to 4,600 parcels, representing only 16% of the arable land (Spence et al., 1994: 19). An impasse in the land negotiations in September 1992 was finally broken by a UN proposal which offered the potential to benefit a maximum of 7,500 former FMLN combatants, 15,000 mem- bers of the armed forces, and some 25,000 residents of the conflict zones (UN, 1992). Even if fully implemented, this would have affected no more than 12% of the land, the equivalent of only half the land transferred under the agrarian reform of 1980 (Wood, 1994: 3). Moreover, by January 1994, only 8% of even these UN-proposed lands had been fully transferred due to a combination of reluctance on the part of landowners to sell, administrative complications, peasant wari- ness about assuming large debts on commercially valued land, and what one UN official privately referred to as "politicized sectors in the Land Bank and ISTA [Instituto Salvadoreno de TransormaclonAgraria] who are blocking the process" (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994).19 While land redistribution might be seen as part of a broader definition of democracy that ARENA did not share with the FMLN, the issues surrounding land and reconstruction were also relevant to electoral democracy. Frustration over the stalled land reform may have undermined confidence among FMLN supporters in the entire package of peace accords and electoral transition. One peasant was quoted asking, "We shed blood all these years in order to buy land at market prices?" (Wood, 1994: 2). In the former combat zones, FMLN candidates for municipal office found it difficult to get supporters to take part in campaign activities when, two years after the peace accords, most families had yet to receive title to the lands they occupied and the lion's share of reconstruction funds were being distributed through ARENA's patronage networks (Hernandez, 1994).20 The actual transfer of land was not only extremely limited but also slow, which meant that one of the main substantive components of the rebuilding process contemplated by the accords was still in doubt by the time the 1994 election rolled around. The initial inventory of land submitted by the FMLN listed some 12,000 parcels which, after 6 months of further negotiation, was whittled down to 4,600 parcels, representing only 16% of the arable land (Spence et al., 1994: 19). An impasse in the land negotiations in September 1992 was finally broken by a UN proposal which offered the potential to benefit a maximum of 7,500 former FMLN combatants, 15,000 mem- bers of the armed forces, and some 25,000 residents of the conflict zones (UN, 1992). Even if fully implemented, this would have affected no more than 12% of the land, the equivalent of only half the land transferred under the agrarian reform of 1980 (Wood, 1994: 3). Moreover, by January 1994, only 8% of even these UN-proposed lands had been fully transferred due to a combination of reluctance on the part of landowners to sell, administrative complications, peasant wari- ness about assuming large debts on commercially valued land, and what one UN official privately referred to as "politicized sectors in the Land Bank and ISTA [Instituto Salvadoreno de TransormaclonAgraria] who are blocking the process" (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994).19 While land redistribution might be seen as part of a broader definition of democracy that ARENA did not share with the FMLN, the issues surrounding land and reconstruction were also relevant to electoral democracy. Frustration over the stalled land reform may have undermined confidence among FMLN supporters in the entire package of peace accords and electoral transition. One peasant was quoted asking, "We shed blood all these years in order to buy land at market prices?" (Wood, 1994: 2). In the former combat zones, FMLN candidates for municipal office found it difficult to get supporters to take part in campaign activities when, two years after the peace accords, most families had yet to receive title to the lands they occupied and the lion's share of reconstruction funds were being distributed through ARENA's patronage networks (Hernandez, 1994).20 The actual transfer of land was not only extremely limited but also slow, which meant that one of the main substantive components of the rebuilding process contemplated by the accords was still in doubt by the time the 1994 election rolled around. The initial inventory of land submitted by the FMLN listed some 12,000 parcels which, after 6 months of further negotiation, was whittled down to 4,600 parcels, representing only 16% of the arable land (Spence et al., 1994: 19). An impasse in the land negotiations in September 1992 was finally broken by a UN proposal which offered the potential to benefit a maximum of 7,500 former FMLN combatants, 15,000 mem- bers of the armed forces, and some 25,000 residents of the conflict zones (UN, 1992). Even if fully implemented, this would have affected no more than 12% of the land, the equivalent of only half the land transferred under the agrarian reform of 1980 (Wood, 1994: 3). Moreover, by January 1994, only 8% of even these UN-proposed lands had been fully transferred due to a combination of reluctance on the part of landowners to sell, administrative complications, peasant wari- ness about assuming large debts on commercially valued land, and what one UN official privately referred to as "politicized sectors in the Land Bank and ISTA [Instituto Salvadoreno de TransormaclonAgraria] who are blocking the process" (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994).19 While land redistribution might be seen as part of a broader definition of democracy that ARENA did not share with the FMLN, the issues surrounding land and reconstruction were also relevant to electoral democracy. Frustration over the stalled land reform may have undermined confidence among FMLN supporters in the entire package of peace accords and electoral transition. One peasant was quoted asking, "We shed blood all these years in order to buy land at market prices?" (Wood, 1994: 2). In the former combat zones, FMLN candidates for municipal office found it difficult to get supporters to take part in campaign activities when, two years after the peace accords, most families had yet to receive title to the lands they occupied and the lion's share of reconstruction funds were being distributed through ARENA's patronage networks (Hernandez, 1994).20 20 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 20 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 20 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 20 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 20 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 20 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS The question of national reconstruction and reintegration took on added significance because, among other things, the Salvadoran transition meant that the country had to undergo a major shift in outlook as well as in fact: from a wartime situation of dual power to a single government whose legitimacy would be acknowledged by all. In the substantial portions of territory in the eastern and northern zones that had come under guerrilla control, the FMLN had instituted its own model of participatory democracy, including impromptu agrarian reform and a deliv- ery of social services that relied on local non-governmental organization (NGOs). The wartime government, on the other hand, sought to win hearts and minds through civic action programs, such as "Municipalities in Action", which were administered through the Comisi6n NacionalparaRestauraco6n del Areas Afectadas (CONARA), the agency in charge of the civilian components of counter-insurgency (Sollis, 1993:3-10). In the combat areas, the FMLN often exercised effective authority over the dispersed rural populations, while it con- tested military and administrative power with government forces in the municipal seats. During the war, the FMLN viewed local government as an extension of its insurgency efforts, and, from 1985-88, one of the FMLN's five organizations had waged a campaign of threats against, and even executions of, mayors in the conflict zones. In many towns that served as military outposts on the edges of FMLN zones of control, town residents suffered from the guerrilla attacks; so, in the 1994 election, FMLN campaigners acknowledged that "naturally we have to pay a political cost for the war damage" (Martinez, 1994).21 To the extent that reconstruction at the local level illustrated the transition in microcosm, it revealed the wide differences in interpretation of the participatory component of democracy that still existed and the relative priorities accorded such goals as democratization, reconciliation, and develop- ment. To avoid being cast as spoilers, the FMLN joined the government in a meeting with the World Bank Consultative Group for El Salvador in March 1992, in which the FMLN appeared to acquiesce in an agreement that helped secure $800 million in financial commitments, including $300 million from The question of national reconstruction and reintegration took on added significance because, among other things, the Salvadoran transition meant that the country had to undergo a major shift in outlook as well as in fact: from a wartime situation of dual power to a single government whose legitimacy would be acknowledged by all. In the substantial portions of territory in the eastern and northern zones that had come under guerrilla control, the FMLN had instituted its own model of participatory democracy, including impromptu agrarian reform and a deliv- ery of social services that relied on local non-governmental organization (NGOs). The wartime government, on the other hand, sought to win hearts and minds through civic action programs, such as "Municipalities in Action", which were administered through the Comisi6n NacionalparaRestauraco6n del Areas Afectadas (CONARA), the agency in charge of the civilian components of counter-insurgency (Sollis, 1993:3-10). In the combat areas, the FMLN often exercised effective authority over the dispersed rural populations, while it con- tested military and administrative power with government forces in the municipal seats. During the war, the FMLN viewed local government as an extension of its insurgency efforts, and, from 1985-88, one of the FMLN's five organizations had waged a campaign of threats against, and even executions of, mayors in the conflict zones. In many towns that served as military outposts on the edges of FMLN zones of control, town residents suffered from the guerrilla attacks; so, in the 1994 election, FMLN campaigners acknowledged that "naturally we have to pay a political cost for the war damage" (Martinez, 1994).21 To the extent that reconstruction at the local level illustrated the transition in microcosm, it revealed the wide differences in interpretation of the participatory component of democracy that still existed and the relative priorities accorded such goals as democratization, reconciliation, and develop- ment. To avoid being cast as spoilers, the FMLN joined the government in a meeting with the World Bank Consultative Group for El Salvador in March 1992, in which the FMLN appeared to acquiesce in an agreement that helped secure $800 million in financial commitments, including $300 million from The question of national reconstruction and reintegration took on added significance because, among other things, the Salvadoran transition meant that the country had to undergo a major shift in outlook as well as in fact: from a wartime situation of dual power to a single government whose legitimacy would be acknowledged by all. In the substantial portions of territory in the eastern and northern zones that had come under guerrilla control, the FMLN had instituted its own model of participatory democracy, including impromptu agrarian reform and a deliv- ery of social services that relied on local non-governmental organization (NGOs). The wartime government, on the other hand, sought to win hearts and minds through civic action programs, such as "Municipalities in Action", which were administered through the Comisi6n NacionalparaRestauraco6n del Areas Afectadas (CONARA), the agency in charge of the civilian components of counter-insurgency (Sollis, 1993:3-10). In the combat areas, the FMLN often exercised effective authority over the dispersed rural populations, while it con- tested military and administrative power with government forces in the municipal seats. During the war, the FMLN viewed local government as an extension of its insurgency efforts, and, from 1985-88, one of the FMLN's five organizations had waged a campaign of threats against, and even executions of, mayors in the conflict zones. In many towns that served as military outposts on the edges of FMLN zones of control, town residents suffered from the guerrilla attacks; so, in the 1994 election, FMLN campaigners acknowledged that "naturally we have to pay a political cost for the war damage" (Martinez, 1994).21 To the extent that reconstruction at the local level illustrated the transition in microcosm, it revealed the wide differences in interpretation of the participatory component of democracy that still existed and the relative priorities accorded such goals as democratization, reconciliation, and develop- ment. To avoid being cast as spoilers, the FMLN joined the government in a meeting with the World Bank Consultative Group for El Salvador in March 1992, in which the FMLN appeared to acquiesce in an agreement that helped secure $800 million in financial commitments, including $300 million from The question of national reconstruction and reintegration took on added significance because, among other things, the Salvadoran transition meant that the country had to undergo a major shift in outlook as well as in fact: from a wartime situation of dual power to a single government whose legitimacy would be acknowledged by all. In the substantial portions of territory in the eastern and northern zones that had come under guerrilla control, the FMLN had instituted its own model of participatory democracy, including impromptu agrarian reform and a deliv- ery of social services that relied on local non-governmental organization (NGOs). The wartime government, on the other hand, sought to win hearts and minds through civic action programs, such as "Municipalities in Action", which were administered through the Comisi6n NacionalparaRestauraco6n del Areas Afectadas (CONARA), the agency in charge of the civilian components of counter-insurgency (Sollis, 1993:3-10). In the combat areas, the FMLN often exercised effective authority over the dispersed rural populations, while it con- tested military and administrative power with government forces in the municipal seats. During the war, the FMLN viewed local government as an extension of its insurgency efforts, and, from 1985-88, one of the FMLN's five organizations had waged a campaign of threats against, and even executions of, mayors in the conflict zones. In many towns that served as military outposts on the edges of FMLN zones of control, town residents suffered from the guerrilla attacks; so, in the 1994 election, FMLN campaigners acknowledged that "naturally we have to pay a political cost for the war damage" (Martinez, 1994).21 To the extent that reconstruction at the local level illustrated the transition in microcosm, it revealed the wide differences in interpretation of the participatory component of democracy that still existed and the relative priorities accorded such goals as democratization, reconciliation, and develop- ment. To avoid being cast as spoilers, the FMLN joined the government in a meeting with the World Bank Consultative Group for El Salvador in March 1992, in which the FMLN appeared to acquiesce in an agreement that helped secure $800 million in financial commitments, including $300 million from The question of national reconstruction and reintegration took on added significance because, among other things, the Salvadoran transition meant that the country had to undergo a major shift in outlook as well as in fact: from a wartime situation of dual power to a single government whose legitimacy would be acknowledged by all. In the substantial portions of territory in the eastern and northern zones that had come under guerrilla control, the FMLN had instituted its own model of participatory democracy, including impromptu agrarian reform and a deliv- ery of social services that relied on local non-governmental organization (NGOs). The wartime government, on the other hand, sought to win hearts and minds through civic action programs, such as "Municipalities in Action", which were administered through the Comisi6n NacionalparaRestauraco6n del Areas Afectadas (CONARA), the agency in charge of the civilian components of counter-insurgency (Sollis, 1993:3-10). In the combat areas, the FMLN often exercised effective authority over the dispersed rural populations, while it con- tested military and administrative power with government forces in the municipal seats. During the war, the FMLN viewed local government as an extension of its insurgency efforts, and, from 1985-88, one of the FMLN's five organizations had waged a campaign of threats against, and even executions of, mayors in the conflict zones. In many towns that served as military outposts on the edges of FMLN zones of control, town residents suffered from the guerrilla attacks; so, in the 1994 election, FMLN campaigners acknowledged that "naturally we have to pay a political cost for the war damage" (Martinez, 1994).21 To the extent that reconstruction at the local level illustrated the transition in microcosm, it revealed the wide differences in interpretation of the participatory component of democracy that still existed and the relative priorities accorded such goals as democratization, reconciliation, and develop- ment. To avoid being cast as spoilers, the FMLN joined the government in a meeting with the World Bank Consultative Group for El Salvador in March 1992, in which the FMLN appeared to acquiesce in an agreement that helped secure $800 million in financial commitments, including $300 million from The question of national reconstruction and reintegration took on added significance because, among other things, the Salvadoran transition meant that the country had to undergo a major shift in outlook as well as in fact: from a wartime situation of dual power to a single government whose legitimacy would be acknowledged by all. In the substantial portions of territory in the eastern and northern zones that had come under guerrilla control, the FMLN had instituted its own model of participatory democracy, including impromptu agrarian reform and a deliv- ery of social services that relied on local non-governmental organization (NGOs). The wartime government, on the other hand, sought to win hearts and minds through civic action programs, such as "Municipalities in Action", which were administered through the Comisi6n NacionalparaRestauraco6n del Areas Afectadas (CONARA), the agency in charge of the civilian components of counter-insurgency (Sollis, 1993:3-10). In the combat areas, the FMLN often exercised effective authority over the dispersed rural populations, while it con- tested military and administrative power with government forces in the municipal seats. During the war, the FMLN viewed local government as an extension of its insurgency efforts, and, from 1985-88, one of the FMLN's five organizations had waged a campaign of threats against, and even executions of, mayors in the conflict zones. In many towns that served as military outposts on the edges of FMLN zones of control, town residents suffered from the guerrilla attacks; so, in the 1994 election, FMLN campaigners acknowledged that "naturally we have to pay a political cost for the war damage" (Martinez, 1994).21 To the extent that reconstruction at the local level illustrated the transition in microcosm, it revealed the wide differences in interpretation of the participatory component of democracy that still existed and the relative priorities accorded such goals as democratization, reconciliation, and develop- ment. To avoid being cast as spoilers, the FMLN joined the government in a meeting with the World Bank Consultative Group for El Salvador in March 1992, in which the FMLN appeared to acquiesce in an agreement that helped secure $800 million in financial commitments, including $300 million from STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 21 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 21 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 21 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 21 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 21 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 21 the US Agency for International Development (US-AID), for the National Reconstruction Plan. Yet the FMLN later complained that it had been marginalized in the design of the Plan and that opposition NGOs were shunted aside in its implementation (Spence et al., 1994: 23-6). Instead of creating an independent agency, postwar reconstruction was placed under the manage- ment of the Secretaria de Reconstruccfon Nacional (SRN). From 1992 to 1994, the largest share of the financing came from the US-AID and was mainly channeled through the old counter-insurgency arrangements of CONARA and the "Mu- nicipalities in Action" program (Sollis, 1993: 4-10). Although the SRN designated 106 municipalities (later expanded to 115) in the former battle zones as eligible for funds, in fact it tended to concentrate resources in those towns whose mayors had been driven out by the FMLN during the war and, in particular, in the 28 municipalities whose pro-govern- ment mayors had returned after the peace accords were signed.22 In negotiating the return of exiled mayors pending elections, the FMLN had proposed that all administrative functions be taken over by committees made up of the returning mayor and representatives of each of the local non- governmental organizations. The government, on the other hand, insisted that committee functions be limited to recon- struction only, and that half of their composition consist of the returning mayor plus members of the municipal council, with the other half to be elected in town meetings (cabildos abiertos). This formula, in effect, ensured that the FMLN would be in the minority. Moreover, the mayors often refused to form reconstruction committees or ignored input from the cabildos (Hernandez, 1994).23 The missed opportunity for building consensus around the economic and social provisions of the peace accords was problematic in several respects. At the grassroots level, some of of those who had supported and/or taken part in the civil war discovered interests in common as the peace process unfolded. Disabled former combatants from both sides found themselves joined together in protests against a government that reneged on compensation and resettlement promises. In the US Agency for International Development (US-AID), for the National Reconstruction Plan. Yet the FMLN later complained that it had been marginalized in the design of the Plan and that opposition NGOs were shunted aside in its implementation (Spence et al., 1994: 23-6). Instead of creating an independent agency, postwar reconstruction was placed under the manage- ment of the Secretaria de Reconstruccfon Nacional (SRN). From 1992 to 1994, the largest share of the financing came from the US-AID and was mainly channeled through the old counter-insurgency arrangements of CONARA and the "Mu- nicipalities in Action" program (Sollis, 1993: 4-10). Although the SRN designated 106 municipalities (later expanded to 115) in the former battle zones as eligible for funds, in fact it tended to concentrate resources in those towns whose mayors had been driven out by the FMLN during the war and, in particular, in the 28 municipalities whose pro-govern- ment mayors had returned after the peace accords were signed.22 In negotiating the return of exiled mayors pending elections, the FMLN had proposed that all administrative functions be taken over by committees made up of the returning mayor and representatives of each of the local non- governmental organizations. The government, on the other hand, insisted that committee functions be limited to recon- struction only, and that half of their composition consist of the returning mayor plus members of the municipal council, with the other half to be elected in town meetings (cabildos abiertos). This formula, in effect, ensured that the FMLN would be in the minority. Moreover, the mayors often refused to form reconstruction committees or ignored input from the cabildos (Hernandez, 1994).23 The missed opportunity for building consensus around the economic and social provisions of the peace accords was problematic in several respects. At the grassroots level, some of of those who had supported and/or taken part in the civil war discovered interests in common as the peace process unfolded. Disabled former combatants from both sides found themselves joined together in protests against a government that reneged on compensation and resettlement promises. In the US Agency for International Development (US-AID), for the National Reconstruction Plan. Yet the FMLN later complained that it had been marginalized in the design of the Plan and that opposition NGOs were shunted aside in its implementation (Spence et al., 1994: 23-6). Instead of creating an independent agency, postwar reconstruction was placed under the manage- ment of the Secretaria de Reconstruccfon Nacional (SRN). From 1992 to 1994, the largest share of the financing came from the US-AID and was mainly channeled through the old counter-insurgency arrangements of CONARA and the "Mu- nicipalities in Action" program (Sollis, 1993: 4-10). Although the SRN designated 106 municipalities (later expanded to 115) in the former battle zones as eligible for funds, in fact it tended to concentrate resources in those towns whose mayors had been driven out by the FMLN during the war and, in particular, in the 28 municipalities whose pro-govern- ment mayors had returned after the peace accords were signed.22 In negotiating the return of exiled mayors pending elections, the FMLN had proposed that all administrative functions be taken over by committees made up of the returning mayor and representatives of each of the local non- governmental organizations. The government, on the other hand, insisted that committee functions be limited to recon- struction only, and that half of their composition consist of the returning mayor plus members of the municipal council, with the other half to be elected in town meetings (cabildos abiertos). This formula, in effect, ensured that the FMLN would be in the minority. Moreover, the mayors often refused to form reconstruction committees or ignored input from the cabildos (Hernandez, 1994).23 The missed opportunity for building consensus around the economic and social provisions of the peace accords was problematic in several respects. At the grassroots level, some of of those who had supported and/or taken part in the civil war discovered interests in common as the peace process unfolded. Disabled former combatants from both sides found themselves joined together in protests against a government that reneged on compensation and resettlement promises. In the US Agency for International Development (US-AID), for the National Reconstruction Plan. Yet the FMLN later complained that it had been marginalized in the design of the Plan and that opposition NGOs were shunted aside in its implementation (Spence et al., 1994: 23-6). Instead of creating an independent agency, postwar reconstruction was placed under the manage- ment of the Secretaria de Reconstruccfon Nacional (SRN). From 1992 to 1994, the largest share of the financing came from the US-AID and was mainly channeled through the old counter-insurgency arrangements of CONARA and the "Mu- nicipalities in Action" program (Sollis, 1993: 4-10). Although the SRN designated 106 municipalities (later expanded to 115) in the former battle zones as eligible for funds, in fact it tended to concentrate resources in those towns whose mayors had been driven out by the FMLN during the war and, in particular, in the 28 municipalities whose pro-govern- ment mayors had returned after the peace accords were signed.22 In negotiating the return of exiled mayors pending elections, the FMLN had proposed that all administrative functions be taken over by committees made up of the returning mayor and representatives of each of the local non- governmental organizations. The government, on the other hand, insisted that committee functions be limited to recon- struction only, and that half of their composition consist of the returning mayor plus members of the municipal council, with the other half to be elected in town meetings (cabildos abiertos). This formula, in effect, ensured that the FMLN would be in the minority. Moreover, the mayors often refused to form reconstruction committees or ignored input from the cabildos (Hernandez, 1994).23 The missed opportunity for building consensus around the economic and social provisions of the peace accords was problematic in several respects. At the grassroots level, some of of those who had supported and/or taken part in the civil war discovered interests in common as the peace process unfolded. Disabled former combatants from both sides found themselves joined together in protests against a government that reneged on compensation and resettlement promises. In the US Agency for International Development (US-AID), for the National Reconstruction Plan. Yet the FMLN later complained that it had been marginalized in the design of the Plan and that opposition NGOs were shunted aside in its implementation (Spence et al., 1994: 23-6). Instead of creating an independent agency, postwar reconstruction was placed under the manage- ment of the Secretaria de Reconstruccfon Nacional (SRN). From 1992 to 1994, the largest share of the financing came from the US-AID and was mainly channeled through the old counter-insurgency arrangements of CONARA and the "Mu- nicipalities in Action" program (Sollis, 1993: 4-10). Although the SRN designated 106 municipalities (later expanded to 115) in the former battle zones as eligible for funds, in fact it tended to concentrate resources in those towns whose mayors had been driven out by the FMLN during the war and, in particular, in the 28 municipalities whose pro-govern- ment mayors had returned after the peace accords were signed.22 In negotiating the return of exiled mayors pending elections, the FMLN had proposed that all administrative functions be taken over by committees made up of the returning mayor and representatives of each of the local non- governmental organizations. The government, on the other hand, insisted that committee functions be limited to recon- struction only, and that half of their composition consist of the returning mayor plus members of the municipal council, with the other half to be elected in town meetings (cabildos abiertos). This formula, in effect, ensured that the FMLN would be in the minority. Moreover, the mayors often refused to form reconstruction committees or ignored input from the cabildos (Hernandez, 1994).23 The missed opportunity for building consensus around the economic and social provisions of the peace accords was problematic in several respects. At the grassroots level, some of of those who had supported and/or taken part in the civil war discovered interests in common as the peace process unfolded. Disabled former combatants from both sides found themselves joined together in protests against a government that reneged on compensation and resettlement promises. In the US Agency for International Development (US-AID), for the National Reconstruction Plan. Yet the FMLN later complained that it had been marginalized in the design of the Plan and that opposition NGOs were shunted aside in its implementation (Spence et al., 1994: 23-6). Instead of creating an independent agency, postwar reconstruction was placed under the manage- ment of the Secretaria de Reconstruccfon Nacional (SRN). From 1992 to 1994, the largest share of the financing came from the US-AID and was mainly channeled through the old counter-insurgency arrangements of CONARA and the "Mu- nicipalities in Action" program (Sollis, 1993: 4-10). Although the SRN designated 106 municipalities (later expanded to 115) in the former battle zones as eligible for funds, in fact it tended to concentrate resources in those towns whose mayors had been driven out by the FMLN during the war and, in particular, in the 28 municipalities whose pro-govern- ment mayors had returned after the peace accords were signed.22 In negotiating the return of exiled mayors pending elections, the FMLN had proposed that all administrative functions be taken over by committees made up of the returning mayor and representatives of each of the local non- governmental organizations. The government, on the other hand, insisted that committee functions be limited to recon- struction only, and that half of their composition consist of the returning mayor plus members of the municipal council, with the other half to be elected in town meetings (cabildos abiertos). This formula, in effect, ensured that the FMLN would be in the minority. Moreover, the mayors often refused to form reconstruction committees or ignored input from the cabildos (Hernandez, 1994).23 The missed opportunity for building consensus around the economic and social provisions of the peace accords was problematic in several respects. At the grassroots level, some of of those who had supported and/or taken part in the civil war discovered interests in common as the peace process unfolded. Disabled former combatants from both sides found themselves joined together in protests against a government that reneged on compensation and resettlement promises. In 22 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 22 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 22 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 22 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 22 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 22 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS the norther department of Morazan, a zone of tiny landhold- ings (mintfundios) in an area where large areas had fallen under FMLN control, poor peasants were often divided by conflicting land claims after the war. The FMLN defended its organized constituency, such as the 8,000 occupiers of the Segundo Montes cooperative, while ARENA promoted Organizacin Maizto represent displaced smallholders in the area.24 Failure to institutionalize local participation in recon- struction, on a democratic basis, after the 1992 peace accords could undermine the legitimacy of local officials elected in the 1994 municipal elections, in a winner-take-all, rather than proportional representation, system. ARENA was intransigent in negotiating these rules for the municipal elections, while the FMLN viewed them as unfair and discriminatory towards new or minority parties. One ONUSAL official characterized them as "an insanity," which would ultimately hinder reconciliation at the local level (Martinez, 1994).25 As the UN observers came to the end of their mission, with little progress in the substantive areas of the peace accords concerning land and socioeconomic policy, the head of ONUSAL acknowledged the danger: It was not just a matter of reinsertion of ex-combatants but, rather, reintegration of the civilian base into production; to avoid what happened in Nicaragua through failure to deal with circumstances that gave rise to the conflict (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994). In sum, on the eve of the 1994 elections, implementation of the 1992 peace accords was both mixed and limited. The ceasefire and demilitarization were major advances, but the role of the armed forces remained a crucial point of debate. Though police reform was delayed, it held potential. Human rights violations had decreased, but unresolved political kill- ings by death squads continued. Little progress had been made toward judicial reform or in the substantive areas of land and socioeconomic policy. As one legal analyst of the peace accords noted, During the negotiations, the forces were balanced. But then, in the implementation, they were disequilibrated by about 6:1 toward those who have the least will. This produced a tendency toward non-fulfillment (Diaz, 1994). the norther department of Morazan, a zone of tiny landhold- ings (mintfundios) in an area where large areas had fallen under FMLN control, poor peasants were often divided by conflicting land claims after the war. The FMLN defended its organized constituency, such as the 8,000 occupiers of the Segundo Montes cooperative, while ARENA promoted Organizacin Maizto represent displaced smallholders in the area.24 Failure to institutionalize local participation in recon- struction, on a democratic basis, after the 1992 peace accords could undermine the legitimacy of local officials elected in the 1994 municipal elections, in a winner-take-all, rather than proportional representation, system. ARENA was intransigent in negotiating these rules for the municipal elections, while the FMLN viewed them as unfair and discriminatory towards new or minority parties. One ONUSAL official characterized them as "an insanity," which would ultimately hinder reconciliation at the local level (Martinez, 1994).25 As the UN observers came to the end of their mission, with little progress in the substantive areas of the peace accords concerning land and socioeconomic policy, the head of ONUSAL acknowledged the danger: It was not just a matter of reinsertion of ex-combatants but, rather, reintegration of the civilian base into production; to avoid what happened in Nicaragua through failure to deal with circumstances that gave rise to the conflict (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994). In sum, on the eve of the 1994 elections, implementation of the 1992 peace accords was both mixed and limited. The ceasefire and demilitarization were major advances, but the role of the armed forces remained a crucial point of debate. Though police reform was delayed, it held potential. Human rights violations had decreased, but unresolved political kill- ings by death squads continued. Little progress had been made toward judicial reform or in the substantive areas of land and socioeconomic policy. As one legal analyst of the peace accords noted, During the negotiations, the forces were balanced. But then, in the implementation, they were disequilibrated by about 6:1 toward those who have the least will. This produced a tendency toward non-fulfillment (Diaz, 1994). the norther department of Morazan, a zone of tiny landhold- ings (mintfundios) in an area where large areas had fallen under FMLN control, poor peasants were often divided by conflicting land claims after the war. The FMLN defended its organized constituency, such as the 8,000 occupiers of the Segundo Montes cooperative, while ARENA promoted Organizacin Maizto represent displaced smallholders in the area.24 Failure to institutionalize local participation in recon- struction, on a democratic basis, after the 1992 peace accords could undermine the legitimacy of local officials elected in the 1994 municipal elections, in a winner-take-all, rather than proportional representation, system. ARENA was intransigent in negotiating these rules for the municipal elections, while the FMLN viewed them as unfair and discriminatory towards new or minority parties. One ONUSAL official characterized them as "an insanity," which would ultimately hinder reconciliation at the local level (Martinez, 1994).25 As the UN observers came to the end of their mission, with little progress in the substantive areas of the peace accords concerning land and socioeconomic policy, the head of ONUSAL acknowledged the danger: It was not just a matter of reinsertion of ex-combatants but, rather, reintegration of the civilian base into production; to avoid what happened in Nicaragua through failure to deal with circumstances that gave rise to the conflict (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994). In sum, on the eve of the 1994 elections, implementation of the 1992 peace accords was both mixed and limited. The ceasefire and demilitarization were major advances, but the role of the armed forces remained a crucial point of debate. Though police reform was delayed, it held potential. Human rights violations had decreased, but unresolved political kill- ings by death squads continued. Little progress had been made toward judicial reform or in the substantive areas of land and socioeconomic policy. As one legal analyst of the peace accords noted, During the negotiations, the forces were balanced. But then, in the implementation, they were disequilibrated by about 6:1 toward those who have the least will. This produced a tendency toward non-fulfillment (Diaz, 1994). the norther department of Morazan, a zone of tiny landhold- ings (mintfundios) in an area where large areas had fallen under FMLN control, poor peasants were often divided by conflicting land claims after the war. The FMLN defended its organized constituency, such as the 8,000 occupiers of the Segundo Montes cooperative, while ARENA promoted Organizacin Maizto represent displaced smallholders in the area.24 Failure to institutionalize local participation in recon- struction, on a democratic basis, after the 1992 peace accords could undermine the legitimacy of local officials elected in the 1994 municipal elections, in a winner-take-all, rather than proportional representation, system. ARENA was intransigent in negotiating these rules for the municipal elections, while the FMLN viewed them as unfair and discriminatory towards new or minority parties. One ONUSAL official characterized them as "an insanity," which would ultimately hinder reconciliation at the local level (Martinez, 1994).25 As the UN observers came to the end of their mission, with little progress in the substantive areas of the peace accords concerning land and socioeconomic policy, the head of ONUSAL acknowledged the danger: It was not just a matter of reinsertion of ex-combatants but, rather, reintegration of the civilian base into production; to avoid what happened in Nicaragua through failure to deal with circumstances that gave rise to the conflict (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994). In sum, on the eve of the 1994 elections, implementation of the 1992 peace accords was both mixed and limited. The ceasefire and demilitarization were major advances, but the role of the armed forces remained a crucial point of debate. Though police reform was delayed, it held potential. Human rights violations had decreased, but unresolved political kill- ings by death squads continued. Little progress had been made toward judicial reform or in the substantive areas of land and socioeconomic policy. As one legal analyst of the peace accords noted, During the negotiations, the forces were balanced. But then, in the implementation, they were disequilibrated by about 6:1 toward those who have the least will. This produced a tendency toward non-fulfillment (Diaz, 1994). the norther department of Morazan, a zone of tiny landhold- ings (mintfundios) in an area where large areas had fallen under FMLN control, poor peasants were often divided by conflicting land claims after the war. The FMLN defended its organized constituency, such as the 8,000 occupiers of the Segundo Montes cooperative, while ARENA promoted Organizacin Maizto represent displaced smallholders in the area.24 Failure to institutionalize local participation in recon- struction, on a democratic basis, after the 1992 peace accords could undermine the legitimacy of local officials elected in the 1994 municipal elections, in a winner-take-all, rather than proportional representation, system. ARENA was intransigent in negotiating these rules for the municipal elections, while the FMLN viewed them as unfair and discriminatory towards new or minority parties. One ONUSAL official characterized them as "an insanity," which would ultimately hinder reconciliation at the local level (Martinez, 1994).25 As the UN observers came to the end of their mission, with little progress in the substantive areas of the peace accords concerning land and socioeconomic policy, the head of ONUSAL acknowledged the danger: It was not just a matter of reinsertion of ex-combatants but, rather, reintegration of the civilian base into production; to avoid what happened in Nicaragua through failure to deal with circumstances that gave rise to the conflict (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994). In sum, on the eve of the 1994 elections, implementation of the 1992 peace accords was both mixed and limited. The ceasefire and demilitarization were major advances, but the role of the armed forces remained a crucial point of debate. Though police reform was delayed, it held potential. Human rights violations had decreased, but unresolved political kill- ings by death squads continued. Little progress had been made toward judicial reform or in the substantive areas of land and socioeconomic policy. As one legal analyst of the peace accords noted, During the negotiations, the forces were balanced. But then, in the implementation, they were disequilibrated by about 6:1 toward those who have the least will. This produced a tendency toward non-fulfillment (Diaz, 1994). the norther department of Morazan, a zone of tiny landhold- ings (mintfundios) in an area where large areas had fallen under FMLN control, poor peasants were often divided by conflicting land claims after the war. The FMLN defended its organized constituency, such as the 8,000 occupiers of the Segundo Montes cooperative, while ARENA promoted Organizacin Maizto represent displaced smallholders in the area.24 Failure to institutionalize local participation in recon- struction, on a democratic basis, after the 1992 peace accords could undermine the legitimacy of local officials elected in the 1994 municipal elections, in a winner-take-all, rather than proportional representation, system. ARENA was intransigent in negotiating these rules for the municipal elections, while the FMLN viewed them as unfair and discriminatory towards new or minority parties. One ONUSAL official characterized them as "an insanity," which would ultimately hinder reconciliation at the local level (Martinez, 1994).25 As the UN observers came to the end of their mission, with little progress in the substantive areas of the peace accords concerning land and socioeconomic policy, the head of ONUSAL acknowledged the danger: It was not just a matter of reinsertion of ex-combatants but, rather, reintegration of the civilian base into production; to avoid what happened in Nicaragua through failure to deal with circumstances that gave rise to the conflict (Ramirez Ocampo, 1994). In sum, on the eve of the 1994 elections, implementation of the 1992 peace accords was both mixed and limited. The ceasefire and demilitarization were major advances, but the role of the armed forces remained a crucial point of debate. Though police reform was delayed, it held potential. Human rights violations had decreased, but unresolved political kill- ings by death squads continued. Little progress had been made toward judicial reform or in the substantive areas of land and socioeconomic policy. As one legal analyst of the peace accords noted, During the negotiations, the forces were balanced. But then, in the implementation, they were disequilibrated by about 6:1 toward those who have the least will. This produced a tendency toward non-fulfillment (Diaz, 1994). STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 23 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 23 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 23 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 23 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 23 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 23 Failure to implement all of the terms of the accords undermined the democratization process because those social sectors aligned with the FMLN lost confidence in the efficacy of bringing about change through participation in the electoral process. Moreover, the peace accords were unable to get the opposing parties to reach consensus as to which subjects would be decided by negotiation and which by elections. The waning leverage of external actors made it increasingly doubt- ful that a future ARENA government would implement the remaining provisions of the negotiated peace accords. The 1994 Elections In evaluating the contribution of the 1994 elections to democratization in El Salvador, it is important to remember that elections can serve a variety of purposes, including the consoli- dation of anti-democratic regimes, as they have in Central America's past. Even procedurally, fair elections can actually reduce the scope and quality of participation if the important decisions facing a society are circumscribed by political elites and external actors, as in the 1990 Nicaraguan election (Will- iams, 1990). The Salvadoran election of 1994 came at the end of a long decade of Central American elections organized and controlled from above, with substantial external intervention, and in the midst of major crises: both societal and of govern- mental legitimacy (Torres-Rivas, 1992: 114-5). To break this pattern, the election would not only have to allow a fair political contest between parties, it would also have to establish confidence in a system of broad, meaningful participation. Applying democratic procedures in a not-yet-democratic system carries risks, which is why some of those procedures had to be negotiated as part of the peace process. Thus the 1992 accords called for the FMLN to transform itself from a guerrilla force into a political party so that the 1994 election, in contrast to those of the past, could offer the electorate a full range of political options in a peacetime environment. In addition, the election was unusual in that voters would be making choices for every political office at every level of government: for Failure to implement all of the terms of the accords undermined the democratization process because those social sectors aligned with the FMLN lost confidence in the efficacy of bringing about change through participation in the electoral process. Moreover, the peace accords were unable to get the opposing parties to reach consensus as to which subjects would be decided by negotiation and which by elections. The waning leverage of external actors made it increasingly doubt- ful that a future ARENA government would implement the remaining provisions of the negotiated peace accords. The 1994 Elections In evaluating the contribution of the 1994 elections to democratization in El Salvador, it is important to remember that elections can serve a variety of purposes, including the consoli- dation of anti-democratic regimes, as they have in Central America's past. Even procedurally, fair elections can actually reduce the scope and quality of participation if the important decisions facing a society are circumscribed by political elites and external actors, as in the 1990 Nicaraguan election (Will- iams, 1990). The Salvadoran election of 1994 came at the end of a long decade of Central American elections organized and controlled from above, with substantial external intervention, and in the midst of major crises: both societal and of govern- mental legitimacy (Torres-Rivas, 1992: 114-5). To break this pattern, the election would not only have to allow a fair political contest between parties, it would also have to establish confidence in a system of broad, meaningful participation. Applying democratic procedures in a not-yet-democratic system carries risks, which is why some of those procedures had to be negotiated as part of the peace process. Thus the 1992 accords called for the FMLN to transform itself from a guerrilla force into a political party so that the 1994 election, in contrast to those of the past, could offer the electorate a full range of political options in a peacetime environment. In addition, the election was unusual in that voters would be making choices for every political office at every level of government: for Failure to implement all of the terms of the accords undermined the democratization process because those social sectors aligned with the FMLN lost confidence in the efficacy of bringing about change through participation in the electoral process. Moreover, the peace accords were unable to get the opposing parties to reach consensus as to which subjects would be decided by negotiation and which by elections. The waning leverage of external actors made it increasingly doubt- ful that a future ARENA government would implement the remaining provisions of the negotiated peace accords. The 1994 Elections In evaluating the contribution of the 1994 elections to democratization in El Salvador, it is important to remember that elections can serve a variety of purposes, including the consoli- dation of anti-democratic regimes, as they have in Central America's past. Even procedurally, fair elections can actually reduce the scope and quality of participation if the important decisions facing a society are circumscribed by political elites and external actors, as in the 1990 Nicaraguan election (Will- iams, 1990). The Salvadoran election of 1994 came at the end of a long decade of Central American elections organized and controlled from above, with substantial external intervention, and in the midst of major crises: both societal and of govern- mental legitimacy (Torres-Rivas, 1992: 114-5). To break this pattern, the election would not only have to allow a fair political contest between parties, it would also have to establish confidence in a system of broad, meaningful participation. Applying democratic procedures in a not-yet-democratic system carries risks, which is why some of those procedures had to be negotiated as part of the peace process. Thus the 1992 accords called for the FMLN to transform itself from a guerrilla force into a political party so that the 1994 election, in contrast to those of the past, could offer the electorate a full range of political options in a peacetime environment. In addition, the election was unusual in that voters would be making choices for every political office at every level of government: for Failure to implement all of the terms of the accords undermined the democratization process because those social sectors aligned with the FMLN lost confidence in the efficacy of bringing about change through participation in the electoral process. Moreover, the peace accords were unable to get the opposing parties to reach consensus as to which subjects would be decided by negotiation and which by elections. The waning leverage of external actors made it increasingly doubt- ful that a future ARENA government would implement the remaining provisions of the negotiated peace accords. The 1994 Elections In evaluating the contribution of the 1994 elections to democratization in El Salvador, it is important to remember that elections can serve a variety of purposes, including the consoli- dation of anti-democratic regimes, as they have in Central America's past. Even procedurally, fair elections can actually reduce the scope and quality of participation if the important decisions facing a society are circumscribed by political elites and external actors, as in the 1990 Nicaraguan election (Will- iams, 1990). The Salvadoran election of 1994 came at the end of a long decade of Central American elections organized and controlled from above, with substantial external intervention, and in the midst of major crises: both societal and of govern- mental legitimacy (Torres-Rivas, 1992: 114-5). To break this pattern, the election would not only have to allow a fair political contest between parties, it would also have to establish confidence in a system of broad, meaningful participation. Applying democratic procedures in a not-yet-democratic system carries risks, which is why some of those procedures had to be negotiated as part of the peace process. Thus the 1992 accords called for the FMLN to transform itself from a guerrilla force into a political party so that the 1994 election, in contrast to those of the past, could offer the electorate a full range of political options in a peacetime environment. In addition, the election was unusual in that voters would be making choices for every political office at every level of government: for Failure to implement all of the terms of the accords undermined the democratization process because those social sectors aligned with the FMLN lost confidence in the efficacy of bringing about change through participation in the electoral process. Moreover, the peace accords were unable to get the opposing parties to reach consensus as to which subjects would be decided by negotiation and which by elections. The waning leverage of external actors made it increasingly doubt- ful that a future ARENA government would implement the remaining provisions of the negotiated peace accords. The 1994 Elections In evaluating the contribution of the 1994 elections to democratization in El Salvador, it is important to remember that elections can serve a variety of purposes, including the consoli- dation of anti-democratic regimes, as they have in Central America's past. Even procedurally, fair elections can actually reduce the scope and quality of participation if the important decisions facing a society are circumscribed by political elites and external actors, as in the 1990 Nicaraguan election (Will- iams, 1990). The Salvadoran election of 1994 came at the end of a long decade of Central American elections organized and controlled from above, with substantial external intervention, and in the midst of major crises: both societal and of govern- mental legitimacy (Torres-Rivas, 1992: 114-5). To break this pattern, the election would not only have to allow a fair political contest between parties, it would also have to establish confidence in a system of broad, meaningful participation. Applying democratic