The first speech of Costa Rica’s new president, Leura Fernández, was symptomatic: it revealed both the central purpose of the continuity project and her own perception of the difficulties in fully advancing it. Her address had two collateral motives. The first, mandatory in nature, was to thank the outgoing president for having initiated a structural transformation of the country. The second, reflecting her own political sensibility, was to respond to the accusations of authoritarianism that had been repeatedly voiced in political and journalistic circles throughout the campaign.
“Democracy, democracy, democracy!” the new leader repeated as she began her victory speech. But it was a rather polysemous affirmation. It could refer to the solid popular support behind her electoral triumph, which would allow her to continue the project begun by her predecessor, or it could clarify that she would carry it out without overriding institutional checks and balances—the sin of which she has been accused by the opposition. It may also have been a combination of both, something that time will clarify.

The central purpose of the continuity project was stated by Doña Laura with complete forcefulness: she proclaimed that “this is the end of the Second Republic,” the one that began after the 1948 war and has lasted until today. It is a “profound and irreversible” change. Thus, this electoral victory reflects the birth of a new socio-political model. “Today the Third Republic is born!” she exclaimed.
In other words, the change of model already has a clear name (the Third Republic). But two decisive assumptions must be questioned: What causes justify such a considerable change? And, above all, will it be possible to implement it in its full dimension?
One might argue that the electoral victory itself, of enormous proportions, after the strong criticisms directed at the outgoing president, would be sufficient justification for the radical change proposed. But that would not explain the deeper reasons behind the success of continuity. Various observers, Sergio Ramírez among them, maintain that it has to do with the drastic transformation of Costa Rican society: the peaceful and safe Costa Rica no longer exists. One would have to add: nor does the less unequal Costa Rica.
And was this slide toward insecurity and inequality inevitable? What prevented the Costa Rican political system from avoiding this negative shift?
My perception is that it stems from a mismatch between real socio-political change and the prevailing political culture. From a positive perspective, one might say that political projects can die of success. That is what happened with the political model that emerged from the 1948 civil war (known as the Second Republic). Undoubtedly, that system, with its social-democratic orientation, was a successful model that laid the economic and political foundations for consolidating the most stable democracy in the region.
However, profound social changes were not absorbed in time. The confirmation of the shift from a rural to an urban society, the impact of global crises, the radical transformation of the productive model, the emergence of two spheres of consumption, as well as the defects of the political culture itself, among other phenomena, prevented these changes from being fully integrated. It must also be noted that the established way of doing politics was not without flaws. For example, the tendency to avoid frank dissent.
In other Central American countries it is often said that, if there is something difficult, it is knowing what a Costa Rican truly thinks. The inclination to respond by saying what the interlocutor expects to hear had tangible political effects. Surveys on mutual trust have shown that such trust was considerably low, even compared to other Central American countries. And I believe that breaking with that style has been a dividend for Rodrigo Chaves.
The problem is that, while profound social changes were taking place, the inclination within the dominant political culture was to insist on the features of the old successful model. This fostered a growing separation between the operators of that systemic nostalgia and the discontent of the country’s “deep” sectors. Something that exploded with Rodrigo Chaves’s victory in the previous elections confirmed this situation.
Chaves’s tumultuous presidency has reflected both his lack of familiarity with the institutional system and the resistance presented by the nostalgics of the previous successful model. But the resounding electoral victory of his successor shows that, despite the outgoing president’s frequent lapses in decorum, the country’s deeper sectors continue to support him.
Nevertheless, the shift toward the Third Republic is by no means guaranteed. Chaves’s approach has consisted of reducing or eliminating many of the institutional checks and balances that prevent Costa Rica from adapting to today’s world. That is the basis of his complaint that, in reality, the nostalgics of the outdated old model take refuge within those checks and balances and, in practice, have not allowed him to govern. His opponents respond that Chaves has sought to destroy the institutional counterweights that strengthen democracy.
This dilemma reflects the new president’s challenge regarding progress toward the Third Republic. On the one hand, there is a perception that the State must be reformed. In fact, for some time now, State reform has been a frequent subject of academic and political reflection. For many specialists, the Second Republic has attempted to address high mutual distrust through a growing tendency toward administrative controls, something perceived by the country’s deeper sectors as an obstructive web that benefits only the bureaucracy and elites. Hence Chaves’s discourse that the country must escape this gridlock has received such considerable social support. Of course, his critics accuse him of wanting to rid himself of all constraints in order to promote authoritarian governance.
But beyond intentions, the question remains whether the transformation toward the Third Republic is actually possible. From the legislative standpoint, the new presidency faces three options. The first is to attempt to use ordinary laws (for which she has a sufficient majority) to produce profound institutional changes. The only certainty this option provides is that the constitutional court will face exhaustive work, given the number of appeals and complaints that will rain down upon it. The second is to resort to a popular legislative initiative, gathering signatures for a Constituent Assembly. This process would entail a fierce political struggle, to which sharp differences with Rodrigo Chaves could be added. And the third, which would have to unfold within the parliamentary arena, involves negotiating with the National Liberation Party, the only force that, together with the ruling bloc, would achieve the qualified majority necessary to carry out a constitutional reform. A difficult negotiation, since the PLN is pressured by the rest of the progressive opposition to the government and could emerge fractured from such talks.










