Nicaragua’s Two-Headed Monster:
A Dynastic Scourge Disguised as Progress
Throughout history, some of the most enduring political institutions have sought to limit the concentration of power in the hands of a single ruler. The Roman Republic, for instance, introduced a system of dual executive power with two annually elected consuls, each with equal authority and the ability to veto one another. This arrangement was deliberate and strategic to prevent tyranny and ensure accountability. The Romans understood that the greatest danger to a republic was unchecked rule, and by dividing executive power, they aimed to protect the state from dynastic and autocratic ambitions.
Yet in 21st-century Nicaragua, a country that has more than once fought against dictatorship, a perverse inversion of this model has taken shape. The Sandinistas have “reformed” the country’s constitution to make the executive power bicephalous: two-headed. Daniel Ortega and Rosario Murillo’s so-called "co-presidency" does not divide power to prevent tyranny—it concentrates it within a single family. While claiming to be progressive, their new governing structure is nothing more than a dynastic autocracy, dressed up in woke rhetoric about gender balance and inclusivity. Unlike the Romans, who designed a system where power was temporary and contested, the Ortega-Murillo regime ensured their grip on Nicaragua would be permanent and unchallengeable.
The foundation of republicanism is that all citizens have the potential to become rulers. This entails an unspoken understanding that no one is indispensable. No individual holds more knowledge than the collective, no one has greater authority than the community, and no one is infallible. However, Nicaragua's former Marxist revolutionary couple does not adhere to these modest principles.
For decades, Nicaragua’s constitution explicitly forbade the president and vice president from being direct relatives—a safeguard against dynastic rule. That changed in 2017 when Ortega orchestrated a constitutional amendment allowing his wife to become vice president. The recent reforms, which formalized the concept of a co-presidency, take this one step further, creating a parallel executive structure that effectively cements Nicaragua as a family dictatorship.
The implications are as clear as they are ominous. Once Daniel Ortega inevitably dies (Ortega is almost 80, surpassing life expectancy in his country by 7 years), Murillo will continue ruling, and one of their sons—most likely Laureano Ortega Murillo, already a significant figure in the small country—will take his father’s place. When Rosario passes, in turn, another female family member will most likely be invested, effectively establishing a rule by exclusive bloodline. This is not governance; it is succession, a throwback monarchy in all but name. Nicaragua is on the brink of becoming a two-headed, unconstitutional monarchy. The arrangement ensures a systematic family overlap, leaving no gap for anyone else to share the top positions. The transformation now complete also makes Nicaragua a totalitarian kleptocratic dynasty.
Even in Africa, where dynastic politics have thrived for generations, one such blatant family power grab was rejected. In Zimbabwe, the aging dictator Robert Mugabe attempted to position his wife, Grace Mugabe, as his successor, a move that was met with fierce resistance. The Zimbabwean military intervened, and Mugabe was forced to resign in 2017. The notion that even Zimbabwe—a country with a long history of authoritarianism—could reject such a blatant attempt at a family dynasty, yet Nicaragua has fully embraced it, speaks to the depth of Ortega’s control over the state, including the armed forces, and the regressive nature of the changes.
The co-presidency is merely one pillar of a broader scheme to secure total control over all aspects of Nicaraguan life. The new constitutional changes serve a single purpose: ensuring that no space—social, political, academic, or civil—remains beyond the grasp of the ruling family.
Among the most critical battlegrounds in the regime’s war on independent institutions is the country’s academe. Nicaragua’s universities—once centers of free thought, debate, and resistance—have now been entirely subordinated to the Sandinista state. Private institutions have been forced to close or merge with state-run universities, and academic freedom has been eliminated. Professors who dare to challenge the regime are fired or arrested, while student activists face exile, imprisonment, or worse. The Ortega-Murillo dynasty understands that controlling academe means controlling the minds of future generations, and they have ensured that no campus remains outside of their ideological grip.
Beyond academe, civil society has been systematically dismantled. The free and independent press no longer exists. More than 3,500 NGOs have been shut down, and opposition leaders have been imprisoned, dispossessed, and driven into exile. The exile crisis has reached staggering proportions—more than 600,000 Nicaraguans have fled the country since Ortega’s crackdown began in 2018. In a country of just over 6.8 million people, nearly one in ten Nicaraguans lives in recently forced exile. The scale of this displacement is equivalent to the mass political exoduses seen in Cuba and Venezuela, placing Nicaragua firmly among Latin America’s worst offenders in terms of state-driven migration crises.
Nowhere is the regime’s ruthlessness more evident than in its war against the Catholic Church. In some ways, this conflict mirrors the Cristero War of 1926-1929 in Mexico, where a radical socialist government attempted to crush Catholicism through persecution, violence, and wanton institutional murders. Ortega and Murillo have revived this barbaric battle, targeting nuns, priests, bishops, and religious institutions as their primary enemies.
Matagalpa’s Bishop Rolando Álvarez, one of the most prominent critics of the regime, was sentenced to 26 years in prison after refusing exile. Entire Catholic charities and schools, including Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity from Nicaragua, have been expelled. Traditional processions have been banned, and priests have been arrested simply for saying the Mass.
Yet history suggests that the Church, deeply embedded in Nicaraguan identity, will endure and resist—just as it did in Mexico, Poland, and countless other countries that have faced state persecution. The Cristero War did not end Catholicism in Mexico, and Ortega’s war will not destroy it in Nicaragua.
The Ortega-Murillo partnership is unique among the nations of the world and unlike any other dictatorship in Latin America. It is a kleptocratic Bonnie and Clyde dictatorship, where family rule, theft, and political brutality are justified with vacuous revolutionary slogans.
Under President Biden, Nicaragua was largely ignored, save for symbolic sanctions. But now that Donald Trump is back in the White House, Nicaragua’s fate may be very different. Trump is significantly more aware of the changing international scene and seems determined to rearrange the power structure in this hemisphere. In addition, new Secretary of State Marco Rubio is a staunch Cuban American anti-communist Catholic. He is unlikely to forget or ignore Nicaragua.
At first glance, Nicaragua appears strategically insignificant—an impoverished, isolated country with little geopolitical relevance. But that is deceptive. Two significant factors make Nicaragua far more critical than it seems.
First, foreign empires have long entertained the idea of building a canal through Nicaragua, an alternative to Panama’s US-controlled route. Let’s not forget that before canal construction began in Panama, preliminary work had already started in Nicaragua to build one in the late 19th century.
China has manifested an interest in building a canal in Nicaragua and has ably pulled the Sandinistas into its orbit. Should it ever materialize, such a project would give Beijing unprecedented access to Latin America’s trade routes, a direct challenge to US interests. Second, Nicaragua remains a foothold for Russia and Iran in the Western Hemisphere. Moscow and Tehran have strengthened ties with Ortega, raising concerns about potential military cooperation or intelligence operations.
With Trump’s aggressive stance on China and Russia, and his apparent desire to revive the Monroe Doctrine, Nicaragua could find itself thrust back into Washington’s foreign policy priorities. Should Trump decide to do something about Ortega and Murillo’s strategic threat, it is unlikely that their kleptocratic dynasty will survive unscathed.
The Ortega-Murillo regime destroyed the budding democracy that was slowly growing in Nicaragua in the 1990s after voters legitimately evicted Ortega and the Sandinistas from power. It has gone from a struggling democracy into a totalitarian kleptocratic dynasty. With absolute control over the state, civil society, academe, and an embattled Church, they have ensured their rule will continue beyond Ortega’s lifetime.
The world may condemn them, but their power remains unchallenged. With China, Russia, and Iran as their backers, they have built a fortress of tyranny.