procedures in a not-yet-democratic system carries risks, which is why some of those procedures had to be negotiated as part of the peace process. Thus the 1992 accords called for the FMLN to transform itself from a guerrilla force into a political party so that the 1994 election, in contrast to those of the past, could offer the electorate a full range of political options in a peacetime environment. In addition, the election was unusual in that voters would be making choices for every political office at every level of government: for Failure to implement all of the terms of the accords undermined the democratization process because those social sectors aligned with the FMLN lost confidence in the efficacy of bringing about change through participation in the electoral process. Moreover, the peace accords were unable to get the opposing parties to reach consensus as to which subjects would be decided by negotiation and which by elections. The waning leverage of external actors made it increasingly doubt- ful that a future ARENA government would implement the remaining provisions of the negotiated peace accords. The 1994 Elections In evaluating the contribution of the 1994 elections to democratization in El Salvador, it is important to remember that elections can serve a variety of purposes, including the consoli- dation of anti-democratic regimes, as they have in Central America's past. Even procedurally, fair elections can actually reduce the scope and quality of participation if the important decisions facing a society are circumscribed by political elites and external actors, as in the 1990 Nicaraguan election (Will- iams, 1990). The Salvadoran election of 1994 came at the end of a long decade of Central American elections organized and controlled from above, with substantial external intervention, and in the midst of major crises: both societal and of govern- mental legitimacy (Torres-Rivas, 1992: 114-5). To break this pattern, the election would not only have to allow a fair political contest between parties, it would also have to establish confidence in a system of broad, meaningful participation. Applying democratic procedures in a not-yet-democratic system carries risks, which is why some of those procedures had to be negotiated as part of the peace process. Thus the 1992 accords called for the FMLN to transform itself from a guerrilla force into a political party so that the 1994 election, in contrast to those of the past, could offer the electorate a full range of political options in a peacetime environment. In addition, the election was unusual in that voters would be making choices for every political office at every level of government: for 24 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 24 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 24 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 24 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 24 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 24 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS president and vice-president (usually elected every 5 years), as well as for members of the Legislative Assembly and municipal officials (usually elected every 3 years). For these reasons, the 1994 vote was dubbed the "election of the century." Several procedural problems flowed from the fact that this was the first election since the end of the civil war. The TribunalSupremoElectoral(TSE), which oversaw the election, was staffed by a combination of presidential appointees and party members selected on a quota system based on votes garnered in past elections - elections from which the FMLN had been effectively excluded. As a result, ARENA and the Right-wing PCN together filled 60% of the positions, the PDC accounted for 30%, leaving the Center-Left CD with only 3.5% (Martinez, 1994).26 Similar formulas gave ARENA and the PCN 54% of the state's campaign funds, versus 31% for the PDC and 7% for the CD-FMLN combined; with ARENA advertising time on television and radio averaging 5-14 times the number of FMLN spots (Spence and Ward, 1994: 2-7). In addition, the government-sponsored ads that blanketed the airwaves in the months before the election employed slogans and symbols that were virtually identical with those of ARENA ads. There was also a structural component to the funding disparity: ARENA and its supporters had access to much more private money than was true of the Left; it was estimated that ARENA spent some US$12 million on the campaign compared to only $270,000 by the FMLN-CD (Martinez, 1994).27 One of the most serious procedural defects involved voter registration. The existing list of registered voters was defective and incomplete. An estimated 675,000 Salvadorans of voting age lacked the necessary credentials to vote after the peace accords; another 100,000 would reach voting age (18 years) before the registration deadline; while fewer than 2 million even had voter- identification cards (O'Donnell etal., 1993: 3). The lack of voter- ID cards was particularly widespread in the former zones of conflict where much of the FMLN support was concentrated since (a) many people in those areas either had not registered (or not been able to register) to vote in the elections of the 1980s, and (b) the FMLN had frequently destroyed the birth certificates president and vice-president (usually elected every 5 years), as well as for members of the Legislative Assembly and municipal officials (usually elected every 3 years). For these reasons, the 1994 vote was dubbed the "election of the century." Several procedural problems flowed from the fact that this was the first election since the end of the civil war. The TribunalSupremoElectoral(TSE), which oversaw the election, was staffed by a combination of presidential appointees and party members selected on a quota system based on votes garnered in past elections - elections from which the FMLN had been effectively excluded. As a result, ARENA and the Right-wing PCN together filled 60% of the positions, the PDC accounted for 30%, leaving the Center-Left CD with only 3.5% (Martinez, 1994).26 Similar formulas gave ARENA and the PCN 54% of the state's campaign funds, versus 31% for the PDC and 7% for the CD-FMLN combined; with ARENA advertising time on television and radio averaging 5-14 times the number of FMLN spots (Spence and Ward, 1994: 2-7). In addition, the government-sponsored ads that blanketed the airwaves in the months before the election employed slogans and symbols that were virtually identical with those of ARENA ads. There was also a structural component to the funding disparity: ARENA and its supporters had access to much more private money than was true of the Left; it was estimated that ARENA spent some US$12 million on the campaign compared to only $270,000 by the FMLN-CD (Martinez, 1994).27 One of the most serious procedural defects involved voter registration. The existing list of registered voters was defective and incomplete. An estimated 675,000 Salvadorans of voting age lacked the necessary credentials to vote after the peace accords; another 100,000 would reach voting age (18 years) before the registration deadline; while fewer than 2 million even had voter- identification cards (O'Donnell etal., 1993: 3). The lack of voter- ID cards was particularly widespread in the former zones of conflict where much of the FMLN support was concentrated since (a) many people in those areas either had not registered (or not been able to register) to vote in the elections of the 1980s, and (b) the FMLN had frequently destroyed the birth certificates president and vice-president (usually elected every 5 years), as well as for members of the Legislative Assembly and municipal officials (usually elected every 3 years). For these reasons, the 1994 vote was dubbed the "election of the century." Several procedural problems flowed from the fact that this was the first election since the end of the civil war. The TribunalSupremoElectoral(TSE), which oversaw the election, was staffed by a combination of presidential appointees and party members selected on a quota system based on votes garnered in past elections - elections from which the FMLN had been effectively excluded. As a result, ARENA and the Right-wing PCN together filled 60% of the positions, the PDC accounted for 30%, leaving the Center-Left CD with only 3.5% (Martinez, 1994).26 Similar formulas gave ARENA and the PCN 54% of the state's campaign funds, versus 31% for the PDC and 7% for the CD-FMLN combined; with ARENA advertising time on television and radio averaging 5-14 times the number of FMLN spots (Spence and Ward, 1994: 2-7). In addition, the government-sponsored ads that blanketed the airwaves in the months before the election employed slogans and symbols that were virtually identical with those of ARENA ads. There was also a structural component to the funding disparity: ARENA and its supporters had access to much more private money than was true of the Left; it was estimated that ARENA spent some US$12 million on the campaign compared to only $270,000 by the FMLN-CD (Martinez, 1994).27 One of the most serious procedural defects involved voter registration. The existing list of registered voters was defective and incomplete. An estimated 675,000 Salvadorans of voting age lacked the necessary credentials to vote after the peace accords; another 100,000 would reach voting age (18 years) before the registration deadline; while fewer than 2 million even had voter- identification cards (O'Donnell etal., 1993: 3). The lack of voter- ID cards was particularly widespread in the former zones of conflict where much of the FMLN support was concentrated since (a) many people in those areas either had not registered (or not been able to register) to vote in the elections of the 1980s, and (b) the FMLN had frequently destroyed the birth certificates president and vice-president (usually elected every 5 years), as well as for members of the Legislative Assembly and municipal officials (usually elected every 3 years). For these reasons, the 1994 vote was dubbed the "election of the century." Several procedural problems flowed from the fact that this was the first election since the end of the civil war. The TribunalSupremoElectoral(TSE), which oversaw the election, was staffed by a combination of presidential appointees and party members selected on a quota system based on votes garnered in past elections - elections from which the FMLN had been effectively excluded. As a result, ARENA and the Right-wing PCN together filled 60% of the positions, the PDC accounted for 30%, leaving the Center-Left CD with only 3.5% (Martinez, 1994).26 Similar formulas gave ARENA and the PCN 54% of the state's campaign funds, versus 31% for the PDC and 7% for the CD-FMLN combined; with ARENA advertising time on television and radio averaging 5-14 times the number of FMLN spots (Spence and Ward, 1994: 2-7). In addition, the government-sponsored ads that blanketed the airwaves in the months before the election employed slogans and symbols that were virtually identical with those of ARENA ads. There was also a structural component to the funding disparity: ARENA and its supporters had access to much more private money than was true of the Left; it was estimated that ARENA spent some US$12 million on the campaign compared to only $270,000 by the FMLN-CD (Martinez, 1994).27 One of the most serious procedural defects involved voter registration. The existing list of registered voters was defective and incomplete. An estimated 675,000 Salvadorans of voting age lacked the necessary credentials to vote after the peace accords; another 100,000 would reach voting age (18 years) before the registration deadline; while fewer than 2 million even had voter- identification cards (O'Donnell etal., 1993: 3). The lack of voter- ID cards was particularly widespread in the former zones of conflict where much of the FMLN support was concentrated since (a) many people in those areas either had not registered (or not been able to register) to vote in the elections of the 1980s, and (b) the FMLN had frequently destroyed the birth certificates president and vice-president (usually elected every 5 years), as well as for members of the Legislative Assembly and municipal officials (usually elected every 3 years). For these reasons, the 1994 vote was dubbed the "election of the century." Several procedural problems flowed from the fact that this was the first election since the end of the civil war. The TribunalSupremoElectoral(TSE), which oversaw the election, was staffed by a combination of presidential appointees and party members selected on a quota system based on votes garnered in past elections - elections from which the FMLN had been effectively excluded. As a result, ARENA and the Right-wing PCN together filled 60% of the positions, the PDC accounted for 30%, leaving the Center-Left CD with only 3.5% (Martinez, 1994).26 Similar formulas gave ARENA and the PCN 54% of the state's campaign funds, versus 31% for the PDC and 7% for the CD-FMLN combined; with ARENA advertising time on television and radio averaging 5-14 times the number of FMLN spots (Spence and Ward, 1994: 2-7). In addition, the government-sponsored ads that blanketed the airwaves in the months before the election employed slogans and symbols that were virtually identical with those of ARENA ads. There was also a structural component to the funding disparity: ARENA and its supporters had access to much more private money than was true of the Left; it was estimated that ARENA spent some US$12 million on the campaign compared to only $270,000 by the FMLN-CD (Martinez, 1994).27 One of the most serious procedural defects involved voter registration. The existing list of registered voters was defective and incomplete. An estimated 675,000 Salvadorans of voting age lacked the necessary credentials to vote after the peace accords; another 100,000 would reach voting age (18 years) before the registration deadline; while fewer than 2 million even had voter- identification cards (O'Donnell etal., 1993: 3). The lack of voter- ID cards was particularly widespread in the former zones of conflict where much of the FMLN support was concentrated since (a) many people in those areas either had not registered (or not been able to register) to vote in the elections of the 1980s, and (b) the FMLN had frequently destroyed the birth certificates president and vice-president (usually elected every 5 years), as well as for members of the Legislative Assembly and municipal officials (usually elected every 3 years). For these reasons, the 1994 vote was dubbed the "election of the century." Several procedural problems flowed from the fact that this was the first election since the end of the civil war. The TribunalSupremoElectoral(TSE), which oversaw the election, was staffed by a combination of presidential appointees and party members selected on a quota system based on votes garnered in past elections - elections from which the FMLN had been effectively excluded. As a result, ARENA and the Right-wing PCN together filled 60% of the positions, the PDC accounted for 30%, leaving the Center-Left CD with only 3.5% (Martinez, 1994).26 Similar formulas gave ARENA and the PCN 54% of the state's campaign funds, versus 31% for the PDC and 7% for the CD-FMLN combined; with ARENA advertising time on television and radio averaging 5-14 times the number of FMLN spots (Spence and Ward, 1994: 2-7). In addition, the government-sponsored ads that blanketed the airwaves in the months before the election employed slogans and symbols that were virtually identical with those of ARENA ads. There was also a structural component to the funding disparity: ARENA and its supporters had access to much more private money than was true of the Left; it was estimated that ARENA spent some US$12 million on the campaign compared to only $270,000 by the FMLN-CD (Martinez, 1994).27 One of the most serious procedural defects involved voter registration. The existing list of registered voters was defective and incomplete. An estimated 675,000 Salvadorans of voting age lacked the necessary credentials to vote after the peace accords; another 100,000 would reach voting age (18 years) before the registration deadline; while fewer than 2 million even had voter- identification cards (O'Donnell etal., 1993: 3). The lack of voter- ID cards was particularly widespread in the former zones of conflict where much of the FMLN support was concentrated since (a) many people in those areas either had not registered (or not been able to register) to vote in the elections of the 1980s, and (b) the FMLN had frequently destroyed the birth certificates STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 25 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 25 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 25 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 25 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 25 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 25 and other documents kept in town halls during the war. The TSE set up extremely slow, cumbersome mechanisms for registering eligible voters and giving out voter registration cards. Because of the time and expense involved in making numerous trips to TSE offices to register, and then to see if the voting card was ready, these procedures tended, disproportionately, to disen- franchise the poor. By election time, some 74,000 applications for voter registration cards had been rejected, most for lack of proper documentation (a common problem in former combat zones). Another 350,000 cards were never picked up either because the would-be voters either lost interest or were thwarted by logistical obstacles. Moreover, an estimated 87,000 who did have their voter-ID cards were not allowed to vote on election day for a variety of reasons. Some were told that their names did not appear on the registration list (a claim that placed the illiterate at a disadvantage) or that the information on their cards did not match that on the registration list. If one adds together all those denied the right to vote, including those whose applications were denied, those who had cards but were rejected at the polls, plus half of those who applied for, but never picked up, their voting cards (assuming that at least have of these might have exercised that right), the estimate of those excluded would equal at least 20% of those voting (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 7). The defacto disfranchise- ment seemed especially prevalent among the poor, a pattern that served to undercut the legitimacy of the election for much of the citizenry (Schmitt, 1994).28 Compounding the impact of these deficiencies, the TSE denied every single one of the FMLN's appeals that documented vote-tampering in 37 munici- palities. The UN observers concluded that, While the collection of irregularities ... did not represent a significant manipulation of the vote and thereby affect the result of the presidential election, with regard to the elections for the Assembly and Municipal Councils, given the smaller dimension of the voting districts, these irregu- larities could have affected some results, giving rise to a significant number of challenges. (UN, 1994: 1) and other documents kept in town halls during the war. The TSE set up extremely slow, cumbersome mechanisms for registering eligible voters and giving out voter registration cards. Because of the time and expense involved in making numerous trips to TSE offices to register, and then to see if the voting card was ready, these procedures tended, disproportionately, to disen- franchise the poor. By election time, some 74,000 applications for voter registration cards had been rejected, most for lack of proper documentation (a common problem in former combat zones). Another 350,000 cards were never picked up either because the would-be voters either lost interest or were thwarted by logistical obstacles. Moreover, an estimated 87,000 who did have their voter-ID cards were not allowed to vote on election day for a variety of reasons. Some were told that their names did not appear on the registration list (a claim that placed the illiterate at a disadvantage) or that the information on their cards did not match that on the registration list. If one adds together all those denied the right to vote, including those whose applications were denied, those who had cards but were rejected at the polls, plus half of those who applied for, but never picked up, their voting cards (assuming that at least have of these might have exercised that right), the estimate of those excluded would equal at least 20% of those voting (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 7). The defacto disfranchise- ment seemed especially prevalent among the poor, a pattern that served to undercut the legitimacy of the election for much of the citizenry (Schmitt, 1994).28 Compounding the impact of these deficiencies, the TSE denied every single one of the FMLN's appeals that documented vote-tampering in 37 munici- palities. The UN observers concluded that, While the collection of irregularities ... did not represent a significant manipulation of the vote and thereby affect the result of the presidential election, with regard to the elections for the Assembly and Municipal Councils, given the smaller dimension of the voting districts, these irregu- larities could have affected some results, giving rise to a significant number of challenges. (UN, 1994: 1) and other documents kept in town halls during the war. The TSE set up extremely slow, cumbersome mechanisms for registering eligible voters and giving out voter registration cards. Because of the time and expense involved in making numerous trips to TSE offices to register, and then to see if the voting card was ready, these procedures tended, disproportionately, to disen- franchise the poor. By election time, some 74,000 applications for voter registration cards had been rejected, most for lack of proper documentation (a common problem in former combat zones). Another 350,000 cards were never picked up either because the would-be voters either lost interest or were thwarted by logistical obstacles. Moreover, an estimated 87,000 who did have their voter-ID cards were not allowed to vote on election day for a variety of reasons. Some were told that their names did not appear on the registration list (a claim that placed the illiterate at a disadvantage) or that the information on their cards did not match that on the registration list. If one adds together all those denied the right to vote, including those whose applications were denied, those who had cards but were rejected at the polls, plus half of those who applied for, but never picked up, their voting cards (assuming that at least have of these might have exercised that right), the estimate of those excluded would equal at least 20% of those voting (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 7). The defacto disfranchise- ment seemed especially prevalent among the poor, a pattern that served to undercut the legitimacy of the election for much of the citizenry (Schmitt, 1994).28 Compounding the impact of these deficiencies, the TSE denied every single one of the FMLN's appeals that documented vote-tampering in 37 munici- palities. The UN observers concluded that, While the collection of irregularities ... did not represent a significant manipulation of the vote and thereby affect the result of the presidential election, with regard to the elections for the Assembly and Municipal Councils, given the smaller dimension of the voting districts, these irregu- larities could have affected some results, giving rise to a significant number of challenges. (UN, 1994: 1) and other documents kept in town halls during the war. The TSE set up extremely slow, cumbersome mechanisms for registering eligible voters and giving out voter registration cards. Because of the time and expense involved in making numerous trips to TSE offices to register, and then to see if the voting card was ready, these procedures tended, disproportionately, to disen- franchise the poor. By election time, some 74,000 applications for voter registration cards had been rejected, most for lack of proper documentation (a common problem in former combat zones). Another 350,000 cards were never picked up either because the would-be voters either lost interest or were thwarted by logistical obstacles. Moreover, an estimated 87,000 who did have their voter-ID cards were not allowed to vote on election day for a variety of reasons. Some were told that their names did not appear on the registration list (a claim that placed the illiterate at a disadvantage) or that the information on their cards did not match that on the registration list. If one adds together all those denied the right to vote, including those whose applications were denied, those who had cards but were rejected at the polls, plus half of those who applied for, but never picked up, their voting cards (assuming that at least have of these might have exercised that right), the estimate of those excluded would equal at least 20% of those voting (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 7). The defacto disfranchise- ment seemed especially prevalent among the poor, a pattern that served to undercut the legitimacy of the election for much of the citizenry (Schmitt, 1994).28 Compounding the impact of these deficiencies, the TSE denied every single one of the FMLN's appeals that documented vote-tampering in 37 munici- palities. The UN observers concluded that, While the collection of irregularities ... did not represent a significant manipulation of the vote and thereby affect the result of the presidential election, with regard to the elections for the Assembly and Municipal Councils, given the smaller dimension of the voting districts, these irregu- larities could have affected some results, giving rise to a significant number of challenges. (UN, 1994: 1) and other documents kept in town halls during the war. The TSE set up extremely slow, cumbersome mechanisms for registering eligible voters and giving out voter registration cards. Because of the time and expense involved in making numerous trips to TSE offices to register, and then to see if the voting card was ready, these procedures tended, disproportionately, to disen- franchise the poor. By election time, some 74,000 applications for voter registration cards had been rejected, most for lack of proper documentation (a common problem in former combat zones). Another 350,000 cards were never picked up either because the would-be voters either lost interest or were thwarted by logistical obstacles. Moreover, an estimated 87,000 who did have their voter-ID cards were not allowed to vote on election day for a variety of reasons. Some were told that their names did not appear on the registration list (a claim that placed the illiterate at a disadvantage) or that the information on their cards did not match that on the registration list. If one adds together all those denied the right to vote, including those whose applications were denied, those who had cards but were rejected at the polls, plus half of those who applied for, but never picked up, their voting cards (assuming that at least have of these might have exercised that right), the estimate of those excluded would equal at least 20% of those voting (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 7). The defacto disfranchise- ment seemed especially prevalent among the poor, a pattern that served to undercut the legitimacy of the election for much of the citizenry (Schmitt, 1994).28 Compounding the impact of these deficiencies, the TSE denied every single one of the FMLN's appeals that documented vote-tampering in 37 munici- palities. The UN observers concluded that, While the collection of irregularities ... did not represent a significant manipulation of the vote and thereby affect the result of the presidential election, with regard to the elections for the Assembly and Municipal Councils, given the smaller dimension of the voting districts, these irregu- larities could have affected some results, giving rise to a significant number of challenges. (UN, 1994: 1) and other documents kept in town halls during the war. The TSE set up extremely slow, cumbersome mechanisms for registering eligible voters and giving out voter registration cards. Because of the time and expense involved in making numerous trips to TSE offices to register, and then to see if the voting card was ready, these procedures tended, disproportionately, to disen- franchise the poor. By election time, some 74,000 applications for voter registration cards had been rejected, most for lack of proper documentation (a common problem in former combat zones). Another 350,000 cards were never picked up either because the would-be voters either lost interest or were thwarted by logistical obstacles. Moreover, an estimated 87,000 who did have their voter-ID cards were not allowed to vote on election day for a variety of reasons. Some were told that their names did not appear on the registration list (a claim that placed the illiterate at a disadvantage) or that the information on their cards did not match that on the registration list. If one adds together all those denied the right to vote, including those whose applications were denied, those who had cards but were rejected at the polls, plus half of those who applied for, but never picked up, their voting cards (assuming that at least have of these might have exercised that right), the estimate of those excluded would equal at least 20% of those voting (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 7). The defacto disfranchise- ment seemed especially prevalent among the poor, a pattern that served to undercut the legitimacy of the election for much of the citizenry (Schmitt, 1994).28 Compounding the impact of these deficiencies, the TSE denied every single one of the FMLN's appeals that documented vote-tampering in 37 munici- palities. The UN observers concluded that, While the collection of irregularities ... did not represent a significant manipulation of the vote and thereby affect the result of the presidential election, with regard to the elections for the Assembly and Municipal Councils, given the smaller dimension of the voting districts, these irregu- larities could have affected some results, giving rise to a significant number of challenges. (UN, 1994: 1) 26 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 26 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 26 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 26 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 26 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 26 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS The numerous, serious procedural defects led the parties of the Left and Center to denounce what they called "technical fraud," and even the TSE admitted to "anomalies" (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 6). It is impossible to speculate what the results might have been in the absence of these procedural defects, but the political impact was to undermine confidence in electoral democracy. Aside from procedure, another way in which elections may contribute to democratization is by the scope and quality of participation that they promote (Booth, 1989: 16-21). The range of participation in El Salvador was expanded signifi- cantly by inclusion of the FMLN. A slight opening along these lines had occurred in the past when Guillermo Ungo and Ruben Zamora returned from exile in November 1987 and ran in the 1989 election for president on the Center-Left ticket of the Convergencla Democrttica (CD). The FMLN had offered to participate in that election as well, but only on certain conditions: a 6-month delay in the 1989 election (to allow for campaigning) and the guarantee that there would be no repression of its political activities. Although the incoming Bush administration in the United States expressed an interest, no agreement was ever reached which led to an awkward division of tactics between the CD and FMLN (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 7-9). When the CD again took part in the elections (for the legislature) of 1991, with the peace talks already underway, it won 12% of the vote and 8 (out of 84) seats in the Legislative Assembly, where Ruben Zamora gained increased visibility as its vice-president. For the 1994 presidential election (see Table 1), the FMLN formed a coalition with the CD and the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario (MNR), a small social democratic party that had left the CD in 1992. The Left-wing coalition ran Zamora for president and Francisco Lima, a sharp-tongued independent businessman, as its candidate for vice-president. However, the FMLN and CD ran separate candidates for the Legislative Assembly and in municipal elections, a strategy which confused supporters and divided the vote for the Left in the winner-take-all municipal elections. Two of the FMLN's The numerous, serious procedural defects led the parties of the Left and Center to denounce what they called "technical fraud," and even the TSE admitted to "anomalies" (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 6). It is impossible to speculate what the results might have been in the absence of these procedural defects, but the political impact was to undermine confidence in electoral democracy. Aside from procedure, another way in which elections may contribute to democratization is by the scope and quality of participation that they promote (Booth, 1989: 16-21). The range of participation in El Salvador was expanded signifi- cantly by inclusion of the FMLN. A slight opening along these lines had occurred in the past when Guillermo Ungo and Ruben Zamora returned from exile in November 1987 and ran in the 1989 election for president on the Center-Left ticket of the Convergencla Democrttica (CD). The FMLN had offered to participate in that election as well, but only on certain conditions: a 6-month delay in the 1989 election (to allow for campaigning) and the guarantee that there would be no repression of its political activities. Although the incoming Bush administration in the United States expressed an interest, no agreement was ever reached which led to an awkward division of tactics between the CD and FMLN (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 7-9). When the CD again took part in the elections (for the legislature) of 1991, with the peace talks already underway, it won 12% of the vote and 8 (out of 84) seats in the Legislative Assembly, where Ruben Zamora gained increased visibility as its vice-president. For the 1994 presidential election (see Table 1), the FMLN formed a coalition with the CD and the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario (MNR), a small social democratic party that had left the CD in 1992. The Left-wing coalition ran Zamora for president and Francisco Lima, a sharp-tongued independent businessman, as its candidate for vice-president. However, the FMLN and CD ran separate candidates for the Legislative Assembly and in municipal elections, a strategy which confused supporters and divided the vote for the Left in the winner-take-all municipal elections. Two of the FMLN's The numerous, serious procedural defects led the parties of the Left and Center to denounce what they called "technical fraud," and even the TSE admitted to "anomalies" (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 6). It is impossible to speculate what the results might have been in the absence of these procedural defects, but the political impact was to undermine confidence in electoral democracy. Aside from procedure, another way in which elections may contribute to democratization is by the scope and quality of participation that they promote (Booth, 1989: 16-21). The range of participation in El Salvador was expanded signifi- cantly by inclusion of the FMLN. A slight opening along these lines had occurred in the past when Guillermo Ungo and Ruben Zamora returned from exile in November 1987 and ran in the 1989 election for president on the Center-Left ticket of the Convergencla Democrttica (CD). The FMLN had offered to participate in that election as well, but only on certain conditions: a 6-month delay in the 1989 election (to allow for campaigning) and the guarantee that there would be no repression of its political activities. Although the incoming Bush administration in the United States expressed an interest, no agreement was ever reached which led to an awkward division of tactics between the CD and FMLN (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 7-9). When the CD again took part in the elections (for the legislature) of 1991, with the peace talks already underway, it won 12% of the vote and 8 (out of 84) seats in the Legislative Assembly, where Ruben Zamora gained increased visibility as its vice-president. For the 1994 presidential election (see Table 1), the FMLN formed a coalition with the CD and the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario (MNR), a small social democratic party that had left the CD in 1992. The Left-wing coalition ran Zamora for president and Francisco Lima, a sharp-tongued independent businessman, as its candidate for vice-president. However, the FMLN and CD ran separate candidates for the Legislative Assembly and in municipal elections, a strategy which confused supporters and divided the vote for the Left in the winner-take-all municipal elections. Two of the FMLN's The numerous, serious procedural defects led the parties of the Left and Center to denounce what they called "technical fraud," and even the TSE admitted to "anomalies" (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 6). It is impossible to speculate what the results might have been in the absence of these procedural defects, but the political impact was to undermine confidence in electoral democracy. Aside from procedure, another way in which elections may contribute to democratization is by the scope and quality of participation that they promote (Booth, 1989: 16-21). The range of participation in El Salvador was expanded signifi- cantly by inclusion of the FMLN. A slight opening along these lines had occurred in the past when Guillermo Ungo and Ruben Zamora returned from exile in November 1987 and ran in the 1989 election for president on the Center-Left ticket of the Convergencla Democrttica (CD). The FMLN had offered to participate in that election as well, but only on certain conditions: a 6-month delay in the 1989 election (to allow for campaigning) and the guarantee that there would be no repression of its political activities. Although the incoming Bush administration in the United States expressed an interest, no agreement was ever reached which led to an awkward division of tactics between the CD and FMLN (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 7-9). When the CD again took part in the elections (for the legislature) of 1991, with the peace talks already underway, it won 12% of the vote and 8 (out of 84) seats in the Legislative Assembly, where Ruben Zamora gained increased visibility as its vice-president. For the 1994 presidential election (see Table 1), the FMLN formed a coalition with the CD and the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario (MNR), a small social democratic party that had left the CD in 1992. The Left-wing coalition ran Zamora for president and Francisco Lima, a sharp-tongued independent businessman, as its candidate for vice-president. However, the FMLN and CD ran separate candidates for the Legislative Assembly and in municipal elections, a strategy which confused supporters and divided the vote for the Left in the winner-take-all municipal elections. Two of the FMLN's The numerous, serious procedural defects led the parties of the Left and Center to denounce what they called "technical fraud," and even the TSE admitted to "anomalies" (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 6). It is impossible to speculate what the results might have been in the absence of these procedural defects, but the political impact was to undermine confidence in electoral democracy. Aside from procedure, another way in which elections may contribute to democratization is by the scope and quality of participation that they promote (Booth, 1989: 16-21). The range of participation in El Salvador was expanded signifi- cantly by inclusion of the FMLN. A slight opening along these lines had occurred in the past when Guillermo Ungo and Ruben Zamora returned from exile in November 1987 and ran in the 1989 election for president on the Center-Left ticket of the Convergencla Democrttica (CD). The FMLN had offered to participate in that election as well, but only on certain conditions: a 6-month delay in the 1989 election (to allow for campaigning) and the guarantee that there would be no repression of its political activities. Although the incoming Bush administration in the United States expressed an interest, no agreement was ever reached which led to an awkward division of tactics between the CD and FMLN (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 7-9). When the CD again took part in the elections (for the legislature) of 1991, with the peace talks already underway, it won 12% of the vote and 8 (out of 84) seats in the Legislative Assembly, where Ruben Zamora gained increased visibility as its vice-president. For the 1994 presidential election (see Table 1), the FMLN formed a coalition with the CD and the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario (MNR), a small social democratic party that had left the CD in 1992. The Left-wing coalition ran Zamora for president and Francisco Lima, a sharp-tongued independent businessman, as its candidate for vice-president. However, the FMLN and CD ran separate candidates for the Legislative Assembly and in municipal elections, a strategy which confused supporters and divided the vote for the Left in the winner-take-all municipal elections. Two of the FMLN's The numerous, serious procedural defects led the parties of the Left and Center to denounce what they called "technical fraud," and even the TSE admitted to "anomalies" (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 6). It is impossible to speculate what the results might have been in the absence of these procedural defects, but the political impact was to undermine confidence in electoral democracy. Aside from procedure, another way in which elections may contribute to democratization is by the scope and quality of participation that they promote (Booth, 1989: 16-21). The range of participation in El Salvador was expanded signifi- cantly by inclusion of the FMLN. A slight opening along these lines had occurred in the past when Guillermo Ungo and Ruben Zamora returned from exile in November 1987 and ran in the 1989 election for president on the Center-Left ticket of the Convergencla Democrttica (CD). The FMLN had offered to participate in that election as well, but only on certain conditions: a 6-month delay in the 1989 election (to allow for campaigning) and the guarantee that there would be no repression of its political activities. Although the incoming Bush administration in the United States expressed an interest, no agreement was ever reached which led to an awkward division of tactics between the CD and FMLN (Spence and Vickers, 1994: 7-9). When the CD again took part in the elections (for the legislature) of 1991, with the peace talks already underway, it won 12% of the vote and 8 (out of 84) seats in the Legislative Assembly, where Ruben Zamora gained increased visibility as its vice-president. For the 1994 presidential election (see Table 1), the FMLN formed a coalition with the CD and the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario (MNR), a small social democratic party that had left the CD in 1992. The Left-wing coalition ran Zamora for president and Francisco Lima, a sharp-tongued independent businessman, as its candidate for vice-president. However, the FMLN and CD ran separate candidates for the Legislative Assembly and in municipal elections, a strategy which confused supporters and divided the vote for the Left in the winner-take-all municipal elections. Two of the FMLN's STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 27 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 27 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 27 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 27 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 27 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 27 Table 1. Legislative & Presidential Election Results, Main Parties Only, 1982-1994 (Total votes, % abstention, and % distribution of valid votes by party) Table 1. Legislative & Presidential Election Results, Main Parties Only, 1982-1994 (Total votes, % abstention, and % distribution of valid votes by party) Table 1. Legislative & Presidential Election Results, Main Parties Only, 1982-1994 (Total votes, % abstention, and % distribution of valid votes by party) Table 1. Legislative & Presidential Election Results, Main Parties Only, 1982-1994 (Total votes, % abstention, and % distribution of valid votes by party) Table 1. Legislative & Presidential Election Results, Main Parties Only, 1982-1994 (Total votes, % abstention, and % distribution of valid votes by party) Table 1. Legislative & Presidential Election Results, Main Parties Only, 1982-1994 (Total votes, % abstention, and % distribution of valid votes by party) Total2 Abstention3 FMLN- Votes Rate CD- Year Type1 (W (%) ARENA PCN PDC CD MNR4 1982 L 1,551,687 21.5 29.5 19.2 40.1 1984 P1 1,419,493 51.1 29.8 19.3 43.4 P2 1,524,079 44.0 46.4 53.6 1985 L 1,101,606 41.0 29.7 8.4 52.3 1988 L 1,084,132 55.0 48.0 8.5 35.2 1989 P 1,003,153 57.0 53.8 4.1 36.0 3.9 1991 L 1,051,481 52.0 44.3 9.0 28.0 12.2 1994 P1 1,411,320 47.7 49.0 5.4 16.4 24.9 P2 1,246,220 53.8 68.3 31.7 L 1,453,000 46.2 44.9 6.2 18.2 26.4 1 - (Legislative - L, Presidential - P). In 1984 and 1994 when run-off elections were necessary for the presidency, the first and second rounds are designated P1 and P2, respectively. 2 - Includes blank and spoiled ballots. Percentages are calculated on the basis of valid votes only. 3 - Percentage of registered voters who cast no vote. This underestimates the real abstention rate because of the high number of unregistered voters, especially in 1994. The 1982 abstention estimate here is also based on official voter turnout figures, which many observers believe were signifi- cantly inflated by fraud. 4 - The FMLN, CD, and MNR ran a joint presidential ticket in 1994, but ran separate legislative candidates. Their legislative votes are totaled here. Sources: 1982-91 results from Spence & Vickers (1994:22) and C6rdova Macias (1992:Annex). 1994 results and abstention calculated from El Rescate/ Fundaci6n Flor de Izote; and Spence, Dye & Vickers (1994:37). 1982-84 abstention from IICA/FLACSO (1991:194-5); 1985 abstention from Garcia (1989:78). 1988-91 abstention from Dunkerley (1994:148). five organizations (the ERP and RN) had favored moving even further toward the center for the presidential ticket and supporting Abraham Rodriguez, a Christian Democrat whose candidacy was all but openly endorsed by the US Embassy. The Partido Democrata Cristiano (PDC) itself, in electoral Total2 Abstention3 FMLN- Votes Rate CD- Year Type1 (W (%) ARENA PCN PDC CD MNR4 1982 L 1,551,687 21.5 29.5 19.2 40.1 1984 P1 1,419,493 51.1 29.8 19.3 43.4 P2 1,524,079 44.0 46.4 53.6 1985 L 1,101,606 41.0 29.7 8.4 52.3 1988 L 1,084,132 55.0 48.0 8.5 35.2 1989 P 1,003,153 57.0 53.8 4.1 36.0 3.9 1991 L 1,051,481 52.0 44.3 9.0 28.0 12.2 1994 P1 1,411,320 47.7 49.0 5.4 16.4 24.9 P2 1,246,220 53.8 68.3 31.7 L 1,453,000 46.2 44.9 6.2 18.2 26.4 1 - (Legislative - L, Presidential - P). In 1984 and 1994 when run-off elections were necessary for the presidency, the first and second rounds are designated P1 and P2, respectively. 2 - Includes blank and spoiled ballots. Percentages are calculated on the basis of valid votes only. 3 - Percentage of registered voters who cast no vote. This underestimates the real abstention rate because of the high number of unregistered voters, especially in 1994. The 1982 abstention estimate here is also based on official voter turnout figures, which many observers believe were signifi- cantly inflated by fraud. 4 - The FMLN, CD, and MNR ran a joint presidential ticket in 1994, but ran separate legislative candidates. Their legislative votes are totaled here. Sources: 1982-91 results from Spence & Vickers (1994:22) and C6rdova Macias (1992:Annex). 1994 results and abstention calculated from El Rescate/ Fundaci6n Flor de Izote; and Spence, Dye & Vickers (1994:37). 1982-84 abstention from IICA/FLACSO (1991:194-5); 1985 abstention from Garcia (1989:78). 1988-91 abstention from Dunkerley (1994:148). five organizations (the ERP and RN) had favored moving even further toward the center for the presidential ticket and supporting Abraham Rodriguez, a Christian Democrat whose candidacy was all but openly endorsed by the US Embassy. The Partido Democrata Cristiano (PDC) itself, in electoral Total2 Abstention3 FMLN- Votes Rate CD- Year Type1 (W (%) ARENA PCN PDC CD MNR4 1982 L 1,551,687 21.5 29.5 19.2 40.1 1984 P1 1,419,493 51.1 29.8 19.3 43.4 P2 1,524,079 44.0 46.4 53.6 1985 L 1,101,606 41.0 29.7 8.4 52.3 1988 L 1,084,132 55.0 48.0 8.5 35.2 1989 P 1,003,153 57.0 53.8 4.1 36.0 3.9 1991 L 1,051,481 52.0 44.3 9.0 28.0 12.2 1994 P1 1,411,320 47.7 49.0 5.4 16.4 24.9 P2 1,246,220 53.8 68.3 31.7 L 1,453,000 46.2 44.9 6.2 18.2 26.4 1 - (Legislative - L, Presidential - P). In 1984 and 1994 when run-off elections were necessary for the presidency, the first and second rounds are designated P1 and P2, respectively. 2 - Includes blank and spoiled ballots. Percentages are calculated on the basis of valid votes only. 3 - Percentage of registered voters who cast no vote. This underestimates the real abstention rate because of the high number of unregistered voters, especially in 1994. The 1982 abstention estimate here is also based on official voter turnout figures, which many observers believe were signifi- cantly inflated by fraud. 4 - The FMLN, CD, and MNR ran a joint presidential ticket in 1994, but ran separate legislative candidates. Their legislative votes are totaled here. Sources: 1982-91 results from Spence & Vickers (1994:22) and C6rdova Macias (1992:Annex). 1994 results and abstention calculated from El Rescate/ Fundaci6n Flor de Izote; and Spence, Dye & Vickers (1994:37). 1982-84 abstention from IICA/FLACSO (1991:194-5); 1985 abstention from Garcia (1989:78). 1988-91 abstention from Dunkerley (1994:148). five organizations (the ERP and RN) had favored moving even further toward the center for the presidential ticket and supporting Abraham Rodriguez, a Christian Democrat whose candidacy was all but openly endorsed by the US Embassy. The Partido Democrata Cristiano (PDC) itself, in electoral Total2 Abstention3 FMLN- Votes Rate CD- Year Type1 (W (%) ARENA PCN PDC CD MNR4 1982 L 1,551,687 21.5 29.5 19.2 40.1 1984 P1 1,419,493 51.1 29.8 19.3 43.4 P2 1,524,079 44.0 46.4 53.6 1985 L 1,101,606 41.0 29.7 8.4 52.3 1988 L 1,084,132 55.0 48.0 8.5 35.2 1989 P 1,003,153 57.0 53.8 4.1 36.0 3.9 1991 L 1,051,481 52.0 44.3 9.0 28.0 12.2 1994 P1 1,411,320 47.7 49.0 5.4 16.4 24.9 P2 1,246,220 53.8 68.3 31.7 L 1,453,000 46.2 44.9 6.2 18.2 26.4 1 - (Legislative - L, Presidential - P). In 1984 and 1994 when run-off elections were necessary for the presidency, the first and second rounds are designated P1 and P2, respectively. 2 - Includes blank and spoiled ballots. Percentages are calculated on the basis of valid votes only. 3 - Percentage of registered voters who cast no vote. This underestimates the real abstention rate because of the high number of unregistered voters, especially in 1994. The 1982 abstention estimate here is also based on official voter turnout figures, which many observers believe were signifi- cantly inflated by fraud. 4 - The FMLN, CD, and MNR ran a joint presidential ticket in 1994, but ran separate legislative candidates. Their legislative votes are totaled here. Sources: 1982-91 results from Spence & Vickers (1994:22) and C6rdova Macias (1992:Annex). 1994 results and abstention calculated from El Rescate/ Fundaci6n Flor de Izote; and Spence, Dye & Vickers (1994:37). 1982-84 abstention from IICA/FLACSO (1991:194-5); 1985 abstention from Garcia (1989:78). 1988-91 abstention from Dunkerley (1994:148). five organizations (the ERP and RN) had favored moving even further toward the center for the presidential ticket and supporting Abraham Rodriguez, a Christian Democrat whose candidacy was all but openly endorsed by the US Embassy. The Partido Democrata Cristiano (PDC) itself, in electoral Total2 Abstention3 FMLN- Votes Rate CD- Year Type1 (W (%) ARENA PCN PDC CD MNR4 1982 L 1,551,687 21.5 29.5 19.2 40.1 1984 P1 1,419,493 51.1 29.8 19.3 43.4 P2 1,524,079 44.0 46.4 53.6 1985 L 1,101,606 41.0 29.7 8.4 52.3 1988 L 1,084,132 55.0 48.0 8.5 35.2 1989 P 1,003,153 57.0 53.8 4.1 36.0 3.9 1991 L 1,051,481 52.0 44.3 9.0 28.0 12.2 1994 P1 1,411,320 47.7 49.0 5.4 16.4 24.9 P2 1,246,220 53.8 68.3 31.7 L 1,453,000 46.2 44.9 6.2 18.2 26.4 1 - (Legislative - L, Presidential - P). In 1984 and 1994 when run-off elections were necessary for the presidency, the first and second rounds are designated P1 and P2, respectively. 2 - Includes blank and spoiled ballots. Percentages are calculated on the basis of valid votes only. 3 - Percentage of registered voters who cast no vote. This underestimates the real abstention rate because of the high number of unregistered voters, especially in 1994. The 1982 abstention estimate here is also based on official voter turnout figures, which many observers believe were signifi- cantly inflated by fraud. 4 - The FMLN, CD, and MNR ran a joint presidential ticket in 1994, but ran separate legislative candidates. Their legislative votes are totaled here. Sources: 1982-91 results from Spence & Vickers (1994:22) and C6rdova Macias (1992:Annex). 1994 results and abstention calculated from El Rescate/ Fundaci6n Flor de Izote; and Spence, Dye & Vickers (1994:37). 1982-84 abstention from IICA/FLACSO (1991:194-5); 1985 abstention from Garcia (1989:78). 1988-91 abstention from Dunkerley (1994:148). five organizations (the ERP and RN) had favored moving even further toward the center for the presidential ticket and supporting Abraham Rodriguez, a Christian Democrat whose candidacy was all but openly endorsed by the US Embassy. The Partido Democrata Cristiano (PDC) itself, in electoral Total2 Abstention3 FMLN- Votes Rate CD- Year Type1 (W (%) ARENA PCN PDC CD MNR4 1982 L 1,551,687 21.5 29.5 19.2 40.1 1984 P1 1,419,493 51.1 29.8 19.3 43.4 P2 1,524,079 44.0 46.4 53.6 1985 L 1,101,606 41.0 29.7 8.4 52.3 1988 L 1,084,132 55.0 48.0 8.5 35.2 1989 P 1,003,153 57.0 53.8 4.1 36.0 3.9 1991 L 1,051,481 52.0 44.3 9.0 28.0 12.2 1994 P1 1,411,320 47.7 49.0 5.4 16.4 24.9 P2 1,246,220 53.8 68.3 31.7 L 1,453,000 46.2 44.9 6.2 18.2 26.4 1 - (Legislative - L, Presidential - P). In 1984 and 1994 when run-off elections were necessary for the presidency, the first and second rounds are designated P1 and P2, respectively. 2 - Includes blank and spoiled ballots. Percentages are calculated on the basis of valid votes only. 3 - Percentage of registered voters who cast no vote. This underestimates the real abstention rate because of the high number of unregistered voters, especially in 1994. The 1982 abstention estimate here is also based on official voter turnout figures, which many observers believe were signifi- cantly inflated by fraud. 4 - The FMLN, CD, and MNR ran a joint presidential ticket in 1994, but ran separate legislative candidates. Their legislative votes are totaled here. Sources: 1982-91 results from Spence & Vickers (1994:22) and C6rdova Macias (1992:Annex). 1994 results and abstention calculated from El Rescate/ Fundaci6n Flor de Izote; and Spence, Dye & Vickers (1994:37). 1982-84 abstention from IICA/FLACSO (1991:194-5); 1985 abstention from Garcia (1989:78). 