In Nicaragua, Ortega and Murillo now have their legion of 76,800 paramilitaries

Lorenzo closed his eyes when first lady and “co-president” Rosario Murillo stood on the central platform of Plaza la Fe, in Managua, on the banks of Lake Xolotlán. She swore him in, along with 30,000 other people, as a “hero of peace” and “volunteer policeman.”

These are the euphemisms that the Sandinista regime uses for its paramilitaries, who belong to one of the most lethal repressive forces at the service of the presidential couple. In 2018, the paramilitaries were the main perpetrators of the massacre of more than 350 protestors.

The difference today is that, since January of 2025, this parastatal group was given legal status, thanks to the constitutional reform that consolidated a totalitarian government. The Ortega-Murillo regime is equipped with official security forces and informal armed bodies that are accused of committing crimes against humanity.

“I was forced to go to that square, to wear that balaclava… I felt a lot of moral pain, because I don’t want to be a paramilitary or be associated [with such groups], because those people have done a lot of harm,” Lorenzo tells EL PAÍS.

This official has only agreed to speak about his experience on the condition of preserving his anonymity. Speaking on the record — as they say in journalistic jargon — could result in him being dismissed from his job, or even being jailed or exiled. Nevertheless, he dares to vent his anger, because he’s very angry about what happened a few days ago, when he was forced to attend the massive swearing-in of paramilitaries.

The public act, broadcast on national television on February 26, culminated in the formalization of 76,800 hooded “volunteer police” who, between January and February, were sworn in at identical ceremonies. None, however, was as big as the latter, in which a legion of 30,000 people pledged their allegiance to their “supreme leaders,” the “co-presidents” Ortega and Murillo.

Lorenzo is a secretary in a public institution. A mid-level official, he says that he has never participated in repressive activities. But, on February 25, he received a call that a public employee cannot refuse in Nicaragua. It was “an order from above.” He had to be ready at 5 a.m. the next day, dressed in black pants, black shoes and a white shirt. Lorenzo knew that he was going to be sworn in as a paramilitary, despite the fact that this force was formed in 2018 by retired Sandinista fighters and defenders of the Ortega-Murillo dynastic project. In other words, it didn’t usually include public employees.

This began to change in mid-2024, before the constitutional reform, when state workers were forced to attend military camps, in order to train for “any coup attempt.” These “trained” workers were the ones who took part in the paramilitary swearing-in ceremonies in different cities across the country. However, for the most recent mass ceremony, the regime didn’t have enough participants. That’s why Lorenzo says that they called up employees like him, from the mid-levels of the “revolutionary” state apparatus.

Classist tone

“It seems that the 30,000 people who had been taken to the camps didn’t fill [the stadium]. That’s why they called up people like us, who had never been summoned before. Look, of the 30,000 people in the plaza, I can assure you that more than half didn’t want to be there. There were even old people with canes. It was very sad. Others cried and fainted from heat stroke,” the civil servant adds.

His description reveals the situation behind the official propaganda. There’s a clearly classist undertone, in that high-level officials weren’t called up to be sworn in as paramilitaries.

The day was long. The worker left his house early in the morning and went to the location where he was told to go. Then, he got on a bus that was part of a convoy, which traveled through various municipalities for several hours. He was finally dropped off at the Alexis Arguello Sports Center, near Plaza la Fe. A hood was placed over his head, in order to hide his identity.

At around 3 p.m., with the Managua sun scorching the plaza, the workers were forced to line up and practice the choreography for the live broadcast. “Attention!” the officers shouted. “At ease!” They rehearsed a dozen times. The most prepared were those who had attended military camps. Lorenzo — mainly due to his unease with this type of event — was clumsy with the exercises. He had trouble standing straight. And, as he felt fatigued in the heat — when he saw people fainting and heard cries from hunger — he despaired. He felt trapped in the public square.

He says that he would have liked to escape, but he was paralyzed by terror and the fear of losing his job. When, several hours later, at dusk, he heard the police patrols arriving at the square, escorting some armored Mercedes Benz vehicles, he knew that the event was about to begin. He says that he closed his eyes, hoping that no one would recognize him. He pretended to say “yes” to co-president Murillo. The government made them swear an oath: “We take the oath of the heroic voluntary police, guerrillas of peace, defenders of peace.”

“I felt ashamed, morally sad. I was forced [to do it]. I felt bad because I didn’t want to be there,” Lorenzo repeats, for the second time. Drafted and undrafted, the co-presidential couple now has 76,800 “volunteer police officers,” a number that far exceeds the 28,400 active officers within the police forces.

“It’s a clear division of power,” explains a security expert consulted by EL PAÍS. “In those same weeks, Ortega swore in the head of the army and the head of the [National Police], while Murillo swore in these parastatal forces. So, therein lies the symbolism, to show that she’s [taking] control of these parastatal forces. And that’s nothing more than a massive act that aims to frighten the entire population.”

“The underlying meaning is strong,” the expert concludes. “Murillo is saying that this is her half of the co-presidency that [she and her husband] invented in the Constitution. That’s the side of the government that belongs to her.” In the end, this is a matrimonial division of power that’s defined by the use of violence.

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