Once considered among the most stable countries in Latin America, Ecuador has been rocked by a surge of gang-related violence in the last few years. The homicide rate has more than quadrupled, numerous elected officials and presidential candidates have been assassinated, and major gang leaders have broken out of high-security prisons. The federal government in Quito has struggled to respond to the crisis as it reckons with political upheaval — the former president Guillermo Lasso dissolved the national assembly in 2023 as it was preparing impeachment proceedings against him, and he later decided not to run for re-election in the snap elections that the dissolution triggered. Daniel Noboa, the son of a wealthy businessman who was elected to serve the remainder of Lasso’s term, now poses an increasingly dangerous threat to the future of Ecuador’s democracy. Noboa’s mano dura strategy for tackling the country’s security crisis, coupled with an inclination towards populist measures in the lead up to the next election, could permanently damage democracy in Ecuador if left unchecked.

When assuming office in the fall of 2023, Noboa had little intention of flirting with the authoritarian expansion of the Ecuadorian state. A New Yorker profile of Noboa described him as “wary” of radical solutions to fight violence in Ecuador, and on the campaign trail his main proposal for solving the crisis was the construction of more maximum-security prisons to hold gang members. But his approach changed in January, when gang leaders broke out of their high-security cells and members took guards hostage to seize control of several prisons. Noboa responded by declaring a state of emergency and announcing an “internal armed conflict” against more than 20 gangs, deploying the armed forces to stabilize the security situation.

Ecuador is now an increasingly militarized state. After the state of emergency lapsed in April, Noboa organized a referendum in which Ecuadorians voted, among other reforms, to amend the country’s constitution to “formalize the armed forces’ role in public security functions” — giving Noboa an increased and permanent capacity to oversee matters of everyday policing. This expansion of military authority encroaches on civil liberties for many Ecuadorians, especially those who are arrested and tried for drug trafficking and gang violence; rights groups have accused the armed forces of using excessive force and denying detainees due process.

Noboa’s trend towards consolidated control aligns with Levitsky and Ziblatt’s argument in their book How Democracies Die, in which they contend that autocrats do not always take office with a plan for winning authoritarian control. Instead, they wind up eroding democracy because they may grow impatient with its slow crawl and seek unilateral action to deliver a campaign promise, much like Noboa did by resorting to emergency powers to more effectively curb violence. Major national crises like the one Noboa faces, Levitsky and Ziblatt also argue,  can inflate approval ratings and deliver leaders unchecked political capital and a citizenry willing to compromise their civil liberties in service of a national cause. Noboa seized this opportunity to formalize his militarized state: when more than 70 percent of Ecuadorians were reportedly in favor of his gang crackdown last spring, he scheduled a referendum on security measures that garnered more than two-thirds support.

Noboa’s actions are not concerning solely because of their intrinsic consolidation of power at the federal level. In fact, he has begun to demonstrate authoritarian tendencies that could intensify given his expanded military powers. Since taking office, Noboa has sidelined one of the senior members of his administration who can hold him accountable: his vice president, Verónica Abad. Noboa sent Abad to serve as a peace envoy in Israel, and he has resisted her calls for him to resign to pursue re-election, appealing to the Attorney General that his completion of Lasso’s term is a special case that allows him to run as a “candidate president.” Abad claims that Noboa directed the arrest of her son on charges of influence-peddling in order to pressure her to resign as vice president. Meanwhile, two journalists have publicly claimed that Noboa’s government retaliated against them — by removing their program from the air and revoking their residency permit — for criticizing his leadership and sparring with his senior advisers online.

All of these incidents exemplify Varol’s theory of stealth authoritarianism, in which a leader exploits legal mechanisms such as judicial review or libel lawsuits to consolidate their power and weaken democratic institutions. Employing these mechanisms allows the leader to cloak their actions with a veneer of legitimacy that is difficult to counter in the court of public opinion. Noboa, for example, could argue that the arrest of Abad’s son was the result of an independent investigation by an autonomous judiciary that is carrying out its charge to root out corruption in Ecuador’s political class.

Regardless of his justifications, Noboa’s emerging authoritarianism should seriously trouble Ecuadorians who are concerned about the future of their democracy and have observed how a security crisis and a more militarized state can lead politicians down a slippery slope. Such is the case for El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele, who has waged a popular war on gangs but has also used his expanded police powers and high approval ratings to flout constitutional term limits and crack down on dissidents.

Noboa’s threat to Ecuadorian democracy may only increase as he seeks to shore up public support in advance of presidential elections next February. His brief term in office means he has a tight timeline to deliver on his campaign promises, a need for expediency that can lend itself to authoritarian actions, as Levitsky and Ziblatt argue. Recent data also suggests that Noboa’s crackdown on gang violence has not been as successful as he hoped — while homicides have dropped 17 percent this year compared to 2023, they are still 41 percent higher than 2022 levels.

With his approval ratings in decline, Noboa may decide to double down on his mano dura strategy, which could involve even greater military intervention and could further threaten civil liberties. But perhaps even more concerning, Noboa can leverage his special “candidate president” status to propose populist-style policies designed to curry favor with citizens. He has already flirted with this tactic: after a drought-induced energy shortage caused major blackouts across the country, Noboa recently announced that the government will cover the costs of all electricity bills for the three months leading up to the presidential elections.

A turn toward populism could be particularly dangerous for Ecuadorian democracy, which has been steadily recovering from significant erosion under populist leader Rafael Correa, as previous contributors to this blog have argued. A rise in populist rhetoric can also lead to increased support for expanded powers of the executive, as Bessen finds, which would be a dangerous gamble for Ecuador given Noboa’s apparent inclination towards authoritarian action.

Evidently, these next few months will be especially critical for the future of Ecuadorian democracy. If the Ecuadorian electorate does not check Noboa’s increasingly authoritarian tendencies and populist inclinations at the ballot box or in the political arena, then Noboa could exploit a militarized state apparatus and a new governing mandate to continue consolidating his power as the executive. What began as a crusade against gang-related violence could wind up causing irreparable harm to Ecuador’s democracy.