1988-91 abstention from Dunkerley (1994:148). five organizations (the ERP and RN) had favored moving even further toward the center for the presidential ticket and supporting Abraham Rodriguez, a Christian Democrat whose candidacy was all but openly endorsed by the US Embassy. The Partido Democrata Cristiano (PDC) itself, in electoral 28 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 28 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 28 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 28 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 28 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 28 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS decline since the late 1980s, was divided and ultimately chose veteran politician Fidel Chavez Mena from its more conserva- tive faction. ARENA ran Armando Calderon Sol, the mayor of San Salvador who was inclined toward the party's Right wing. Aside from these three principal contenders, other parties included the Partido de Conciliacion Nacional (PCN), the traditional party of the army, the Movimiento Autentico Cristiano, a breakaway from the PDC; and two new evangeli- cal Protestant parties: the Movimiento deSolidaridadNacional (MSN) and the Movimiento de Unidad (MU). On election day (20 March 1994), ARENA polled 49.03% of the vote (versus 24.9% for the Coalition and 16.4% for the PDC), falling just short of an absolute majority for the presi- dency (Table 1). This forced a second, run-off, presidential election to be held a month later (24 April 1994) between ARENA and the second-place FMLN-CD-MNR coalition. ARENA won the run-off election, taking 68% of the vote to the coalition's 32%. In the election for the Legislative Assembly, ARENA won 39 (out of 84) seats and its perpetual allies - the PCN - took another 4, which meant that, together, they had a controlling majority. The FMLN won 21 seats, the CD one seat, the PDC took 18, and the MU just one, so the opposition, if they voted together, could block Supreme Court appointments or constitutional reforms. In the municipal elections, ARENA swept 207 (out of 262) municipalities, with the PCN winning 10, the PDC taking 29, and the MAC just one. This left the FMLN with a toehold of 15 municipalities, in which it could develop its alternative model for local development. Significantly, the Leftist coalition displaced the PDC in second place. However, due to the rules that governed municipal elections, ARENA came to control some 80% of the town halls (i.e., the mayor and entire town council) despite winning only 44% of the munici- pal vote (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 29). While the range of parties represented an opening of political space, the breadth of participation was more limited. Abstention had already been on the rise throughout the 1980s. Because the 1994 election was the first since the end of the 12- decline since the late 1980s, was divided and ultimately chose veteran politician Fidel Chavez Mena from its more conserva- tive faction. ARENA ran Armando Calderon Sol, the mayor of San Salvador who was inclined toward the party's Right wing. Aside from these three principal contenders, other parties included the Partido de Conciliacion Nacional (PCN), the traditional party of the army, the Movimiento Autentico Cristiano, a breakaway from the PDC; and two new evangeli- cal Protestant parties: the Movimiento deSolidaridadNacional (MSN) and the Movimiento de Unidad (MU). On election day (20 March 1994), ARENA polled 49.03% of the vote (versus 24.9% for the Coalition and 16.4% for the PDC), falling just short of an absolute majority for the presi- dency (Table 1). This forced a second, run-off, presidential election to be held a month later (24 April 1994) between ARENA and the second-place FMLN-CD-MNR coalition. ARENA won the run-off election, taking 68% of the vote to the coalition's 32%. In the election for the Legislative Assembly, ARENA won 39 (out of 84) seats and its perpetual allies - the PCN - took another 4, which meant that, together, they had a controlling majority. The FMLN won 21 seats, the CD one seat, the PDC took 18, and the MU just one, so the opposition, if they voted together, could block Supreme Court appointments or constitutional reforms. In the municipal elections, ARENA swept 207 (out of 262) municipalities, with the PCN winning 10, the PDC taking 29, and the MAC just one. This left the FMLN with a toehold of 15 municipalities, in which it could develop its alternative model for local development. Significantly, the Leftist coalition displaced the PDC in second place. However, due to the rules that governed municipal elections, ARENA came to control some 80% of the town halls (i.e., the mayor and entire town council) despite winning only 44% of the munici- pal vote (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 29). While the range of parties represented an opening of political space, the breadth of participation was more limited. Abstention had already been on the rise throughout the 1980s. Because the 1994 election was the first since the end of the 12- decline since the late 1980s, was divided and ultimately chose veteran politician Fidel Chavez Mena from its more conserva- tive faction. ARENA ran Armando Calderon Sol, the mayor of San Salvador who was inclined toward the party's Right wing. Aside from these three principal contenders, other parties included the Partido de Conciliacion Nacional (PCN), the traditional party of the army, the Movimiento Autentico Cristiano, a breakaway from the PDC; and two new evangeli- cal Protestant parties: the Movimiento deSolidaridadNacional (MSN) and the Movimiento de Unidad (MU). On election day (20 March 1994), ARENA polled 49.03% of the vote (versus 24.9% for the Coalition and 16.4% for the PDC), falling just short of an absolute majority for the presi- dency (Table 1). This forced a second, run-off, presidential election to be held a month later (24 April 1994) between ARENA and the second-place FMLN-CD-MNR coalition. ARENA won the run-off election, taking 68% of the vote to the coalition's 32%. In the election for the Legislative Assembly, ARENA won 39 (out of 84) seats and its perpetual allies - the PCN - took another 4, which meant that, together, they had a controlling majority. The FMLN won 21 seats, the CD one seat, the PDC took 18, and the MU just one, so the opposition, if they voted together, could block Supreme Court appointments or constitutional reforms. In the municipal elections, ARENA swept 207 (out of 262) municipalities, with the PCN winning 10, the PDC taking 29, and the MAC just one. This left the FMLN with a toehold of 15 municipalities, in which it could develop its alternative model for local development. Significantly, the Leftist coalition displaced the PDC in second place. However, due to the rules that governed municipal elections, ARENA came to control some 80% of the town halls (i.e., the mayor and entire town council) despite winning only 44% of the munici- pal vote (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 29). While the range of parties represented an opening of political space, the breadth of participation was more limited. Abstention had already been on the rise throughout the 1980s. Because the 1994 election was the first since the end of the 12- decline since the late 1980s, was divided and ultimately chose veteran politician Fidel Chavez Mena from its more conserva- tive faction. ARENA ran Armando Calderon Sol, the mayor of San Salvador who was inclined toward the party's Right wing. Aside from these three principal contenders, other parties included the Partido de Conciliacion Nacional (PCN), the traditional party of the army, the Movimiento Autentico Cristiano, a breakaway from the PDC; and two new evangeli- cal Protestant parties: the Movimiento deSolidaridadNacional (MSN) and the Movimiento de Unidad (MU). On election day (20 March 1994), ARENA polled 49.03% of the vote (versus 24.9% for the Coalition and 16.4% for the PDC), falling just short of an absolute majority for the presi- dency (Table 1). This forced a second, run-off, presidential election to be held a month later (24 April 1994) between ARENA and the second-place FMLN-CD-MNR coalition. ARENA won the run-off election, taking 68% of the vote to the coalition's 32%. In the election for the Legislative Assembly, ARENA won 39 (out of 84) seats and its perpetual allies - the PCN - took another 4, which meant that, together, they had a controlling majority. The FMLN won 21 seats, the CD one seat, the PDC took 18, and the MU just one, so the opposition, if they voted together, could block Supreme Court appointments or constitutional reforms. In the municipal elections, ARENA swept 207 (out of 262) municipalities, with the PCN winning 10, the PDC taking 29, and the MAC just one. This left the FMLN with a toehold of 15 municipalities, in which it could develop its alternative model for local development. Significantly, the Leftist coalition displaced the PDC in second place. However, due to the rules that governed municipal elections, ARENA came to control some 80% of the town halls (i.e., the mayor and entire town council) despite winning only 44% of the munici- pal vote (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 29). While the range of parties represented an opening of political space, the breadth of participation was more limited. Abstention had already been on the rise throughout the 1980s. Because the 1994 election was the first since the end of the 12- decline since the late 1980s, was divided and ultimately chose veteran politician Fidel Chavez Mena from its more conserva- tive faction. ARENA ran Armando Calderon Sol, the mayor of San Salvador who was inclined toward the party's Right wing. Aside from these three principal contenders, other parties included the Partido de Conciliacion Nacional (PCN), the traditional party of the army, the Movimiento Autentico Cristiano, a breakaway from the PDC; and two new evangeli- cal Protestant parties: the Movimiento deSolidaridadNacional (MSN) and the Movimiento de Unidad (MU). On election day (20 March 1994), ARENA polled 49.03% of the vote (versus 24.9% for the Coalition and 16.4% for the PDC), falling just short of an absolute majority for the presi- dency (Table 1). This forced a second, run-off, presidential election to be held a month later (24 April 1994) between ARENA and the second-place FMLN-CD-MNR coalition. ARENA won the run-off election, taking 68% of the vote to the coalition's 32%. In the election for the Legislative Assembly, ARENA won 39 (out of 84) seats and its perpetual allies - the PCN - took another 4, which meant that, together, they had a controlling majority. The FMLN won 21 seats, the CD one seat, the PDC took 18, and the MU just one, so the opposition, if they voted together, could block Supreme Court appointments or constitutional reforms. In the municipal elections, ARENA swept 207 (out of 262) municipalities, with the PCN winning 10, the PDC taking 29, and the MAC just one. This left the FMLN with a toehold of 15 municipalities, in which it could develop its alternative model for local development. Significantly, the Leftist coalition displaced the PDC in second place. However, due to the rules that governed municipal elections, ARENA came to control some 80% of the town halls (i.e., the mayor and entire town council) despite winning only 44% of the munici- pal vote (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 29). While the range of parties represented an opening of political space, the breadth of participation was more limited. Abstention had already been on the rise throughout the 1980s. Because the 1994 election was the first since the end of the 12- decline since the late 1980s, was divided and ultimately chose veteran politician Fidel Chavez Mena from its more conserva- tive faction. ARENA ran Armando Calderon Sol, the mayor of San Salvador who was inclined toward the party's Right wing. Aside from these three principal contenders, other parties included the Partido de Conciliacion Nacional (PCN), the traditional party of the army, the Movimiento Autentico Cristiano, a breakaway from the PDC; and two new evangeli- cal Protestant parties: the Movimiento deSolidaridadNacional (MSN) and the Movimiento de Unidad (MU). On election day (20 March 1994), ARENA polled 49.03% of the vote (versus 24.9% for the Coalition and 16.4% for the PDC), falling just short of an absolute majority for the presi- dency (Table 1). This forced a second, run-off, presidential election to be held a month later (24 April 1994) between ARENA and the second-place FMLN-CD-MNR coalition. ARENA won the run-off election, taking 68% of the vote to the coalition's 32%. In the election for the Legislative Assembly, ARENA won 39 (out of 84) seats and its perpetual allies - the PCN - took another 4, which meant that, together, they had a controlling majority. The FMLN won 21 seats, the CD one seat, the PDC took 18, and the MU just one, so the opposition, if they voted together, could block Supreme Court appointments or constitutional reforms. In the municipal elections, ARENA swept 207 (out of 262) municipalities, with the PCN winning 10, the PDC taking 29, and the MAC just one. This left the FMLN with a toehold of 15 municipalities, in which it could develop its alternative model for local development. Significantly, the Leftist coalition displaced the PDC in second place. However, due to the rules that governed municipal elections, ARENA came to control some 80% of the town halls (i.e., the mayor and entire town council) despite winning only 44% of the munici- pal vote (Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 29). While the range of parties represented an opening of political space, the breadth of participation was more limited. Abstention had already been on the rise throughout the 1980s. Because the 1994 election was the first since the end of the 12- STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 29 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 29 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 29 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 29 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 29 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 29 year civil war, and because an unprecedented range of political options was offered, one might have expected to see a high turout as one indication of the trend to, and support for, greater democracy. Participation was broad in the analogous situation of the 1990 election in Nicaragua (where 89% registered, and 86% of those registered also voted). In El Salvador, with 2.7 million people registered to vote, a United Nations election official had predicted a turout of at least 1.9 million and hoped for one as high as 2.4 million.29 However, the actual number who turned out to vote in the March 1994 election was only 1.4 million, which suggests that more than 40% abstained from voting in the first round. This estimate then rises to almost 50% abstention rate in the second round, though estimates vary depending on which of several unreliable figures is used as the base figure of total registered voters (e.g. the 2.7 million on the list of registered voters, or the 2.4 million to whom the TSE claimed it had given credentials). Perhaps further comparison with the 1990 Nicaraguan election can shed light on the low voter turnout in El Salvador. Conditions for registering voters were difficult in both post- war situations, but registration was much less successful in El Salvador. This was largely because the highly politicized electoral tribunal in El Salvador reflected greater disagree- ment among political parties over the rules governing elec- tions (O'Donnell et al., 1993: 13-14), and registration took place in a context where those voters who were already registered were unrepresentative of the population as a whole, in the sense that they had participated in elections of the past that had excluded the FMLN. Obstructing registration was a way of keeping the pool of voters similar to those who had returned ARENA majorities in the last two elections. In both the 1990 Nicaraguan and the 1994 Salvadoran elections, pre-election polls showed an unusually large "don't know/ don't respond" group, suggesting some unknowable combi- nation of fear, distrust, apathy, or deep ambivalence which casts some doubt on the quality of participation. year civil war, and because an unprecedented range of political options was offered, one might have expected to see a high turout as one indication of the trend to, and support for, greater democracy. Participation was broad in the analogous situation of the 1990 election in Nicaragua (where 89% registered, and 86% of those registered also voted). In El Salvador, with 2.7 million people registered to vote, a United Nations election official had predicted a turout of at least 1.9 million and hoped for one as high as 2.4 million.29 However, the actual number who turned out to vote in the March 1994 election was only 1.4 million, which suggests that more than 40% abstained from voting in the first round. This estimate then rises to almost 50% abstention rate in the second round, though estimates vary depending on which of several unreliable figures is used as the base figure of total registered voters (e.g. the 2.7 million on the list of registered voters, or the 2.4 million to whom the TSE claimed it had given credentials). Perhaps further comparison with the 1990 Nicaraguan election can shed light on the low voter turnout in El Salvador. Conditions for registering voters were difficult in both post- war situations, but registration was much less successful in El Salvador. This was largely because the highly politicized electoral tribunal in El Salvador reflected greater disagree- ment among political parties over the rules governing elec- tions (O'Donnell et al., 1993: 13-14), and registration took place in a context where those voters who were already registered were unrepresentative of the population as a whole, in the sense that they had participated in elections of the past that had excluded the FMLN. Obstructing registration was a way of keeping the pool of voters similar to those who had returned ARENA majorities in the last two elections. In both the 1990 Nicaraguan and the 1994 Salvadoran elections, pre-election polls showed an unusually large "don't know/ don't respond" group, suggesting some unknowable combi- nation of fear, distrust, apathy, or deep ambivalence which casts some doubt on the quality of participation. year civil war, and because an unprecedented range of political options was offered, one might have expected to see a high turout as one indication of the trend to, and support for, greater democracy. Participation was broad in the analogous situation of the 1990 election in Nicaragua (where 89% registered, and 86% of those registered also voted). In El Salvador, with 2.7 million people registered to vote, a United Nations election official had predicted a turout of at least 1.9 million and hoped for one as high as 2.4 million.29 However, the actual number who turned out to vote in the March 1994 election was only 1.4 million, which suggests that more than 40% abstained from voting in the first round. This estimate then rises to almost 50% abstention rate in the second round, though estimates vary depending on which of several unreliable figures is used as the base figure of total registered voters (e.g. the 2.7 million on the list of registered voters, or the 2.4 million to whom the TSE claimed it had given credentials). Perhaps further comparison with the 1990 Nicaraguan election can shed light on the low voter turnout in El Salvador. Conditions for registering voters were difficult in both post- war situations, but registration was much less successful in El Salvador. This was largely because the highly politicized electoral tribunal in El Salvador reflected greater disagree- ment among political parties over the rules governing elec- tions (O'Donnell et al., 1993: 13-14), and registration took place in a context where those voters who were already registered were unrepresentative of the population as a whole, in the sense that they had participated in elections of the past that had excluded the FMLN. Obstructing registration was a way of keeping the pool of voters similar to those who had returned ARENA majorities in the last two elections. In both the 1990 Nicaraguan and the 1994 Salvadoran elections, pre-election polls showed an unusually large "don't know/ don't respond" group, suggesting some unknowable combi- nation of fear, distrust, apathy, or deep ambivalence which casts some doubt on the quality of participation. year civil war, and because an unprecedented range of political options was offered, one might have expected to see a high turout as one indication of the trend to, and support for, greater democracy. Participation was broad in the analogous situation of the 1990 election in Nicaragua (where 89% registered, and 86% of those registered also voted). In El Salvador, with 2.7 million people registered to vote, a United Nations election official had predicted a turout of at least 1.9 million and hoped for one as high as 2.4 million.29 However, the actual number who turned out to vote in the March 1994 election was only 1.4 million, which suggests that more than 40% abstained from voting in the first round. This estimate then rises to almost 50% abstention rate in the second round, though estimates vary depending on which of several unreliable figures is used as the base figure of total registered voters (e.g. the 2.7 million on the list of registered voters, or the 2.4 million to whom the TSE claimed it had given credentials). Perhaps further comparison with the 1990 Nicaraguan election can shed light on the low voter turnout in El Salvador. Conditions for registering voters were difficult in both post- war situations, but registration was much less successful in El Salvador. This was largely because the highly politicized electoral tribunal in El Salvador reflected greater disagree- ment among political parties over the rules governing elec- tions (O'Donnell et al., 1993: 13-14), and registration took place in a context where those voters who were already registered were unrepresentative of the population as a whole, in the sense that they had participated in elections of the past that had excluded the FMLN. Obstructing registration was a way of keeping the pool of voters similar to those who had returned ARENA majorities in the last two elections. In both the 1990 Nicaraguan and the 1994 Salvadoran elections, pre-election polls showed an unusually large "don't know/ don't respond" group, suggesting some unknowable combi- nation of fear, distrust, apathy, or deep ambivalence which casts some doubt on the quality of participation. year civil war, and because an unprecedented range of political options was offered, one might have expected to see a high turout as one indication of the trend to, and support for, greater democracy. Participation was broad in the analogous situation of the 1990 election in Nicaragua (where 89% registered, and 86% of those registered also voted). In El Salvador, with 2.7 million people registered to vote, a United Nations election official had predicted a turout of at least 1.9 million and hoped for one as high as 2.4 million.29 However, the actual number who turned out to vote in the March 1994 election was only 1.4 million, which suggests that more than 40% abstained from voting in the first round. This estimate then rises to almost 50% abstention rate in the second round, though estimates vary depending on which of several unreliable figures is used as the base figure of total registered voters (e.g. the 2.7 million on the list of registered voters, or the 2.4 million to whom the TSE claimed it had given credentials). Perhaps further comparison with the 1990 Nicaraguan election can shed light on the low voter turnout in El Salvador. Conditions for registering voters were difficult in both post- war situations, but registration was much less successful in El Salvador. This was largely because the highly politicized electoral tribunal in El Salvador reflected greater disagree- ment among political parties over the rules governing elec- tions (O'Donnell et al., 1993: 13-14), and registration took place in a context where those voters who were already registered were unrepresentative of the population as a whole, in the sense that they had participated in elections of the past that had excluded the FMLN. Obstructing registration was a way of keeping the pool of voters similar to those who had returned ARENA majorities in the last two elections. In both the 1990 Nicaraguan and the 1994 Salvadoran elections, pre-election polls showed an unusually large "don't know/ don't respond" group, suggesting some unknowable combi- nation of fear, distrust, apathy, or deep ambivalence which casts some doubt on the quality of participation. year civil war, and because an unprecedented range of political options was offered, one might have expected to see a high turout as one indication of the trend to, and support for, greater democracy. Participation was broad in the analogous situation of the 1990 election in Nicaragua (where 89% registered, and 86% of those registered also voted). In El Salvador, with 2.7 million people registered to vote, a United Nations election official had predicted a turout of at least 1.9 million and hoped for one as high as 2.4 million.29 However, the actual number who turned out to vote in the March 1994 election was only 1.4 million, which suggests that more than 40% abstained from voting in the first round. This estimate then rises to almost 50% abstention rate in the second round, though estimates vary depending on which of several unreliable figures is used as the base figure of total registered voters (e.g. the 2.7 million on the list of registered voters, or the 2.4 million to whom the TSE claimed it had given credentials). Perhaps further comparison with the 1990 Nicaraguan election can shed light on the low voter turnout in El Salvador. Conditions for registering voters were difficult in both post- war situations, but registration was much less successful in El Salvador. This was largely because the highly politicized electoral tribunal in El Salvador reflected greater disagree- ment among political parties over the rules governing elec- tions (O'Donnell et al., 1993: 13-14), and registration took place in a context where those voters who were already registered were unrepresentative of the population as a whole, in the sense that they had participated in elections of the past that had excluded the FMLN. Obstructing registration was a way of keeping the pool of voters similar to those who had returned ARENA majorities in the last two elections. In both the 1990 Nicaraguan and the 1994 Salvadoran elections, pre-election polls showed an unusually large "don't know/ don't respond" group, suggesting some unknowable combi- nation of fear, distrust, apathy, or deep ambivalence which casts some doubt on the quality of participation. 30 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 30 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 30 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 30 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 30 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 30 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS Other aspects for consideration might include the depth of popular participation, that is (1) the degree to which voters felt they could actually have some influence on important issues, and (2) the extent to which the political climate encouraged free expression of, and equal competition for, ideas. In Nicaragua's 1990 election, for example, some of the most pressing issues were not really in the hands of voters. Instead, options were predetermined by the fact that the United States refused to demobilize the contras or to accept the results of internationally supervised elections in advance, and that the United States would not lift its crippling trade embargo and financial blockade if the Sandinistas won. The option of peaceful reconstruction, led by a progressive government, became a null set. In El Salvador in 1994, by contrast, the resumption of full- scale war no longer seemed imminent. The economic situation was also not quite as desperate, in part because significant flows of funds for reconstruction were already entering the country, which were supplemented, in turn, by substantial family remittances (Table 2) from the million Salvadorans living abroad, mainly in the United States. Election options in El Salvador may not have been as polarized into a situation of war-versus-peace as they appeared in Nicaragua. In El Salva- dor, the war was over and the outcome of the elections would seemingly exert a less dramatic impact on the livelihood of most Salvadorans. The FMLN itself had moderated its program and looked toward the Center in its presidential campaign. The country's future was locked into agreements with the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) that bound even the Left wing of the FMLN into supporting "responsible macroeconomic management" (FMLN-FPL, 1993: 36-7), and the FMLN was at pains to stress that it would include opposition figures in a unity government if it won (Martinez, 1994). Despite this self-restraint, however, which in itself amounted to a limitation on the choices available to voters, the ARENA chose to sidestep debate on the issues, preferring to hint darkly that a vote for the FMLN would be a vote for chaos and violence.30 Other aspects for consideration might include the depth of popular participation, that is (1) the degree to which voters felt they could actually have some influence on important issues, and (2) the extent to which the political climate encouraged free expression of, and equal competition for, ideas. In Nicaragua's 1990 election, for example, some of the most pressing issues were not really in the hands of voters. Instead, options were predetermined by the fact that the United States refused to demobilize the contras or to accept the results of internationally supervised elections in advance, and that the United States would not lift its crippling trade embargo and financial blockade if the Sandinistas won. The option of peaceful reconstruction, led by a progressive government, became a null set. In El Salvador in 1994, by contrast, the resumption of full- scale war no longer seemed imminent. The economic situation was also not quite as desperate, in part because significant flows of funds for reconstruction were already entering the country, which were supplemented, in turn, by substantial family remittances (Table 2) from the million Salvadorans living abroad, mainly in the United States. Election options in El Salvador may not have been as polarized into a situation of war-versus-peace as they appeared in Nicaragua. In El Salva- dor, the war was over and the outcome of the elections would seemingly exert a less dramatic impact on the livelihood of most Salvadorans. The FMLN itself had moderated its program and looked toward the Center in its presidential campaign. The country's future was locked into agreements with the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) that bound even the Left wing of the FMLN into supporting "responsible macroeconomic management" (FMLN-FPL, 1993: 36-7), and the FMLN was at pains to stress that it would include opposition figures in a unity government if it won (Martinez, 1994). Despite this self-restraint, however, which in itself amounted to a limitation on the choices available to voters, the ARENA chose to sidestep debate on the issues, preferring to hint darkly that a vote for the FMLN would be a vote for chaos and violence.30 Other aspects for consideration might include the depth of popular participation, that is (1) the degree to which voters felt they could actually have some influence on important issues, and (2) the extent to which the political climate encouraged free expression of, and equal competition for, ideas. In Nicaragua's 1990 election, for example, some of the most pressing issues were not really in the hands of voters. Instead, options were predetermined by the fact that the United States refused to demobilize the contras or to accept the results of internationally supervised elections in advance, and that the United States would not lift its crippling trade embargo and financial blockade if the Sandinistas won. The option of peaceful reconstruction, led by a progressive government, became a null set. In El Salvador in 1994, by contrast, the resumption of full- scale war no longer seemed imminent. The economic situation was also not quite as desperate, in part because significant flows of funds for reconstruction were already entering the country, which were supplemented, in turn, by substantial family remittances (Table 2) from the million Salvadorans living abroad, mainly in the United States. Election options in El Salvador may not have been as polarized into a situation of war-versus-peace as they appeared in Nicaragua. In El Salva- dor, the war was over and the outcome of the elections would seemingly exert a less dramatic impact on the livelihood of most Salvadorans. The FMLN itself had moderated its program and looked toward the Center in its presidential campaign. The country's future was locked into agreements with the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) that bound even the Left wing of the FMLN into supporting "responsible macroeconomic management" (FMLN-FPL, 1993: 36-7), and the FMLN was at pains to stress that it would include opposition figures in a unity government if it won (Martinez, 1994). Despite this self-restraint, however, which in itself amounted to a limitation on the choices available to voters, the ARENA chose to sidestep debate on the issues, preferring to hint darkly that a vote for the FMLN would be a vote for chaos and violence.30 Other aspects for consideration might include the depth of popular participation, that is (1) the degree to which voters felt they could actually have some influence on important issues, and (2) the extent to which the political climate encouraged free expression of, and equal competition for, ideas. In Nicaragua's 1990 election, for example, some of the most pressing issues were not really in the hands of voters. Instead, options were predetermined by the fact that the United States refused to demobilize the contras or to accept the results of internationally supervised elections in advance, and that the United States would not lift its crippling trade embargo and financial blockade if the Sandinistas won. The option of peaceful reconstruction, led by a progressive government, became a null set. In El Salvador in 1994, by contrast, the resumption of full- scale war no longer seemed imminent. The economic situation was also not quite as desperate, in part because significant flows of funds for reconstruction were already entering the country, which were supplemented, in turn, by substantial family remittances (Table 2) from the million Salvadorans living abroad, mainly in the United States. Election options in El Salvador may not have been as polarized into a situation of war-versus-peace as they appeared in Nicaragua. In El Salva- dor, the war was over and the outcome of the elections would seemingly exert a less dramatic impact on the livelihood of most Salvadorans. The FMLN itself had moderated its program and looked toward the Center in its presidential campaign. The country's future was locked into agreements with the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) that bound even the Left wing of the FMLN into supporting "responsible macroeconomic management" (FMLN-FPL, 1993: 36-7), and the FMLN was at pains to stress that it would include opposition figures in a unity government if it won (Martinez, 1994). Despite this self-restraint, however, which in itself amounted to a limitation on the choices available to voters, the ARENA chose to sidestep debate on the issues, preferring to hint darkly that a vote for the FMLN would be a vote for chaos and violence.30 Other aspects for consideration might include the depth of popular participation, that is (1) the degree to which voters felt they could actually have some influence on important issues, and (2) the extent to which the political climate encouraged free expression of, and equal competition for, ideas. In Nicaragua's 1990 election, for example, some of the most pressing issues were not really in the hands of voters. Instead, options were predetermined by the fact that the United States refused to demobilize the contras or to accept the results of internationally supervised elections in advance, and that the United States would not lift its crippling trade embargo and financial blockade if the Sandinistas won. The option of peaceful reconstruction, led by a progressive government, became a null set. In El Salvador in 1994, by contrast, the resumption of full- scale war no longer seemed imminent. The economic situation was also not quite as desperate, in part because significant flows of funds for reconstruction were already entering the country, which were supplemented, in turn, by substantial family remittances (Table 2) from the million Salvadorans living abroad, mainly in the United States. Election options in El Salvador may not have been as polarized into a situation of war-versus-peace as they appeared in Nicaragua. In El Salva- dor, the war was over and the outcome of the elections would seemingly exert a less dramatic impact on the livelihood of most Salvadorans. The FMLN itself had moderated its program and looked toward the Center in its presidential campaign. The country's future was locked into agreements with the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) that bound even the Left wing of the FMLN into supporting "responsible macroeconomic management" (FMLN-FPL, 1993: 36-7), and the FMLN was at pains to stress that it would include opposition figures in a unity government if it won (Martinez, 1994). Despite this self-restraint, however, which in itself amounted to a limitation on the choices available to voters, the ARENA chose to sidestep debate on the issues, preferring to hint darkly that a vote for the FMLN would be a vote for chaos and violence.30 Other aspects for consideration might include the depth of popular participation, that is (1) the degree to which voters felt they could actually have some influence on important issues, and (2) the extent to which the political climate encouraged free expression of, and equal competition for, ideas. In Nicaragua's 1990 election, for example, some of the most pressing issues were not really in the hands of voters. Instead, options were predetermined by the fact that the United States refused to demobilize the contras or to accept the results of internationally supervised elections in advance, and that the United States would not lift its crippling trade embargo and financial blockade if the Sandinistas won. The option of peaceful reconstruction, led by a progressive government, became a null set. In El Salvador in 1994, by contrast, the resumption of full- scale war no longer seemed imminent. The economic situation was also not quite as desperate, in part because significant flows of funds for reconstruction were already entering the country, which were supplemented, in turn, by substantial family remittances (Table 2) from the million Salvadorans living abroad, mainly in the United States. Election options in El Salvador may not have been as polarized into a situation of war-versus-peace as they appeared in Nicaragua. In El Salva- dor, the war was over and the outcome of the elections would seemingly exert a less dramatic impact on the livelihood of most Salvadorans. The FMLN itself had moderated its program and looked toward the Center in its presidential campaign. The country's future was locked into agreements with the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) that bound even the Left wing of the FMLN into supporting "responsible macroeconomic management" (FMLN-FPL, 1993: 36-7), and the FMLN was at pains to stress that it would include opposition figures in a unity government if it won (Martinez, 1994). Despite this self-restraint, however, which in itself amounted to a limitation on the choices available to voters, the ARENA chose to sidestep debate on the issues, preferring to hint darkly that a vote for the FMLN would be a vote for chaos and violence.30 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 31 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 31 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 31 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 31 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 31 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 31 Table 2. Selected Economic Indicators, 1984-1994 (% GDP growth and $ millions) GDP Growth Exports Imports US Econ. US Mil. Family Year (%) FOB CIF Aid Aid Remittances 1984 2.3 726 978 216.0 206.6 121 1985 1.7 695 961 433.9 146.3 102 1986 0.6 755 935 322.6 121.8 135 1987 2.7 591 994 462.9 111.5 169 1988 1.5 609 1,006 314.2 81.5 194 1989 1.1 498 2,002 303.5 81.4 204 1990 3.4 582 2,115 246.7 81.0 322 1991 3.3 588 2,102 222.3 67.0 518 1992 4.7 598 2,330 281.5 21.3' 686 1993 5.0 733 1,994 208.2 11.02 824 19943 ND 843 2,090 90.44 3.8 8654 1 - Excludes $63.7 million reprogrammed into Demobilization and Transition Fund (DTF) and $1.4 million in International Military Education & Training (IMET) funding, of which 75% were earmarked for administration, military justice, and human rights. 2 - Excludes $29 million reprogrammed to DTF and $1.4 million IMET. 3 - Projected. 4 - Proposed 1994. Sources:US economic aid from USAID, 29 Jun. 1994; US military aid from Rosa (1993a:102, 114); GDP from CEPAL (1994); exports, imports, & remittance from Banco Central de Reserva, courtesy of John Schmitt. The election climate was adversely affected by continued killings by death squads and the constant reminder of past violence. This climate, if not directly fomented by ARENA, worked to the advantage of the official party and against the desire, or willingness, to risk taking an active part in election- eering or election activities. In the months preceding the election, the television airwaves were saturated with ads that featured gruesome pictures of wartime destruction with omi- nous voice-overs warning that a vote for the FMLN would mean a return to the past. The expensive advertising was Table 2. Selected Economic Indicators, 1984-1994 (% GDP growth and $ millions) GDP Growth Exports Imports US Econ. US Mil. Family Year (%) FOB CIF Aid Aid Remittances 1984 2.3 726 978 216.0 206.6 121 1985 1.7 695 961 433.9 146.3 102 1986 0.6 755 935 322.6 121.8 135 1987 2.7 591 994 462.9 111.5 169 1988 1.5 609 1,006 314.2 81.5 194 1989 1.1 498 2,002 303.5 81.4 204 1990 3.4 582 2,115 246.7 81.0 322 1991 3.3 588 2,102 222.3 67.0 518 1992 4.7 598 2,330 281.5 21.3' 686 1993 5.0 733 1,994 208.2 11.02 824 19943 ND 843 2,090 90.44 3.8 8654 1 - Excludes $63.7 million reprogrammed into Demobilization and Transition Fund (DTF) and $1.4 million in International Military Education & Training (IMET) funding, of which 75% were earmarked for administration, military justice, and human rights. 2 - Excludes $29 million reprogrammed to DTF and $1.4 million IMET. 3 - Projected. 4 - Proposed 1994. Sources:US economic aid from USAID, 29 Jun. 1994; US military aid from Rosa (1993a:102, 114); GDP from CEPAL (1994); exports, imports, & remittance from Banco Central de Reserva, courtesy of John Schmitt. The election climate was adversely affected by continued killings by death squads and the constant reminder of past violence. This climate, if not directly fomented by ARENA, worked to the advantage of the official party and against the desire, or willingness, to risk taking an active part in election- eering or election activities. In the months preceding the election, the television airwaves were saturated with ads that featured gruesome pictures of wartime destruction with omi- nous voice-overs warning that a vote for the FMLN would mean a return to the past. The expensive advertising was Table 2. Selected Economic Indicators, 1984-1994 (% GDP growth and $ millions) GDP Growth Exports Imports US Econ. US Mil. Family Year (%) FOB CIF Aid Aid Remittances 1984 2.3 726 978 216.0 206.6 121 1985 1.7 695 961 433.9 146.3 102 1986 0.6 755 935 322.6 121.8 135 1987 2.7 591 994 462.9 111.5 169 1988 1.5 609 1,006 314.2 81.5 194 1989 1.1 498 2,002 303.5 81.4 204 1990 3.4 582 2,115 246.7 81.0 322 1991 3.3 588 2,102 222.3 67.0 518 1992 4.7 598 2,330 281.5 21.3' 686 1993 5.0 733 1,994 208.2 11.02 824 19943 ND 843 2,090 90.44 3.8 8654 1 - Excludes $63.7 million reprogrammed into Demobilization and Transition Fund (DTF) and $1.4 million in International Military Education & Training (IMET) funding, of which 75% were earmarked for administration, military justice, and human rights. 2 - Excludes $29 million reprogrammed to DTF and $1.4 million IMET. 3 - Projected. 4 - Proposed 1994. Sources:US economic aid from USAID, 29 Jun. 1994; US military aid from Rosa (1993a:102, 114); GDP from CEPAL (1994); exports, imports, & remittance from Banco Central de Reserva, courtesy of John Schmitt. The election climate was adversely affected by continued killings by death squads and the constant reminder of past violence. This climate, if not directly fomented by ARENA, worked to the advantage of the official party and against the desire, or willingness, to risk taking an active part in election- eering or election activities. In the months preceding the election, the television airwaves were saturated with ads that featured gruesome pictures of wartime destruction with omi- nous voice-overs warning that a vote for the FMLN would mean a return to the past. The expensive advertising was Table 2. Selected Economic Indicators, 1984-1994 (% GDP growth and $ millions) GDP Growth Exports Imports US Econ. US Mil. Family Year (%) FOB CIF Aid Aid Remittances 1984 2.3 726 978 216.0 206.6 121 1985 1.7 695 961 433.9 146.3 102 1986 0.6 755 935 322.6 121.8 135 1987 2.7 591 994 462.9 111.5 169 1988 1.5 609 1,006 314.2 81.5 194 1989 1.1 498 2,002 303.5 81.4 204 1990 3.4 582 2,115 246.7 81.0 322 1991 3.3 588 2,102 222.3 67.0 518 1992 4.7 598 2,330 281.5 21.3' 686 1993 5.0 733 1,994 208.2 11.02 824 19943 ND 843 2,090 90.44 3.8 8654 1 - Excludes $63.7 million reprogrammed into Demobilization and Transition Fund (DTF) and $1.4 million in International Military Education & Training (IMET) funding, of which 75% were earmarked for administration, military justice, and human rights. 2 - Excludes $29 million reprogrammed to DTF and $1.4 million IMET. 3 - Projected. 4 - Proposed 1994. Sources:US economic aid from USAID, 29 Jun. 1994; US military aid from Rosa (1993a:102, 114); GDP from CEPAL (1994); exports, imports, & remittance from Banco Central de Reserva, courtesy of John Schmitt. The election climate was adversely affected by continued killings by death squads and the constant reminder of past violence. This climate, if not directly fomented by ARENA, worked to the advantage of the official party and against the desire, or willingness, to risk taking an active part in election- eering or election activities. In the months preceding the election, the television airwaves were saturated with ads that featured gruesome pictures of wartime destruction with omi- nous voice-overs warning that a vote for the FMLN would mean a return to the past. The expensive advertising was Table 2. Selected Economic Indicators, 1984-1994 (% GDP growth and $ millions) GDP Growth Exports Imports US Econ. US Mil. Family Year (%) FOB CIF Aid Aid Remittances 1984 2.3 726 978 216.0 206.6 121 1985 1.7 695 961 433.9 146.3 102 1986 0.6 755 935 322.6 121.8 135 1987 2.7 591 994 462.9 111.5 169 1988 1.5 609 1,006 314.2 81.5 194 1989 1.1 498 2,002 303.5 81.4 204 1990 3.4 582 2,115 246.7 81.0 322 1991 3.3 588 2,102 222.3 67.0 518 1992 4.7 598 2,330 281.5 21.3' 686 1993 5.0 733 1,994 208.2 11.02 824 19943 ND 843 2,090 90.44 3.8 8654 1 - Excludes $63.7 million reprogrammed into Demobilization and Transition Fund (DTF) and $1.4 million in International Military Education & Training (IMET) funding, of which 75% were earmarked for administration, military justice, and human rights. 2 - Excludes $29 million reprogrammed to DTF and $1.4 million IMET. 3 - Projected. 4 - Proposed 1994. Sources:US economic aid from USAID, 29 Jun. 1994; US military aid from Rosa (1993a:102, 114); GDP from CEPAL (1994); exports, imports, & remittance from Banco Central de Reserva, courtesy of John Schmitt. The election climate was adversely affected by continued killings by death squads and the constant reminder of past violence. This climate, if not directly fomented by ARENA, worked to the advantage of the official party and against the desire, or willingness, to risk taking an active part in election- eering or election activities. In the months preceding the election, the television airwaves were saturated with ads that featured gruesome pictures of wartime destruction with omi- nous voice-overs warning that a vote for the FMLN would mean a return to the past. The expensive advertising was Table 2. Selected Economic Indicators, 1984-1994 (% GDP growth and $ millions) GDP Growth Exports Imports US Econ. US Mil. Family Year (%) FOB CIF Aid Aid Remittances 1984 2.3 726 978 216.0 206.6 121 1985 1.7 695 961 433.9 146.3 102 1986 0.6 755 935 322.6 121.8 135 1987 2.7 591 994 462.9 111.5 169 1988 1.5 609 1,006 314.2 81.5 194 1989 1.1 498 2,002 303.5 81.4 204 1990 3.4 582 2,115 246.7 81.0 322 1991 3.3 588 2,102 222.3 67.0 518 1992 4.7 598 2,330 281.5 21.3' 686 1993 5.0 733 1,994 208.2 11.02 824 19943 ND 843 2,090 90.44 3.8 8654 1 - Excludes $63.7 million reprogrammed into Demobilization and Transition Fund (DTF) and $1.4 million in International Military Education & Training (IMET) funding, of which 75% were earmarked for administration, military justice, and human rights. 2 - Excludes $29 million reprogrammed to DTF and $1.4 million IMET. 3 - Projected. 4 - Proposed 1994. Sources:US economic aid from USAID, 29 Jun. 1994; US military aid from Rosa (1993a:102, 114); GDP from CEPAL (1994); exports, imports, & remittance from Banco Central de Reserva, courtesy of John Schmitt. The election climate was adversely affected by continued killings by death squads and the constant reminder of past violence. This climate, if not directly fomented by ARENA, worked to the advantage of the official party and against the desire, or willingness, to risk taking an active part in election- eering or election activities. In the months preceding the election, the television airwaves were saturated with ads that featured gruesome pictures of wartime destruction with omi- nous voice-overs warning that a vote for the FMLN would mean a return to the past. The expensive advertising was 32 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 32 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 32 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 32 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 32 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 32 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS sponsored by a supposedly independent Instituto Libertady Democracia, and, despite the fact that the parties had agreed to abide by election rules that would ban such negative imagery, the ARENA-dominated TSE refused to act on the opposition's complaints. UN observers expressed frustration that such ads continued even as they found themselves having to censure the FMLN for spray-painted slogans that linked ARENA to the death squads.31 Participation by the Left was also constrained by the fact that the FMLN had a hard time convincing some of its own rank- and-file of the value of electoral politics, particularly in the face of government foot-dragging in carrying out the terms of the peace accords. As one CD strategist put it, their problem came from the overlapping dynamics of peace negotiations and elections (Zelayandia, 1994). The Leftist coalition could not be too aggressive in its attack on the ARENA government because it was, at the same time, trying to convince its supporters to trust the government in its role as interlocutor in the negotiated peace accords. As a result, the Left not only forfeited some of its potentially most telling points, but even refrained from public denunciations of the death threats it was receiving for fear of adding to the atmosphere of fear and tension, being fanned by ARENA, which would only play into the latter's hands. On the other hand, this strategy may also have nourished a sense of apathy and disenchantment on the part of its own sympathizers. After the 1994 election was over, which had, in effect, witnessed the disfranchisement of so many voters, some FMLN activists, already frustrated and resentful at the many peace accord commitments still unful- filled, concluded that the basic causes of the war - social injustice, repression, and electoral fraud that prevented politi- cal change - were still in place.32 In evaluating the electoral climate, it is impossible to measure the subjective dimension of fear (much less weigh its relative importance against apathy, clientelism, or other influ- ences). The opposition parties campaigned openly - includ- ing the FMLN, for the first time, in its recent transformation from guerrilla force to political party - but were continuously sponsored by a supposedly independent Instituto Libertady Democracia, and, despite the fact that the parties had agreed to abide by election rules that would ban such negative imagery, the ARENA-dominated TSE refused to act on the opposition's complaints. UN observers expressed frustration that such ads continued even as they found themselves having to censure the FMLN for spray-painted slogans that linked ARENA to the death squads.31 Participation by the Left was also constrained by the fact that the FMLN had a hard time convincing some of its own rank- and-file of the value of electoral politics, particularly in the face of government foot-dragging in carrying out the terms of the peace accords. As one CD strategist put it, their problem came from the overlapping dynamics of peace negotiations and elections (Zelayandia, 1994). The Leftist coalition could not be too aggressive in its attack on the ARENA government because it was, at the same time, trying to convince its supporters to trust the government in its role as interlocutor in the negotiated peace accords. As a result, the Left not only forfeited some of its potentially most telling points, but even refrained from public denunciations of the death threats it was receiving for fear of adding to the atmosphere of fear and tension, being fanned by ARENA, which would only play into the latter's hands. On the other hand, this strategy may also have nourished a sense of apathy and disenchantment on the part of its own sympathizers. After the 1994 election was over, which had, in effect, witnessed the disfranchisement of so many voters, some FMLN activists, already frustrated and resentful at the many peace accord commitments still unful- filled, concluded that the basic causes of the war - social injustice, repression, and electoral fraud that prevented politi- cal change - were still in place.32 In evaluating the electoral climate, it is impossible to measure the subjective dimension of fear (much less weigh its relative importance against apathy, clientelism, or other influ- ences). The opposition parties campaigned openly - includ- ing the FMLN, for the first time, in its recent transformation from guerrilla force to political party - but were continuously sponsored by a supposedly independent Instituto Libertady Democracia, and, despite the fact that the parties had agreed to abide by election rules that would ban such negative imagery, the ARENA-dominated TSE refused to act on the opposition's complaints. UN observers expressed frustration that such ads continued even as they found themselves having to censure the FMLN for spray-painted slogans that linked ARENA to the death squads.31 Participation by the Left was also constrained by the fact that the FMLN had a hard time convincing some of its own rank- and-file of the value of electoral politics, particularly in the face of government foot-dragging in carrying out the terms of the peace accords. As one CD strategist put it, their problem came from the overlapping dynamics of peace negotiations and elections (Zelayandia, 1994). The Leftist coalition could not be too aggressive in its attack on the ARENA government because it was, at the same time, trying to convince its supporters to trust the government in its role as interlocutor in the negotiated peace accords. As a result, the Left not only forfeited some of its potentially most telling points, but even refrained from public denunciations of the death threats it was receiving for fear of adding to the atmosphere of fear and tension, being fanned by ARENA, which would only play into the latter's hands. On the other hand, this strategy may also have nourished a sense of apathy and disenchantment on the part of its own sympathizers. After the 1994 election was over, which had, in effect, witnessed the disfranchisement of so many voters, some FMLN activists, already frustrated and resentful at the many peace accord commitments still unful- filled, concluded that the basic causes of the war - social injustice, repression, and electoral fraud that prevented politi- cal change - were still in place.32 In evaluating the electoral climate, it is impossible to measure the subjective dimension of fear (much less weigh its relative importance against apathy, clientelism, or other influ- ences). The opposition parties campaigned openly - includ- ing the FMLN, for the first time, in its recent transformation from guerrilla force to political party - but were continuously sponsored by a supposedly independent Instituto Libertady Democracia, and, despite the fact that the parties had agreed to abide by election rules that would ban such negative imagery, the ARENA-dominated TSE refused to act on the opposition's complaints. UN observers expressed frustration that such ads continued even as they found themselves having to censure the FMLN for spray-painted slogans that linked ARENA to the death squads.31 Participation by the Left was also constrained by the fact that the FMLN had a hard time convincing some of its own rank- and-file of the value of electoral politics, particularly in the face of government foot-dragging in carrying out the terms of the peace accords. As one CD strategist put it, their problem came from the overlapping dynamics of peace negotiations and elections (Zelayandia, 1994). The Leftist coalition could not be too aggressive in its attack on the ARENA government because it was, at the same time, trying to convince its supporters to trust the government in its role as interlocutor in the negotiated peace accords. As a result, the Left not only forfeited some of its potentially most telling points, but even refrained from public denunciations of the death threats it was receiving for fear of adding to the atmosphere of fear and tension, being fanned by ARENA, which would only play into the latter's hands. On the other hand, this strategy may also have nourished a sense of apathy and disenchantment on the part of its own sympathizers. After the 1994 election was over, which had, in effect, witnessed the disfranchisement of so many voters, some FMLN activists, already frustrated and resentful at the many peace accord commitments still unful- filled, concluded that the basic causes of the war - social injustice, repression, and electoral fraud that prevented politi- cal change - were still in place.32 In evaluating the electoral climate, it is impossible to measure the subjective dimension of fear (much less weigh its relative importance against apathy, clientelism, or other influ- ences). The opposition parties campaigned openly - includ- ing the FMLN, for the first time, in its recent transformation from guerrilla force to political party - but were continuously sponsored by a supposedly independent Instituto Libertady Democracia, and, despite the fact that the parties had agreed to abide by election rules that would ban such negative imagery, the ARENA-dominated TSE refused to act on the opposition's complaints. UN observers expressed frustration that such ads continued even as they found themselves having to censure the FMLN for spray-painted slogans that linked ARENA to the death squads.31 Participation by the Left was also constrained by the fact that the FMLN had a hard time convincing some of its own rank- and-file of the value of electoral politics, particularly in the face of government foot-dragging in carrying out the terms of the peace accords. As one CD strategist put it, their problem came from the overlapping dynamics of peace negotiations and elections (Zelayandia, 1994). The Leftist coalition could not be too aggressive in its attack on the ARENA government because it was, at the same time, trying to convince its supporters to trust the government in its role as interlocutor in the negotiated peace accords. As a result, the Left not only forfeited some of its potentially most telling points, but even refrained from public denunciations of the death threats it was receiving for fear of adding to the atmosphere of fear and tension, being fanned by ARENA, which would only play into the latter's hands. On the other hand, this strategy may also have nourished a sense of apathy and disenchantment on the part of its own sympathizers. After the 1994 election was over, which had, in effect, witnessed the disfranchisement of so many voters, some FMLN activists, already frustrated and resentful at the many peace accord commitments still unful- filled, concluded that the basic causes of the war - social injustice, repression, and electoral fraud that prevented politi- cal change - were still in place.32 In evaluating the electoral climate, it is impossible to measure the subjective dimension of fear (much less weigh its relative importance against apathy, clientelism, or other influ- ences). The opposition parties campaigned openly - includ- ing the FMLN, for the first time, in its recent transformation from guerrilla force to political party - but were continuously sponsored by a supposedly independent Instituto Libertady Democracia, and, despite the fact that the parties had agreed to abide by election rules that would ban such negative imagery, the ARENA-dominated TSE refused to act on the opposition's complaints. UN observers expressed frustration that such ads continued even as they found themselves having to censure the FMLN for spray-painted slogans that linked ARENA to the death squads.31 Participation by the Left was also constrained by the fact that the FMLN had a hard time convincing some of its own rank- and-file of the value of electoral politics, particularly in the face of government foot-dragging in carrying out the terms of the peace accords. As one CD strategist put it, their problem came from the overlapping dynamics of peace negotiations and elections (Zelayandia, 1994). The Leftist coalition could not be too aggressive in its attack on the ARENA government because it was, at the same time, trying to convince its supporters to trust the government in its role as interlocutor in the negotiated peace accords. As a result, the Left not only forfeited some of its potentially most telling points, but even refrained from public denunciations of the death threats it was receiving for fear of adding to the atmosphere of fear and tension, being fanned by ARENA, which would only play into the latter's hands. On the other hand, this strategy may also have nourished a sense of apathy and disenchantment on the part of its own sympathizers. After the 1994 election was over, which had, in effect, witnessed the disfranchisement of so many voters, some FMLN activists, already frustrated and resentful at the many peace accord commitments still unful- filled, concluded that the basic causes of the war - social injustice, repression, and electoral fraud that prevented politi- cal change - were still in place.32 In evaluating the electoral climate, it is impossible to measure the subjective dimension of fear (much less weigh its relative importance against apathy, clientelism, or other influ- ences). The opposition parties campaigned openly - includ- ing the FMLN, for the first time, in its recent transformation from guerrilla force to political party - but were continuously STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 33 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 33 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 33 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 33 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 33 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 33 aware that political killings (a few dozen) persisted through- out the 1992-94 period. The campaign was muted, particularly in the zones where fighting had gone on; one poor urban resident summed up the mood: "If a journalist stops me on the street and asks me what I think, what I think is that I'd better not say anything."33 In a rural area dominated by the Regalado and Llach coffee-growing families and occupied by the military during the war, an elderly peasant confirmed the prevailing atmosphere of fear by keeping his FMLN campaign cap hidden, sewn inside a more innocuous baseball cap where it could not be seen.34 Two years after the FMLN had become a legal party, some were still reluctant to mention it by name, pointing to the mountains instead and whispering about "the ones up there."35 One member of the official US observer team, which visited remote polling places in a military helicopter, noted that people still scattered at the sight of the approaching chopper.36 Clearly, there was still a long way to go before most people could feel secure to express themselves and organize in civil society. Finally, one might ask whether the 1994 election ad- vanced establishment of a stable democratic regime and encouraged the growth of a more participatory political culture. Because the evidence here is mixed, perhaps a full evaluation will have to wait upon the future. One indication will come from progress made in implementing the peace accords and in developing further consensus on the rules of the political game in the aftermath of the election. One ominous sign emerged in the last session of the old Legislative Assembly when the ARENA and PCN deputies joined together to pass a measure designed to tie the hands of the incoming, newly- elected legislature by allotting 5 posts on the Assembly Leadership Council to ARENA and giving the president of that Council two votes. This provoked a split in the FMLN, and three of its five organizations boycotted the vote in protest, while the other 2 cut a deal to seat their own representatives on the Council. Similarly, when ARENA and the FMLN deadlocked in the Assembly over selection of a new Supreme Court (which requires a 2/3rds vote), the FMLN offered to accept the aware that political killings (a few dozen) persisted through- out the 1992-94 period. The campaign was muted, particularly in the zones where fighting had gone on; one poor urban resident summed up the mood: "If a journalist stops me on the street and asks me what I think, what I think is that I'd better not say anything."33 In a rural area dominated by the Regalado and Llach coffee-growing families and occupied by the military during the war, an elderly peasant confirmed the prevailing atmosphere of fear by keeping his FMLN campaign cap hidden, sewn inside a more innocuous baseball cap where it could not be seen.34 Two years after the FMLN had become a legal party, some were still reluctant to mention it by name, pointing to the mountains instead and whispering about "the ones up there."35 One member of the official US observer team, which visited remote polling places in a military helicopter, noted that people still scattered at the sight of the approaching chopper.36 Clearly, there was still a long way to go before most people could feel secure to express themselves and organize in civil society. Finally, one might ask whether the 1994 election ad- vanced establishment of a stable democratic regime and encouraged the growth of a more participatory political culture. Because the evidence here is mixed, perhaps a full evaluation will have to wait upon the future. One indication will come from progress made in implementing the peace accords and in developing further consensus on the rules of the political game in the aftermath of the election. One ominous sign emerged in the last session of the old Legislative Assembly when the ARENA and PCN deputies joined together to pass a measure designed to tie the hands of the incoming, newly- elected legislature by allotting 5 posts on the Assembly Leadership Council to ARENA and giving the president of that Council two votes. This provoked a split in the FMLN, and three of its five organizations boycotted the vote in protest, while the other 2 cut a deal to seat their own representatives on the Council. Similarly, when ARENA and the FMLN deadlocked in the Assembly over selection of a new Supreme Court (which requires a 2/3rds vote), the FMLN offered to accept the aware that political killings (a few dozen) persisted through- out the 1992-94 period. The campaign was muted, particularly in the zones where fighting had gone on; one poor urban resident summed up the mood: "If a journalist stops me on the street and asks me what I think, what I think is that I'd better not say anything."33 In a rural area dominated by the Regalado and Llach coffee-growing families and occupied by the military during the war, an elderly peasant confirmed the prevailing atmosphere of fear by keeping his FMLN campaign cap hidden, sewn inside a more innocuous baseball cap where it could not be seen.34 Two years after the FMLN had become a legal party, some were still reluctant to mention it by name, pointing to the mountains instead and whispering about "the ones up there."35 One member of the official US observer team, which visited remote polling places in a military helicopter, noted that people still scattered at the sight of the approaching chopper.36 Clearly, there was still a long way to go before most people could feel secure to express themselves and organize in civil society. Finally, one might ask whether the 1994 election ad- vanced establishment of a stable democratic regime and encouraged the growth of a more participatory political culture. Because the evidence here is mixed, perhaps a full evaluation will have to wait upon the future. One indication will come from progress made in implementing the peace accords and in developing further consensus on the rules of the political game in the aftermath of the election. One ominous sign emerged in the last session of the old Legislative Assembly when the ARENA and PCN deputies joined together to pass a measure designed to tie the hands of the incoming, newly- elected legislature by allotting 5 posts on the Assembly Leadership Council to ARENA and giving the president of that Council two votes. This provoked a split in the FMLN, and three of its five organizations boycotted the vote in protest, while the other 2 cut a deal to seat their own representatives on the Council. Similarly, when ARENA and the FMLN deadlocked in the Assembly over selection of a new Supreme Court (which requires a 2/3rds vote), the FMLN offered to accept the aware that political killings (a few dozen) persisted through- out the 1992-94 period. The campaign was muted, particularly in the zones where fighting had gone on; one poor urban resident summed up the mood: "If a journalist stops me on the street and asks me what I think, what I think is that I'd better not say anything."33 In a rural area dominated by the Regalado and Llach coffee-growing families and occupied by the military during the war, an elderly peasant confirmed the prevailing atmosphere of fear by keeping his FMLN campaign cap hidden, sewn inside a more innocuous baseball cap where it could not be seen.34 Two years after the FMLN had become a legal party, some were still reluctant to mention it by name, pointing to the mountains instead and whispering about "the ones up there."35 One member of the official US observer team, which visited remote polling places in a military helicopter, noted that people still scattered at the sight of the approaching chopper.36 Clearly, there was still a long way to go before most people could feel secure to express themselves and organize in civil society. Finally, one might ask whether the 1994 election ad- vanced establishment of a stable democratic regime and encouraged the growth of a more participatory political culture. Because the evidence here is mixed, perhaps a full evaluation will have to wait upon the future. One indication will come from progress made in implementing the peace accords and in developing further consensus on the rules of the political game in the aftermath of the election. One ominous sign emerged in the last session of the old Legislative Assembly when the ARENA and PCN deputies joined together to pass a measure designed to tie the hands of the incoming, newly- elected legislature by allotting 5 posts on the Assembly Leadership Council to ARENA and giving the president of that Council two votes. This provoked a split in the FMLN, and three of its five organizations boycotted the vote in protest, while the other 2 cut a deal to seat their own representatives on the Council. Similarly, when ARENA and the FMLN deadlocked in the Assembly over selection of a new Supreme Court (which requires a 2/3rds vote), the FMLN offered to accept the aware that political killings (a few dozen) persisted through- out the 1992-94 period. The campaign was muted, particularly in the zones where fighting had gone on; one poor urban resident summed up the mood: "If a journalist stops me on the street and asks me what I think, what I think is that I'd better not say anything."33 In a rural area dominated by the Regalado and Llach coffee-growing families and occupied by the military during the war, an elderly peasant confirmed the prevailing atmosphere of fear by keeping his FMLN campaign cap hidden, sewn inside a more innocuous baseball cap where it could not be seen.34 Two years after the FMLN had become a legal party, some were still reluctant to mention it by name, pointing to the mountains instead and whispering about "the ones up there."35 One member of the official US observer team, which visited remote polling places in a military helicopter, noted that people still scattered at the sight of the approaching chopper.36 Clearly, there was still a long way to go before most people could feel secure to express themselves and organize in civil society. Finally, one might ask whether the 1994 election ad- vanced establishment of a stable democratic regime and encouraged the growth of a more participatory political culture. Because the evidence here is mixed, perhaps a full evaluation will have to wait upon the future. One indication will come from progress made in implementing the peace accords and in developing further consensus on the rules of the political game in the aftermath of the election. One ominous sign emerged in the last session of the old Legislative Assembly when the ARENA and PCN deputies joined together to pass a measure designed to tie the hands of the incoming, newly- elected legislature by allotting 5 posts on the Assembly Leadership Council to ARENA and giving the president of that Council two votes. This provoked a split in the FMLN, and three of its five organizations boycotted the vote in protest, while the other 2 cut a deal to seat their own representatives on the Council. Similarly, when ARENA and the FMLN deadlocked in the Assembly over selection of a new Supreme Court (which requires a 2/3rds vote), the FMLN offered to accept the aware that political killings (a few dozen) persisted through- out the 1992-94 period. The campaign was muted, particularly in the zones where fighting had gone on; one poor urban resident summed up the mood: "If a journalist stops me on the street and asks me what I think, what I think is that I'd better not say anything."33 In a rural area dominated by the Regalado and Llach coffee-growing families and occupied by the military during the war, an elderly peasant confirmed the prevailing atmosphere of fear by keeping his FMLN campaign cap hidden, sewn inside a more innocuous baseball cap where it could not be seen.34 Two years after the FMLN had become a legal party, some were still reluctant to mention it by name, pointing to the mountains instead and whispering about "the ones up there."35 One member of the official US observer team, which visited remote polling places in a military helicopter, noted that people still scattered at the sight of the approaching chopper.36 Clearly, there was still a long way to go before most people could feel secure to express themselves and organize in civil society. Finally, one might ask whether the 1994 election ad- vanced establishment of a stable democratic regime and encouraged the growth of a more participatory political culture. Because the evidence here is mixed, perhaps a full evaluation will have to wait upon the future. One indication will come from progress made in implementing the peace accords and in developing further consensus on the rules of the political game in the aftermath of the election. One ominous sign emerged in the last session of the old Legislative Assembly when the ARENA and PCN deputies joined together to pass a measure designed to tie the hands of the incoming, newly- elected legislature by allotting 5 posts on the Assembly Leadership Council to ARENA and giving the president of that Council two votes. This provoked a split in the FMLN, and three of its five organizations boycotted the vote in protest, while the other 2 cut a deal to seat their own representatives on the Council. Similarly, when ARENA and the FMLN deadlocked in the Assembly over selection of a new Supreme Court (which requires a 2/3rds vote), the FMLN offered to accept the 34 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 34 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 34 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 34 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 34 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 34 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS constitutionality of the general amnesty passed by the old Assembly in exchange for ARENA accepting the candidate proposed by the FMLN to head the Court. Such a pact would mean, in effect, that a constitutional question was being decided by bargaining among the party leaders rather than by an independent judiciary. While one could argue the need for this type of negotiation on pragmatic grounds, especially given the military's sensitivity on the amnesty issue, this does not bode well for the consolidation of democracy. After several months without a Supreme Court, the deadlock was broken when the parties worked out a compromise in late July 1994. In general, a democratic political culture is not fostered by bargaining among party elites but, rather, is best nourished by cultivating the social bases which the parties claim to represent. To the extent that political actors neglect their social bases and forget the substantive promises of the peace accords, as the post-1990 Nicaraguan case suggests, democracy will remain unstable and fragile. Public opinion, polled in the months leading up to the March 1994 election, indicated that 30% of Salvadorans thought the social system needed a "total change," that 37% had little or no confidence in the election process, and that 52% felt that civilians could "never" influence government. After the election took place, the Left could hardly deny that the ARENA had won a landslide victory; but the election itself had not established the legitimacy of the government. On balance, the transition process, as represented by the peace accords and the elections of the 1992-94 period, failed to instil a consolidated (or irreversible) democracy in El Salvador. There was little likelihood of a return to armed conflict since the FMLN had demobilized and the old military High Command was no longer dominating the scene. How- ever, fundamental social issues and political tensions still went unresolved, and the peace accords had not been able to establish sufficient consensus as to how to resolve them. constitutionality of the general amnesty passed by the old Assembly in exchange for ARENA accepting the candidate proposed by the FMLN to head the Court. Such a pact would mean, in effect, that a constitutional question was being decided by bargaining among the party leaders rather than by an independent judiciary. While one could argue the need for this type of negotiation on pragmatic grounds, especially given the military's sensitivity on the amnesty issue, this does not bode well for the consolidation of democracy. After several months without a Supreme Court, the deadlock was broken when the parties worked out a compromise in late July 1994. In general, a democratic political culture is not fostered by bargaining among party elites but, rather, is best nourished by cultivating the social bases which the parties claim to represent. To the extent that political actors neglect their social bases and forget the substantive promises of the peace accords, as the post-1990 Nicaraguan case suggests, democracy will remain unstable and fragile. Public opinion, polled in the months leading up to the March 1994 election, indicated that 30% of Salvadorans thought the social system needed a "total change," that 37% had little or no confidence in the election process, and that 52% felt that civilians could "never" influence government. After the election took place, the Left could hardly deny that the ARENA had won a landslide victory; but the election itself had not established the legitimacy of the government. On balance, the transition process, as represented by the peace accords and the elections of the 1992-94 period, failed to instil a consolidated (or irreversible) democracy in El Salvador. There was little likelihood of a return to armed conflict since the FMLN had demobilized and the old military High Command was no longer dominating the scene. How- ever, fundamental social issues and political tensions still went unresolved, and the peace accords had not been able to establish sufficient consensus as to how to resolve them. constitutionality of the general amnesty passed by the old Assembly in exchange for ARENA accepting the candidate proposed by the FMLN to head the Court. Such a pact would mean, in effect, that a constitutional question was being decided by bargaining among the party leaders rather than by an independent judiciary. While one could argue the need for this type of negotiation on pragmatic grounds, especially given the military's sensitivity on the amnesty issue, this does not bode well for the consolidation of democracy. After several months without a Supreme Court, the deadlock was broken when the parties worked out a compromise in late July 1994. In general, a democratic political culture is not fostered by bargaining among party elites but, rather, is best nourished by cultivating the social bases which the parties claim to represent. To the extent that political actors neglect their social bases and forget the substantive promises of the peace accords, as the post-1990 Nicaraguan case suggests, democracy will remain unstable and fragile. Public opinion, polled in the months leading up to the March 1994 election, indicated that 30% of Salvadorans thought the social system needed a "total change," that 37% had little or no confidence in the election process, and that 52% felt that civilians could "never" influence government. After the election took place, the Left could hardly deny that the ARENA had won a landslide victory; but the election itself had not established the legitimacy of the government. On balance, the transition process, as represented by the peace accords and the elections of the 1992-94 period, failed to instil a consolidated (or irreversible) democracy in El Salvador. There was little likelihood of a return to armed conflict since the FMLN had demobilized and the old military High Command was no longer dominating the scene. How- ever, fundamental social issues and political tensions still went unresolved, and the peace accords had not been able to establish sufficient consensus as to how to resolve them. constitutionality of the general amnesty passed by the old Assembly in exchange for ARENA accepting the candidate proposed by the FMLN to head the Court. Such a pact would mean, in effect, that a constitutional question was being decided by bargaining among the party leaders rather than by an independent judiciary. While one could argue the need for this type of negotiation on pragmatic grounds, especially given the military's sensitivity on the amnesty issue, this does not bode well for the consolidation of democracy. After several months without a Supreme Court, the deadlock was broken when the parties worked out a compromise in late July 1994. In general, a democratic political culture is not fostered by bargaining among party elites but, rather, is best nourished by cultivating the social bases which the parties claim to represent. To the extent that political actors neglect their social bases and forget the substantive promises of the peace accords, as the post-1990 Nicaraguan case suggests, democracy will remain unstable and fragile. Public opinion, polled in the months leading up to the March 1994 election, indicated that 30% of Salvadorans thought the social system needed a "total change," that 37% had little or no confidence in the election process, and that 52% felt that civilians could "never" influence government. After the election took place, the Left could hardly deny that the ARENA had won a landslide victory; but the election itself had not established the legitimacy of the government. On balance, the transition process, as represented by the peace accords and the elections of the 1992-94 period, failed to instil a consolidated (or irreversible) democracy in El Salvador. There was little likelihood of a return to armed conflict since the FMLN had demobilized and the old military High Command was no longer dominating the scene. How- ever, fundamental social issues and political tensions still went unresolved, and the peace accords had not been able to establish sufficient consensus as to how to resolve them. constitutionality of the general amnesty passed by the old Assembly in exchange for ARENA accepting the candidate proposed by the FMLN to head the Court. Such a pact would mean, in effect, that a constitutional question was being decided by bargaining among the party leaders rather than by an independent judiciary. While one could argue the need for this type of negotiation on pragmatic grounds, especially given the military's sensitivity on the amnesty issue, this does not bode well for the consolidation of democracy. After several months without a Supreme Court, the deadlock was broken when the parties worked out a compromise in late July 1994. In general, a democratic political culture is not fostered by bargaining among party elites but, rather, is best nourished by cultivating the social bases which the parties claim to represent. To the extent that political actors neglect their social bases and forget the substantive promises of the peace accords, as the post-1990 Nicaraguan case suggests, democracy will remain unstable and fragile. Public opinion, polled in the months leading up to the March 1994 election, indicated that 30% of Salvadorans thought the social system needed a "total change," that 37% had little or no confidence in the election process, and that 52% felt that civilians could "never" influence government. After the election took place, the Left could hardly deny that the ARENA had won a landslide victory; but the election itself had not established the legitimacy of the government. On balance, the transition process, as represented by the peace accords and the elections of the 1992-94 period, failed to instil a consolidated (or irreversible) democracy in El Salvador. There was little likelihood of a return to armed conflict since the FMLN had demobilized and the old military High Command was no longer dominating the scene. How- ever, fundamental social issues and political tensions still went unresolved, and the peace accords had not been able to establish sufficient consensus as to how to resolve them. constitutionality of the general amnesty passed by the old Assembly in exchange for ARENA accepting the candidate proposed by the FMLN to head the Court. Such a pact would mean, in effect, that a constitutional question was being decided by bargaining among the party leaders rather than by an independent judiciary. While one could argue the need for this type of negotiation on pragmatic grounds, especially given the military's sensitivity on the amnesty issue, this does not bode well for the consolidation of democracy. After several months without a Supreme Court, the deadlock was broken when the parties worked out a compromise in late July 1994. In general, a democratic political culture is not fostered by bargaining among party elites but, rather, is best nourished by cultivating the social bases which the parties claim to represent. To the extent that political actors neglect their social bases and forget the substantive promises of the peace accords, as the post-1990 Nicaraguan case suggests, democracy will remain unstable and fragile. Public opinion, polled in the months leading up to the March 1994 election, indicated that 30% of Salvadorans thought the social system needed a "total change," that 37% had little or no confidence in the election process, and that 52% felt that civilians could "never" influence government. After the election took place, the Left could hardly deny that the ARENA had won a landslide victory; but the election itself had not established the legitimacy of the government. On balance, the transition process, as represented by the peace accords and the elections of the 1992-94 period, failed to instil a consolidated (or irreversible) democracy in El Salvador. There was little likelihood of a return to armed conflict since the FMLN had demobilized and the old military High Command was no longer dominating the scene. How- ever, fundamental social issues and political tensions still went unresolved, and the peace accords had not been able to establish sufficient consensus as to how to resolve them. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 35 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 35 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 35 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 35 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 35 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 35 OBSERVING THE PEACE: THE ROLE OF THE UNITED STATES AND THE UNITED NATIONS XTERNAL actors can play a significant role in transitions to democracy. On the one hand, they can provide aid or other resources, and they can play an observer role which may encourage compliance with negotiated terms of transition. On the other hand, the very notion of external involvement seems to contradict the democratic empowerment of the citizenry, and external actors may have their own complex agendas. The roles of the United States and the United Nations in El Salvador's transition illustrate this ambivalence. The Salvadoran case may also reflect broader trends, with US and UN involvement in democratization changing in the post-Cold War era. The US involvement in the Salvadoran transition is framed by historical patterns of selective intervention (e.g., Panama, Nicaragua, Haiti) that do not add up to a consistent commit- ment to democratization. In such cases, where the United States had close longstanding ties with less-than-democratic regimes, the form and timing of disengagement may affect the prospects for democratic transition. In El Salvador, reductions in US military aid towards the end of the 1980s was an important factor in moving the armed forces toward grudging acceptance of negotiations (Karl, 1992: 156-64). Yet, through- out the 1980s, US involvement in promoting an unworkable "centrist" solution unwittingly helped to discredit the PDC and bolster ARENA's nationalism. Ironically, just as the country was moving toward more open elections, the political spectrum was becoming more polarized. However, when the primary US objective of preventing the revolutionary forces from winning a military victory was no longer an issue, the United States put a much lower priority on electing centrists. Compared to previous Salvadoran elections, the involve- ment of the United States in the 1994 election was notably low- key. The US Agency for International Development (AID) OBSERVING THE PEACE: THE ROLE OF THE UNITED STATES AND THE UNITED NATIONS XTERNAL actors can play a significant role in transitions to democracy. On the one hand, they can provide aid or other resources, and they can play an observer role which may encourage compliance with negotiated terms of transition. On the other hand, the very notion of external involvement seems to contradict the democratic empowerment of the citizenry, and external actors may have their own complex agendas. The roles of the United States and the United Nations in El Salvador's transition illustrate this ambivalence. The Salvadoran case may also reflect broader trends, with US and UN involvement in democratization changing in the post-Cold War era. The US involvement in the Salvadoran transition is framed by historical patterns of selective intervention (e.g., Panama, Nicaragua, Haiti) that do not add up to a consistent commit- ment to democratization. In such cases, where the United States had close longstanding ties with less-than-democratic regimes, the form and timing of disengagement may affect the prospects for democratic transition. In El Salvador, reductions in US military aid towards the end of the 1980s was an important factor in moving the armed forces toward grudging acceptance of negotiations (Karl, 1992: 156-64). Yet, through- out the 1980s, US involvement in promoting an unworkable "centrist" solution unwittingly helped to discredit the PDC and bolster ARENA's nationalism. Ironically, just as the country was moving toward more open elections, the political spectrum was becoming more polarized. However, when the primary US objective of preventing the revolutionary forces from winning a military victory was no longer an issue, the United States put a much lower priority on electing centrists. Compared to previous Salvadoran elections, the involve- ment of the United States in the 1994 election was notably low- key. The US Agency for International Development (AID) OBSERVING THE PEACE: THE ROLE OF THE UNITED STATES AND THE UNITED NATIONS XTERNAL actors can play a significant role in transitions to democracy. On the one hand, they can provide aid or other resources, and they can play an observer role which may encourage compliance with negotiated terms of transition. On the other hand, the very notion of external involvement seems to contradict the democratic empowerment of the citizenry, and external actors may have their own complex agendas. The roles of the United States and the United Nations in El Salvador's transition illustrate this ambivalence. The Salvadoran case may also reflect broader trends, with US and UN involvement in democratization changing in the post-Cold War era. The US involvement in the Salvadoran transition is framed by historical patterns of selective intervention (e.g., Panama, Nicaragua, Haiti) that do not add up to a consistent commit- ment to democratization. In such cases, where the United States had close longstanding ties with less-than-democratic regimes, the form and timing of disengagement may affect the prospects for democratic transition. In El Salvador, reductions in US military aid towards the end of the 1980s was an important factor in moving the armed forces toward grudging acceptance of negotiations (Karl, 1992: 156-64). Yet, through- out the 1980s, US involvement in promoting an unworkable "centrist" solution unwittingly helped to discredit the PDC and bolster ARENA's nationalism. Ironically, just as the country was moving toward more open elections, the political spectrum was becoming more polarized. However, when the primary US objective of preventing the revolutionary forces from winning a military victory was no longer an issue, the United States put a much lower priority on electing centrists. Compared to previous Salvadoran elections, the involve- ment of the United States in the 1994 election was notably low- key. The US Agency for International Development (AID) OBSERVING THE PEACE: THE ROLE OF THE UNITED STATES AND THE UNITED NATIONS XTERNAL actors can play a significant role in transitions to democracy. On the one hand, they can provide aid or other resources, and they can play an observer role which may encourage compliance with negotiated terms of transition. On the other hand, the very notion of external involvement seems to contradict the democratic empowerment of the citizenry, and external actors may have their own complex agendas. The roles of the United States and the United Nations in El Salvador's transition illustrate this ambivalence. The Salvadoran case may also reflect broader trends, with US and UN involvement in democratization changing in the post-Cold War era. The US involvement in the Salvadoran transition is framed by historical patterns of selective intervention (e.g., Panama, Nicaragua, Haiti) that do not add up to a consistent commit- ment to democratization. In such cases, where the United States had close longstanding ties with less-than-democratic regimes, the form and timing of disengagement may affect the prospects for democratic transition. In El Salvador, reductions in US military aid towards the end of the 1980s was an important factor in moving the armed forces toward grudging acceptance of negotiations (Karl, 1992: 156-64). Yet, through- out the 1980s, US involvement in promoting an unworkable "centrist" solution unwittingly helped to discredit the PDC and bolster ARENA's nationalism. Ironically, just as the country was moving toward more open elections, the political spectrum was becoming more polarized. However, when the primary US objective of preventing the revolutionary forces from winning a military victory was no longer an issue, the United States put a much lower priority on electing centrists. Compared to previous Salvadoran elections, the involve- ment of the United States in the 1994 election was notably low- key. The US Agency for International Development (AID) OBSERVING THE PEACE: THE ROLE OF THE UNITED STATES AND THE UNITED NATIONS XTERNAL actors can play a significant role in transitions to democracy. On the one hand, they can provide aid or other resources, and they can play an observer role which may encourage compliance with negotiated terms of transition. On the other hand, the very notion of external involvement seems to contradict the democratic empowerment of the citizenry, and external actors may have their own complex agendas. The roles of the United States and the United Nations in El Salvador's transition illustrate this ambivalence. The Salvadoran case may also reflect broader trends, with US and UN involvement in democratization changing in the post-Cold War era. The US involvement in the Salvadoran transition is framed by historical patterns of selective intervention (e.g., Panama, Nicaragua, Haiti) that do not add up to a consistent commit- ment to democratization. In such cases, where the United States had close longstanding ties with less-than-democratic regimes, the form and timing of disengagement may affect the prospects for democratic transition. In El Salvador, reductions in US military aid towards the end of the 1980s was an important factor in moving the armed forces toward grudging acceptance of negotiations (Karl, 1992: 156-64). Yet, through- out the 1980s, US involvement in promoting an unworkable "centrist" solution unwittingly helped to discredit the PDC and bolster ARENA's nationalism. Ironically, just as the country was moving toward more open elections, the political spectrum was becoming more polarized. However, when the primary US objective of preventing the revolutionary forces from winning a military victory was no longer an issue, the United States put a much lower priority on electing centrists. Compared to previous Salvadoran elections, the involve- ment of the United States in the 1994 election was notably low- key. The US Agency for International Development (AID) OBSERVING THE PEACE: THE ROLE OF THE UNITED STATES AND THE UNITED NATIONS XTERNAL actors can play a significant role in transitions to democracy. On the one hand, they can provide aid or other resources, and they can play an observer role which may encourage compliance with negotiated terms of transition. On the other hand, the very notion of external involvement seems to contradict the democratic empowerment of the citizenry, and external actors may have their own complex agendas. The roles of the United States and the United Nations in El Salvador's transition illustrate this ambivalence. The Salvadoran case may also reflect broader trends, with US and UN involvement in democratization changing in the post-Cold War era. The US involvement in the Salvadoran transition is framed by historical patterns of selective intervention (e.g., Panama, Nicaragua, Haiti) that do not add up to a consistent commit- ment to democratization. In such cases, where the United States had close longstanding ties with less-than-democratic regimes, the form and timing of disengagement may affect the prospects for democratic transition. In El Salvador, reductions in US military aid towards the end of the 1980s was an important factor in moving the armed forces toward grudging acceptance of negotiations (Karl, 1992: 156-64). Yet, through- out the 1980s, US involvement in promoting an unworkable "centrist" solution unwittingly helped to discredit the PDC and bolster ARENA's nationalism. Ironically, just as the country was moving toward more open elections, the political spectrum was becoming more polarized. However, when the primary US objective of preventing the revolutionary forces from winning a military victory was no longer an issue, the United States put a much lower priority on electing centrists. Compared to previous Salvadoran elections, the involve- ment of the United States in the 1994 election was notably low- key. The US Agency for International Development (AID) 36 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 36 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 36 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 36 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 36 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 36 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS provided a modest $6.5 million as support for the electoral process itself (Nobellino, 1994). The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) subcontracted "civic education" and elec- tion observation projects, but they were dwarfed in scale by the 1,000-strong UN observer team and a consortium of 6 non- governmental organizations (NGOs) who engaged in voter registration and education.38 One observer on the Salvadoran Right claimed that the United States had covertly manipulated various points on the peace accord agenda as part of a strategy to bolster the cause of centrist Abraham Rodriguez as putative candidate within the PDC and to undermine more radical elements in both ARENA and the FMLN.39 If so, the strategy was not particularly effective. As the United States prepared to disengage from El Salvador, its policy seemed oriented more toward encouraging a controlled transition and low-visibility election than obtain- ing a particular outcome. In marked contrast to the heyday of US involvement in Central America, when ambassadors had substantial operational control over policy on the ground, the United States went without an ambassador to El Salvador for over a year in 1992-93. In November 1993, the Clinton administration, perhaps trying to distance itself from past policy, released previously classified documents on El Salvador prior to the election which were an embarrassment to Calder6n Sol and the far Right of ARENA. However, by releasing them in the form of some 12,000 unsorted documents only months before the election, with no official investigation or report, the administration insured they would have but a limited impact.40 One ARENA official, furious at the release of the documents, nevertheless perceived US policy as being less interested in election results than had been the case back in the '80s: In 1984, perhaps the United States did us a favor in ARENA by supporting [Christian Democrat] Duarte, because ARENA had not matured. Before, the United States was afraid of us, but not anymore; now we get funding from the World Bank and Inter-American Development Bank. The United States just wants the FMLN to win a certain percentage in the Assembly (Valiente, 1994). provided a modest $6.5 million as support for the electoral process itself (Nobellino, 1994). The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) subcontracted "civic education" and elec- tion observation projects, but they were dwarfed in scale by the 1,000-strong UN observer team and a consortium of 6 non- governmental organizations (NGOs) who engaged in voter registration and education.38 One observer on the Salvadoran Right claimed that the United States had covertly manipulated various points on the peace accord agenda as part of a strategy to bolster the cause of centrist Abraham Rodriguez as putative candidate within the PDC and to undermine more radical elements in both ARENA and the FMLN.39 If so, the strategy was not particularly effective. As the United States prepared to disengage from El Salvador, its policy seemed oriented more toward encouraging a controlled transition and low-visibility election than obtain- ing a particular outcome. In marked contrast to the heyday of US involvement in Central America, when ambassadors had substantial operational control over policy on the ground, the United States went without an ambassador to El Salvador for over a year in 1992-93. In November 1993, the Clinton administration, perhaps trying to distance itself from past policy, released previously classified documents on El Salvador prior to the election which were an embarrassment to Calder6n Sol and the far Right of ARENA. However, by releasing them in the form of some 12,000 unsorted documents only months before the election, with no official investigation or report, the administration insured they would have but a limited impact.40 One ARENA official, furious at the release of the documents, nevertheless perceived US policy as being less interested in election results than had been the case back in the '80s: In 1984, perhaps the United States did us a favor in ARENA by supporting [Christian Democrat] Duarte, because ARENA had not matured. Before, the United States was afraid of us, but not anymore; now we get funding from the World Bank and Inter-American Development Bank. The United States just wants the FMLN to win a certain percentage in the Assembly (Valiente, 1994). provided a modest $6.5 million as support for the electoral process itself (Nobellino, 1994). The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) subcontracted "civic education" and elec- tion observation projects, but they were dwarfed in scale by the 1,000-strong UN observer team and a consortium of 6 non- governmental organizations (NGOs) who engaged in voter registration and education.38 One observer on the Salvadoran Right claimed that the United States had covertly manipulated various points on the peace accord agenda as part of a strategy to bolster the cause of centrist Abraham Rodriguez as putative candidate within the PDC and to undermine more radical elements in both ARENA and the FMLN.39 If so, the strategy was not particularly effective. As the United States prepared to disengage from El Salvador, its policy seemed oriented more toward encouraging a controlled transition and low-visibility election than obtain- ing a particular outcome. In marked contrast to the heyday of US involvement in Central America, when ambassadors had substantial operational control over policy on the ground, the United States went without an ambassador to El Salvador for over a year in 1992-93. In November 1993, the Clinton administration, perhaps trying to distance itself from past policy, released previously classified documents on El Salvador prior to the election which were an embarrassment to Calder6n Sol and the far Right of ARENA. However, by releasing them in the form of some 12,000 unsorted documents only months before the election, with no official investigation or report, the administration insured they would have but a limited impact.40 One ARENA official, furious at the release of the documents, nevertheless perceived US policy as being less interested in election results than had been the case back in the '80s: In 1984, perhaps the United States did us a favor in ARENA by supporting [Christian Democrat] Duarte, because ARENA had not matured. Before, the United States was afraid of us, but not anymore; now we get funding from the World Bank and Inter-American Development Bank. The United States just wants the FMLN to win a certain percentage in the Assembly (Valiente, 1994). provided a modest $6.5 million as support for the electoral process itself (Nobellino, 1994). The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) subcontracted "civic education" and elec- tion observation projects, but they were dwarfed in scale by the 1,000-strong UN observer team and a consortium of 6 non- governmental organizations (NGOs) who engaged in voter registration and education.38 One observer on the Salvadoran Right claimed that the United States had covertly manipulated various points on the peace accord agenda as part of a strategy to bolster the cause of centrist Abraham Rodriguez as putative candidate within the PDC and to undermine more radical elements in both ARENA and the FMLN.39 If so, the strategy was not particularly effective. As the United States prepared to disengage from El Salvador, its policy seemed oriented more toward encouraging a controlled transition and low-visibility election than obtain- ing a particular outcome. In marked contrast to the heyday of US involvement in Central America, when ambassadors had substantial operational control over policy on the ground, the United States went without an ambassador to El Salvador for over a year in 1992-93. In November 1993, the Clinton administration, perhaps trying to distance itself from past policy, released previously classified documents on El Salvador prior to the election which were an embarrassment to Calder6n Sol and the far Right of ARENA. However, by releasing them in the form of some 12,000 unsorted documents only months before the election, with no official investigation or report, the administration insured they would have but a limited impact.40 One ARENA official, furious at the release of the documents, nevertheless perceived US policy as being less interested in election results than had been the case back in the '80s: In 1984, perhaps the United States did us a favor in ARENA by supporting [Christian Democrat] Duarte, because ARENA had not matured. Before, the United States was afraid of us, but not anymore; now we get funding from the World Bank and Inter-American Development Bank. The United States just wants the FMLN to win a certain percentage in the Assembly (Valiente, 1994). provided a modest $6.5 million as support for the electoral process itself (Nobellino, 1994). The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) subcontracted "civic education" and elec- tion observation projects, but they were dwarfed in scale by the 1,000-strong UN observer team and a consortium of 6 non- governmental organizations (NGOs) who engaged in voter registration and education.38 One observer on the Salvadoran Right claimed that the United States had covertly manipulated various points on the peace accord agenda as part of a strategy to bolster the cause of centrist Abraham Rodriguez as putative candidate within the PDC and to undermine more radical elements in both ARENA and the FMLN.39 If so, the strategy was not particularly effective. As the United States prepared to disengage from El Salvador, its policy seemed oriented more toward encouraging a controlled transition and low-visibility election than obtain- ing a particular outcome. In marked contrast to the heyday of US involvement in Central America, when ambassadors had substantial operational control over policy on the ground, the United States went without an ambassador to El Salvador for over a year in 1992-93. In November 1993, the Clinton administration, perhaps trying to distance itself from past policy, released previously classified documents on El Salvador prior to the election which were an embarrassment to Calder6n Sol and the far Right of ARENA. However, by releasing them in the form of some 12,000 unsorted documents only months before the election, with no official investigation or report, the administration insured they would have but a limited impact.40 One ARENA official, furious at the release of the documents, nevertheless perceived US policy as being less interested in election results than had been the case back in the '80s: In 1984, perhaps the United States did us a favor in ARENA by supporting [Christian Democrat] Duarte, because ARENA had not matured. Before, the United States was afraid of us, but not anymore; now we get funding from the World Bank and Inter-American Development Bank. The United States just wants the FMLN to win a certain percentage in the Assembly (Valiente, 1994). provided a modest $6.5 million as support for the electoral process itself (Nobellino, 1994). The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) subcontracted "civic education" and elec- tion observation projects, but they were dwarfed in scale by the 1,000-strong UN observer team and a consortium of 6 non- governmental organizations (NGOs) who engaged in voter registration and education.38 One observer on the Salvadoran Right claimed that the United States had covertly manipulated various points on the peace accord agenda as part of a strategy to bolster the cause of centrist Abraham Rodriguez as putative candidate within the PDC and to undermine more radical elements in both ARENA and the FMLN.39 If so, the strategy was not particularly effective. As the United States prepared to disengage from El Salvador, its policy seemed oriented more toward encouraging a controlled transition and low-visibility election than obtain- ing a particular outcome. In marked contrast to the heyday of US involvement in Central America, when ambassadors had substantial operational control over policy on the ground, the United States went without an ambassador to El Salvador for over a year in 1992-93. In November 1993, the Clinton administration, perhaps trying to distance itself from past policy, released previously classified documents on El Salvador prior to the election which were an embarrassment to Calder6n Sol and the far Right of ARENA. However, by releasing them in the form of some 12,000 unsorted documents only months before the election, with no official investigation or report, the administration insured they would have but a limited impact.40 One ARENA official, furious at the release of the documents, nevertheless perceived US policy as being less interested in election results than had been the case back in the '80s: In 1984, perhaps the United States did us a favor in ARENA by supporting [Christian Democrat] Duarte, because ARENA had not matured. Before, the United States was afraid of us, but not anymore; now we get funding from the World Bank and Inter-American Development Bank. The United States just wants the FMLN to win a certain percentage in the Assembly (Valiente, 1994). STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 37 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 37 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 37 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 37 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 37 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 37 Corresponding with the new US pragmatism, a significant faction of the Salvadoran oligarchy apparently came to the conclusion that they could live with a disarmed FMLN in exchange for an end to wartime destruction. As one govern- ment member of the negotiating commission put it, "What the Right is gaining is stability for the first time. The Left gets legitimacy" (Escobar Galindo, 1994). The fact that the value of the colon did not budge during the year prior to the election suggested that the business community was not overly con- cerned either (Schmitt, 1994).41 Once the armed conflict moved toward a negotiated settlement, neither the United States nor the big Salvadoran capitalists needed the military to hold such power. Indeed, the oligarchs were happy to see curbs placed on the authority of the military and elimination of their principal competitor.42 Leaders of the PDC, who watched this realignment from their new position on the sidelines, believed that the United States had even shaped the report of the Truth Commission to be sure it named objectionable military com- manders but omitted the oligarchs who funded the death squads (LeChevalier, 1994). US aid seems to have played a positive, if limited, role in the more formal aspect of democratizing El Salvador, i.e., moving from negotiations to elections. Following the election of Cristiani in 1989, the US Congress began to tighten up the conditions it placed on US aid. After the killing of the Jesuits in December 1989, Congress held up 50% of the military aid appropriated for Fiscal Year (FY) 1991 "to create incentives for both sides to reach a negotiated solution." President Bush reinstated that aid in early 1991 after the FMLN shot down a helicopter, killing three US military personnel on board- thus leading the Salvadoran army to conclude again that it could avoid reform (Karl, 1992: 156-7). Finally, as UN-sponsored peace talks began to move into a critical phase later that year, the tougher congressional position once again prevailed, and the United States began to reprogram part of its military aid to a fund for demobilization of combatants, a practice which continued through 1993. Of the US$106 million that was diverted into this fund in FY 1991-93, $20 million was ear- Corresponding with the new US pragmatism, a significant faction of the Salvadoran oligarchy apparently came to the conclusion that they could live with a disarmed FMLN in exchange for an end to wartime destruction. As one govern- ment member of the negotiating commission put it, "What the Right is gaining is stability for the first time. The Left gets legitimacy" (Escobar Galindo, 1994). The fact that the value of the colon did not budge during the year prior to the election suggested that the business community was not overly con- cerned either (Schmitt, 1994).41 Once the armed conflict moved toward a negotiated settlement, neither the United States nor the big Salvadoran capitalists needed the military to hold such power. Indeed, the oligarchs were happy to see curbs placed on the authority of the military and elimination of their principal competitor.42 Leaders of the PDC, who watched this realignment from their new position on the sidelines, believed that the United States had even shaped the report of the Truth Commission to be sure it named objectionable military com- manders but omitted the oligarchs who funded the death squads (LeChevalier, 1994). US aid seems to have played a positive, if limited, role in the more formal aspect of democratizing El Salvador, i.e., moving from negotiations to elections. Following the election of Cristiani in 1989, the US Congress began to tighten up the conditions it placed on US aid. After the killing of the Jesuits in December 1989, Congress held up 50% of the military aid appropriated for Fiscal Year (FY) 1991 "to create incentives for both sides to reach a negotiated solution." President Bush reinstated that aid in early 1991 after the FMLN shot down a helicopter, killing three US military personnel on board- thus leading the Salvadoran army to conclude again that it could avoid reform (Karl, 1992: 156-7). Finally, as UN-sponsored peace talks began to move into a critical phase later that year, the tougher congressional position once again prevailed, and the United States began to reprogram part of its military aid to a fund for demobilization of combatants, a practice which continued through 1993. Of the US$106 million that was diverted into this fund in FY 1991-93, $20 million was ear- Corresponding with the new US pragmatism, a significant faction of the Salvadoran oligarchy apparently came to the conclusion that they could live with a disarmed FMLN in exchange for an end to wartime destruction. As one govern- ment member of the negotiating commission put it, "What the Right is gaining is stability for the first time. The Left gets legitimacy" (Escobar Galindo, 1994). The fact that the value of the colon did not budge during the year prior to the election suggested that the business community was not overly con- cerned either (Schmitt, 1994).41 Once the armed conflict moved toward a negotiated settlement, neither the United States nor the big Salvadoran capitalists needed the military to hold such power. Indeed, the oligarchs were happy to see curbs placed on the authority of the military and elimination of their principal competitor.42 Leaders of the PDC, who watched this realignment from their new position on the sidelines, believed that the United States had even shaped the report of the Truth Commission to be sure it named objectionable military com- manders but omitted the oligarchs who funded the death squads (LeChevalier, 1994). US aid seems to have played a positive, if limited, role in the more formal aspect of democratizing El Salvador, i.e., moving from negotiations to elections. Following the election of Cristiani in 1989, the US Congress began to tighten up the conditions it placed on US aid. After the killing of the Jesuits in December 1989, Congress held up 50% of the military aid appropriated for Fiscal Year (FY) 1991 "to create incentives for both sides to reach a negotiated solution." President Bush reinstated that aid in early 1991 after the FMLN shot down a helicopter, killing three US military personnel on board- thus leading the Salvadoran army to conclude again that it could avoid reform (Karl, 1992: 156-7). Finally, as UN-sponsored peace talks began to move into a critical phase later that year, the tougher congressional position once again prevailed, and the United States began to reprogram part of its military aid to a fund for demobilization of combatants, a practice which continued through 1993. Of the US$106 million that was diverted into this fund in FY 1991-93, $20 million was ear- Corresponding with the new US pragmatism, a significant faction of the Salvadoran oligarchy apparently came to the conclusion that they could live with a disarmed FMLN in exchange for an end to wartime destruction. As one govern- ment member of the negotiating commission put it, "What the Right is gaining is stability for the first time. The Left gets legitimacy" (Escobar Galindo, 1994). The fact that the value of the colon did not budge during the year prior to the election suggested that the business community was not overly con- cerned either (Schmitt, 1994).41 Once the armed conflict moved toward a negotiated settlement, neither the United States nor the big Salvadoran capitalists needed the military to hold such power. Indeed, the oligarchs were happy to see curbs placed on the authority of the military and elimination of their principal competitor.42 Leaders of the PDC, who watched this realignment from their new position on the sidelines, believed that the United States had even shaped the report of the Truth Commission to be sure it named objectionable military com- manders but omitted the oligarchs who funded the death squads (LeChevalier, 1994). US aid seems to have played a positive, if limited, role in the more formal aspect of democratizing El Salvador, i.e., moving from negotiations to elections. Following the election of Cristiani in 1989, the US Congress began to tighten up the conditions it placed on US aid. After the killing of the Jesuits in December 1989, Congress held up 50% of the military aid appropriated for Fiscal Year (FY) 1991 "to create incentives for both sides to reach a negotiated solution." President Bush reinstated that aid in early 1991 after the FMLN shot down a helicopter, killing three US military personnel on board- thus leading the Salvadoran army to conclude again that it could avoid reform (Karl, 1992: 156-7). Finally, as UN-sponsored peace talks began to move into a critical phase later that year, the tougher congressional position once again prevailed, and the United States began to reprogram part of its military aid to a fund for demobilization of combatants, a practice which continued through 1993. Of the US$106 million that was diverted into this fund in FY 1991-93, $20 million was ear- Corresponding with the new US pragmatism, a significant faction of the Salvadoran oligarchy apparently came to the conclusion that they could live with a disarmed FMLN in exchange for an end to wartime destruction. As one govern- ment member of the negotiating commission put it, "What the Right is gaining is stability for the first time. The Left gets legitimacy" (Escobar Galindo, 1994). The fact that the value of the colon did not budge during the year prior to the election suggested that the business community was not overly con- cerned either (Schmitt, 1994).41 Once the armed conflict moved toward a negotiated settlement, neither the United States nor the big Salvadoran capitalists needed the military to hold such power. Indeed, the oligarchs were happy to see curbs placed on the authority of the military and elimination of their principal competitor.42 Leaders of the PDC, who watched this realignment from their new position on the sidelines, believed that the United States had even shaped the report of the Truth Commission to be sure it named objectionable military com- manders but omitted the oligarchs who funded the death squads (LeChevalier, 1994). US aid seems to have played a positive, if limited, role in the more formal aspect of democratizing El Salvador, i.e., moving from negotiations to elections. Following the election of Cristiani in 1989, the US Congress began to tighten up the conditions it placed on US aid. After the killing of the Jesuits in December 1989, Congress held up 50% of the military aid appropriated for Fiscal Year (FY) 1991 "to create incentives for both sides to reach a negotiated solution." President Bush reinstated that aid in early 1991 after the FMLN shot down a helicopter, killing three US military personnel on board- thus leading the Salvadoran army to conclude again that it could avoid reform (Karl, 1992: 156-7). Finally, as UN-sponsored peace talks began to move into a critical phase later that year, the tougher congressional position once again prevailed, and the United States began to reprogram part of its military aid to a fund for demobilization of combatants, a practice which continued through 1993. Of the US$106 million that was diverted into this fund in FY 1991-93, $20 million was ear- Corresponding with the new US pragmatism, a significant faction of the Salvadoran oligarchy apparently came to the conclusion that they could live with a disarmed FMLN in exchange for an end to wartime destruction. As one govern- ment member of the negotiating commission put it, "What the Right is gaining is stability for the first time. The Left gets legitimacy" (Escobar Galindo, 1994). The fact that the value of the colon did not budge during the year prior to the election suggested that the business community was not overly con- cerned either (Schmitt, 1994).41 Once the armed conflict moved toward a negotiated settlement, neither the United States nor the big Salvadoran capitalists needed the military to hold such power. Indeed, the oligarchs were happy to see curbs placed on the authority of the military and elimination of their principal competitor.42 Leaders of the PDC, who watched this realignment from their new position on the sidelines, believed that the United States had even shaped the report of the Truth Commission to be sure it named objectionable military com- manders but omitted the oligarchs who funded the death squads (LeChevalier, 1994). US aid seems to have played a positive, if limited, role in the more formal aspect of democratizing El Salvador, i.e., moving from negotiations to elections. Following the election of Cristiani in 1989, the US Congress began to tighten up the conditions it placed on US aid. After the killing of the Jesuits in December 1989, Congress held up 50% of the military aid appropriated for Fiscal Year (FY) 1991 "to create incentives for both sides to reach a negotiated solution." President Bush reinstated that aid in early 1991 after the FMLN shot down a helicopter, killing three US military personnel on board- thus leading the Salvadoran army to conclude again that it could avoid reform (Karl, 1992: 156-7). Finally, as UN-sponsored peace talks began to move into a critical phase later that year, the tougher congressional position once again prevailed, and the United States began to reprogram part of its military aid to a fund for demobilization of combatants, a practice which continued through 1993. Of the US$106 million that was diverted into this fund in FY 1991-93, $20 million was ear- 38 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 38 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 38 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 38 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 38 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 38 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS marked for training the new Civilian National Police (PNC), while other funds were set aside to support the investigations and reports of the Truth Commission (Rosa, 1993a: 96-107). US training in Puerto Rico contributed to the formation of the PNC. That force remained underfunded, however, and the ARENA government in early 1994 showed little interest in accepting US offers of aid for retraining, or retiring, members of the old repressive National Police (PN) despite UN pressure to fulfill that part of the peace accords (Nobellino, 1994; also interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994). In El Salvador, following the 1992 peace accords, the US was much less concerned to use its aid policy as a way to bring pressure to bear against the organizing efforts of the FMLN than had been true of its policy in Nicaragua. In the latter case, the United States had repeatedly held up its aid in an effort to pressure the Chamorro government into excluding the Sandinistas much more than it appeared willing (or able) to do. One reason for the difference was that the Sandinistas still retained substantial control over the military, whereas in El Salvador, as one US-AID official explained, "now there is a new context with the signing of the peace accords" (Nobellino, 1994). Despite this nod toward political pluralism, the over- whelming majority of the US-AID funds for reconstruction were channeled through agencies of the Salvadoran govern- ment. The PRN concentrated more on infrastructure than on developing human capital or resources, and less than 1% of its funds were channeled through the opposition NGOs despite their long experience and demonstrated track record in admin- istering local development projects in the former conflict zones (Murray et al., 1994: 7-21). This appears to reflect a recurrent problem of international development assistance, namely a divergence between local NGOs, which have closer ties to the population and a greater commitment to empowering the beneficiaries, and the external agencies, which are more concerned to minimize any confrontation with government (Sollis, 1994: 456-7). In the Salvadoran case, this practice fueled a powerful patronage network on behalf of the ARENA government so that, in the months before the election, the marked for training the new Civilian National Police (PNC), while other funds were set aside to support the investigations and reports of the Truth Commission (Rosa, 1993a: 96-107). US training in Puerto Rico contributed to the formation of the PNC. That force remained underfunded, however, and the ARENA government in early 1994 showed little interest in accepting US offers of aid for retraining, or retiring, members of the old repressive National Police (PN) despite UN pressure to fulfill that part of the peace accords (Nobellino, 1994; also interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994). In El Salvador, following the 1992 peace accords, the US was much less concerned to use its aid policy as a way to bring pressure to bear against the organizing efforts of the FMLN than had been true of its policy in Nicaragua. In the latter case, the United States had repeatedly held up its aid in an effort to pressure the Chamorro government into excluding the Sandinistas much more than it appeared willing (or able) to do. One reason for the difference was that the Sandinistas still retained substantial control over the military, whereas in El Salvador, as one US-AID official explained, "now there is a new context with the signing of the peace accords" (Nobellino, 1994). Despite this nod toward political pluralism, the over- whelming majority of the US-AID funds for reconstruction were channeled through agencies of the Salvadoran govern- ment. The PRN concentrated more on infrastructure than on developing human capital or resources, and less than 1% of its funds were channeled through the opposition NGOs despite their long experience and demonstrated track record in admin- istering local development projects in the former conflict zones (Murray et al., 1994: 7-21). This appears to reflect a recurrent problem of international development assistance, namely a divergence between local NGOs, which have closer ties to the population and a greater commitment to empowering the beneficiaries, and the external agencies, which are more concerned to minimize any confrontation with government (Sollis, 1994: 456-7). In the Salvadoran case, this practice fueled a powerful patronage network on behalf of the ARENA government so that, in the months before the election, the marked for training the new Civilian National Police (PNC), while other funds were set aside to support the investigations and reports of the Truth Commission (Rosa, 1993a: 96-107). US training in Puerto Rico contributed to the formation of the PNC. That force remained underfunded, however, and the ARENA government in early 1994 showed little interest in accepting US offers of aid for retraining, or retiring, members of the old repressive National Police (PN) despite UN pressure to fulfill that part of the peace accords (Nobellino, 1994; also interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994). In El Salvador, following the 1992 peace accords, the US was much less concerned to use its aid policy as a way to bring pressure to bear against the organizing efforts of the FMLN than had been true of its policy in Nicaragua. In the latter case, the United States had repeatedly held up its aid in an effort to pressure the Chamorro government into excluding the Sandinistas much more than it appeared willing (or able) to do. One reason for the difference was that the Sandinistas still retained substantial control over the military, whereas in El Salvador, as one US-AID official explained, "now there is a new context with the signing of the peace accords" (Nobellino, 1994). Despite this nod toward political pluralism, the over- whelming majority of the US-AID funds for reconstruction were channeled through agencies of the Salvadoran govern- ment. The PRN concentrated more on infrastructure than on developing human capital or resources, and less than 1% of its funds were channeled through the opposition NGOs despite their long experience and demonstrated track record in admin- istering local development projects in the former conflict zones (Murray et al., 1994: 7-21). This appears to reflect a recurrent problem of international development assistance, namely a divergence between local NGOs, which have closer ties to the population and a greater commitment to empowering the beneficiaries, and the external agencies, which are more concerned to minimize any confrontation with government (Sollis, 1994: 456-7). In the Salvadoran case, this practice fueled a powerful patronage network on behalf of the ARENA government so that, in the months before the election, the marked for training the new Civilian National Police (PNC), while other funds were set aside to support the investigations and reports of the Truth Commission (Rosa, 1993a: 96-107). US training in Puerto Rico contributed to the formation of the PNC. That force remained underfunded, however, and the ARENA government in early 1994 showed little interest in accepting US offers of aid for retraining, or retiring, members of the old repressive National Police (PN) despite UN pressure to fulfill that part of the peace accords (Nobellino, 1994; also interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994). In El Salvador, following the 1992 peace accords, the US was much less concerned to use its aid policy as a way to bring pressure to bear against the organizing efforts of the FMLN than had been true of its policy in Nicaragua. In the latter case, the United States had repeatedly held up its aid in an effort to pressure the Chamorro government into excluding the Sandinistas much more than it appeared willing (or able) to do. One reason for the difference was that the Sandinistas still retained substantial control over the military, whereas in El Salvador, as one US-AID official explained, "now there is a new context with the signing of the peace accords" (Nobellino, 1994). Despite this nod toward political pluralism, the over- whelming majority of the US-AID funds for reconstruction were channeled through agencies of the Salvadoran govern- ment. The PRN concentrated more on infrastructure than on developing human capital or resources, and less than 1% of its funds were channeled through the opposition NGOs despite their long experience and demonstrated track record in admin- istering local development projects in the former conflict zones (Murray et al., 1994: 7-21). This appears to reflect a recurrent problem of international development assistance, namely a divergence between local NGOs, which have closer ties to the population and a greater commitment to empowering the beneficiaries, and the external agencies, which are more concerned to minimize any confrontation with government (Sollis, 1994: 456-7). In the Salvadoran case, this practice fueled a powerful patronage network on behalf of the ARENA government so that, in the months before the election, the marked for training the new Civilian National Police (PNC), while other funds were set aside to support the investigations and reports of the Truth Commission (Rosa, 1993a: 96-107). US training in Puerto Rico contributed to the formation of the PNC. That force remained underfunded, however, and the ARENA government in early 1994 showed little interest in accepting US offers of aid for retraining, or retiring, members of the old repressive National Police (PN) despite UN pressure to fulfill that part of the peace accords (Nobellino, 1994; also interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994). In El Salvador, following the 1992 peace accords, the US was much less concerned to use its aid policy as a way to bring pressure to bear against the organizing efforts of the FMLN than had been true of its policy in Nicaragua. In the latter case, the United States had repeatedly held up its aid in an effort to pressure the Chamorro government into excluding the Sandinistas much more than it appeared willing (or able) to do. One reason for the difference was that the Sandinistas still retained substantial control over the military, whereas in El Salvador, as one US-AID official explained, "now there is a new context with the signing of the peace accords" (Nobellino, 1994). Despite this nod toward political pluralism, the over- whelming majority of the US-AID funds for reconstruction were channeled through agencies of the Salvadoran govern- ment. The PRN concentrated more on infrastructure than on developing human capital or resources, and less than 1% of its funds were channeled through the opposition NGOs despite their long experience and demonstrated track record in admin- istering local development projects in the former conflict zones (Murray et al., 1994: 7-21). This appears to reflect a recurrent problem of international development assistance, namely a divergence between local NGOs, which have closer ties to the population and a greater commitment to empowering the beneficiaries, and the external agencies, which are more concerned to minimize any confrontation with government (Sollis, 1994: 456-7). In the Salvadoran case, this practice fueled a powerful patronage network on behalf of the ARENA government so that, in the months before the election, the marked for training the new Civilian National Police (PNC), while other funds were set aside to support the investigations and reports of the Truth Commission (Rosa, 1993a: 96-107). US training in Puerto Rico contributed to the formation of the PNC. That force remained underfunded, however, and the ARENA government in early 1994 showed little interest in accepting US offers of aid for retraining, or retiring, members of the old repressive National Police (PN) despite UN pressure to fulfill that part of the peace accords (Nobellino, 1994; also interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994). In El Salvador, following the 1992 peace accords, the US was much less concerned to use its aid policy as a way to bring pressure to bear against the organizing efforts of the FMLN than had been true of its policy in Nicaragua. In the latter case, the United States had repeatedly held up its aid in an effort to pressure the Chamorro government into excluding the Sandinistas much more than it appeared willing (or able) to do. One reason for the difference was that the Sandinistas still retained substantial control over the military, whereas in El Salvador, as one US-AID official explained, "now there is a new context with the signing of the peace accords" (Nobellino, 1994). Despite this nod toward political pluralism, the over- whelming majority of the US-AID funds for reconstruction were channeled through agencies of the Salvadoran govern- ment. The PRN concentrated more on infrastructure than on developing human capital or resources, and less than 1% of its funds were channeled through the opposition NGOs despite their long experience and demonstrated track record in admin- istering local development projects in the former conflict zones (Murray et al., 1994: 7-21). This appears to reflect a recurrent problem of international development assistance, namely a divergence between local NGOs, which have closer ties to the population and a greater commitment to empowering the beneficiaries, and the external agencies, which are more concerned to minimize any confrontation with government (Sollis, 1994: 456-7). In the Salvadoran case, this practice fueled a powerful patronage network on behalf of the ARENA government so that, in the months before the election, the STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 39 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 39 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 39 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 39 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 39 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 39 countryside was dotted with billboards announcing public works projects credited to the government's Fondo deInversion Social (FIS) or to the Secretaria de Reconstruccion Nacional (SRN). Aside from the partisan impact of this allocation of reconstruction funds, it also represented a top-down develop- ment strategy which undermined participatory democracy. Another major recipient of US-AID funds ($107 million disbursed from 1984-92) was the Fundaco6n Salvadorenapara el Desarrollo Econ6omco y Social (FUSADES), a think-tank designed to provide training and support to business entrepre- neurs and to promote economic liberalization policies (Rosa, 1993a: 75-92). FUSADES embodied the Salvadoran version of US-AID's neoliberal program which the incoming Cristiani government adopted wholesale in 1989, essentially turning economic policy over to the representatives of big business.43 FUSADES, as one of a chain of similar "entrepreneurial foundations" that US-AID established throughout Central America, became the nerve center for an elaborate network of institutions that provided the economic elite with an organized presence in civil society (Barry, 1993). Complementing US- AID's "Private Sector Support" was its "Democratic Initiatives" program, which was launched in December 1990 to channel smaller amounts of funds to ideologically favored groups. Some of these included the US$4.5 million per year distributed through the American Institute for Free Labor Development (AIFLD) for non-radical union organizing, and support for the PDC think-tank, the Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicasy Cientfficas (CENITEC). The US policy of economic aid was skewed toward a top-down model of reconstruction (perhaps due to a combination of antipathy toward radical grassroots organizing and an enthusiasm for structural adjustment) and an elitist vision of nation-building. Even in the area of US support for agrarian reform, critics noted that the US-funded Land Bank favored male ex-combatants and provided for land transfers only to individual farmers, ignoring the preference of many women and poor peasants to spread the risk through coopera- tive land-holding (Sollis, 1994: 466). The entrepreneurial focus countryside was dotted with billboards announcing public works projects credited to the government's Fondo deInversion Social (FIS) or to the Secretaria de Reconstruccion Nacional (SRN). Aside from the partisan impact of this allocation of reconstruction funds, it also represented a top-down develop- ment strategy which undermined participatory democracy. Another major recipient of US-AID funds ($107 million disbursed from 1984-92) was the Fundaco6n Salvadorenapara el Desarrollo Econ6omco y Social (FUSADES), a think-tank designed to provide training and support to business entrepre- neurs and to promote economic liberalization policies (Rosa, 1993a: 75-92). FUSADES embodied the Salvadoran version of US-AID's neoliberal program which the incoming Cristiani government adopted wholesale in 1989, essentially turning economic policy over to the representatives of big business.43 FUSADES, as one of a chain of similar "entrepreneurial foundations" that US-AID established throughout Central America, became the nerve center for an elaborate network of institutions that provided the economic elite with an organized presence in civil society (Barry, 1993). Complementing US- AID's "Private Sector Support" was its "Democratic Initiatives" program, which was launched in December 1990 to channel smaller amounts of funds to ideologically favored groups. Some of these included the US$4.5 million per year distributed through the American Institute for Free Labor Development (AIFLD) for non-radical union organizing, and support for the PDC think-tank, the Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicasy Cientfficas (CENITEC). The US policy of economic aid was skewed toward a top-down model of reconstruction (perhaps due to a combination of antipathy toward radical grassroots organizing and an enthusiasm for structural adjustment) and an elitist vision of nation-building. Even in the area of US support for agrarian reform, critics noted that the US-funded Land Bank favored male ex-combatants and provided for land transfers only to individual farmers, ignoring the preference of many women and poor peasants to spread the risk through coopera- tive land-holding (Sollis, 1994: 466). The entrepreneurial focus countryside was dotted with billboards announcing public works projects credited to the government's Fondo deInversion Social (FIS) or to the Secretaria de Reconstruccion Nacional (SRN). Aside from the partisan impact of this allocation of reconstruction funds, it also represented a top-down develop- ment strategy which undermined participatory democracy. Another major recipient of US-AID funds ($107 million disbursed from 1984-92) was the Fundaco6n Salvadorenapara el Desarrollo Econ6omco y Social (FUSADES), a think-tank designed to provide training and support to business entrepre- neurs and to promote economic liberalization policies (Rosa, 1993a: 75-92). FUSADES embodied the Salvadoran version of US-AID's neoliberal program which the incoming Cristiani government adopted wholesale in 1989, essentially turning economic policy over to the representatives of big business.43 FUSADES, as one of a chain of similar "entrepreneurial foundations" that US-AID established throughout Central America, became the nerve center for an elaborate network of institutions that provided the economic elite with an organized presence in civil society (Barry, 1993). Complementing US- AID's "Private Sector Support" was its "Democratic Initiatives" program, which was launched in December 1990 to channel smaller amounts of funds to ideologically favored groups. Some of these included the US$4.5 million per year distributed through the American Institute for Free Labor Development (AIFLD) for non-radical union organizing, and support for the PDC think-tank, the Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicasy Cientfficas (CENITEC). The US policy of economic aid was skewed toward a top-down model of reconstruction (perhaps due to a combination of antipathy toward radical grassroots organizing and an enthusiasm for structural adjustment) and an elitist vision of nation-building. Even in the area of US support for agrarian reform, critics noted that the US-funded Land Bank favored male ex-combatants and provided for land transfers only to individual farmers, ignoring the preference of many women and poor peasants to spread the risk through coopera- tive land-holding (Sollis, 1994: 466). The entrepreneurial focus countryside was dotted with billboards announcing public works projects credited to the government's Fondo deInversion Social (FIS) or to the Secretaria de Reconstruccion Nacional (SRN). Aside from the partisan impact of this allocation of reconstruction funds, it also represented a top-down develop- ment strategy which undermined participatory democracy. Another major recipient of US-AID funds ($107 million disbursed from 1984-92) was the Fundaco6n Salvadorenapara el Desarrollo Econ6omco y Social (FUSADES), a think-tank designed to provide training and support to business entrepre- neurs and to promote economic liberalization policies (Rosa, 1993a: 75-92). FUSADES embodied the Salvadoran version of US-AID's neoliberal program which the incoming Cristiani government adopted wholesale in 1989, essentially turning economic policy over to the representatives of big business.43 FUSADES, as one of a chain of similar "entrepreneurial foundations" that US-AID established throughout Central America, became the nerve center for an elaborate network of institutions that provided the economic elite with an organized presence in civil society (Barry, 1993). Complementing US- AID's "Private Sector Support" was its "Democratic Initiatives" program, which was launched in December 1990 to channel smaller amounts of funds to ideologically favored groups. Some of these included the US$4.5 million per year distributed through the American Institute for Free Labor Development (AIFLD) for non-radical union organizing, and support for the PDC think-tank, the Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicasy Cientfficas (CENITEC). The US policy of economic aid was skewed toward a top-down model of reconstruction (perhaps due to a combination of antipathy toward radical grassroots organizing and an enthusiasm for structural adjustment) and an elitist vision of nation-building. Even in the area of US support for agrarian reform, critics noted that the US-funded Land Bank favored male ex-combatants and provided for land transfers only to individual farmers, ignoring the preference of many women and poor peasants to spread the risk through coopera- tive land-holding (Sollis, 1994: 466). The entrepreneurial focus countryside was dotted with billboards announcing public works projects credited to the government's Fondo deInversion Social (FIS) or to the Secretaria de Reconstruccion Nacional (SRN). Aside from the partisan impact of this allocation of reconstruction funds, it also represented a top-down develop- ment strategy which undermined participatory democracy. Another major recipient of US-AID funds ($107 million disbursed from 1984-92) was the Fundaco6n Salvadorenapara el Desarrollo Econ6omco y Social (FUSADES), a think-tank designed to provide training and support to business entrepre- neurs and to promote economic liberalization policies (Rosa, 1993a: 75-92). FUSADES embodied the Salvadoran version of US-AID's neoliberal program which the incoming Cristiani government adopted wholesale in 1989, essentially turning economic policy over to the representatives of big business.43 FUSADES, as one of a chain of similar "entrepreneurial foundations" that US-AID established throughout Central America, became the nerve center for an elaborate network of institutions that provided the economic elite with an organized presence in civil society (Barry, 1993). Complementing US- AID's "Private Sector Support" was its "Democratic Initiatives" program, which was launched in December 1990 to channel smaller amounts of funds to ideologically favored groups. Some of these included the US$4.5 million per year distributed through the American Institute for Free Labor Development (AIFLD) for non-radical union organizing, and support for the PDC think-tank, the Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicasy Cientfficas (CENITEC). The US policy of economic aid was skewed toward a top-down model of reconstruction (perhaps due to a combination of antipathy toward radical grassroots organizing and an enthusiasm for structural adjustment) and an elitist vision of nation-building. Even in the area of US support for agrarian reform, critics noted that the US-funded Land Bank favored male ex-combatants and provided for land transfers only to individual farmers, ignoring the preference of many women and poor peasants to spread the risk through coopera- tive land-holding (Sollis, 1994: 466). The entrepreneurial focus countryside was dotted with billboards announcing public works projects credited to the government's Fondo deInversion Social (FIS) or to the Secretaria de Reconstruccion Nacional (SRN). Aside from the partisan impact of this allocation of reconstruction funds, it also represented a top-down develop- ment strategy which undermined participatory democracy. Another major recipient of US-AID funds ($107 million disbursed from 1984-92) was the Fundaco6n Salvadorenapara el Desarrollo Econ6omco y Social (FUSADES), a think-tank designed to provide training and support to business entrepre- neurs and to promote economic liberalization policies (Rosa, 1993a: 75-92). FUSADES embodied the Salvadoran version of US-AID's neoliberal program which the incoming Cristiani government adopted wholesale in 1989, essentially turning economic policy over to the representatives of big business.43 FUSADES, as one of a chain of similar "entrepreneurial foundations" that US-AID established throughout Central America, became the nerve center for an elaborate network of institutions that provided the economic elite with an organized presence in civil society (Barry, 1993). Complementing US- AID's "Private Sector Support" was its "Democratic Initiatives" program, which was launched in December 1990 to channel smaller amounts of funds to ideologically favored groups. Some of these included the US$4.5 million per year distributed through the American Institute for Free Labor Development (AIFLD) for non-radical union organizing, and support for the PDC think-tank, the Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicasy Cientfficas (CENITEC). The US policy of economic aid was skewed toward a top-down model of reconstruction (perhaps due to a combination of antipathy toward radical grassroots organizing and an enthusiasm for structural adjustment) and an elitist vision of nation-building. Even in the area of US support for agrarian reform, critics noted that the US-funded Land Bank favored male ex-combatants and provided for land transfers only to individual farmers, ignoring the preference of many women and poor peasants to spread the risk through coopera- tive land-holding (Sollis, 1994: 466). The entrepreneurial focus 40 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 40 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 40 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 40 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 40 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 40 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS of this aid model suggests that the US contribution to democ- ratization, in the sense of encouraging greater participation at the grassroots, was open to question. In any event, as the amount of US aid declined, so did the amount of leverage it bestowed. Military aid, which stood at US$207 million in 1984, was down to US$11 million in 1993 after aid had been redirected into programs to support demo- bilization and the transition. The Clinton administration threat- ened to suspend even this reduced amount of aid if the military High Command did not resign, as recommended by the Truth Commission's report. Yet the argument that military aid could be used to encourage the armed forces to respect democracy and human rights, always dubious at best (Walter and Williams, 1993: 63-4), became even weaker as the link became so tenuous. US economic aid, which averaged US$377 million/ year in 1984-89, and US$240 million in 1990-93, fell to a proposed US$90 million in 1994 and was projected to fall to US$50 million thereafter, essentially just enough to finish some ongoing projects. As the bilateral aid from the United States declined, it was overtaken by multilateral aid from the Inter- American Development Bank (IDB) and World Bank, which totaled US$805 million in the 1990-93 period (Rosa, 1993b: 7- 10). These funds supported a 3-phase structural adjustment program, scheduled by the World Bank to last through 1998. Given the negative impact of orthodox adjustment on distribu- tion, and with 68% of the population already in poverty, this shift toward multilateral finance as the United States disen- gaged from El Salvador did not necessarily signal the dawning of a new era of sustainable democracy. This latter point was not lost on the UN negotiators, whose role increased dramatically in the breach created by the US progressive disengagement from El Salvador in the early 1990s. As the UN's chief negotiator for the peace accords noted, the budget and timetable for the UN's "peacekeeping" mission were considerably more limited than those of the international financial institutions that would have a major impact on the shape of the peace (DeSoto and Del Castillo, 1994). The missions of these two sets of international institutions were not of this aid model suggests that the US contribution to democ- ratization, in the sense of encouraging greater participation at the grassroots, was open to question. In any event, as the amount of US aid declined, so did the amount of leverage it bestowed. Military aid, which stood at US$207 million in 1984, was down to US$11 million in 1993 after aid had been redirected into programs to support demo- bilization and the transition. The Clinton administration threat- ened to suspend even this reduced amount of aid if the military High Command did not resign, as recommended by the Truth Commission's report. Yet the argument that military aid could be used to encourage the armed forces to respect democracy and human rights, always dubious at best (Walter and Williams, 1993: 63-4), became even weaker as the link became so tenuous. US economic aid, which averaged US$377 million/ year in 1984-89, and US$240 million in 1990-93, fell to a proposed US$90 million in 1994 and was projected to fall to US$50 million thereafter, essentially just enough to finish some ongoing projects. As the bilateral aid from the United States declined, it was overtaken by multilateral aid from the Inter- American Development Bank (IDB) and World Bank, which totaled US$805 million in the 1990-93 period (Rosa, 1993b: 7- 10). These funds supported a 3-phase structural adjustment program, scheduled by the World Bank to last through 1998. Given the negative impact of orthodox adjustment on distribu- tion, and with 68% of the population already in poverty, this shift toward multilateral finance as the United States disen- gaged from El Salvador did not necessarily signal the dawning of a new era of sustainable democracy. This latter point was not lost on the UN negotiators, whose role increased dramatically in the breach created by the US progressive disengagement from El Salvador in the early 1990s. As the UN's chief negotiator for the peace accords noted, the budget and timetable for the UN's "peacekeeping" mission were considerably more limited than those of the international financial institutions that would have a major impact on the shape of the peace (DeSoto and Del Castillo, 1994). The missions of these two sets of international institutions were not of this aid model suggests that the US contribution to democ- ratization, in the sense of encouraging greater participation at the grassroots, was open to question. In any event, as the amount of US aid declined, so did the amount of leverage it bestowed. Military aid, which stood at US$207 million in 1984, was down to US$11 million in 1993 after aid had been redirected into programs to support demo- bilization and the transition. The Clinton administration threat- ened to suspend even this reduced amount of aid if the military High Command did not resign, as recommended by the Truth Commission's report. Yet the argument that military aid could be used to encourage the armed forces to respect democracy and human rights, always dubious at best (Walter and Williams, 1993: 63-4), became even weaker as the link became so tenuous. US economic aid, which averaged US$377 million/ year in 1984-89, and US$240 million in 1990-93, fell to a proposed US$90 million in 1994 and was projected to fall to US$50 million thereafter, essentially just enough to finish some ongoing projects. As the bilateral aid from the United States declined, it was overtaken by multilateral aid from the Inter- American Development Bank (IDB) and World Bank, which totaled US$805 million in the 1990-93 period (Rosa, 1993b: 7- 10). These funds supported a 3-phase structural adjustment program, scheduled by the World Bank to last through 1998. Given the negative impact of orthodox adjustment on distribu- tion, and with 68% of the population already in poverty, this shift toward multilateral finance as the United States disen- gaged from El Salvador did not necessarily signal the dawning of a new era of sustainable democracy. This latter point was not lost on the UN negotiators, whose role increased dramatically in the breach created by the US progressive disengagement from El Salvador in the early 1990s. As the UN's chief negotiator for the peace accords noted, the budget and timetable for the UN's "peacekeeping" mission were considerably more limited than those of the international financial institutions that would have a major impact on the shape of the peace (DeSoto and Del Castillo, 1994). The missions of these two sets of international institutions were not of this aid model suggests that the US contribution to democ- ratization, in the sense of encouraging greater participation at the grassroots, was open to question. In any event, as the amount of US aid declined, so did the amount of leverage it bestowed. Military aid, which stood at US$207 million in 1984, was down to US$11 million in 1993 after aid had been redirected into programs to support demo- bilization and the transition. The Clinton administration threat- ened to suspend even this reduced amount of aid if the military High Command did not resign, as recommended by the Truth Commission's report. Yet the argument that military aid could be used to encourage the armed forces to respect democracy and human rights, always dubious at best (Walter and Williams, 1993: 63-4), became even weaker as the link became so tenuous. US economic aid, which averaged US$377 million/ year in 1984-89, and US$240 million in 1990-93, fell to a proposed US$90 million in 1994 and was projected to fall to US$50 million thereafter, essentially just enough to finish some ongoing projects. As the bilateral aid from the United States declined, it was overtaken by multilateral aid from the Inter- American Development Bank (IDB) and World Bank, which totaled US$805 million in the 1990-93 period (Rosa, 1993b: 7- 10). These funds supported a 3-phase structural adjustment program, scheduled by the World Bank to last through 1998. Given the negative impact of orthodox adjustment on distribu- tion, and with 68% of the population already in poverty, this shift toward multilateral finance as the United States disen- gaged from El Salvador did not necessarily signal the dawning of a new era of sustainable democracy. This latter point was not lost on the UN negotiators, whose role increased dramatically in the breach created by the US progressive disengagement from El Salvador in the early 1990s. As the UN's chief negotiator for the peace accords noted, the budget and timetable for the UN's "peacekeeping" mission were considerably more limited than those of the international financial institutions that would have a major impact on the shape of the peace (DeSoto and Del Castillo, 1994). The missions of these two sets of international institutions were not of this aid model suggests that the US contribution to democ- ratization, in the sense of encouraging greater participation at the grassroots, was open to question. In any event, as the amount of US aid declined, so did the amount of leverage it bestowed. Military aid, which stood at US$207 million in 1984, was down to US$11 million in 1993 after aid had been redirected into programs to support demo- bilization and the transition. The Clinton administration threat- ened to suspend even this reduced amount of aid if the military High Command did not resign, as recommended by the Truth Commission's report. Yet the argument that military aid could be used to encourage the armed forces to respect democracy and human rights, always dubious at best (Walter and Williams, 1993: 63-4), became even weaker as the link became so tenuous. US economic aid, which averaged US$377 million/ year in 1984-89, and US$240 million in 1990-93, fell to a proposed US$90 million in 1994 and was projected to fall to US$50 million thereafter, essentially just enough to finish some ongoing projects. As the bilateral aid from the United States declined, it was overtaken by multilateral aid from the Inter- American Development Bank (IDB) and World Bank, which totaled US$805 million in the 1990-93 period (Rosa, 1993b: 7- 10). These funds supported a 3-phase structural adjustment program, scheduled by the World Bank to last through 1998. Given the negative impact of orthodox adjustment on distribu- tion, and with 68% of the population already in poverty, this shift toward multilateral finance as the United States disen- gaged from El Salvador did not necessarily signal the dawning of a new era of sustainable democracy. This latter point was not lost on the UN negotiators, whose role increased dramatically in the breach created by the US progressive disengagement from El Salvador in the early 1990s. As the UN's chief negotiator for the peace accords noted, the budget and timetable for the UN's "peacekeeping" mission were considerably more limited than those of the international financial institutions that would have a major impact on the shape of the peace (DeSoto and Del Castillo, 1994). The missions of these two sets of international institutions were not of this aid model suggests that the US contribution to democ- ratization, in the sense of encouraging greater participation at the grassroots, was open to question. In any event, as the amount of US aid declined, so did the amount of leverage it bestowed. Military aid, which stood at US$207 million in 1984, was down to US$11 million in 1993 after aid had been redirected into programs to support demo- bilization and the transition. The Clinton administration threat- ened to suspend even this reduced amount of aid if the military High Command did not resign, as recommended by the Truth Commission's report. Yet the argument that military aid could be used to encourage the armed forces to respect democracy and human rights, always dubious at best (Walter and Williams, 1993: 63-4), became even weaker as the link became so tenuous. US economic aid, which averaged US$377 million/ year in 1984-89, and US$240 million in 1990-93, fell to a proposed US$90 million in 1994 and was projected to fall to US$50 million thereafter, essentially just enough to finish some ongoing projects. As the bilateral aid from the United States declined, it was overtaken by multilateral aid from the Inter- American Development Bank (IDB) and World Bank, which totaled US$805 million in the 1990-93 period (Rosa, 1993b: 7- 10). These funds supported a 3-phase structural adjustment program, scheduled by the World Bank to last through 1998. Given the negative impact of orthodox adjustment on distribu- tion, and with 68% of the population already in poverty, this shift toward multilateral finance as the United States disen- gaged from El Salvador did not necessarily signal the dawning of a new era of sustainable democracy. This latter point was not lost on the UN negotiators, whose role increased dramatically in the breach created by the US progressive disengagement from El Salvador in the early 1990s. As the UN's chief negotiator for the peace accords noted, the budget and timetable for the UN's "peacekeeping" mission were considerably more limited than those of the international financial institutions that would have a major impact on the shape of the peace (DeSoto and Del Castillo, 1994). The missions of these two sets of international institutions were not STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 41 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 41 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 41 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 41 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 41 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 41 only poorly coordinated, they were also potentially incompat- ible. Imposing the orthodox conditions of financial discipline on a war-torn, polarized country could only jeopardize the transition to peacetime democracy. The UN involvement in El Salvador marked the first test of what Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali called "post- conflict peace-building," a new concept that went beyond traditional peacekeeping to include "action to identify and support structures that will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict" (quoted in Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 416). In fact, both parties to the conflict found a mutual interest in expanding the mission of ONUSAL beyond that provided in the peace accord. The expanded role included serving as a channel of communica- tion and authoritative interpreter of the accords, proposing solutions when crises developed, requesting concessions and commitments from both sides, and verifying compliance (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 421). However useful this ex- panded set of functions, the UN faced the dilemma of creating a dependence upon external actors rather than strengthening the legitimacy of domestic political institutions. The UN played an important role in helping to break the negotiating logjam, in drawing up the peace accords and, later, in establishing a public record on implementation of the accords. However, some observers argued that ONUSAL was so careful to avoid public criticism of the government on human rights issues that it squandered its moral leverage, while inadvertently occupying a space that domestic NGOs could be filling (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 429-31). The government had every incentive to stall on implementing the peace accords until after the election, when the focus of world opinion would shift from the peace process to the elections themselves and their outcome. By that time, members of the ONUSAL mission, who had worked in the El Salvador field for years and been frequently frustrated at the government's stonewalling, feared that they would suddenly have little leverage even to bargain for an extension of their role as external observers with a government that had been confirmed in elections. only poorly coordinated, they were also potentially incompat- ible. Imposing the orthodox conditions of financial discipline on a war-torn, polarized country could only jeopardize the transition to peacetime democracy. The UN involvement in El Salvador marked the first test of what Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali called "post- conflict peace-building," a new concept that went beyond traditional peacekeeping to include "action to identify and support structures that will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict" (quoted in Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 416). In fact, both parties to the conflict found a mutual interest in expanding the mission of ONUSAL beyond that provided in the peace accord. The expanded role included serving as a channel of communica- tion and authoritative interpreter of the accords, proposing solutions when crises developed, requesting concessions and commitments from both sides, and verifying compliance (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 421). However useful this ex- panded set of functions, the UN faced the dilemma of creating a dependence upon external actors rather than strengthening the legitimacy of domestic political institutions. The UN played an important role in helping to break the negotiating logjam, in drawing up the peace accords and, later, in establishing a public record on implementation of the accords. However, some observers argued that ONUSAL was so careful to avoid public criticism of the government on human rights issues that it squandered its moral leverage, while inadvertently occupying a space that domestic NGOs could be filling (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 429-31). The government had every incentive to stall on implementing the peace accords until after the election, when the focus of world opinion would shift from the peace process to the elections themselves and their outcome. By that time, members of the ONUSAL mission, who had worked in the El Salvador field for years and been frequently frustrated at the government's stonewalling, feared that they would suddenly have little leverage even to bargain for an extension of their role as external observers with a government that had been confirmed in elections. only poorly coordinated, they were also potentially incompat- ible. Imposing the orthodox conditions of financial discipline on a war-torn, polarized country could only jeopardize the transition to peacetime democracy. The UN involvement in El Salvador marked the first test of what Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali called "post- conflict peace-building," a new concept that went beyond traditional peacekeeping to include "action to identify and support structures that will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict" (quoted in Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 416). In fact, both parties to the conflict found a mutual interest in expanding the mission of ONUSAL beyond that provided in the peace accord. The expanded role included serving as a channel of communica- tion and authoritative interpreter of the accords, proposing solutions when crises developed, requesting concessions and commitments from both sides, and verifying compliance (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 421). However useful this ex- panded set of functions, the UN faced the dilemma of creating a dependence upon external actors rather than strengthening the legitimacy of domestic political institutions. The UN played an important role in helping to break the negotiating logjam, in drawing up the peace accords and, later, in establishing a public record on implementation of the accords. However, some observers argued that ONUSAL was so careful to avoid public criticism of the government on human rights issues that it squandered its moral leverage, while inadvertently occupying a space that domestic NGOs could be filling (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 429-31). The government had every incentive to stall on implementing the peace accords until after the election, when the focus of world opinion would shift from the peace process to the elections themselves and their outcome. By that time, members of the ONUSAL mission, who had worked in the El Salvador field for years and been frequently frustrated at the government's stonewalling, feared that they would suddenly have little leverage even to bargain for an extension of their role as external observers with a government that had been confirmed in elections. only poorly coordinated, they were also potentially incompat- ible. Imposing the orthodox conditions of financial discipline on a war-torn, polarized country could only jeopardize the transition to peacetime democracy. The UN involvement in El Salvador marked the first test of what Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali called "post- conflict peace-building," a new concept that went beyond traditional peacekeeping to include "action to identify and support structures that will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict" (quoted in Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 416). In fact, both parties to the conflict found a mutual interest in expanding the mission of ONUSAL beyond that provided in the peace accord. The expanded role included serving as a channel of communica- tion and authoritative interpreter of the accords, proposing solutions when crises developed, requesting concessions and commitments from both sides, and verifying compliance (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 421). However useful this ex- panded set of functions, the UN faced the dilemma of creating a dependence upon external actors rather than strengthening the legitimacy of domestic political institutions. The UN played an important role in helping to break the negotiating logjam, in drawing up the peace accords and, later, in establishing a public record on implementation of the accords. However, some observers argued that ONUSAL was so careful to avoid public criticism of the government on human rights issues that it squandered its moral leverage, while inadvertently occupying a space that domestic NGOs could be filling (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 429-31). The government had every incentive to stall on implementing the peace accords until after the election, when the focus of world opinion would shift from the peace process to the elections themselves and their outcome. By that time, members of the ONUSAL mission, who had worked in the El Salvador field for years and been frequently frustrated at the government's stonewalling, feared that they would suddenly have little leverage even to bargain for an extension of their role as external observers with a government that had been confirmed in elections. only poorly coordinated, they were also potentially incompat- ible. Imposing the orthodox conditions of financial discipline on a war-torn, polarized country could only jeopardize the transition to peacetime democracy. The UN involvement in El Salvador marked the first test of what Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali called "post- conflict peace-building," a new concept that went beyond traditional peacekeeping to include "action to identify and support structures that will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict" (quoted in Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 416). In fact, both parties to the conflict found a mutual interest in expanding the mission of ONUSAL beyond that provided in the peace accord. The expanded role included serving as a channel of communica- tion and authoritative interpreter of the accords, proposing solutions when crises developed, requesting concessions and commitments from both sides, and verifying compliance (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 421). However useful this ex- panded set of functions, the UN faced the dilemma of creating a dependence upon external actors rather than strengthening the legitimacy of domestic political institutions. The UN played an important role in helping to break the negotiating logjam, in drawing up the peace accords and, later, in establishing a public record on implementation of the accords. However, some observers argued that ONUSAL was so careful to avoid public criticism of the government on human rights issues that it squandered its moral leverage, while inadvertently occupying a space that domestic NGOs could be filling (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 429-31). The government had every incentive to stall on implementing the peace accords until after the election, when the focus of world opinion would shift from the peace process to the elections themselves and their outcome. By that time, members of the ONUSAL mission, who had worked in the El Salvador field for years and been frequently frustrated at the government's stonewalling, feared that they would suddenly have little leverage even to bargain for an extension of their role as external observers with a government that had been confirmed in elections. only poorly coordinated, they were also potentially incompat- ible. Imposing the orthodox conditions of financial discipline on a war-torn, polarized country could only jeopardize the transition to peacetime democracy. The UN involvement in El Salvador marked the first test of what Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali called "post- conflict peace-building," a new concept that went beyond traditional peacekeeping to include "action to identify and support structures that will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict" (quoted in Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 416). In fact, both parties to the conflict found a mutual interest in expanding the mission of ONUSAL beyond that provided in the peace accord. The expanded role included serving as a channel of communica- tion and authoritative interpreter of the accords, proposing solutions when crises developed, requesting concessions and commitments from both sides, and verifying compliance (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 421). However useful this ex- panded set of functions, the UN faced the dilemma of creating a dependence upon external actors rather than strengthening the legitimacy of domestic political institutions. The UN played an important role in helping to break the negotiating logjam, in drawing up the peace accords and, later, in establishing a public record on implementation of the accords. However, some observers argued that ONUSAL was so careful to avoid public criticism of the government on human rights issues that it squandered its moral leverage, while inadvertently occupying a space that domestic NGOs could be filling (Holiday and Stanley, 1993: 429-31). The government had every incentive to stall on implementing the peace accords until after the election, when the focus of world opinion would shift from the peace process to the elections themselves and their outcome. By that time, members of the ONUSAL mission, who had worked in the El Salvador field for years and been frequently frustrated at the government's stonewalling, feared that they would suddenly have little leverage even to bargain for an extension of their role as external observers with a government that had been confirmed in elections. 42 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 42 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 42 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 42 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 42 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 42 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS These gloomy predictions came close to becoming a self- fulfilling prophecy. In some ways, the shift in focus to the electoral moment was unwittingly fostered by outside observ- ers. The United States, anxious to declare democracy and withdraw, sent an official team to observe the elections, and its report tended to emphasize the positive. The downplaying of fraudulent aspects of the election prompted one opposition campaign official to conclude ruefully, "They got too enthusi- astic because there weren't any deaths" (Zelayandia, 1994). The United Nations, on its part, had developed an institutional interest in promoting a favorable view of the election because any failings of the El Salvador transition would reflect badly on the UN mission and on its peacekeeping image, recently bruised in Somalia and Angola. The ONUSAL officials on site had pressed the government insistently (perhaps even more vigorously than the FMLN) to fulfill its obligations mandated by the peace accords in such areas as police and judicial reform. However, as the elections approached, ONUSAL became increasingly frustrated over the fact that their critical reports targeting defects in the electoral process were either being edited, watered down, or simply ignored before summaries were sent on to New York.44 Some UN observers believed that, as the expiration of his own term of service approached (end of March 1994), ONUSAL chief Augusto Ramirez Ocampo became less aggressive in pushing the government toward compliance owing to a personal interest in leaving El Salvador with a "success" to his credit.45 In fact, however, the post-election period demonstrated that external actors could still have some positive influence. The new ONUSAL head, Enrique ter Horst, energetically and successfully pushed the Cristiani government to move towards implementation of the remaining accords on the issues of land and police reform. The renewed activism of ONUSAL, now under new management, apparently coincided with ARENA's realization that a more inclusionary approach might serve their interests better than the stridency and obstructionism of the past. Nevertheless, the fact that death squad killings continued to take place after the election revealed that democracy in El Salvador had far to go. These gloomy predictions came close to becoming a self- fulfilling prophecy. In some ways, the shift in focus to the electoral moment was unwittingly fostered by outside observ- ers. The United States, anxious to declare democracy and withdraw, sent an official team to observe the elections, and its report tended to emphasize the positive. The downplaying of fraudulent aspects of the election prompted one opposition campaign official to conclude ruefully, "They got too enthusi- astic because there weren't any deaths" (Zelayandia, 1994). The United Nations, on its part, had developed an institutional interest in promoting a favorable view of the election because any failings of the El Salvador transition would reflect badly on the UN mission and on its peacekeeping image, recently bruised in Somalia and Angola. The ONUSAL officials on site had pressed the government insistently (perhaps even more vigorously than the FMLN) to fulfill its obligations mandated by the peace accords in such areas as police and judicial reform. However, as the elections approached, ONUSAL became increasingly frustrated over the fact that their critical reports targeting defects in the electoral process were either being edited, watered down, or simply ignored before summaries were sent on to New York.44 Some UN observers believed that, as the expiration of his own term of service approached (end of March 1994), ONUSAL chief Augusto Ramirez Ocampo became less aggressive in pushing the government toward compliance owing to a personal interest in leaving El Salvador with a "success" to his credit.45 In fact, however, the post-election period demonstrated that external actors could still have some positive influence. The new ONUSAL head, Enrique ter Horst, energetically and successfully pushed the Cristiani government to move towards implementation of the remaining accords on the issues of land and police reform. The renewed activism of ONUSAL, now under new management, apparently coincided with ARENA's realization that a more inclusionary approach might serve their interests better than the stridency and obstructionism of the past. Nevertheless, the fact that death squad killings continued to take place after the election revealed that democracy in El Salvador had far to go. These gloomy predictions came close to becoming a self- fulfilling prophecy. In some ways, the shift in focus to the electoral moment was unwittingly fostered by outside observ- ers. The United States, anxious to declare democracy and withdraw, sent an official team to observe the elections, and its report tended to emphasize the positive. The downplaying of fraudulent aspects of the election prompted one opposition campaign official to conclude ruefully, "They got too enthusi- astic because there weren't any deaths" (Zelayandia, 1994). The United Nations, on its part, had developed an institutional interest in promoting a favorable view of the election because any failings of the El Salvador transition would reflect badly on the UN mission and on its peacekeeping image, recently bruised in Somalia and Angola. The ONUSAL officials on site had pressed the government insistently (perhaps even more vigorously than the FMLN) to fulfill its obligations mandated by the peace accords in such areas as police and judicial reform. However, as the elections approached, ONUSAL became increasingly frustrated over the fact that their critical reports targeting defects in the electoral process were either being edited, watered down, or simply ignored before summaries were sent on to New York.44 Some UN observers believed that, as the expiration of his own term of service approached (end of March 1994), ONUSAL chief Augusto Ramirez Ocampo became less aggressive in pushing the government toward compliance owing to a personal interest in leaving El Salvador with a "success" to his credit.45 In fact, however, the post-election period demonstrated that external actors could still have some positive influence. The new ONUSAL head, Enrique ter Horst, energetically and successfully pushed the Cristiani government to move towards implementation of the remaining accords on the issues of land and police reform. The renewed activism of ONUSAL, now under new management, apparently coincided with ARENA's realization that a more inclusionary approach might serve their interests better than the stridency and obstructionism of the past. Nevertheless, the fact that death squad killings continued to take place after the election revealed that democracy in El Salvador had far to go. These gloomy predictions came close to becoming a self- fulfilling prophecy. In some ways, the shift in focus to the electoral moment was unwittingly fostered by outside observ- ers. The United States, anxious to declare democracy and withdraw, sent an official team to observe the elections, and its report tended to emphasize the positive. The downplaying of fraudulent aspects of the election prompted one opposition campaign official to conclude ruefully, "They got too enthusi- astic because there weren't any deaths" (Zelayandia, 1994). The United Nations, on its part, had developed an institutional interest in promoting a favorable view of the election because any failings of the El Salvador transition would reflect badly on the UN mission and on its peacekeeping image, recently bruised in Somalia and Angola. The ONUSAL officials on site had pressed the government insistently (perhaps even more vigorously than the FMLN) to fulfill its obligations mandated by the peace accords in such areas as police and judicial reform. However, as the elections approached, ONUSAL became increasingly frustrated over the fact that their critical reports targeting defects in the electoral process were either being edited, watered down, or simply ignored before summaries were sent on to New York.44 Some UN observers believed that, as the expiration of his own term of service approached (end of March 1994), ONUSAL chief Augusto Ramirez Ocampo became less aggressive in pushing the government toward compliance owing to a personal interest in leaving El Salvador with a "success" to his credit.45 In fact, however, the post-election period demonstrated that external actors could still have some positive influence. The new ONUSAL head, Enrique ter Horst, energetically and successfully pushed the Cristiani government to move towards implementation of the remaining accords on the issues of land and police reform. The renewed activism of ONUSAL, now under new management, apparently coincided with ARENA's realization that a more inclusionary approach might serve their interests better than the stridency and obstructionism of the past. Nevertheless, the fact that death squad killings continued to take place after the election revealed that democracy in El Salvador had far to go. These gloomy predictions came close to becoming a self- fulfilling prophecy. In some ways, the shift in focus to the electoral moment was unwittingly fostered by outside observ- ers. The United States, anxious to declare democracy and withdraw, sent an official team to observe the elections, and its report tended to emphasize the positive. The downplaying of fraudulent aspects of the election prompted one opposition campaign official to conclude ruefully, "They got too enthusi- astic because there weren't any deaths" (Zelayandia, 1994). The United Nations, on its part, had developed an institutional interest in promoting a favorable view of the election because any failings of the El Salvador transition would reflect badly on the UN mission and on its peacekeeping image, recently bruised in Somalia and Angola. The ONUSAL officials on site had pressed the government insistently (perhaps even more vigorously than the FMLN) to fulfill its obligations mandated by the peace accords in such areas as police and judicial reform. However, as the elections approached, ONUSAL became increasingly frustrated over the fact that their critical reports targeting defects in the electoral process were either being edited, watered down, or simply ignored before summaries were sent on to New York.44 Some UN observers believed that, as the expiration of his own term of service approached (end of March 1994), ONUSAL chief Augusto Ramirez Ocampo became less aggressive in pushing the government toward compliance owing to a personal interest in leaving El Salvador with a "success" to his credit.45 In fact, however, the post-election period demonstrated that external actors could still have some positive influence. The new ONUSAL head, Enrique ter Horst, energetically and successfully pushed the Cristiani government to move towards implementation of the remaining accords on the issues of land and police reform. The renewed activism of ONUSAL, now under new management, apparently coincided with ARENA's realization that a more inclusionary approach might serve their interests better than the stridency and obstructionism of the past. Nevertheless, the fact that death squad killings continued to take place after the election revealed that democracy in El Salvador had far to go. These gloomy predictions came close to becoming a self- fulfilling prophecy. In some ways, the shift in focus to the electoral moment was unwittingly fostered by outside observ- ers. The United States, anxious to declare democracy and withdraw, sent an official team to observe the elections, and its report tended to emphasize the positive. The downplaying of fraudulent aspects of the election prompted one opposition campaign official to conclude ruefully, "They got too enthusi- astic because there weren't any deaths" (Zelayandia, 1994). The United Nations, on its part, had developed an institutional interest in promoting a favorable view of the election because any failings of the El Salvador transition would reflect badly on the UN mission and on its peacekeeping image, recently bruised in Somalia and Angola. The ONUSAL officials on site had pressed the government insistently (perhaps even more vigorously than the FMLN) to fulfill its obligations mandated by the peace accords in such areas as police and judicial reform. However, as the elections approached, ONUSAL became increasingly frustrated over the fact that their critical reports targeting defects in the electoral process were either being edited, watered down, or simply ignored before summaries were sent on to New York.44 Some UN observers believed that, as the expiration of his own term of service approached (end of March 1994), ONUSAL chief Augusto Ramirez Ocampo became less aggressive in pushing the government toward compliance owing to a personal interest in leaving El Salvador with a "success" to his credit.45 In fact, however, the post-election period demonstrated that external actors could still have some positive influence. The new ONUSAL head, Enrique ter Horst, energetically and successfully pushed the Cristiani government to move towards implementation of the remaining accords on the issues of land and police reform. The renewed activism of ONUSAL, now under new management, apparently coincided with ARENA's realization that a more inclusionary approach might serve their interests better than the stridency and obstructionism of the past. Nevertheless, the fact that death squad killings continued to take place after the election revealed that democracy in El Salvador had far to go. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 43 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 43 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 43 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 43 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 43 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 43 CONCLUSIONS: TOWARD SUSTAINABLE DEMOCRATIZATION? THE incomplete nature of EL Salvador's transition carries broad implications for democratization elsewhere in the region. Recent experience in Latin America suggests there remains ample reason for skepticism regarding electoral transitions to a restricted "democracy with adjectives," where militaries retain their veto power and international financial institutions have more influence than voters in defining a country's options (Black, 1993). It becomes increasingly clear that elections, in and of themselves, do not insure democracy. Public contest for office must be accompanied by meaningful political participation at all social levels in order for the state, its institutions and personnel, to be granted legitimacy by society. The Salvadoran case also casts doubt on the democratizing potential of externally constrained, pacted transitions. The problems that accompanied Nicaragua's transition from contra war to ceasefire and elections (Williams, 1990) underscore the difficulty of achieving consensus on the rules of the game, by the various political actors, without second-guessing the preferences of social forces. On the one hand, some consensus is essential to insure, for example, that the Salvadoran military and economic elites will agree that a street demonstration is not subversion, and that a death squad is not an acceptable way to maintain public order. On the other hand, prearranged deals that are agreeable to political elites may prove unacceptable to workers, to land- poor peasants who are former guerrillas, or to junior military officers. In El Salvador, a major weakness of its transition is the very vagueness of the political consensus that governs its democratization process, which was graphically made evident by the resistance to, and only partial implementation of, the peace accords prior to the 1994 elections. Without further progress toward expanding the participation of civil society and curbing the power of those institutions with no accountability to the public, the best that could be said of the 1994 elections, flaws and all, is that they were a step toward unconsolidated democ- ratization in the narrow, procedural sense of providing an electoral contest: in other words, a low-intensity democracy. CONCLUSIONS: TOWARD SUSTAINABLE DEMOCRATIZATION? THE incomplete nature of EL Salvador's transition carries broad implications for democratization elsewhere in the region. Recent experience in Latin America suggests there remains ample reason for skepticism regarding electoral transitions to a restricted "democracy with adjectives," where militaries retain their veto power and international financial institutions have more influence than voters in defining a country's options (Black, 1993). It becomes increasingly clear that elections, in and of themselves, do not insure democracy. Public contest for office must be accompanied by meaningful political participation at all social levels in order for the state, its institutions and personnel, to be granted legitimacy by society. The Salvadoran case also casts doubt on the democratizing potential of externally constrained, pacted transitions. The problems that accompanied Nicaragua's transition from contra war to ceasefire and elections (Williams, 1990) underscore the difficulty of achieving consensus on the rules of the game, by the various political actors, without second-guessing the preferences of social forces. On the one hand, some consensus is essential to insure, for example, that the Salvadoran military and economic elites will agree that a street demonstration is not subversion, and that a death squad is not an acceptable way to maintain public order. On the other hand, prearranged deals that are agreeable to political elites may prove unacceptable to workers, to land- poor peasants who are former guerrillas, or to junior military officers. In El Salvador, a major weakness of its transition is the very vagueness of the political consensus that governs its democratization process, which was graphically made evident by the resistance to, and only partial implementation of, the peace accords prior to the 1994 elections. Without further progress toward expanding the participation of civil society and curbing the power of those institutions with no accountability to the public, the best that could be said of the 1994 elections, flaws and all, is that they were a step toward unconsolidated democ- ratization in the narrow, procedural sense of providing an electoral contest: in other words, a low-intensity democracy. CONCLUSIONS: TOWARD SUSTAINABLE DEMOCRATIZATION? THE incomplete nature of EL Salvador's transition carries broad implications for democratization elsewhere in the region. Recent experience in Latin America suggests there remains ample reason for skepticism regarding electoral transitions to a restricted "democracy with adjectives," where militaries retain their veto power and international financial institutions have more influence than voters in defining a country's options (Black, 1993). It becomes increasingly clear that elections, in and of themselves, do not insure democracy. Public contest for office must be accompanied by meaningful political participation at all social levels in order for the state, its institutions and personnel, to be granted legitimacy by society. The Salvadoran case also casts doubt on the democratizing potential of externally constrained, pacted transitions. The problems that accompanied Nicaragua's transition from contra war to ceasefire and elections (Williams, 1990) underscore the difficulty of achieving consensus on the rules of the game, by the various political actors, without second-guessing the preferences of social forces. On the one hand, some consensus is essential to insure, for example, that the Salvadoran military and economic elites will agree that a street demonstration is not subversion, and that a death squad is not an acceptable way to maintain public order. On the other hand, prearranged deals that are agreeable to political elites may prove unacceptable to workers, to land- poor peasants who are former guerrillas, or to junior military officers. In El Salvador, a major weakness of its transition is the very vagueness of the political consensus that governs its democratization process, which was graphically made evident by the resistance to, and only partial implementation of, the peace accords prior to the 1994 elections. Without further progress toward expanding the participation of civil society and curbing the power of those institutions with no accountability to the public, the best that could be said of the 1994 elections, flaws and all, is that they were a step toward unconsolidated democ- ratization in the narrow, procedural sense of providing an electoral contest: in other words, a low-intensity democracy. CONCLUSIONS: TOWARD SUSTAINABLE DEMOCRATIZATION? THE incomplete nature of EL Salvador's transition carries broad implications for democratization elsewhere in the region. Recent experience in Latin America suggests there remains ample reason for skepticism regarding electoral transitions to a restricted "democracy with adjectives," where militaries retain their veto power and international financial institutions have more influence than voters in defining a country's options (Black, 1993). It becomes increasingly clear that elections, in and of themselves, do not insure democracy. Public contest for office must be accompanied by meaningful political participation at all social levels in order for the state, its institutions and personnel, to be granted legitimacy by society. The Salvadoran case also casts doubt on the democratizing potential of externally constrained, pacted transitions. The problems that accompanied Nicaragua's transition from contra war to ceasefire and elections (Williams, 1990) underscore the difficulty of achieving consensus on the rules of the game, by the various political actors, without second-guessing the preferences of social forces. On the one hand, some consensus is essential to insure, for example, that the Salvadoran military and economic elites will agree that a street demonstration is not subversion, and that a death squad is not an acceptable way to maintain public order. On the other hand, prearranged deals that are agreeable to political elites may prove unacceptable to workers, to land- poor peasants who are former guerrillas, or to junior military officers. In El Salvador, a major weakness of its transition is the very vagueness of the political consensus that governs its democratization process, which was graphically made evident by the resistance to, and only partial implementation of, the peace accords prior to the 1994 elections. Without further progress toward expanding the participation of civil society and curbing the power of those institutions with no accountability to the public, the best that could be said of the 1994 elections, flaws and all, is that they were a step toward unconsolidated democ- ratization in the narrow, procedural sense of providing an electoral contest: in other words, a low-intensity democracy. CONCLUSIONS: TOWARD SUSTAINABLE DEMOCRATIZATION? THE incomplete nature of EL Salvador's transition carries broad implications for democratization elsewhere in the region. Recent experience in Latin America suggests there remains ample reason for skepticism regarding electoral transitions to a restricted "democracy with adjectives," where militaries retain their veto power and international financial institutions have more influence than voters in defining a country's options (Black, 1993). It becomes increasingly clear that elections, in and of themselves, do not insure democracy. Public contest for office must be accompanied by meaningful political participation at all social levels in order for the state, its institutions and personnel, to be granted legitimacy by society. The Salvadoran case also casts doubt on the democratizing potential of externally constrained, pacted transitions. The problems that accompanied Nicaragua's transition from contra war to ceasefire and elections (Williams, 1990) underscore the difficulty of achieving consensus on the rules of the game, by the various political actors, without second-guessing the preferences of social forces. On the one hand, some consensus is essential to insure, for example, that the Salvadoran military and economic elites will agree that a street demonstration is not subversion, and that a death squad is not an acceptable way to maintain public order. On the other hand, prearranged deals that are agreeable to political elites may prove unacceptable to workers, to land- poor peasants who are former guerrillas, or to junior military officers. In El Salvador, a major weakness of its transition is the very vagueness of the political consensus that governs its democratization process, which was graphically made evident by the resistance to, and only partial implementation of, the peace accords prior to the 1994 elections. Without further progress toward expanding the participation of civil society and curbing the power of those institutions with no accountability to the public, the best that could be said of the 1994 elections, flaws and all, is that they were a step toward unconsolidated democ- ratization in the narrow, procedural sense of providing an electoral contest: in other words, a low-intensity democracy. CONCLUSIONS: TOWARD SUSTAINABLE DEMOCRATIZATION? THE incomplete nature of EL Salvador's transition carries broad implications for democratization elsewhere in the region. Recent experience in Latin America suggests there remains ample reason for skepticism regarding electoral transitions to a restricted "democracy with adjectives," where militaries retain their veto power and international financial institutions have more influence than voters in defining a country's options (Black, 1993). It becomes increasingly clear that elections, in and of themselves, do not insure democracy. Public contest for office must be accompanied by meaningful political participation at all social levels in order for the state, its institutions and personnel, to be granted legitimacy by society. The Salvadoran case also casts doubt on the democratizing potential of externally constrained, pacted transitions. The problems that accompanied Nicaragua's transition from contra war to ceasefire and elections (Williams, 1990) underscore the difficulty of achieving consensus on the rules of the game, by the various political actors, without second-guessing the preferences of social forces. On the one hand, some consensus is essential to insure, for example, that the Salvadoran military and economic elites will agree that a street demonstration is not subversion, and that a death squad is not an acceptable way to maintain public order. On the other hand, prearranged deals that are agreeable to political elites may prove unacceptable to workers, to land- poor peasants who are former guerrillas, or to junior military officers. In El Salvador, a major weakness of its transition is the very vagueness of the political consensus that governs its democratization process, which was graphically made evident by the resistance to, and only partial implementation of, the peace accords prior to the 1994 elections. Without further progress toward expanding the participation of civil society and curbing the power of those institutions with no accountability to the public, the best that could be said of the 1994 elections, flaws and all, is that they were a step toward unconsolidated democ- ratization in the narrow, procedural sense of providing an electoral contest: in other words, a low-intensity democracy. 44 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 44 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 44 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 44 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 44 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 44 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS El Salvador's transition highlights a general problem in negotiating a resolution to Central American revolutionary upheaval. An excessive focus on elections obscures the other underlying causes of these revolutions, which, if unaddressed, could resurface to undermine the stability of even elected governments. The issue of property rights blew up after the 1990 Nicaraguan election, and the question of indigenous rights must be addressed in any Guatemalan transition to democracy. After a decade of war combined with an already problematic economic model, Central America is plagued with social breakdown and delinquency. At the moment, El Salva- dor may be less desperate than Nicaragua, but family remit- tances and a surge of external financing motivated by goodwill are not inexhaustible resources. If Central America's transitions to democracy are to last and become stronger, they will need to be buttressed by a model of sustainable development in which the poor majorities can participate. Finally, the Salvadoran experience suggests that the role of external actors in democratization is not unambiguously positive. Observing elections, in particular, has many short- comings. For one thing, it tends to focus attention on one aspect, and one moment, of the transition in a way which may distort the negotiated timetable. For another, the mere pres- ence of outside observers may lend legitimacy to a fraudulent election or to an undemocratic regime. Furthermore, the more deeply involved the observer mission, the greater its vested interest in validating the process. Finally, another problem with election observations is the inconsistency of the criteria applied to the various elections and/or to the sanctions or rewards deemed appropriate: e.g. Nicaragua 1984 and 1990, Panama 1984 and 1989, Mexico 1988 and 1994. With the end of the Cold War, the pattern of US disengagement, coupled with the growing involvement of multilateral institutions (ranging from the UN to the World Bank), bears further study. As each of these actors redefines its role in countries undergoing regime tran- sition, their particular agendas will not necessarily coalesce into support for sustained processes of democratization. El Salvador's transition highlights a general problem in negotiating a resolution to Central American revolutionary upheaval. An excessive focus on elections obscures the other underlying causes of these revolutions, which, if unaddressed, could resurface to undermine the stability of even elected governments. The issue of property rights blew up after the 1990 Nicaraguan election, and the question of indigenous rights must be addressed in any Guatemalan transition to democracy. After a decade of war combined with an already problematic economic model, Central America is plagued with social breakdown and delinquency. At the moment, El Salva- dor may be less desperate than Nicaragua, but family remit- tances and a surge of external financing motivated by goodwill are not inexhaustible resources. If Central America's transitions to democracy are to last and become stronger, they will need to be buttressed by a model of sustainable development in which the poor majorities can participate. Finally, the Salvadoran experience suggests that the role of external actors in democratization is not unambiguously positive. Observing elections, in particular, has many short- comings. For one thing, it tends to focus attention on one aspect, and one moment, of the transition in a way which may distort the negotiated timetable. For another, the mere pres- ence of outside observers may lend legitimacy to a fraudulent election or to an undemocratic regime. Furthermore, the more deeply involved the observer mission, the greater its vested interest in validating the process. Finally, another problem with election observations is the inconsistency of the criteria applied to the various elections and/or to the sanctions or rewards deemed appropriate: e.g. Nicaragua 1984 and 1990, Panama 1984 and 1989, Mexico 1988 and 1994. With the end of the Cold War, the pattern of US disengagement, coupled with the growing involvement of multilateral institutions (ranging from the UN to the World Bank), bears further study. As each of these actors redefines its role in countries undergoing regime tran- sition, their particular agendas will not necessarily coalesce into support for sustained processes of democratization. El Salvador's transition highlights a general problem in negotiating a resolution to Central American revolutionary upheaval. An excessive focus on elections obscures the other underlying causes of these revolutions, which, if unaddressed, could resurface to undermine the stability of even elected governments. The issue of property rights blew up after the 1990 Nicaraguan election, and the question of indigenous rights must be addressed in any Guatemalan transition to democracy. After a decade of war combined with an already problematic economic model, Central America is plagued with social breakdown and delinquency. At the moment, El Salva- dor may be less desperate than Nicaragua, but family remit- tances and a surge of external financing motivated by goodwill are not inexhaustible resources. If Central America's transitions to democracy are to last and become stronger, they will need to be buttressed by a model of sustainable development in which the poor majorities can participate. Finally, the Salvadoran experience suggests that the role of external actors in democratization is not unambiguously positive. Observing elections, in particular, has many short- comings. For one thing, it tends to focus attention on one aspect, and one moment, of the transition in a way which may distort the negotiated timetable. For another, the mere pres- ence of outside observers may lend legitimacy to a fraudulent election or to an undemocratic regime. Furthermore, the more deeply involved the observer mission, the greater its vested interest in validating the process. Finally, another problem with election observations is the inconsistency of the criteria applied to the various elections and/or to the sanctions or rewards deemed appropriate: e.g. Nicaragua 1984 and 1990, Panama 1984 and 1989, Mexico 1988 and 1994. With the end of the Cold War, the pattern of US disengagement, coupled with the growing involvement of multilateral institutions (ranging from the UN to the World Bank), bears further study. As each of these actors redefines its role in countries undergoing regime tran- sition, their particular agendas will not necessarily coalesce into support for sustained processes of democratization. El Salvador's transition highlights a general problem in negotiating a resolution to Central American revolutionary upheaval. An excessive focus on elections obscures the other underlying causes of these revolutions, which, if unaddressed, could resurface to undermine the stability of even elected governments. The issue of property rights blew up after the 1990 Nicaraguan election, and the question of indigenous rights must be addressed in any Guatemalan transition to democracy. After a decade of war combined with an already problematic economic model, Central America is plagued with social breakdown and delinquency. At the moment, El Salva- dor may be less desperate than Nicaragua, but family remit- tances and a surge of external financing motivated by goodwill are not inexhaustible resources. If Central America's transitions to democracy are to last and become stronger, they will need to be buttressed by a model of sustainable development in which the poor majorities can participate. Finally, the Salvadoran experience suggests that the role of external actors in democratization is not unambiguously positive. Observing elections, in particular, has many short- comings. For one thing, it tends to focus attention on one aspect, and one moment, of the transition in a way which may distort the negotiated timetable. For another, the mere pres- ence of outside observers may lend legitimacy to a fraudulent election or to an undemocratic regime. Furthermore, the more deeply involved the observer mission, the greater its vested interest in validating the process. Finally, another problem with election observations is the inconsistency of the criteria applied to the various elections and/or to the sanctions or rewards deemed appropriate: e.g. Nicaragua 1984 and 1990, Panama 1984 and 1989, Mexico 1988 and 1994. With the end of the Cold War, the pattern of US disengagement, coupled with the growing involvement of multilateral institutions (ranging from the UN to the World Bank), bears further study. As each of these actors redefines its role in countries undergoing regime tran- sition, their particular agendas will not necessarily coalesce into support for sustained processes of democratization. El Salvador's transition highlights a general problem in negotiating a resolution to Central American revolutionary upheaval. An excessive focus on elections obscures the other underlying causes of these revolutions, which, if unaddressed, could resurface to undermine the stability of even elected governments. The issue of property rights blew up after the 1990 Nicaraguan election, and the question of indigenous rights must be addressed in any Guatemalan transition to democracy. After a decade of war combined with an already problematic economic model, Central America is plagued with social breakdown and delinquency. At the moment, El Salva- dor may be less desperate than Nicaragua, but family remit- tances and a surge of external financing motivated by goodwill are not inexhaustible resources. If Central America's transitions to democracy are to last and become stronger, they will need to be buttressed by a model of sustainable development in which the poor majorities can participate. Finally, the Salvadoran experience suggests that the role of external actors in democratization is not unambiguously positive. Observing elections, in particular, has many short- comings. For one thing, it tends to focus attention on one aspect, and one moment, of the transition in a way which may distort the negotiated timetable. For another, the mere pres- ence of outside observers may lend legitimacy to a fraudulent election or to an undemocratic regime. Furthermore, the more deeply involved the observer mission, the greater its vested interest in validating the process. Finally, another problem with election observations is the inconsistency of the criteria applied to the various elections and/or to the sanctions or rewards deemed appropriate: e.g. Nicaragua 1984 and 1990, Panama 1984 and 1989, Mexico 1988 and 1994. With the end of the Cold War, the pattern of US disengagement, coupled with the growing involvement of multilateral institutions (ranging from the UN to the World Bank), bears further study. As each of these actors redefines its role in countries undergoing regime tran- sition, their particular agendas will not necessarily coalesce into support for sustained processes of democratization. El Salvador's transition highlights a general problem in negotiating a resolution to Central American revolutionary upheaval. An excessive focus on elections obscures the other underlying causes of these revolutions, which, if unaddressed, could resurface to undermine the stability of even elected governments. The issue of property rights blew up after the 1990 Nicaraguan election, and the question of indigenous rights must be addressed in any Guatemalan transition to democracy. After a decade of war combined with an already problematic economic model, Central America is plagued with social breakdown and delinquency. At the moment, El Salva- dor may be less desperate than Nicaragua, but family remit- tances and a surge of external financing motivated by goodwill are not inexhaustible resources. If Central America's transitions to democracy are to last and become stronger, they will need to be buttressed by a model of sustainable development in which the poor majorities can participate. Finally, the Salvadoran experience suggests that the role of external actors in democratization is not unambiguously positive. Observing elections, in particular, has many short- comings. For one thing, it tends to focus attention on one aspect, and one moment, of the transition in a way which may distort the negotiated timetable. For another, the mere pres- ence of outside observers may lend legitimacy to a fraudulent election or to an undemocratic regime. Furthermore, the more deeply involved the observer mission, the greater its vested interest in validating the process. Finally, another problem with election observations is the inconsistency of the criteria applied to the various elections and/or to the sanctions or rewards deemed appropriate: e.g. Nicaragua 1984 and 1990, Panama 1984 and 1989, Mexico 1988 and 1994. With the end of the Cold War, the pattern of US disengagement, coupled with the growing involvement of multilateral institutions (ranging from the UN to the World Bank), bears further study. As each of these actors redefines its role in countries undergoing regime tran- sition, their particular agendas will not necessarily coalesce into support for sustained processes of democratization. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 45 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 45 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 45 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 45 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 45 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 45 ACRONYMS AID ....................... (US) Agency for International Development AIFLD ............... American Institute for Free Labor Development ANSP ..................... Academia Nacional de Seguridad Puiblica ANTEL ............... Administracion Nacional d Telecomunicaciones ARENA ............. Alianza Republicana Nacionalista CD ................ Convergencia Democratica CENITEC ...............Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicas y Cientificas CESPAD ................ Centro de Estudios para la Aplicacion del Derecho CIHD ............... Comisi6n de Investigacion de Hechos Delictivos CONARA .............. Comision Nacional para la Restauracion de Areas Afectadas CRIES .................... Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Economicas y Sociales ERP ................ Expresion Renovadora del Pueblo FDR/FMLN ............ Frente Democratico Revolucionario/ Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FIS ......................... Fondo de Inversi6n Social FLACSO .................Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales FMLN ..................... Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FUSADES .............. Fundaci6n Salvadorefa para el Desarrollo Economico y Social ISTA ............... Instituto Salvadorefio de Transformaci6n Agraria MAC ...................... Movimiento Autentico Cristiano MNR ......................Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario MSN ....................... Movimiento de Solidaridad Nacional MU ........................Movimiento de Unidad ACRONYMS AID ....................... (US) Agency for International Development AIFLD ............... American Institute for Free Labor Development ANSP ..................... Academia Nacional de Seguridad Puiblica ANTEL ............... Administracion Nacional d Telecomunicaciones ARENA ............. Alianza Republicana Nacionalista CD ................ Convergencia Democratica CENITEC ...............Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicas y Cientificas CESPAD ................ Centro de Estudios para la Aplicacion del Derecho CIHD ............... Comisi6n de Investigacion de Hechos Delictivos CONARA .............. Comision Nacional para la Restauracion de Areas Afectadas CRIES .................... Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Economicas y Sociales ERP ................ Expresion Renovadora del Pueblo FDR/FMLN ............ Frente Democratico Revolucionario/ Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FIS ......................... Fondo de Inversi6n Social FLACSO .................Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales FMLN ..................... Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FUSADES .............. Fundaci6n Salvadorefa para el Desarrollo Economico y Social ISTA ............... Instituto Salvadorefio de Transformaci6n Agraria MAC ...................... Movimiento Autentico Cristiano MNR ......................Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario MSN ....................... Movimiento de Solidaridad Nacional MU ........................Movimiento de Unidad ACRONYMS AID ....................... (US) Agency for International Development AIFLD ............... American Institute for Free Labor Development ANSP ..................... Academia Nacional de Seguridad Puiblica ANTEL ............... Administracion Nacional d Telecomunicaciones ARENA ............. Alianza Republicana Nacionalista CD ................ Convergencia Democratica CENITEC ...............Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicas y Cientificas CESPAD ................ Centro de Estudios para la Aplicacion del Derecho CIHD ............... Comisi6n de Investigacion de Hechos Delictivos CONARA .............. Comision Nacional para la Restauracion de Areas Afectadas CRIES .................... Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Economicas y Sociales ERP ................ Expresion Renovadora del Pueblo FDR/FMLN ............ Frente Democratico Revolucionario/ Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FIS ......................... Fondo de Inversi6n Social FLACSO .................Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales FMLN ..................... Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FUSADES .............. Fundaci6n Salvadorefa para el Desarrollo Economico y Social ISTA ............... Instituto Salvadorefio de Transformaci6n Agraria MAC ...................... Movimiento Autentico Cristiano MNR ......................Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario MSN ....................... Movimiento de Solidaridad Nacional MU ........................Movimiento de Unidad ACRONYMS AID ....................... (US) Agency for International Development AIFLD ............... American Institute for Free Labor Development ANSP ..................... Academia Nacional de Seguridad Puiblica ANTEL ............... Administracion Nacional d Telecomunicaciones ARENA ............. Alianza Republicana Nacionalista CD ................ Convergencia Democratica CENITEC ...............Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicas y Cientificas CESPAD ................ Centro de Estudios para la Aplicacion del Derecho CIHD ............... Comisi6n de Investigacion de Hechos Delictivos CONARA .............. Comision Nacional para la Restauracion de Areas Afectadas CRIES .................... Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Economicas y Sociales ERP ................ Expresion Renovadora del Pueblo FDR/FMLN ............ Frente Democratico Revolucionario/ Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FIS ......................... Fondo de Inversi6n Social FLACSO .................Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales FMLN ..................... Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FUSADES .............. Fundaci6n Salvadorefa para el Desarrollo Economico y Social ISTA ............... Instituto Salvadorefio de Transformaci6n Agraria MAC ...................... Movimiento Autentico Cristiano MNR ......................Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario MSN ....................... Movimiento de Solidaridad Nacional MU ........................Movimiento de Unidad ACRONYMS AID ....................... (US) Agency for International Development AIFLD ............... American Institute for Free Labor Development ANSP ..................... Academia Nacional de Seguridad Puiblica ANTEL ............... Administracion Nacional d Telecomunicaciones ARENA ............. Alianza Republicana Nacionalista CD ................ Convergencia Democratica CENITEC ...............Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicas y Cientificas CESPAD ................ Centro de Estudios para la Aplicacion del Derecho CIHD ............... Comisi6n de Investigacion de Hechos Delictivos CONARA .............. Comision Nacional para la Restauracion de Areas Afectadas CRIES .................... Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Economicas y Sociales ERP ................ Expresion Renovadora del Pueblo FDR/FMLN ............ Frente Democratico Revolucionario/ Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FIS ......................... Fondo de Inversi6n Social FLACSO .................Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales FMLN ..................... Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FUSADES .............. Fundaci6n Salvadorefa para el Desarrollo Economico y Social ISTA ............... Instituto Salvadorefio de Transformaci6n Agraria MAC ...................... Movimiento Autentico Cristiano MNR ......................Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario MSN ....................... Movimiento de Solidaridad Nacional MU ........................Movimiento de Unidad ACRONYMS AID ....................... (US) Agency for International Development AIFLD ............... American Institute for Free Labor Development ANSP ..................... Academia Nacional de Seguridad Puiblica ANTEL ............... Administracion Nacional d Telecomunicaciones ARENA ............. Alianza Republicana Nacionalista CD ................ Convergencia Democratica CENITEC ...............Centro de Investigaciones Tecnologicas y Cientificas CESPAD ................ Centro de Estudios para la Aplicacion del Derecho CIHD ............... Comisi6n de Investigacion de Hechos Delictivos CONARA .............. Comision Nacional para la Restauracion de Areas Afectadas CRIES .................... Coordinadora Regional de Investigaciones Economicas y Sociales ERP ................ Expresion Renovadora del Pueblo FDR/FMLN ............ Frente Democratico Revolucionario/ Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FIS ......................... Fondo de Inversi6n Social FLACSO .................Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales FMLN ..................... Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberacion Nacional FUSADES .............. Fundaci6n Salvadorefa para el Desarrollo Economico y Social ISTA ............... Instituto Salvadorefio de Transformaci6n Agraria MAC ...................... Movimiento Autentico Cristiano MNR ......................Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario MSN ....................... Movimiento de Solidaridad Nacional MU ........................Movimiento de Unidad 46 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 46 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 46 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 46 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 46 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 46 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS NED ......................National Endowment for Democracy NGO ............... non-governmental organizations ONUSAL ............. Misi6n de Observadores de las Naciones Unidas en El Salvador PCN ....................... Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional PDC ....................... Partido Democrata Cristiano PN .........................Policia Nacional PNC .......................Policia Nacional Civilista PRN .......................Plan de Reconstrucci6n Nacional SRN ....................... Secretaria de Reconstrucci6n Nacional TSE ........... ..... Tribunal Supremo Electoral UEA ............. Unidad Especial Anti-narc6tica NOTES 1. For skeptical perspectives on the role of the United States in democratization, see Gills et al. (1993) and Robinson (1992). 2. For critical assessments of the US strategy of combining reforms with the attempt to defeat the Central American radical Left by military means, see LeoGrande (1984), Blachman et al. (1986), Hamilton et al. (1988), Arnson (1993), and Dunkerley (1994). 3. On the dilemmas of US policy that pursued both reform and military victory in El Salvador, see Karl (1988), Montgomery (1990), and Sundaram and Gelber (1991). Investigative journalism, sup- ported by documents declassified by the Clinton administration, suggests that, at least in the case of the 1981 massacre at El Mozote, the US actively helped to cover up human rights abuses of the Salvadoran government (Danner, 1994). 4. Detailed discussion of the events leading to the negotiation of El Salvador's peace accords can be found in Karl (1992), Vickers (1992), Munck (1993), and Montgomery (1995: 213-226). 5. Official US policy saw no contradiction between democracy and the political exclusion of the Left by death squads: The 25 March 1982 Constituent Assembly elections marked El Salvador's return to democracy ... The Legislative Assem- bly and Municipal elections of March 1991 were the seventh free and democratic elections held in El Salvador and the first in which the Left actively participated (US-AID, 1994: 1). NED ......................National Endowment for Democracy NGO ............... non-governmental organizations ONUSAL ............. Misi6n de Observadores de las Naciones Unidas en El Salvador PCN ....................... Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional PDC ....................... Partido Democrata Cristiano PN .........................Policia Nacional PNC .......................Policia Nacional Civilista PRN .......................Plan de Reconstrucci6n Nacional SRN ....................... Secretaria de Reconstrucci6n Nacional TSE ........... ..... Tribunal Supremo Electoral UEA ............. Unidad Especial Anti-narc6tica NOTES 1. For skeptical perspectives on the role of the United States in democratization, see Gills et al. (1993) and Robinson (1992). 2. For critical assessments of the US strategy of combining reforms with the attempt to defeat the Central American radical Left by military means, see LeoGrande (1984), Blachman et al. (1986), Hamilton et al. (1988), Arnson (1993), and Dunkerley (1994). 3. On the dilemmas of US policy that pursued both reform and military victory in El Salvador, see Karl (1988), Montgomery (1990), and Sundaram and Gelber (1991). Investigative journalism, sup- ported by documents declassified by the Clinton administration, suggests that, at least in the case of the 1981 massacre at El Mozote, the US actively helped to cover up human rights abuses of the Salvadoran government (Danner, 1994). 4. Detailed discussion of the events leading to the negotiation of El Salvador's peace accords can be found in Karl (1992), Vickers (1992), Munck (1993), and Montgomery (1995: 213-226). 5. Official US policy saw no contradiction between democracy and the political exclusion of the Left by death squads: The 25 March 1982 Constituent Assembly elections marked El Salvador's return to democracy ... The Legislative Assem- bly and Municipal elections of March 1991 were the seventh free and democratic elections held in El Salvador and the first in which the Left actively participated (US-AID, 1994: 1). NED ......................National Endowment for Democracy NGO ............... non-governmental organizations ONUSAL ............. Misi6n de Observadores de las Naciones Unidas en El Salvador PCN ....................... Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional PDC ....................... Partido Democrata Cristiano PN .........................Policia Nacional PNC .......................Policia Nacional Civilista PRN .......................Plan de Reconstrucci6n Nacional SRN ....................... Secretaria de Reconstrucci6n Nacional TSE ........... ..... Tribunal Supremo Electoral UEA ............. Unidad Especial Anti-narc6tica NOTES 1. For skeptical perspectives on the role of the United States in democratization, see Gills et al. (1993) and Robinson (1992). 2. For critical assessments of the US strategy of combining reforms with the attempt to defeat the Central American radical Left by military means, see LeoGrande (1984), Blachman et al. (1986), Hamilton et al. (1988), Arnson (1993), and Dunkerley (1994). 3. On the dilemmas of US policy that pursued both reform and military victory in El Salvador, see Karl (1988), Montgomery (1990), and Sundaram and Gelber (1991). Investigative journalism, sup- ported by documents declassified by the Clinton administration, suggests that, at least in the case of the 1981 massacre at El Mozote, the US actively helped to cover up human rights abuses of the Salvadoran government (Danner, 1994). 4. Detailed discussion of the events leading to the negotiation of El Salvador's peace accords can be found in Karl (1992), Vickers (1992), Munck (1993), and Montgomery (1995: 213-226). 5. Official US policy saw no contradiction between democracy and the political exclusion of the Left by death squads: The 25 March 1982 Constituent Assembly elections marked El Salvador's return to democracy ... The Legislative Assem- bly and Municipal elections of March 1991 were the seventh free and democratic elections held in El Salvador and the first in which the Left actively participated (US-AID, 1994: 1). NED ......................National Endowment for Democracy NGO ............... non-governmental organizations ONUSAL ............. Misi6n de Observadores de las Naciones Unidas en El Salvador PCN ....................... Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional PDC ....................... Partido Democrata Cristiano PN .........................Policia Nacional PNC .......................Policia Nacional Civilista PRN .......................Plan de Reconstrucci6n Nacional SRN ....................... Secretaria de Reconstrucci6n Nacional TSE ........... ..... Tribunal Supremo Electoral UEA ............. Unidad Especial Anti-narc6tica NOTES 1. For skeptical perspectives on the role of the United States in democratization, see Gills et al. (1993) and Robinson (1992). 2. For critical assessments of the US strategy of combining reforms with the attempt to defeat the Central American radical Left by military means, see LeoGrande (1984), Blachman et al. (1986), Hamilton et al. (1988), Arnson (1993), and Dunkerley (1994). 3. On the dilemmas of US policy that pursued both reform and military victory in El Salvador, see Karl (1988), Montgomery (1990), and Sundaram and Gelber (1991). Investigative journalism, sup- ported by documents declassified by the Clinton administration, suggests that, at least in the case of the 1981 massacre at El Mozote, the US actively helped to cover up human rights abuses of the Salvadoran government (Danner, 1994). 4. Detailed discussion of the events leading to the negotiation of El Salvador's peace accords can be found in Karl (1992), Vickers (1992), Munck (1993), and Montgomery (1995: 213-226). 5. Official US policy saw no contradiction between democracy and the political exclusion of the Left by death squads: The 25 March 1982 Constituent Assembly elections marked El Salvador's return to democracy ... The Legislative Assem- bly and Municipal elections of March 1991 were the seventh free and democratic elections held in El Salvador and the first in which the Left actively participated (US-AID, 1994: 1). NED ......................National Endowment for Democracy NGO ............... non-governmental organizations ONUSAL ............. Misi6n de Observadores de las Naciones Unidas en El Salvador PCN ....................... Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional PDC ....................... Partido Democrata Cristiano PN .........................Policia Nacional PNC .......................Policia Nacional Civilista PRN .......................Plan de Reconstrucci6n Nacional SRN ....................... Secretaria de Reconstrucci6n Nacional TSE ........... ..... Tribunal Supremo Electoral UEA ............. Unidad Especial Anti-narc6tica NOTES 1. For skeptical perspectives on the role of the United States in democratization, see Gills et al. (1993) and Robinson (1992). 2. For critical assessments of the US strategy of combining reforms with the attempt to defeat the Central American radical Left by military means, see LeoGrande (1984), Blachman et al. (1986), Hamilton et al. (1988), Arnson (1993), and Dunkerley (1994). 3. On the dilemmas of US policy that pursued both reform and military victory in El Salvador, see Karl (1988), Montgomery (1990), and Sundaram and Gelber (1991). Investigative journalism, sup- ported by documents declassified by the Clinton administration, suggests that, at least in the case of the 1981 massacre at El Mozote, the US actively helped to cover up human rights abuses of the Salvadoran government (Danner, 1994). 4. Detailed discussion of the events leading to the negotiation of El Salvador's peace accords can be found in Karl (1992), Vickers (1992), Munck (1993), and Montgomery (1995: 213-226). 5. Official US policy saw no contradiction between democracy and the political exclusion of the Left by death squads: The 25 March 1982 Constituent Assembly elections marked El Salvador's return to democracy ... The Legislative Assem- bly and Municipal elections of March 1991 were the seventh free and democratic elections held in El Salvador and the first in which the Left actively participated (US-AID, 1994: 1). NED ......................National Endowment for Democracy NGO ............... non-governmental organizations ONUSAL ............. Misi6n de Observadores de las Naciones Unidas en El Salvador PCN ....................... Partido de Conciliaci6n Nacional PDC ....................... Partido Democrata Cristiano PN .........................Policia Nacional PNC .......................Policia Nacional Civilista PRN .......................Plan de Reconstrucci6n Nacional SRN ....................... Secretaria de Reconstrucci6n Nacional TSE ........... ..... Tribunal Supremo Electoral UEA ............. Unidad Especial Anti-narc6tica NOTES 1. For skeptical perspectives on the role of the United States in democratization, see Gills et al. (1993) and Robinson (1992). 2. For critical assessments of the US strategy of combining reforms with the attempt to defeat the Central American radical Left by military means, see LeoGrande (1984), Blachman et al. (1986), Hamilton et al. (1988), Arnson (1993), and Dunkerley (1994). 3. On the dilemmas of US policy that pursued both reform and military victory in El Salvador, see Karl (1988), Montgomery (1990), and Sundaram and Gelber (1991). Investigative journalism, sup- ported by documents declassified by the Clinton administration, suggests that, at least in the case of the 1981 massacre at El Mozote, the US actively helped to cover up human rights abuses of the Salvadoran government (Danner, 1994). 4. Detailed discussion of the events leading to the negotiation of El Salvador's peace accords can be found in Karl (1992), Vickers (1992), Munck (1993), and Montgomery (1995: 213-226). 5. Official US policy saw no contradiction between democracy and the political exclusion of the Left by death squads: The 25 March 1982 Constituent Assembly elections marked El Salvador's return to democracy ... The Legislative Assem- bly and Municipal elections of March 1991 were the seventh free and democratic elections held in El Salvador and the first in which the Left actively participated (US-AID, 1994: 1). STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 47 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 47 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 47 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 47 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 47 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 47 6. After the Reagan administration sent special envoy General Vernon Walters to El Salvador to point out that a D'Aubuisson presidency would jeopardize US military aid, the Army High Com- mand installed Magafia, who had close ties with the military. 7. As Karl points out, the pacts upon which new democracies are founded must be comprehensive in scope, as well as inclusive of the main political actors. They typically include "a series of agree- ments that are interlocking and dependent upon each other," covering both the conditions for transition to new rules of governing and a basic social contract (Karl, 1990: 11). 8. In 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated while saying mass in the Cathedral. In 1981, there were widespread reports that inhabitants of the town of El Mozote had been rounded up and killed by army forces, stories that were denied at the time but subsequently substantiated after the civil war ended by investigators who were finally permitted to explore the scene. In 1989, six Jesuit priests who taught at the University and were openly critical of the regime were assassinated as they slept, along with their housekeeper and her daughter, allegedly by a death squad acting under instruc- tions from the military. 9. The amnesty went far beyond a more limited "National Reconciliation Law" passed (with the support of the Left) just after the peace accords were signed (Spence et al., 1994: 6). 10. Author interview with member of the UN observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) on 17 March 1994. President Cristiani rejected proposals that the Joint Group be composed of non- governmental officials, insisting that the government name 2 of the 4 members. When the report finally came out (28 July 1994), it noted the obvious fact that the death squads could only be operating with the continued involvement of some members of the military and police, but it was otherwise short on details and was dismissed by government and military figures. 11. Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC legislative deputy and campaign manager, stated flatly in an interview that "the structure of impunity has not been broken here" (LeChevalier, 1994); see also Popkin et al. (1993: 7-8) and Amnesty International (1993: 4-15). 12. Mario Lopez had been a member of the FMLN team that negotiated the peace accords; of the other 2 high-ranking figures killed: Francisco Velis was a member of the FMLN National Council and Eleno Hernan Castro was on the FMLN land commission. Political 6. After the Reagan administration sent special envoy General Vernon Walters to El Salvador to point out that a D'Aubuisson presidency would jeopardize US military aid, the Army High Com- mand installed Magafia, who had close ties with the military. 7. As Karl points out, the pacts upon which new democracies are founded must be comprehensive in scope, as well as inclusive of the main political actors. They typically include "a series of agree- ments that are interlocking and dependent upon each other," covering both the conditions for transition to new rules of governing and a basic social contract (Karl, 1990: 11). 8. In 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated while saying mass in the Cathedral. In 1981, there were widespread reports that inhabitants of the town of El Mozote had been rounded up and killed by army forces, stories that were denied at the time but subsequently substantiated after the civil war ended by investigators who were finally permitted to explore the scene. In 1989, six Jesuit priests who taught at the University and were openly critical of the regime were assassinated as they slept, along with their housekeeper and her daughter, allegedly by a death squad acting under instruc- tions from the military. 9. The amnesty went far beyond a more limited "National Reconciliation Law" passed (with the support of the Left) just after the peace accords were signed (Spence et al., 1994: 6). 10. Author interview with member of the UN observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) on 17 March 1994. President Cristiani rejected proposals that the Joint Group be composed of non- governmental officials, insisting that the government name 2 of the 4 members. When the report finally came out (28 July 1994), it noted the obvious fact that the death squads could only be operating with the continued involvement of some members of the military and police, but it was otherwise short on details and was dismissed by government and military figures. 11. Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC legislative deputy and campaign manager, stated flatly in an interview that "the structure of impunity has not been broken here" (LeChevalier, 1994); see also Popkin et al. (1993: 7-8) and Amnesty International (1993: 4-15). 12. Mario Lopez had been a member of the FMLN team that negotiated the peace accords; of the other 2 high-ranking figures killed: Francisco Velis was a member of the FMLN National Council and Eleno Hernan Castro was on the FMLN land commission. Political 6. After the Reagan administration sent special envoy General Vernon Walters to El Salvador to point out that a D'Aubuisson presidency would jeopardize US military aid, the Army High Com- mand installed Magafia, who had close ties with the military. 7. As Karl points out, the pacts upon which new democracies are founded must be comprehensive in scope, as well as inclusive of the main political actors. They typically include "a series of agree- ments that are interlocking and dependent upon each other," covering both the conditions for transition to new rules of governing and a basic social contract (Karl, 1990: 11). 8. In 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated while saying mass in the Cathedral. In 1981, there were widespread reports that inhabitants of the town of El Mozote had been rounded up and killed by army forces, stories that were denied at the time but subsequently substantiated after the civil war ended by investigators who were finally permitted to explore the scene. In 1989, six Jesuit priests who taught at the University and were openly critical of the regime were assassinated as they slept, along with their housekeeper and her daughter, allegedly by a death squad acting under instruc- tions from the military. 9. The amnesty went far beyond a more limited "National Reconciliation Law" passed (with the support of the Left) just after the peace accords were signed (Spence et al., 1994: 6). 10. Author interview with member of the UN observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) on 17 March 1994. President Cristiani rejected proposals that the Joint Group be composed of non- governmental officials, insisting that the government name 2 of the 4 members. When the report finally came out (28 July 1994), it noted the obvious fact that the death squads could only be operating with the continued involvement of some members of the military and police, but it was otherwise short on details and was dismissed by government and military figures. 11. Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC legislative deputy and campaign manager, stated flatly in an interview that "the structure of impunity has not been broken here" (LeChevalier, 1994); see also Popkin et al. (1993: 7-8) and Amnesty International (1993: 4-15). 12. Mario Lopez had been a member of the FMLN team that negotiated the peace accords; of the other 2 high-ranking figures killed: Francisco Velis was a member of the FMLN National Council and Eleno Hernan Castro was on the FMLN land commission. Political 6. After the Reagan administration sent special envoy General Vernon Walters to El Salvador to point out that a D'Aubuisson presidency would jeopardize US military aid, the Army High Com- mand installed Magafia, who had close ties with the military. 7. As Karl points out, the pacts upon which new democracies are founded must be comprehensive in scope, as well as inclusive of the main political actors. They typically include "a series of agree- ments that are interlocking and dependent upon each other," covering both the conditions for transition to new rules of governing and a basic social contract (Karl, 1990: 11). 8. In 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated while saying mass in the Cathedral. In 1981, there were widespread reports that inhabitants of the town of El Mozote had been rounded up and killed by army forces, stories that were denied at the time but subsequently substantiated after the civil war ended by investigators who were finally permitted to explore the scene. In 1989, six Jesuit priests who taught at the University and were openly critical of the regime were assassinated as they slept, along with their housekeeper and her daughter, allegedly by a death squad acting under instruc- tions from the military. 9. The amnesty went far beyond a more limited "National Reconciliation Law" passed (with the support of the Left) just after the peace accords were signed (Spence et al., 1994: 6). 10. Author interview with member of the UN observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) on 17 March 1994. President Cristiani rejected proposals that the Joint Group be composed of non- governmental officials, insisting that the government name 2 of the 4 members. When the report finally came out (28 July 1994), it noted the obvious fact that the death squads could only be operating with the continued involvement of some members of the military and police, but it was otherwise short on details and was dismissed by government and military figures. 11. Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC legislative deputy and campaign manager, stated flatly in an interview that "the structure of impunity has not been broken here" (LeChevalier, 1994); see also Popkin et al. (1993: 7-8) and Amnesty International (1993: 4-15). 12. Mario Lopez had been a member of the FMLN team that negotiated the peace accords; of the other 2 high-ranking figures killed: Francisco Velis was a member of the FMLN National Council and Eleno Hernan Castro was on the FMLN land commission. Political 6. After the Reagan administration sent special envoy General Vernon Walters to El Salvador to point out that a D'Aubuisson presidency would jeopardize US military aid, the Army High Com- mand installed Magafia, who had close ties with the military. 7. As Karl points out, the pacts upon which new democracies are founded must be comprehensive in scope, as well as inclusive of the main political actors. They typically include "a series of agree- ments that are interlocking and dependent upon each other," covering both the conditions for transition to new rules of governing and a basic social contract (Karl, 1990: 11). 8. In 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated while saying mass in the Cathedral. In 1981, there were widespread reports that inhabitants of the town of El Mozote had been rounded up and killed by army forces, stories that were denied at the time but subsequently substantiated after the civil war ended by investigators who were finally permitted to explore the scene. In 1989, six Jesuit priests who taught at the University and were openly critical of the regime were assassinated as they slept, along with their housekeeper and her daughter, allegedly by a death squad acting under instruc- tions from the military. 9. The amnesty went far beyond a more limited "National Reconciliation Law" passed (with the support of the Left) just after the peace accords were signed (Spence et al., 1994: 6). 10. Author interview with member of the UN observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) on 17 March 1994. President Cristiani rejected proposals that the Joint Group be composed of non- governmental officials, insisting that the government name 2 of the 4 members. When the report finally came out (28 July 1994), it noted the obvious fact that the death squads could only be operating with the continued involvement of some members of the military and police, but it was otherwise short on details and was dismissed by government and military figures. 11. Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC legislative deputy and campaign manager, stated flatly in an interview that "the structure of impunity has not been broken here" (LeChevalier, 1994); see also Popkin et al. (1993: 7-8) and Amnesty International (1993: 4-15). 12. Mario Lopez had been a member of the FMLN team that negotiated the peace accords; of the other 2 high-ranking figures killed: Francisco Velis was a member of the FMLN National Council and Eleno Hernan Castro was on the FMLN land commission. Political 6. After the Reagan administration sent special envoy General Vernon Walters to El Salvador to point out that a D'Aubuisson presidency would jeopardize US military aid, the Army High Com- mand installed Magafia, who had close ties with the military. 7. As Karl points out, the pacts upon which new democracies are founded must be comprehensive in scope, as well as inclusive of the main political actors. They typically include "a series of agree- ments that are interlocking and dependent upon each other," covering both the conditions for transition to new rules of governing and a basic social contract (Karl, 1990: 11). 8. In 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated while saying mass in the Cathedral. In 1981, there were widespread reports that inhabitants of the town of El Mozote had been rounded up and killed by army forces, stories that were denied at the time but subsequently substantiated after the civil war ended by investigators who were finally permitted to explore the scene. In 1989, six Jesuit priests who taught at the University and were openly critical of the regime were assassinated as they slept, along with their housekeeper and her daughter, allegedly by a death squad acting under instruc- tions from the military. 9. The amnesty went far beyond a more limited "National Reconciliation Law" passed (with the support of the Left) just after the peace accords were signed (Spence et al., 1994: 6). 10. Author interview with member of the UN observer mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) on 17 March 1994. President Cristiani rejected proposals that the Joint Group be composed of non- governmental officials, insisting that the government name 2 of the 4 members. When the report finally came out (28 July 1994), it noted the obvious fact that the death squads could only be operating with the continued involvement of some members of the military and police, but it was otherwise short on details and was dismissed by government and military figures. 11. Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC legislative deputy and campaign manager, stated flatly in an interview that "the structure of impunity has not been broken here" (LeChevalier, 1994); see also Popkin et al. (1993: 7-8) and Amnesty International (1993: 4-15). 12. Mario Lopez had been a member of the FMLN team that negotiated the peace accords; of the other 2 high-ranking figures killed: Francisco Velis was a member of the FMLN National Council and Eleno Hernan Castro was on the FMLN land commission. Political 48 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 48 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 48 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 48 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 48 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 48 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS assassinations in 1992-93 included anywhere from 15-36 members of the FMLN. Another 5-6 members of the ARENA party were killed, though apparently not from political motives (Americas Watch, 1994: 3-12). 13. Author interview with FMLN campaigners in San Francisco Gotera, 24 April 1994. 14. The military's figure of a 50% reduction in troops is based on its claim of a force of 63,175 men under arms at the time of the peace accords. Though this figure included the estimated 15,000 members of the security forces, independent observers estimated the regular army at 40-42,000 (Walter and Williams, 1993: 65; Spence et al., 1994: 16). The military agreed to reduce its forces down to 31,000 by January 1994, and UN observers report that troop levels were down to 29,000 by March 1993. This was still far above the 9,000 troops on the eve of El Salvador's civil war (Sollis, 1993: 33). It was also high by Central American standards and about twice the level of troops in post-contra-war Nicaragua. 15. In an interview (19 March 1994), ARENA deputy and president of the Legislative Assembly Roberto Angulo justified President Cristiani's naming of General Ponce - who had been cited for human rights abuses by the Truth Commission - to head the Administracion Nacional de Telecomunicaciones (ANTEL): "Maybe Cristiani thought Ponce wasn't guilty. Or he might have felt commit- ted to him as a friend, grateful to him, so he put Ponce in charge of ANTEL." Cristiani also appointed General Vargas as advisor to the Presidency on military affairs and Colonel Zepeda as advisor on intelligence. 16. This was noted personally by the author in Usulutnn, Chalatenango, and in the vicinity of Guazapa on the day of the general election (20 March 1994), as well as in Morazan on the day of the run-off presidential election (24 April 1994). Dozens of truckloads of troops were seen with heavy caliber machine guns, grenade launchers, and mortars. 17. This information came from author interviews with a political affairs official of ONUSAL (7 January 1994) as well as from interviews with high-level sources close to the military (7 and 12 January 1994). One of the latter claimed that delegations of captains and majors had privately threatened to oust General Ponce if he failed to resign after the Truth Commission report, and that the High Command had threatened to release evidence that President Cristiani was present at a meeting where the murder of the Jesuits was planned if he did not give them all generous retirement posts. assassinations in 1992-93 included anywhere from 15-36 members of the FMLN. Another 5-6 members of the ARENA party were killed, though apparently not from political motives (Americas Watch, 1994: 3-12). 13. Author interview with FMLN campaigners in San Francisco Gotera, 24 April 1994. 14. The military's figure of a 50% reduction in troops is based on its claim of a force of 63,175 men under arms at the time of the peace accords. Though this figure included the estimated 15,000 members of the security forces, independent observers estimated the regular army at 40-42,000 (Walter and Williams, 1993: 65; Spence et al., 1994: 16). The military agreed to reduce its forces down to 31,000 by January 1994, and UN observers report that troop levels were down to 29,000 by March 1993. This was still far above the 9,000 troops on the eve of El Salvador's civil war (Sollis, 1993: 33). It was also high by Central American standards and about twice the level of troops in post-contra-war Nicaragua. 15. In an interview (19 March 1994), ARENA deputy and president of the Legislative Assembly Roberto Angulo justified President Cristiani's naming of General Ponce - who had been cited for human rights abuses by the Truth Commission - to head the Administracion Nacional de Telecomunicaciones (ANTEL): "Maybe Cristiani thought Ponce wasn't guilty. Or he might have felt commit- ted to him as a friend, grateful to him, so he put Ponce in charge of ANTEL." Cristiani also appointed General Vargas as advisor to the Presidency on military affairs and Colonel Zepeda as advisor on intelligence. 16. This was noted personally by the author in Usulutnn, Chalatenango, and in the vicinity of Guazapa on the day of the general election (20 March 1994), as well as in Morazan on the day of the run-off presidential election (24 April 1994). Dozens of truckloads of troops were seen with heavy caliber machine guns, grenade launchers, and mortars. 17. This information came from author interviews with a political affairs official of ONUSAL (7 January 1994) as well as from interviews with high-level sources close to the military (7 and 12 January 1994). One of the latter claimed that delegations of captains and majors had privately threatened to oust General Ponce if he failed to resign after the Truth Commission report, and that the High Command had threatened to release evidence that President Cristiani was present at a meeting where the murder of the Jesuits was planned if he did not give them all generous retirement posts. assassinations in 1992-93 included anywhere from 15-36 members of the FMLN. Another 5-6 members of the ARENA party were killed, though apparently not from political motives (Americas Watch, 1994: 3-12). 13. Author interview with FMLN campaigners in San Francisco Gotera, 24 April 1994. 14. The military's figure of a 50% reduction in troops is based on its claim of a force of 63,175 men under arms at the time of the peace accords. Though this figure included the estimated 15,000 members of the security forces, independent observers estimated the regular army at 40-42,000 (Walter and Williams, 1993: 65; Spence et al., 1994: 16). The military agreed to reduce its forces down to 31,000 by January 1994, and UN observers report that troop levels were down to 29,000 by March 1993. This was still far above the 9,000 troops on the eve of El Salvador's civil war (Sollis, 1993: 33). It was also high by Central American standards and about twice the level of troops in post-contra-war Nicaragua. 15. In an interview (19 March 1994), ARENA deputy and president of the Legislative Assembly Roberto Angulo justified President Cristiani's naming of General Ponce - who had been cited for human rights abuses by the Truth Commission - to head the Administracion Nacional de Telecomunicaciones (ANTEL): "Maybe Cristiani thought Ponce wasn't guilty. Or he might have felt commit- ted to him as a friend, grateful to him, so he put Ponce in charge of ANTEL." Cristiani also appointed General Vargas as advisor to the Presidency on military affairs and Colonel Zepeda as advisor on intelligence. 16. This was noted personally by the author in Usulutnn, Chalatenango, and in the vicinity of Guazapa on the day of the general election (20 March 1994), as well as in Morazan on the day of the run-off presidential election (24 April 1994). Dozens of truckloads of troops were seen with heavy caliber machine guns, grenade launchers, and mortars. 17. This information came from author interviews with a political affairs official of ONUSAL (7 January 1994) as well as from interviews with high-level sources close to the military (7 and 12 January 1994). One of the latter claimed that delegations of captains and majors had privately threatened to oust General Ponce if he failed to resign after the Truth Commission report, and that the High Command had threatened to release evidence that President Cristiani was present at a meeting where the murder of the Jesuits was planned if he did not give them all generous retirement posts. assassinations in 1992-93 included anywhere from 15-36 members of the FMLN. Another 5-6 members of the ARENA party were killed, though apparently not from political motives (Americas Watch, 1994: 3-12). 13. Author interview with FMLN campaigners in San Francisco Gotera, 24 April 1994. 14. The military's figure of a 50% reduction in troops is based on its claim of a force of 63,175 men under arms at the time of the peace accords. Though this figure included the estimated 15,000 members of the security forces, independent observers estimated the regular army at 40-42,000 (Walter and Williams, 1993: 65; Spence et al., 1994: 16). The military agreed to reduce its forces down to 31,000 by January 1994, and UN observers report that troop levels were down to 29,000 by March 1993. This was still far above the 9,000 troops on the eve of El Salvador's civil war (Sollis, 1993: 33). It was also high by Central American standards and about twice the level of troops in post-contra-war Nicaragua. 15. In an interview (19 March 1994), ARENA deputy and president of the Legislative Assembly Roberto Angulo justified President Cristiani's naming of General Ponce - who had been cited for human rights abuses by the Truth Commission - to head the Administracion Nacional de Telecomunicaciones (ANTEL): "Maybe Cristiani thought Ponce wasn't guilty. Or he might have felt commit- ted to him as a friend, grateful to him, so he put Ponce in charge of ANTEL." Cristiani also appointed General Vargas as advisor to the Presidency on military affairs and Colonel Zepeda as advisor on intelligence. 16. This was noted personally by the author in Usulutnn, Chalatenango, and in the vicinity of Guazapa on the day of the general election (20 March 1994), as well as in Morazan on the day of the run-off presidential election (24 April 1994). Dozens of truckloads of troops were seen with heavy caliber machine guns, grenade launchers, and mortars. 17. This information came from author interviews with a political affairs official of ONUSAL (7 January 1994) as well as from interviews with high-level sources close to the military (7 and 12 January 1994). One of the latter claimed that delegations of captains and majors had privately threatened to oust General Ponce if he failed to resign after the Truth Commission report, and that the High Command had threatened to release evidence that President Cristiani was present at a meeting where the murder of the Jesuits was planned if he did not give them all generous retirement posts. assassinations in 1992-93 included anywhere from 15-36 members of the FMLN. Another 5-6 members of the ARENA party were killed, though apparently not from political motives (Americas Watch, 1994: 3-12). 13. Author interview with FMLN campaigners in San Francisco Gotera, 24 April 1994. 14. The military's figure of a 50% reduction in troops is based on its claim of a force of 63,175 men under arms at the time of the peace accords. Though this figure included the estimated 15,000 members of the security forces, independent observers estimated the regular army at 40-42,000 (Walter and Williams, 1993: 65; Spence et al., 1994: 16). The military agreed to reduce its forces down to 31,000 by January 1994, and UN observers report that troop levels were down to 29,000 by March 1993. This was still far above the 9,000 troops on the eve of El Salvador's civil war (Sollis, 1993: 33). It was also high by Central American standards and about twice the level of troops in post-contra-war Nicaragua. 15. In an interview (19 March 1994), ARENA deputy and president of the Legislative Assembly Roberto Angulo justified President Cristiani's naming of General Ponce - who had been cited for human rights abuses by the Truth Commission - to head the Administracion Nacional de Telecomunicaciones (ANTEL): "Maybe Cristiani thought Ponce wasn't guilty. Or he might have felt commit- ted to him as a friend, grateful to him, so he put Ponce in charge of ANTEL." Cristiani also appointed General Vargas as advisor to the Presidency on military affairs and Colonel Zepeda as advisor on intelligence. 16. This was noted personally by the author in Usulutnn, Chalatenango, and in the vicinity of Guazapa on the day of the general election (20 March 1994), as well as in Morazan on the day of the run-off presidential election (24 April 1994). Dozens of truckloads of troops were seen with heavy caliber machine guns, grenade launchers, and mortars. 17. This information came from author interviews with a political affairs official of ONUSAL (7 January 1994) as well as from interviews with high-level sources close to the military (7 and 12 January 1994). One of the latter claimed that delegations of captains and majors had privately threatened to oust General Ponce if he failed to resign after the Truth Commission report, and that the High Command had threatened to release evidence that President Cristiani was present at a meeting where the murder of the Jesuits was planned if he did not give them all generous retirement posts. assassinations in 1992-93 included anywhere from 15-36 members of the FMLN. Another 5-6 members of the ARENA party were killed, though apparently not from political motives (Americas Watch, 1994: 3-12). 13. Author interview with FMLN campaigners in San Francisco Gotera, 24 April 1994. 14. The military's figure of a 50% reduction in troops is based on its claim of a force of 63,175 men under arms at the time of the peace accords. Though this figure included the estimated 15,000 members of the security forces, independent observers estimated the regular army at 40-42,000 (Walter and Williams, 1993: 65; Spence et al., 1994: 16). The military agreed to reduce its forces down to 31,000 by January 1994, and UN observers report that troop levels were down to 29,000 by March 1993. This was still far above the 9,000 troops on the eve of El Salvador's civil war (Sollis, 1993: 33). It was also high by Central American standards and about twice the level of troops in post-contra-war Nicaragua. 15. In an interview (19 March 1994), ARENA deputy and president of the Legislative Assembly Roberto Angulo justified President Cristiani's naming of General Ponce - who had been cited for human rights abuses by the Truth Commission - to head the Administracion Nacional de Telecomunicaciones (ANTEL): "Maybe Cristiani thought Ponce wasn't guilty. Or he might have felt commit- ted to him as a friend, grateful to him, so he put Ponce in charge of ANTEL." Cristiani also appointed General Vargas as advisor to the Presidency on military affairs and Colonel Zepeda as advisor on intelligence. 16. This was noted personally by the author in Usulutnn, Chalatenango, and in the vicinity of Guazapa on the day of the general election (20 March 1994), as well as in Morazan on the day of the run-off presidential election (24 April 1994). Dozens of truckloads of troops were seen with heavy caliber machine guns, grenade launchers, and mortars. 17. This information came from author interviews with a political affairs official of ONUSAL (7 January 1994) as well as from interviews with high-level sources close to the military (7 and 12 January 1994). One of the latter claimed that delegations of captains and majors had privately threatened to oust General Ponce if he failed to resign after the Truth Commission report, and that the High Command had threatened to release evidence that President Cristiani was present at a meeting where the murder of the Jesuits was planned if he did not give them all generous retirement posts. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 49 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 49 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 49 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 49 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 49 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 49 18. The Special Investigative Unit of the Comision de Investigaciones de Hechos Delictivos (CIHD), set up during the Duarte government, covered up human rights abuses. The Unidad EspecialAnti-narcdtica (UEA) was a widely feared paramilitary force whose director, retired Army Captain Oscar Peia Duran, became Sub-Director of Operations for the Policfa Nacional Civilista (PNC) despite complaints from the the FMLN that he did not qualify as a civilian (Stanley, 1993: 14-14; Spence et al., 1994: 9-13). Pefia Duran was forced out in May 1994 under pressure from the US Embassy (which had picked him), the UN, the FMLN, and others. The new director of the PNC, Rodrigo Avila, who is a 30-year-old civilian and son of a military doctor, seems committed to professionalizing what has remained a weak institution. 19. Ramirez Ocampo (1994) estimated that only 8% of the UN- proposed land transfers had been completed. Spence etal. (1994: 20) estimated that fewer than 25% of the potential FMLN beneficiaries (former combatants and peasant residents) had been successful in negotiating their claim to land by mid-February 1994, with less than 1% actually receiving titles. Another ONUSAL official cited obstruc- tion by Land Bank and agrarian reform officials (author interview, 13 January 1994). 20. Also author interviews with former FMLN combatants from the nearby community of Gualcho, 17 March 1994. On the use of reconstruction funds for ARENA patronage, see Murray et al. (1994: 8 and 16-18).

21. The Truth Commission also reported at least 11 executions of mayors of towns in zones of conflict by the EjrcitoRevolucionario del Pueblo (ERP) between 1985 and 1988 (UN, 1993b: 148). 22. Author interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994. 23. The ARENA mayor in Nueva Granada (Usulutan) had been "elected" without opposition in 1991 in a town where people were still shell-shocked from the war; he reportedly stated that he wanted to have nothing to do with repatriated populations. For more on the lack of participatory practice in implementing reconstruction plans, see Spence et al. (1994: 27-30) and Murray et al. (1994). 24. Author interviews with community leaders of Segundo Montes, displaced local property owners, and an ONUSAL land specialist; La Meanguera (Morazan); 24 April 1994; as well as with ONUSAL political affairs officials, 13 January 1994. 50 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 50 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 50 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 50 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 50 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 50 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 25. Also author interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994. 26. The 5 magistrates heading the Tnibuno Supremo Electoral (TSE) include one each from ARENA, the PCN, and the PDC, plus one named by the president (ARENA) and one from the CD. 27. Election rules allowed state campaign funding of up to $1,674,729 to ARENA and a total of $225,371 to the CD/FMLN (Spence, Dye, and Vickers, 1994: 8). Private donations did not have to be reported, which gave ARENA a large financial advantage since its support base included most of the wealthiest Salvadorans. 28. Also author interviews with candidates for the municipal council of Mejicanos, a poor community in the greater San Salvador area, 17 March 1994. In the squatter settlement of Finca Argentina in Mejicanos, 50-60% of eligible voters had been unable to get voting cards due to what they called "a political maneuver of the ARENA government." In other interviews in Tecoluca (San Vicente), both the PDC candidate, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez (1994), and the candidate for the CD, Jose Roberto Ramirez (1994), agreed that TSE officials withheld voting cards from those who did not seem to be supporters of ARENA. 29. Author interview with ONUSAL election official, 5 January 1994. 30. Eduardo Shefik Hasbun, candidate for mayor of Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), explained in an interview that he had skipped a candidates' debate because "ARENA central has prohibited it" (Shefik Hasbun, 1994). In another interview, Carlos Valentin Zelaya, ARENA candidate for deputy from San Vicente, argued that "citizens are afraid that the FMLN will take up arms again" (Zelaya, 1994). In San Vicente, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez, PDC candidate for mayor of Tecoluca, expressed fears that an FMLN victory would provoke capital flight which would lead to an economic crisis and generalized violence (Salinas Chavez, 1994). 31. Author interview with ONUSAL election official in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994. 32. Author interviews with FMLN campaigners, local candi- dates, and former combatants in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994, 33. Author interviews with members of a Christian base community in Mejicanos, 17 March 1994. The community had been shelled for days from a nearby military base during the November 1989 FMLN urban offensive. 25. Also author interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994. 26. The 5 magistrates heading the Tnibuno Supremo Electoral (TSE) include one each from ARENA, the PCN, and the PDC, plus one named by the president (ARENA) and one from the CD. 27. Election rules allowed state campaign funding of up to $1,674,729 to ARENA and a total of $225,371 to the CD/FMLN (Spence, Dye, and Vickers, 1994: 8). Private donations did not have to be reported, which gave ARENA a large financial advantage since its support base included most of the wealthiest Salvadorans. 28. Also author interviews with candidates for the municipal council of Mejicanos, a poor community in the greater San Salvador area, 17 March 1994. In the squatter settlement of Finca Argentina in Mejicanos, 50-60% of eligible voters had been unable to get voting cards due to what they called "a political maneuver of the ARENA government." In other interviews in Tecoluca (San Vicente), both the PDC candidate, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez (1994), and the candidate for the CD, Jose Roberto Ramirez (1994), agreed that TSE officials withheld voting cards from those who did not seem to be supporters of ARENA. 29. Author interview with ONUSAL election official, 5 January 1994. 30. Eduardo Shefik Hasbun, candidate for mayor of Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), explained in an interview that he had skipped a candidates' debate because "ARENA central has prohibited it" (Shefik Hasbun, 1994). In another interview, Carlos Valentin Zelaya, ARENA candidate for deputy from San Vicente, argued that "citizens are afraid that the FMLN will take up arms again" (Zelaya, 1994). In San Vicente, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez, PDC candidate for mayor of Tecoluca, expressed fears that an FMLN victory would provoke capital flight which would lead to an economic crisis and generalized violence (Salinas Chavez, 1994). 31. Author interview with ONUSAL election official in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994. 32. Author interviews with FMLN campaigners, local candi- dates, and former combatants in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994, 33. Author interviews with members of a Christian base community in Mejicanos, 17 March 1994. The community had been shelled for days from a nearby military base during the November 1989 FMLN urban offensive. 25. Also author interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994. 26. The 5 magistrates heading the Tnibuno Supremo Electoral (TSE) include one each from ARENA, the PCN, and the PDC, plus one named by the president (ARENA) and one from the CD. 27. Election rules allowed state campaign funding of up to $1,674,729 to ARENA and a total of $225,371 to the CD/FMLN (Spence, Dye, and Vickers, 1994: 8). Private donations did not have to be reported, which gave ARENA a large financial advantage since its support base included most of the wealthiest Salvadorans. 28. Also author interviews with candidates for the municipal council of Mejicanos, a poor community in the greater San Salvador area, 17 March 1994. In the squatter settlement of Finca Argentina in Mejicanos, 50-60% of eligible voters had been unable to get voting cards due to what they called "a political maneuver of the ARENA government." In other interviews in Tecoluca (San Vicente), both the PDC candidate, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez (1994), and the candidate for the CD, Jose Roberto Ramirez (1994), agreed that TSE officials withheld voting cards from those who did not seem to be supporters of ARENA. 29. Author interview with ONUSAL election official, 5 January 1994. 30. Eduardo Shefik Hasbun, candidate for mayor of Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), explained in an interview that he had skipped a candidates' debate because "ARENA central has prohibited it" (Shefik Hasbun, 1994). In another interview, Carlos Valentin Zelaya, ARENA candidate for deputy from San Vicente, argued that "citizens are afraid that the FMLN will take up arms again" (Zelaya, 1994). In San Vicente, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez, PDC candidate for mayor of Tecoluca, expressed fears that an FMLN victory would provoke capital flight which would lead to an economic crisis and generalized violence (Salinas Chavez, 1994). 31. Author interview with ONUSAL election official in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994. 32. Author interviews with FMLN campaigners, local candi- dates, and former combatants in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994, 33. Author interviews with members of a Christian base community in Mejicanos, 17 March 1994. The community had been shelled for days from a nearby military base during the November 1989 FMLN urban offensive. 25. Also author interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994. 26. The 5 magistrates heading the Tnibuno Supremo Electoral (TSE) include one each from ARENA, the PCN, and the PDC, plus one named by the president (ARENA) and one from the CD. 27. Election rules allowed state campaign funding of up to $1,674,729 to ARENA and a total of $225,371 to the CD/FMLN (Spence, Dye, and Vickers, 1994: 8). Private donations did not have to be reported, which gave ARENA a large financial advantage since its support base included most of the wealthiest Salvadorans. 28. Also author interviews with candidates for the municipal council of Mejicanos, a poor community in the greater San Salvador area, 17 March 1994. In the squatter settlement of Finca Argentina in Mejicanos, 50-60% of eligible voters had been unable to get voting cards due to what they called "a political maneuver of the ARENA government." In other interviews in Tecoluca (San Vicente), both the PDC candidate, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez (1994), and the candidate for the CD, Jose Roberto Ramirez (1994), agreed that TSE officials withheld voting cards from those who did not seem to be supporters of ARENA. 29. Author interview with ONUSAL election official, 5 January 1994. 30. Eduardo Shefik Hasbun, candidate for mayor of Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), explained in an interview that he had skipped a candidates' debate because "ARENA central has prohibited it" (Shefik Hasbun, 1994). In another interview, Carlos Valentin Zelaya, ARENA candidate for deputy from San Vicente, argued that "citizens are afraid that the FMLN will take up arms again" (Zelaya, 1994). In San Vicente, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez, PDC candidate for mayor of Tecoluca, expressed fears that an FMLN victory would provoke capital flight which would lead to an economic crisis and generalized violence (Salinas Chavez, 1994). 31. Author interview with ONUSAL election official in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994. 32. Author interviews with FMLN campaigners, local candi- dates, and former combatants in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994, 33. Author interviews with members of a Christian base community in Mejicanos, 17 March 1994. The community had been shelled for days from a nearby military base during the November 1989 FMLN urban offensive. 25. Also author interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994. 26. The 5 magistrates heading the Tnibuno Supremo Electoral (TSE) include one each from ARENA, the PCN, and the PDC, plus one named by the president (ARENA) and one from the CD. 27. Election rules allowed state campaign funding of up to $1,674,729 to ARENA and a total of $225,371 to the CD/FMLN (Spence, Dye, and Vickers, 1994: 8). Private donations did not have to be reported, which gave ARENA a large financial advantage since its support base included most of the wealthiest Salvadorans. 28. Also author interviews with candidates for the municipal council of Mejicanos, a poor community in the greater San Salvador area, 17 March 1994. In the squatter settlement of Finca Argentina in Mejicanos, 50-60% of eligible voters had been unable to get voting cards due to what they called "a political maneuver of the ARENA government." In other interviews in Tecoluca (San Vicente), both the PDC candidate, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez (1994), and the candidate for the CD, Jose Roberto Ramirez (1994), agreed that TSE officials withheld voting cards from those who did not seem to be supporters of ARENA. 29. Author interview with ONUSAL election official, 5 January 1994. 30. Eduardo Shefik Hasbun, candidate for mayor of Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), explained in an interview that he had skipped a candidates' debate because "ARENA central has prohibited it" (Shefik Hasbun, 1994). In another interview, Carlos Valentin Zelaya, ARENA candidate for deputy from San Vicente, argued that "citizens are afraid that the FMLN will take up arms again" (Zelaya, 1994). In San Vicente, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez, PDC candidate for mayor of Tecoluca, expressed fears that an FMLN victory would provoke capital flight which would lead to an economic crisis and generalized violence (Salinas Chavez, 1994). 31. Author interview with ONUSAL election official in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994. 32. Author interviews with FMLN campaigners, local candi- dates, and former combatants in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994, 33. Author interviews with members of a Christian base community in Mejicanos, 17 March 1994. The community had been shelled for days from a nearby military base during the November 1989 FMLN urban offensive. 25. Also author interview with ONUSAL political affairs official, 7 January 1994. 26. The 5 magistrates heading the Tnibuno Supremo Electoral (TSE) include one each from ARENA, the PCN, and the PDC, plus one named by the president (ARENA) and one from the CD. 27. Election rules allowed state campaign funding of up to $1,674,729 to ARENA and a total of $225,371 to the CD/FMLN (Spence, Dye, and Vickers, 1994: 8). Private donations did not have to be reported, which gave ARENA a large financial advantage since its support base included most of the wealthiest Salvadorans. 28. Also author interviews with candidates for the municipal council of Mejicanos, a poor community in the greater San Salvador area, 17 March 1994. In the squatter settlement of Finca Argentina in Mejicanos, 50-60% of eligible voters had been unable to get voting cards due to what they called "a political maneuver of the ARENA government." In other interviews in Tecoluca (San Vicente), both the PDC candidate, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez (1994), and the candidate for the CD, Jose Roberto Ramirez (1994), agreed that TSE officials withheld voting cards from those who did not seem to be supporters of ARENA. 29. Author interview with ONUSAL election official, 5 January 1994. 30. Eduardo Shefik Hasbun, candidate for mayor of Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), explained in an interview that he had skipped a candidates' debate because "ARENA central has prohibited it" (Shefik Hasbun, 1994). In another interview, Carlos Valentin Zelaya, ARENA candidate for deputy from San Vicente, argued that "citizens are afraid that the FMLN will take up arms again" (Zelaya, 1994). In San Vicente, Reinaldo Salinas Chavez, PDC candidate for mayor of Tecoluca, expressed fears that an FMLN victory would provoke capital flight which would lead to an economic crisis and generalized violence (Salinas Chavez, 1994). 31. Author interview with ONUSAL election official in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994. 32. Author interviews with FMLN campaigners, local candi- dates, and former combatants in San Francisco Gotera (Morazan), 24 April 1994, 33. Author interviews with members of a Christian base community in Mejicanos, 17 March 1994. The community had been shelled for days from a nearby military base during the November 1989 FMLN urban offensive. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 51 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 51 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 51 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 51 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 51 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 51 34. Author interview with a supporter of the FMLN in Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), 18 March 1994. 35. Author interviews in Chalatenango, 20 March 1994. 36. Author conversation with member of US election observa- tion team, 22 March 1994. 37. February 1994 polls by the Institute for Public Opinion, of the Jesuit-run Universidad Centroamericana, cited by Spence, Dye, and Vickers (1994: 12). 38. The US Agency for International Development (AID) contracted with the private firm CREA and the Southwest Voter Registration Institute for "civic education." The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) arranged for 20 elections observers each from the International Republican Institute, Freedom House, and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems. 39. Author interview with a high-level political figure on the Salvadoran Right, 12 January 1994. 40. Following release of the documents, US Assistant Secretary of State Alexander Watson travelled to El Salvador in mid-November 1993 and made equivocal statements that undercut their impact (Americas Watch, 1994: 15-19). 41. The more traditional large coffee growers, whose profits depended on cheap labor and low social spending, were more wary than the agroindustrial, financial, and other elites, who had more incentive to seek a negotiated peace and rely on world market prices to hold wages down more efficiently. 42. While the landowning elite had initially welcomed direct military rule in the 1930s, by the 1980s the oligarchy was wary of the military's expanding institutional autonomy and encroachment on areas of economic prerogative. The peace accords gave the oligarchy an opportunity to bargain away some of the military's power without affecting their own economic interests. (Walter and Williams, 1993: 55-59; Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 34). 43. President Cristiani appointed FUSADES board members Roberto Orellana Milla president of the Central Reserve Bank, and Roberto Murray Meza to head the powerful Fondo de Inversidn Social (FIS), which doled out funds for public works with one hand while structural adjustment programs were cutting social spending with the other. For details of the interlocking directorates of FUSADES and the business elite, see Rosa (1993a: 76-78). 34. Author interview with a supporter of the FMLN in Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), 18 March 1994. 35. Author interviews in Chalatenango, 20 March 1994. 36. Author conversation with member of US election observa- tion team, 22 March 1994. 37. February 1994 polls by the Institute for Public Opinion, of the Jesuit-run Universidad Centroamericana, cited by Spence, Dye, and Vickers (1994: 12). 38. The US Agency for International Development (AID) contracted with the private firm CREA and the Southwest Voter Registration Institute for "civic education." The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) arranged for 20 elections observers each from the International Republican Institute, Freedom House, and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems. 39. Author interview with a high-level political figure on the Salvadoran Right, 12 January 1994. 40. Following release of the documents, US Assistant Secretary of State Alexander Watson travelled to El Salvador in mid-November 1993 and made equivocal statements that undercut their impact (Americas Watch, 1994: 15-19). 41. The more traditional large coffee growers, whose profits depended on cheap labor and low social spending, were more wary than the agroindustrial, financial, and other elites, who had more incentive to seek a negotiated peace and rely on world market prices to hold wages down more efficiently. 42. While the landowning elite had initially welcomed direct military rule in the 1930s, by the 1980s the oligarchy was wary of the military's expanding institutional autonomy and encroachment on areas of economic prerogative. The peace accords gave the oligarchy an opportunity to bargain away some of the military's power without affecting their own economic interests. (Walter and Williams, 1993: 55-59; Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 34). 43. President Cristiani appointed FUSADES board members Roberto Orellana Milla president of the Central Reserve Bank, and Roberto Murray Meza to head the powerful Fondo de Inversidn Social (FIS), which doled out funds for public works with one hand while structural adjustment programs were cutting social spending with the other. For details of the interlocking directorates of FUSADES and the business elite, see Rosa (1993a: 76-78). 34. Author interview with a supporter of the FMLN in Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), 18 March 1994. 35. Author interviews in Chalatenango, 20 March 1994. 36. Author conversation with member of US election observa- tion team, 22 March 1994. 37. February 1994 polls by the Institute for Public Opinion, of the Jesuit-run Universidad Centroamericana, cited by Spence, Dye, and Vickers (1994: 12). 38. The US Agency for International Development (AID) contracted with the private firm CREA and the Southwest Voter Registration Institute for "civic education." The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) arranged for 20 elections observers each from the International Republican Institute, Freedom House, and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems. 39. Author interview with a high-level political figure on the Salvadoran Right, 12 January 1994. 40. Following release of the documents, US Assistant Secretary of State Alexander Watson travelled to El Salvador in mid-November 1993 and made equivocal statements that undercut their impact (Americas Watch, 1994: 15-19). 41. The more traditional large coffee growers, whose profits depended on cheap labor and low social spending, were more wary than the agroindustrial, financial, and other elites, who had more incentive to seek a negotiated peace and rely on world market prices to hold wages down more efficiently. 42. While the landowning elite had initially welcomed direct military rule in the 1930s, by the 1980s the oligarchy was wary of the military's expanding institutional autonomy and encroachment on areas of economic prerogative. The peace accords gave the oligarchy an opportunity to bargain away some of the military's power without affecting their own economic interests. (Walter and Williams, 1993: 55-59; Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 34). 43. President Cristiani appointed FUSADES board members Roberto Orellana Milla president of the Central Reserve Bank, and Roberto Murray Meza to head the powerful Fondo de Inversidn Social (FIS), which doled out funds for public works with one hand while structural adjustment programs were cutting social spending with the other. For details of the interlocking directorates of FUSADES and the business elite, see Rosa (1993a: 76-78). 34. Author interview with a supporter of the FMLN in Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), 18 March 1994. 35. Author interviews in Chalatenango, 20 March 1994. 36. Author conversation with member of US election observa- tion team, 22 March 1994. 37. February 1994 polls by the Institute for Public Opinion, of the Jesuit-run Universidad Centroamericana, cited by Spence, Dye, and Vickers (1994: 12). 38. The US Agency for International Development (AID) contracted with the private firm CREA and the Southwest Voter Registration Institute for "civic education." The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) arranged for 20 elections observers each from the International Republican Institute, Freedom House, and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems. 39. Author interview with a high-level political figure on the Salvadoran Right, 12 January 1994. 40. Following release of the documents, US Assistant Secretary of State Alexander Watson travelled to El Salvador in mid-November 1993 and made equivocal statements that undercut their impact (Americas Watch, 1994: 15-19). 41. The more traditional large coffee growers, whose profits depended on cheap labor and low social spending, were more wary than the agroindustrial, financial, and other elites, who had more incentive to seek a negotiated peace and rely on world market prices to hold wages down more efficiently. 42. While the landowning elite had initially welcomed direct military rule in the 1930s, by the 1980s the oligarchy was wary of the military's expanding institutional autonomy and encroachment on areas of economic prerogative. The peace accords gave the oligarchy an opportunity to bargain away some of the military's power without affecting their own economic interests. (Walter and Williams, 1993: 55-59; Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 34). 43. President Cristiani appointed FUSADES board members Roberto Orellana Milla president of the Central Reserve Bank, and Roberto Murray Meza to head the powerful Fondo de Inversidn Social (FIS), which doled out funds for public works with one hand while structural adjustment programs were cutting social spending with the other. For details of the interlocking directorates of FUSADES and the business elite, see Rosa (1993a: 76-78). 34. Author interview with a supporter of the FMLN in Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), 18 March 1994. 35. Author interviews in Chalatenango, 20 March 1994. 36. Author conversation with member of US election observa- tion team, 22 March 1994. 37. February 1994 polls by the Institute for Public Opinion, of the Jesuit-run Universidad Centroamericana, cited by Spence, Dye, and Vickers (1994: 12). 38. The US Agency for International Development (AID) contracted with the private firm CREA and the Southwest Voter Registration Institute for "civic education." The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) arranged for 20 elections observers each from the International Republican Institute, Freedom House, and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems. 39. Author interview with a high-level political figure on the Salvadoran Right, 12 January 1994. 40. Following release of the documents, US Assistant Secretary of State Alexander Watson travelled to El Salvador in mid-November 1993 and made equivocal statements that undercut their impact (Americas Watch, 1994: 15-19). 41. The more traditional large coffee growers, whose profits depended on cheap labor and low social spending, were more wary than the agroindustrial, financial, and other elites, who had more incentive to seek a negotiated peace and rely on world market prices to hold wages down more efficiently. 42. While the landowning elite had initially welcomed direct military rule in the 1930s, by the 1980s the oligarchy was wary of the military's expanding institutional autonomy and encroachment on areas of economic prerogative. The peace accords gave the oligarchy an opportunity to bargain away some of the military's power without affecting their own economic interests. (Walter and Williams, 1993: 55-59; Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 34). 43. President Cristiani appointed FUSADES board members Roberto Orellana Milla president of the Central Reserve Bank, and Roberto Murray Meza to head the powerful Fondo de Inversidn Social (FIS), which doled out funds for public works with one hand while structural adjustment programs were cutting social spending with the other. For details of the interlocking directorates of FUSADES and the business elite, see Rosa (1993a: 76-78). 34. Author interview with a supporter of the FMLN in Santiago de Maria (Usulutan), 18 March 1994. 35. Author interviews in Chalatenango, 20 March 1994. 36. Author conversation with member of US election observa- tion team, 22 March 1994. 37. February 1994 polls by the Institute for Public Opinion, of the Jesuit-run Universidad Centroamericana, cited by Spence, Dye, and Vickers (1994: 12). 38. The US Agency for International Development (AID) contracted with the private firm CREA and the Southwest Voter Registration Institute for "civic education." The National Endowment for Democracy (NED) arranged for 20 elections observers each from the International Republican Institute, Freedom House, and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems. 39. Author interview with a high-level political figure on the Salvadoran Right, 12 January 1994. 40. Following release of the documents, US Assistant Secretary of State Alexander Watson travelled to El Salvador in mid-November 1993 and made equivocal statements that undercut their impact (Americas Watch, 1994: 15-19). 41. The more traditional large coffee growers, whose profits depended on cheap labor and low social spending, were more wary than the agroindustrial, financial, and other elites, who had more incentive to seek a negotiated peace and rely on world market prices to hold wages down more efficiently. 42. While the landowning elite had initially welcomed direct military rule in the 1930s, by the 1980s the oligarchy was wary of the military's expanding institutional autonomy and encroachment on areas of economic prerogative. The peace accords gave the oligarchy an opportunity to bargain away some of the military's power without affecting their own economic interests. (Walter and Williams, 1993: 55-59; Spence, Dye and Vickers, 1994: 34). 43. President Cristiani appointed FUSADES board members Roberto Orellana Milla president of the Central Reserve Bank, and Roberto Murray Meza to head the powerful Fondo de Inversidn Social (FIS), which doled out funds for public works with one hand while structural adjustment programs were cutting social spending with the other. For details of the interlocking directorates of FUSADES and the business elite, see Rosa (1993a: 76-78). 52 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 52 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 52 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 52 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 52 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 52 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 44. Off-the-record interviews with two ONUSAL officials in the field, 24 April 1994. 45. Off-the-record interview with ONUSAL official, 17 March 1994. REFERENCES Americas Watch (1994) "El Salvador, Darkening Horizons: Human Rights on the Eve of the March 1994 Elections." Human Rights Watch/Americas 6, 4 (March). Amnesty International (AI) (1993) El Salvador: Peace without Justice (June). London, England: AI. ARNSON, C. (1993) Crossroads: Congress, the President, and Central America: 1976-1993 (2nd ed.). University Park, PA: Pennsylva- nia State University Press. BACEVICH, A., J. HALLUMS, R. WHITE, and T. YOUNG (1988) American Military Policy in Small Wars: The Case of El Salvador (March). Cambridge, MA: John F. Kennedy School of Govern- ment. BALOYRA, E. (1992) "Salvaging El Salvador." Journal of Democracy 3, 2 (April): 70-80. (1983) "Reactionary Despotism in Central America." Journal of Latin American Studies 15, 2 (November): 295-319. (1982) El Salvador in Transition. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BARRY, D. (1993) "Una herencia de AID en El Salvador: Andamiaje institucional empresarial en la sociedad civil." Prisma (San Salvador) 2 (October): 1-4. BENAVIDES, R. (1994) Author interview with member of Fundacion 16 de Enero, the FMLN's organization for resettlement of former combatants; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. BLACHMAN, M., W. LEOGRANDE, and K. SHARPE (eds.) (1986) Confronting Revolution: Security through Diplomacy in Cen- tral America. New York, NY: Pantheon Books. 44. Off-the-record interviews with two ONUSAL officials in the field, 24 April 1994. 45. Off-the-record interview with ONUSAL official, 17 March 1994. REFERENCES Americas Watch (1994) "El Salvador, Darkening Horizons: Human Rights on the Eve of the March 1994 Elections." Human Rights Watch/Americas 6, 4 (March). Amnesty International (AI) (1993) El Salvador: Peace without Justice (June). London, England: AI. ARNSON, C. (1993) Crossroads: Congress, the President, and Central America: 1976-1993 (2nd ed.). University Park, PA: Pennsylva- nia State University Press. BACEVICH, A., J. HALLUMS, R. WHITE, and T. YOUNG (1988) American Military Policy in Small Wars: The Case of El Salvador (March). Cambridge, MA: John F. Kennedy School of Govern- ment. BALOYRA, E. (1992) "Salvaging El Salvador." Journal of Democracy 3, 2 (April): 70-80. (1983) "Reactionary Despotism in Central America." Journal of Latin American Studies 15, 2 (November): 295-319. (1982) El Salvador in Transition. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BARRY, D. (1993) "Una herencia de AID en El Salvador: Andamiaje institucional empresarial en la sociedad civil." Prisma (San Salvador) 2 (October): 1-4. BENAVIDES, R. (1994) Author interview with member of Fundacion 16 de Enero, the FMLN's organization for resettlement of former combatants; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. BLACHMAN, M., W. LEOGRANDE, and K. SHARPE (eds.) (1986) Confronting Revolution: Security through Diplomacy in Cen- tral America. New York, NY: Pantheon Books. 44. Off-the-record interviews with two ONUSAL officials in the field, 24 April 1994. 45. Off-the-record interview with ONUSAL official, 17 March 1994. REFERENCES Americas Watch (1994) "El Salvador, Darkening Horizons: Human Rights on the Eve of the March 1994 Elections." Human Rights Watch/Americas 6, 4 (March). Amnesty International (AI) (1993) El Salvador: Peace without Justice (June). London, England: AI. ARNSON, C. (1993) Crossroads: Congress, the President, and Central America: 1976-1993 (2nd ed.). University Park, PA: Pennsylva- nia State University Press. BACEVICH, A., J. HALLUMS, R. WHITE, and T. YOUNG (1988) American Military Policy in Small Wars: The Case of El Salvador (March). Cambridge, MA: John F. Kennedy School of Govern- ment. BALOYRA, E. (1992) "Salvaging El Salvador." Journal of Democracy 3, 2 (April): 70-80. (1983) "Reactionary Despotism in Central America." Journal of Latin American Studies 15, 2 (November): 295-319. (1982) El Salvador in Transition. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BARRY, D. (1993) "Una herencia de AID en El Salvador: Andamiaje institucional empresarial en la sociedad civil." Prisma (San Salvador) 2 (October): 1-4. BENAVIDES, R. (1994) Author interview with member of Fundacion 16 de Enero, the FMLN's organization for resettlement of former combatants; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. BLACHMAN, M., W. LEOGRANDE, and K. SHARPE (eds.) (1986) Confronting Revolution: Security through Diplomacy in Cen- tral America. New York, NY: Pantheon Books. 44. Off-the-record interviews with two ONUSAL officials in the field, 24 April 1994. 45. Off-the-record interview with ONUSAL official, 17 March 1994. REFERENCES Americas Watch (1994) "El Salvador, Darkening Horizons: Human Rights on the Eve of the March 1994 Elections." Human Rights Watch/Americas 6, 4 (March). Amnesty International (AI) (1993) El Salvador: Peace without Justice (June). London, England: AI. ARNSON, C. (1993) Crossroads: Congress, the President, and Central America: 1976-1993 (2nd ed.). University Park, PA: Pennsylva- nia State University Press. BACEVICH, A., J. HALLUMS, R. WHITE, and T. YOUNG (1988) American Military Policy in Small Wars: The Case of El Salvador (March). Cambridge, MA: John F. Kennedy School of Govern- ment. BALOYRA, E. (1992) "Salvaging El Salvador." Journal of Democracy 3, 2 (April): 70-80. (1983) "Reactionary Despotism in Central America." Journal of Latin American Studies 15, 2 (November): 295-319. (1982) El Salvador in Transition. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BARRY, D. (1993) "Una herencia de AID en El Salvador: Andamiaje institucional empresarial en la sociedad civil." Prisma (San Salvador) 2 (October): 1-4. BENAVIDES, R. (1994) Author interview with member of Fundacion 16 de Enero, the FMLN's organization for resettlement of former combatants; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. BLACHMAN, M., W. LEOGRANDE, and K. SHARPE (eds.) (1986) Confronting Revolution: Security through Diplomacy in Cen- tral America. New York, NY: Pantheon Books. 44. Off-the-record interviews with two ONUSAL officials in the field, 24 April 1994. 45. Off-the-record interview with ONUSAL official, 17 March 1994. REFERENCES Americas Watch (1994) "El Salvador, Darkening Horizons: Human Rights on the Eve of the March 1994 Elections." Human Rights Watch/Americas 6, 4 (March). Amnesty International (AI) (1993) El Salvador: Peace without Justice (June). London, England: AI. ARNSON, C. (1993) Crossroads: Congress, the President, and Central America: 1976-1993 (2nd ed.). University Park, PA: Pennsylva- nia State University Press. BACEVICH, A., J. HALLUMS, R. WHITE, and T. YOUNG (1988) American Military Policy in Small Wars: The Case of El Salvador (March). Cambridge, MA: John F. Kennedy School of Govern- ment. BALOYRA, E. (1992) "Salvaging El Salvador." Journal of Democracy 3, 2 (April): 70-80. (1983) "Reactionary Despotism in Central America." Journal of Latin American Studies 15, 2 (November): 295-319. (1982) El Salvador in Transition. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BARRY, D. (1993) "Una herencia de AID en El Salvador: Andamiaje institucional empresarial en la sociedad civil." Prisma (San Salvador) 2 (October): 1-4. BENAVIDES, R. (1994) Author interview with member of Fundacion 16 de Enero, the FMLN's organization for resettlement of former combatants; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. BLACHMAN, M., W. LEOGRANDE, and K. SHARPE (eds.) (1986) Confronting Revolution: Security through Diplomacy in Cen- tral America. New York, NY: Pantheon Books. 44. Off-the-record interviews with two ONUSAL officials in the field, 24 April 1994. 45. Off-the-record interview with ONUSAL official, 17 March 1994. REFERENCES Americas Watch (1994) "El Salvador, Darkening Horizons: Human Rights on the Eve of the March 1994 Elections." Human Rights Watch/Americas 6, 4 (March). Amnesty International (AI) (1993) El Salvador: Peace without Justice (June). London, England: AI. ARNSON, C. (1993) Crossroads: Congress, the President, and Central America: 1976-1993 (2nd ed.). University Park, PA: Pennsylva- nia State University Press. BACEVICH, A., J. HALLUMS, R. WHITE, and T. YOUNG (1988) American Military Policy in Small Wars: The Case of El Salvador (March). Cambridge, MA: John F. Kennedy School of Govern- ment. BALOYRA, E. (1992) "Salvaging El Salvador." Journal of Democracy 3, 2 (April): 70-80. (1983) "Reactionary Despotism in Central America." Journal of Latin American Studies 15, 2 (November): 295-319. (1982) El Salvador in Transition. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BARRY, D. (1993) "Una herencia de AID en El Salvador: Andamiaje institucional empresarial en la sociedad civil." Prisma (San Salvador) 2 (October): 1-4. BENAVIDES, R. (1994) Author interview with member of Fundacion 16 de Enero, the FMLN's organization for resettlement of former combatants; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. BLACHMAN, M., W. LEOGRANDE, and K. SHARPE (eds.) (1986) Confronting Revolution: Security through Diplomacy in Cen- tral America. New York, NY: Pantheon Books. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 53 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 53 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 53 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 53 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 53 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 53 BLACK, J. K. (1993) "Elections and Other Trivial Pursuits: Latin America and the New World Order." Third World Quarterly 14, 3 (September): 545-53. BOLLINGER, W. (1989) "Villalobos on 'Popular Insurrection."' Latin American Perspectives 16, 3 (Summer): 38-47. BOOTH, J. (1989) "Elections and Democracy in Central America: A Framework for Analysis," pp. 7-39 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. COLLIER, D. and J. MAHON Jr. (1993) "Conceptual 'Stretching' Revisited: Adapting Categories in Comparative Analysis." American Political Science Review 87, 4 (December): 845-855. CORDOVA MACIAS, R. (1992) "Procesos electorales y sistema de partidos en El Salvador (12-1-1989)" (Documento de Trabajo; December). San Salvador, El Salvador: FundaUngo. DANNER, M. (1994) The Massacre at El Mozote. New York, NY: Vintage Books. DE SOTO, A. and G. DEL CASTILLO (1994) "Obstacles to Peacebuilding." Foreign Policy 94 (Spring): 69-93. DIAZ, F. (1994) Speech by the Director of the Centro de Estudios para la Aplicaci6n de Derecho (CESPAD) at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. DUNKERLEY, J. (1994) The Pacification of Central America. New York, NY: Verso Press. ESCOBAR GALINDO, D. (1994) Author interview with government representative on the Negotiating Committee, speaking at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. Frente Farabundo Marti para la Liberacion Nacional/Fuerzas Populares de Liberaci6n (FMLN/FPL) (1993) Plataforma para la transici6n democratica: Propuesta a la nacion salvadorefna (November). San Salvador, El Salvador: Ediciones al Frente. GARCIA, J. (1989) "El Salvador: Recent Elections in Historical Perspective," pp. 60-92 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BLACK, J. K. (1993) "Elections and Other Trivial Pursuits: Latin America and the New World Order." Third World Quarterly 14, 3 (September): 545-53. BOLLINGER, W. (1989) "Villalobos on 'Popular Insurrection."' Latin American Perspectives 16, 3 (Summer): 38-47. BOOTH, J. (1989) "Elections and Democracy in Central America: A Framework for Analysis," pp. 7-39 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. COLLIER, D. and J. MAHON Jr. (1993) "Conceptual 'Stretching' Revisited: Adapting Categories in Comparative Analysis." American Political Science Review 87, 4 (December): 845-855. CORDOVA MACIAS, R. (1992) "Procesos electorales y sistema de partidos en El Salvador (12-1-1989)" (Documento de Trabajo; December). San Salvador, El Salvador: FundaUngo. DANNER, M. (1994) The Massacre at El Mozote. New York, NY: Vintage Books. DE SOTO, A. and G. DEL CASTILLO (1994) "Obstacles to Peacebuilding." Foreign Policy 94 (Spring): 69-93. DIAZ, F. (1994) Speech by the Director of the Centro de Estudios para la Aplicaci6n de Derecho (CESPAD) at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. DUNKERLEY, J. (1994) The Pacification of Central America. New York, NY: Verso Press. ESCOBAR GALINDO, D. (1994) Author interview with government representative on the Negotiating Committee, speaking at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. Frente Farabundo Marti para la Liberacion Nacional/Fuerzas Populares de Liberaci6n (FMLN/FPL) (1993) Plataforma para la transici6n democratica: Propuesta a la nacion salvadorefna (November). San Salvador, El Salvador: Ediciones al Frente. GARCIA, J. (1989) "El Salvador: Recent Elections in Historical Perspective," pp. 60-92 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BLACK, J. K. (1993) "Elections and Other Trivial Pursuits: Latin America and the New World Order." Third World Quarterly 14, 3 (September): 545-53. BOLLINGER, W. (1989) "Villalobos on 'Popular Insurrection."' Latin American Perspectives 16, 3 (Summer): 38-47. BOOTH, J. (1989) "Elections and Democracy in Central America: A Framework for Analysis," pp. 7-39 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. COLLIER, D. and J. MAHON Jr. (1993) "Conceptual 'Stretching' Revisited: Adapting Categories in Comparative Analysis." American Political Science Review 87, 4 (December): 845-855. CORDOVA MACIAS, R. (1992) "Procesos electorales y sistema de partidos en El Salvador (12-1-1989)" (Documento de Trabajo; December). San Salvador, El Salvador: FundaUngo. DANNER, M. (1994) The Massacre at El Mozote. New York, NY: Vintage Books. DE SOTO, A. and G. DEL CASTILLO (1994) "Obstacles to Peacebuilding." Foreign Policy 94 (Spring): 69-93. DIAZ, F. (1994) Speech by the Director of the Centro de Estudios para la Aplicaci6n de Derecho (CESPAD) at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. DUNKERLEY, J. (1994) The Pacification of Central America. New York, NY: Verso Press. ESCOBAR GALINDO, D. (1994) Author interview with government representative on the Negotiating Committee, speaking at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. Frente Farabundo Marti para la Liberacion Nacional/Fuerzas Populares de Liberaci6n (FMLN/FPL) (1993) Plataforma para la transici6n democratica: Propuesta a la nacion salvadorefna (November). San Salvador, El Salvador: Ediciones al Frente. GARCIA, J. (1989) "El Salvador: Recent Elections in Historical Perspective," pp. 60-92 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BLACK, J. K. (1993) "Elections and Other Trivial Pursuits: Latin America and the New World Order." Third World Quarterly 14, 3 (September): 545-53. BOLLINGER, W. (1989) "Villalobos on 'Popular Insurrection."' Latin American Perspectives 16, 3 (Summer): 38-47. BOOTH, J. (1989) "Elections and Democracy in Central America: A Framework for Analysis," pp. 7-39 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. COLLIER, D. and J. MAHON Jr. (1993) "Conceptual 'Stretching' Revisited: Adapting Categories in Comparative Analysis." American Political Science Review 87, 4 (December): 845-855. CORDOVA MACIAS, R. (1992) "Procesos electorales y sistema de partidos en El Salvador (12-1-1989)" (Documento de Trabajo; December). San Salvador, El Salvador: FundaUngo. DANNER, M. (1994) The Massacre at El Mozote. New York, NY: Vintage Books. DE SOTO, A. and G. DEL CASTILLO (1994) "Obstacles to Peacebuilding." Foreign Policy 94 (Spring): 69-93. DIAZ, F. (1994) Speech by the Director of the Centro de Estudios para la Aplicaci6n de Derecho (CESPAD) at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. DUNKERLEY, J. (1994) The Pacification of Central America. New York, NY: Verso Press. ESCOBAR GALINDO, D. (1994) Author interview with government representative on the Negotiating Committee, speaking at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. Frente Farabundo Marti para la Liberacion Nacional/Fuerzas Populares de Liberaci6n (FMLN/FPL) (1993) Plataforma para la transici6n democratica: Propuesta a la nacion salvadorefna (November). San Salvador, El Salvador: Ediciones al Frente. GARCIA, J. (1989) "El Salvador: Recent Elections in Historical Perspective," pp. 60-92 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BLACK, J. K. (1993) "Elections and Other Trivial Pursuits: Latin America and the New World Order." Third World Quarterly 14, 3 (September): 545-53. BOLLINGER, W. (1989) "Villalobos on 'Popular Insurrection."' Latin American Perspectives 16, 3 (Summer): 38-47. BOOTH, J. (1989) "Elections and Democracy in Central America: A Framework for Analysis," pp. 7-39 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. COLLIER, D. and J. MAHON Jr. (1993) "Conceptual 'Stretching' Revisited: Adapting Categories in Comparative Analysis." American Political Science Review 87, 4 (December): 845-855. CORDOVA MACIAS, R. (1992) "Procesos electorales y sistema de partidos en El Salvador (12-1-1989)" (Documento de Trabajo; December). San Salvador, El Salvador: FundaUngo. DANNER, M. (1994) The Massacre at El Mozote. New York, NY: Vintage Books. DE SOTO, A. and G. DEL CASTILLO (1994) "Obstacles to Peacebuilding." Foreign Policy 94 (Spring): 69-93. DIAZ, F. (1994) Speech by the Director of the Centro de Estudios para la Aplicaci6n de Derecho (CESPAD) at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. DUNKERLEY, J. (1994) The Pacification of Central America. New York, NY: Verso Press. ESCOBAR GALINDO, D. (1994) Author interview with government representative on the Negotiating Committee, speaking at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. Frente Farabundo Marti para la Liberacion Nacional/Fuerzas Populares de Liberaci6n (FMLN/FPL) (1993) Plataforma para la transici6n democratica: Propuesta a la nacion salvadorefna (November). San Salvador, El Salvador: Ediciones al Frente. GARCIA, J. (1989) "El Salvador: Recent Elections in Historical Perspective," pp. 60-92 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. BLACK, J. K. (1993) "Elections and Other Trivial Pursuits: Latin America and the New World Order." Third World Quarterly 14, 3 (September): 545-53. BOLLINGER, W. (1989) "Villalobos on 'Popular Insurrection."' Latin American Perspectives 16, 3 (Summer): 38-47. BOOTH, J. (1989) "Elections and Democracy in Central America: A Framework for Analysis," pp. 7-39 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. COLLIER, D. and J. MAHON Jr. (1993) "Conceptual 'Stretching' Revisited: Adapting Categories in Comparative Analysis." American Political Science Review 87, 4 (December): 845-855. CORDOVA MACIAS, R. (1992) "Procesos electorales y sistema de partidos en El Salvador (12-1-1989)" (Documento de Trabajo; December). San Salvador, El Salvador: FundaUngo. DANNER, M. (1994) The Massacre at El Mozote. New York, NY: Vintage Books. DE SOTO, A. and G. DEL CASTILLO (1994) "Obstacles to Peacebuilding." Foreign Policy 94 (Spring): 69-93. DIAZ, F. (1994) Speech by the Director of the Centro de Estudios para la Aplicaci6n de Derecho (CESPAD) at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. DUNKERLEY, J. (1994) The Pacification of Central America. New York, NY: Verso Press. ESCOBAR GALINDO, D. (1994) Author interview with government representative on the Negotiating Committee, speaking at FLACSO conference; San Salvador (El Salvador); 11 January. Frente Farabundo Marti para la Liberacion Nacional/Fuerzas Populares de Liberaci6n (FMLN/FPL) (1993) Plataforma para la transici6n democratica: Propuesta a la nacion salvadorefna (November). San Salvador, El Salvador: Ediciones al Frente. GARCIA, J. (1989) "El Salvador: Recent Elections in Historical Perspective," pp. 60-92 in John A. Booth and Mitchell A. Seligson (eds.) Elections and Democracy in Central America. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. 54 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 54 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 54 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 54 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 54 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 54 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS GILLS, B., J. ROCAMORA, and R. WILSON (eds.) (1993) Low Intensity Democracy: Political Power in the New World Order. Boulder, CO: Pluto Press. HAMILTON, N., J. FRIEDEN, L. FULLER, and M. PASTOR Jr. (1988) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. HERMAN, E. and F. BRODHEAD (1984) Demonstration Elections: US-Staged Elections in the Dominican Republic, Vietnam, and El Salvador. Boston, MA: South End Press. HERNANDEZ, R. (1994) Author interview with FMLN candidate for deputy mayor of Nueva Granada, Usulutan; in Nueva Granada; 10 January. HOLIDAY, D. and W. STANLEY (1993) "Building the Peace: Prelimi- nary Lessons from El Salvador." Journal of International Affairs 46, 2 (Winter): 415-438. Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacion para la Agricultura/Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales (IICA/FLACSO) (1991) Centroamerica en Cifras. San Jose, Costa Rica: IICA/FLACSO. KARL, T. (1992) "El Salvador's Negotiated Revolution." Foreign Affairs 71, 2 (Spring): 147-164. _ (1990) "Dilemmas of Democratization in Latin America." Comparative Politics 23, 1 (October): 1-21. _ (1988) "Exporting Democracy: The Unanticipated Effects of US Electoral Policy in El Salvador," pp. 173-91 in Nora Hamilton (ed.) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1986) "Imposing Consent? Electoralism vs. Democratization in El Salvador," pp. 9-36 in Paul W. Drake and Eduardo Silva (eds.) Elections and Democratization in Latin America, 1980- 1985. San Diego, CA: University of California Press. _ (1985) "After La Palma: The Prospects for Democratization in El Salvador." World Policy Journal 2, 2 (Spring): 305-330. LE CHEVALIER, G. (1994) Author interview with Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC deputy and campaign manager; San Salvador; 13 January. GILLS, B., J. ROCAMORA, and R. WILSON (eds.) (1993) Low Intensity Democracy: Political Power in the New World Order. Boulder, CO: Pluto Press. HAMILTON, N., J. FRIEDEN, L. FULLER, and M. PASTOR Jr. (1988) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. HERMAN, E. and F. BRODHEAD (1984) Demonstration Elections: US-Staged Elections in the Dominican Republic, Vietnam, and El Salvador. Boston, MA: South End Press. HERNANDEZ, R. (1994) Author interview with FMLN candidate for deputy mayor of Nueva Granada, Usulutan; in Nueva Granada; 10 January. HOLIDAY, D. and W. STANLEY (1993) "Building the Peace: Prelimi- nary Lessons from El Salvador." Journal of International Affairs 46, 2 (Winter): 415-438. Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacion para la Agricultura/Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales (IICA/FLACSO) (1991) Centroamerica en Cifras. San Jose, Costa Rica: IICA/FLACSO. KARL, T. (1992) "El Salvador's Negotiated Revolution." Foreign Affairs 71, 2 (Spring): 147-164. _ (1990) "Dilemmas of Democratization in Latin America." Comparative Politics 23, 1 (October): 1-21. _ (1988) "Exporting Democracy: The Unanticipated Effects of US Electoral Policy in El Salvador," pp. 173-91 in Nora Hamilton (ed.) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1986) "Imposing Consent? Electoralism vs. Democratization in El Salvador," pp. 9-36 in Paul W. Drake and Eduardo Silva (eds.) Elections and Democratization in Latin America, 1980- 1985. San Diego, CA: University of California Press. _ (1985) "After La Palma: The Prospects for Democratization in El Salvador." World Policy Journal 2, 2 (Spring): 305-330. LE CHEVALIER, G. (1994) Author interview with Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC deputy and campaign manager; San Salvador; 13 January. GILLS, B., J. ROCAMORA, and R. WILSON (eds.) (1993) Low Intensity Democracy: Political Power in the New World Order. Boulder, CO: Pluto Press. HAMILTON, N., J. FRIEDEN, L. FULLER, and M. PASTOR Jr. (1988) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. HERMAN, E. and F. BRODHEAD (1984) Demonstration Elections: US-Staged Elections in the Dominican Republic, Vietnam, and El Salvador. Boston, MA: South End Press. HERNANDEZ, R. (1994) Author interview with FMLN candidate for deputy mayor of Nueva Granada, Usulutan; in Nueva Granada; 10 January. HOLIDAY, D. and W. STANLEY (1993) "Building the Peace: Prelimi- nary Lessons from El Salvador." Journal of International Affairs 46, 2 (Winter): 415-438. Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacion para la Agricultura/Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales (IICA/FLACSO) (1991) Centroamerica en Cifras. San Jose, Costa Rica: IICA/FLACSO. KARL, T. (1992) "El Salvador's Negotiated Revolution." Foreign Affairs 71, 2 (Spring): 147-164. _ (1990) "Dilemmas of Democratization in Latin America." Comparative Politics 23, 1 (October): 1-21. _ (1988) "Exporting Democracy: The Unanticipated Effects of US Electoral Policy in El Salvador," pp. 173-91 in Nora Hamilton (ed.) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1986) "Imposing Consent? Electoralism vs. Democratization in El Salvador," pp. 9-36 in Paul W. Drake and Eduardo Silva (eds.) Elections and Democratization in Latin America, 1980- 1985. San Diego, CA: University of California Press. _ (1985) "After La Palma: The Prospects for Democratization in El Salvador." World Policy Journal 2, 2 (Spring): 305-330. LE CHEVALIER, G. (1994) Author interview with Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC deputy and campaign manager; San Salvador; 13 January. GILLS, B., J. ROCAMORA, and R. WILSON (eds.) (1993) Low Intensity Democracy: Political Power in the New World Order. Boulder, CO: Pluto Press. HAMILTON, N., J. FRIEDEN, L. FULLER, and M. PASTOR Jr. (1988) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. HERMAN, E. and F. BRODHEAD (1984) Demonstration Elections: US-Staged Elections in the Dominican Republic, Vietnam, and El Salvador. Boston, MA: South End Press. HERNANDEZ, R. (1994) Author interview with FMLN candidate for deputy mayor of Nueva Granada, Usulutan; in Nueva Granada; 10 January. HOLIDAY, D. and W. STANLEY (1993) "Building the Peace: Prelimi- nary Lessons from El Salvador." Journal of International Affairs 46, 2 (Winter): 415-438. Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacion para la Agricultura/Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales (IICA/FLACSO) (1991) Centroamerica en Cifras. San Jose, Costa Rica: IICA/FLACSO. KARL, T. (1992) "El Salvador's Negotiated Revolution." Foreign Affairs 71, 2 (Spring): 147-164. _ (1990) "Dilemmas of Democratization in Latin America." Comparative Politics 23, 1 (October): 1-21. _ (1988) "Exporting Democracy: The Unanticipated Effects of US Electoral Policy in El Salvador," pp. 173-91 in Nora Hamilton (ed.) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1986) "Imposing Consent? Electoralism vs. Democratization in El Salvador," pp. 9-36 in Paul W. Drake and Eduardo Silva (eds.) Elections and Democratization in Latin America, 1980- 1985. San Diego, CA: University of California Press. _ (1985) "After La Palma: The Prospects for Democratization in El Salvador." World Policy Journal 2, 2 (Spring): 305-330. LE CHEVALIER, G. (1994) Author interview with Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC deputy and campaign manager; San Salvador; 13 January. GILLS, B., J. ROCAMORA, and R. WILSON (eds.) (1993) Low Intensity Democracy: Political Power in the New World Order. Boulder, CO: Pluto Press. HAMILTON, N., J. FRIEDEN, L. FULLER, and M. PASTOR Jr. (1988) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. HERMAN, E. and F. BRODHEAD (1984) Demonstration Elections: US-Staged Elections in the Dominican Republic, Vietnam, and El Salvador. Boston, MA: South End Press. HERNANDEZ, R. (1994) Author interview with FMLN candidate for deputy mayor of Nueva Granada, Usulutan; in Nueva Granada; 10 January. HOLIDAY, D. and W. STANLEY (1993) "Building the Peace: Prelimi- nary Lessons from El Salvador." Journal of International Affairs 46, 2 (Winter): 415-438. Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacion para la Agricultura/Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales (IICA/FLACSO) (1991) Centroamerica en Cifras. San Jose, Costa Rica: IICA/FLACSO. KARL, T. (1992) "El Salvador's Negotiated Revolution." Foreign Affairs 71, 2 (Spring): 147-164. _ (1990) "Dilemmas of Democratization in Latin America." Comparative Politics 23, 1 (October): 1-21. _ (1988) "Exporting Democracy: The Unanticipated Effects of US Electoral Policy in El Salvador," pp. 173-91 in Nora Hamilton (ed.) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1986) "Imposing Consent? Electoralism vs. Democratization in El Salvador," pp. 9-36 in Paul W. Drake and Eduardo Silva (eds.) Elections and Democratization in Latin America, 1980- 1985. San Diego, CA: University of California Press. _ (1985) "After La Palma: The Prospects for Democratization in El Salvador." World Policy Journal 2, 2 (Spring): 305-330. LE CHEVALIER, G. (1994) Author interview with Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC deputy and campaign manager; San Salvador; 13 January. GILLS, B., J. ROCAMORA, and R. WILSON (eds.) (1993) Low Intensity Democracy: Political Power in the New World Order. Boulder, CO: Pluto Press. HAMILTON, N., J. FRIEDEN, L. FULLER, and M. PASTOR Jr. (1988) Crisis in Central America: Regional Dynamics and US Policy in the 1980s. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. HERMAN, E. and F. BRODHEAD (1984) Demonstration Elections: US-Staged Elections in the Dominican Republic, Vietnam, and El Salvador. Boston, MA: South End Press. HERNANDEZ, R. (1994) Author interview with FMLN candidate for deputy mayor of Nueva Granada, Usulutan; in Nueva Granada; 10 January. HOLIDAY, D. and W. STANLEY (1993) "Building the Peace: Prelimi- nary Lessons from El Salvador." Journal of International Affairs 46, 2 (Winter): 415-438. 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(1994) Author interview with Gerardo LeChevalier, PDC deputy and campaign manager; San Salvador; 13 January. STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 55 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 55 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 55 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 55 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 55 STAHLER-SHOLK: EL SALVADOR'S NEGOTIATED TRANSITION 55 LEO GRANDE, W. (1992) "After the Battle of San Salvador," pp. 111- 138 in Kenneth M. Coleman and George C. Herring (eds.) Understanding the Central American Crisis. Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources Inc. (1984) "Through the Looking Glass: The Kissinger Report on Central America." World Policy Journal 1, 2 (Winter): 251-284. LOPEZ NUILA, Col. C. (1994) Author interview with former Vice- Minister of Public Security; San Salvador; 7 January. LUNGO UCLES, M. 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MUNCK, G. (1993) "Beyond Electoralism in El Salvador: Conflict Resolution through Negotiated Compromise." Third World Quarterly 14, 1 (April): 75-93. MURRAY, K., E. COLETTI, and J. SPENCE (1994) Rescuing Recon- struction: The Debate on Postwar Economic Recovery in El Salvador (May). Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. NOBELLINO, S. (1994) Author interview with representative of the Office of Democratic Initiatives, US-AID El Salvador; San Salvador; 12 January. LEO GRANDE, W. (1992) "After the Battle of San Salvador," pp. 111- 138 in Kenneth M. Coleman and George C. Herring (eds.) Understanding the Central American Crisis. Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources Inc. (1984) "Through the Looking Glass: The Kissinger Report on Central America." World Policy Journal 1, 2 (Winter): 251-284. LOPEZ NUILA, Col. C. (1994) Author interview with former Vice- Minister of Public Security; San Salvador; 7 January. LUNGO UCLES, M. (1994) "Redefining Democracy in El Salvador: New Spaces and New Practices for the 1990s," pp. 145-157 in Susanne Jonas and Edward J. McCaughan (eds.) Latin America Faces the Twenty-First Century: Reconstructng a Social Justice Agenda. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. MAGANA, A. (1994) Author interview with former Provisional President (1982-84) of El Salvador; San Salvador; 12 January. MARTINEZ, G. (1994) Author interview with national campaign director of the FMLN; San Salvador; 10 January. MONTGOMERY, T.S. (1995) Revolution in El Salvador: From Civil Strife to Civil Peace (2nd ed.). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1993) "Armed Struggle and Popular Resistance in El Salvador: The Struggle for Peace," pp. 101-120 in Barry Carr and Steve Ellner (eds.) The Latin American Left: From the Fall of Allende to Perestroika. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1990) "Fighting Guerrillas: The United States and Low- Intensity Conflict in El Salvador." New Political Science 17-18 (Fall-Winter): 21-53. MUNCK, G. (1993) "Beyond Electoralism in El Salvador: Conflict Resolution through Negotiated Compromise." Third World Quarterly 14, 1 (April): 75-93. MURRAY, K., E. COLETTI, and J. SPENCE (1994) Rescuing Recon- struction: The Debate on Postwar Economic Recovery in El Salvador (May). Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. NOBELLINO, S. (1994) Author interview with representative of the Office of Democratic Initiatives, US-AID El Salvador; San Salvador; 12 January. LEO GRANDE, W. (1992) "After the Battle of San Salvador," pp. 111- 138 in Kenneth M. Coleman and George C. Herring (eds.) Understanding the Central American Crisis. Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources Inc. (1984) "Through the Looking Glass: The Kissinger Report on Central America." World Policy Journal 1, 2 (Winter): 251-284. LOPEZ NUILA, Col. C. (1994) Author interview with former Vice- Minister of Public Security; San Salvador; 7 January. LUNGO UCLES, M. (1994) "Redefining Democracy in El Salvador: New Spaces and New Practices for the 1990s," pp. 145-157 in Susanne Jonas and Edward J. McCaughan (eds.) Latin America Faces the Twenty-First Century: Reconstructng a Social Justice Agenda. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. MAGANA, A. (1994) Author interview with former Provisional President (1982-84) of El Salvador; San Salvador; 12 January. MARTINEZ, G. (1994) Author interview with national campaign director of the FMLN; San Salvador; 10 January. MONTGOMERY, T.S. (1995) Revolution in El Salvador: From Civil Strife to Civil Peace (2nd ed.). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1993) "Armed Struggle and Popular Resistance in El Salvador: The Struggle for Peace," pp. 101-120 in Barry Carr and Steve Ellner (eds.) The Latin American Left: From the Fall of Allende to Perestroika. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. (1990) "Fighting Guerrillas: The United States and Low- Intensity Conflict in El Salvador." New Political Science 17-18 (Fall-Winter): 21-53. MUNCK, G. (1993) "Beyond Electoralism in El Salvador: Conflict Resolution through Negotiated Compromise." Third World Quarterly 14, 1 (April): 75-93. MURRAY, K., E. COLETTI, and J. SPENCE (1994) Rescuing Recon- struction: The Debate on Postwar Economic Recovery in El Salvador (May). Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. NOBELLINO, S. (1994) Author interview with representative of the Office of Democratic Initiatives, US-AID El Salvador; San Salvador; 12 January. 56 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 56 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 56 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 56 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 56 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS 56 JOURNAL OF INTERAMERICAN STUDIES AND WORLD AFFAIRS O'DONNELL, G. (1992) "Transitions, Continuities, and Paradoxes," pp. 17-56 in Scott Mainwaring, Guillermo O'Donnell, and J. Samuel Valenzuela (eds.) Issues in Democratic Consolidation: The New South American Democracies in Comparative Per- spective. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. O'DONNELL, M. (1993) El Salvador Elections 1994: Voter Registration Progress and the Tasks Ahead (November). Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. O'DONNELL, M., J. SPENCE and G. VICKERS (1993) El Salvador Elections 1994: The Voter Registration Tangle. Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. PONCE, Gen. R. (1993) "Discurso de entrega de mando del Ministro de la Defensa Nacional, General de Division Rene Emilio Ponce." Estudios Centroamericanos (ECA) 48, 537-538 (July- August): 781-785. POPKIN, M., G. VICKERS and J. SPENCE (1993) Justice Impugned: The Salvadoran Peace Accords and the Problem of Impunity. Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. PRZEWORSKI, A. (1988) "Democracy as a Contingent Outcome of Conflicts," pp. 59-80 in Jon Elster and Rune Slagstad (eds.) Constitutionalism and Democracy. 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Issues in Democratic Consolidation: The New South American Democracies in Comparative Per- spective. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. O'DONNELL, M. (1993) El Salvador Elections 1994: Voter Registration Progress and the Tasks Ahead (November). Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. O'DONNELL, M., J. SPENCE and G. VICKERS (1993) El Salvador Elections 1994: The Voter Registration Tangle. Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. PONCE, Gen. R. (1993) "Discurso de entrega de mando del Ministro de la Defensa Nacional, General de Division Rene Emilio Ponce." Estudios Centroamericanos (ECA) 48, 537-538 (July- August): 781-785. POPKIN, M., G. VICKERS and J. SPENCE (1993) Justice Impugned: The Salvadoran Peace Accords and the Problem of Impunity. Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. PRZEWORSKI, A. (1988) "Democracy as a Contingent Outcome of Conflicts," pp. 59-80 in Jon Elster and Rune Slagstad (eds.) Constitutionalism and Democracy. 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(1990) "Elections and Democratization in Nicaragua: The 1990 Elections in Perspective." Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs 32, 4 (Winter): 13-34. WOOD, E. (1994) "El Salvador: From Civil War to Grassroots Development?" (Food First Action Alert). Oakland, CA: Insti- tute for Food and Development Policy. ZELAYANDIA, E. (1994) Author interview with Emesto Zelayandia, chief of staff for the CD presidential campaign; San Salvador; 22 April. ZELAYA, C. (1994) Author interview with Carlos Valentin Zelaya, ARENA candidate for deputy; San Vicente (El Salvador); 19 March. VICKERS, G. (1992) "The Political Reality after Eleven Years of War," pp. 25-39 in Joseph S. Tulchin (ed.) Is There a Transition to Democracy in El Salvador? Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. VICKERS, G. and J. SPENCE (1992) Endgame: A Progress Report on Implementation of the Salvadoran Peace Accords (3 Decem- ber). Cambridge, MA: Hemisphere Initiatives. VILLALOBOS, J. (1989a) "A Democratic Revolution for El Salvador." Foreign Policy 74 (Spring): 103-122. (1989b) "Popular Insurrection: Desire or Reality?" Latin American Perspectives 16, 3 (Summer): 5-37. WALTER, K. and P. WILLIAMS (1993) "The Military and Democrati- zation in El Salvador." Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs 35, 1 (Spring): 39-88. WILLIAMS, P. (1990) "Elections and Democratization in Nicaragua: The 1990 Elections in Perspective." Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs 32, 4 (Winter): 13-34. WOOD, E. (1994) "El Salvador: From Civil War to Grassroots Development?" (Food First Action Alert). Oakland, CA: Insti- tute for Food and Development Policy. ZELAYANDIA, E. (1994) Author interview with Emesto Zelayandia, chief of staff for the CD presidential campaign; San Salvador; 22 April. ZELAYA, C. (1994) Author interview with Carlos Valentin Zelaya, ARENA candidate for deputy; San Vicente (El Salvador); 19 March.