The Miss Universe competition, elegantly hosted by El Salvador, stands as the latest extravagant spectacle strategically promoted by President Nayib Bukele. This event is a pivotal element in his ongoing endeavors to transform the global perception of his nation, historically marred by incidents of violence. Through the staging of such high-profile events, President Bukele aims to showcase a different facet of El Salvador, emphasizing its cultural richness and promoting a narrative of positive transformation.
POLITICAL MARKETING IN HEELS
The female body seduces, sequins illuminate everything they touch, and feathers adorn what they clothe. This is well-known to beauty queens, advertisers, and marketers alike. Perhaps that's why Nayib Bukele invested millions of dollars to fill the country with beauty queens right in the midst of the pre-electoral year. Faced with terror and barbarity, it's natural for us to cling to beauty as an act of salvation. However, when beauty is presented in the form of a show and sponsored by a politician, we must also question their intentions and draw back the curtain to reveal the behind-the-scenes machinations.
In this orchestrated spectacle, the allure of the female form, the glimmer of sequins, and the elegance of feathers are wielded as powerful tools to captivate and distract. Beauty, in this context, becomes a double-edged sword, simultaneously enchanting and raising suspicions. Nayib Bukele's substantial financial investment in this beauty extravaganza during a crucial pre-election period invites scrutiny into whether this is a genuine celebration of aesthetics or a calculated political maneuver.
In the face of prevailing fear and chaos, the infusion of beauty into the public sphere can be seen as a deliberate strategy to divert attention from pressing issues and concerns. It prompts us to ponder whether this display is an authentic appreciation of elegance or a strategic move to manipulate public perception in the run-up to significant political events. As spectators, it is incumbent upon us to peel back the layers of this spectacle and discern the underlying motives, ensuring that the beauty presented does not serve as a mere distraction from more critical matters affecting the nation.
FINANCIAL DISCLOSURES
Nayib Bukele's government has invested over $12 million to make El Salvador the venue for the Miss Universe 2023 pageant. This information was recently disclosed solely in Thai on the JKN Global Group website, the current owners of the franchise. Interestingly, the same website features another press release in English where the transaction cost is omitted. Anne Jakrajutatip, the transgender woman who acquired the Miss Universe organization for $20 million in October of the previous year, is eager to highlight the return on her investment. However, Bukele seems hesitant, at least for now, to publicize these financial details. The allocation of such a substantial amount for hosting the pageant has sparked debates, with critics questioning the transparency of the transaction and its implications, especially considering Bukele's controversial approach to governance and his bid for reelection in the upcoming February presidential election. The intricate interplay between economic interests, international image-building, and political maneuvers makes the Miss Universe event a focal point of discussion not only for beauty pageant enthusiasts but also for those closely observing the dynamics of El Salvador's political landscape.
Beauty—traditionally associated with the feminine—is power. A divine grace to lead the way out of barbarity and a deceptive mirage to shape perceptions. Purchasing the attention drawn by more than 80 embellished and made-up women parading and competing amidst feathers and sequins (or in swimwear) is a well-known advertising strategy: using the female image as bait. Brands of all kinds employ this tactic to sell their products or enhance their businesses—be it air conditioners, alcoholic beverages, or even the likes of Donald Trump.
To announce that El Salvador would be the host of the upcoming pageant, Bukele stated, "El Salvador is a country full of beauty, with the best beaches in the world for surfing, impressive volcanoes, exquisite coffee, and it has now become the safest country in Latin America," in a video presented at the 71st Miss Universe gala in January of this year.
CROWNS & CONTROVERSIES
With that message, the president conveyed that beauty queens from all over the world would arrive in El Salvador at the end of 2023, bringing with them an international platform for promoting a list of products: 1) the beauty queens, with their millions of followers on social media and millions more through television screens, showcasing their bodies and faces; 2) the set where the show will be staged: El Salvador; 3) the owner of the beauty franchise, Anne Jakrajutatip, and her patron Nayib Bukele; 4) the reinforcement of the narrative of a modern country.
I am well aware of the implications of beauty pageants; I myself competed in the Miss Venezuela pageant in 2004 and paraded among feathers in front of a nation accustomed to flocking to such spectacles. Venezuela is a country of queens, yet it is engulfed in a profound crisis to which crowns bring joy but not solutions.
The promotion of natural beauty—volcanoes, beaches, and coffee—seems like a noble cause, one that existed before and will persist after political leaders, aiming to cultivate a new international image of El Salvador, a country I got to know in 2018. I arrived as a producer with a team and then-Miss Universe El Salvador Marisela de Montecristo to document the story of this modern Cinderella. She, who had a tough childhood marked by poverty, guided us through places like the Izalco volcano and Coatepeque Lake, where beauty mattered more than the state's management.
Before arriving, my perception of El Salvador was limited to facial tattoos and gangs, but I departed with a different view of this Central American country historically battered and mistreated by violence. A beauty queen showed me the kind and beautiful side of this land of fire and its people's resilience. Bukele has, therefore, acquired an excellent marketing event, but what is the real product?
Is the communication of a reigning beauty queen as noble as that of a politician on the campaign trail? Not quite. It is up to the Salvadoran citizens to question whether 80 beauty queens will deliver justice for a carefully contained peace enforced by military might, if the security in "the safest country in Latin America" is sustainable or potentially a ticking time bomb. They must wonder if beauty can have other effects, such as influencing the cryptocurrency market to pay off debt. The logical answer might be no, but in the era of spectacle and post-truth, only the illusions created by a good show can prove useful.
Bukele is not and will not be the first or only politician attempting to enhance their reputation by hosting an event like Miss Universe, but what draws attention is the context under which this decision is made: a prolonged state of exception for almost a year and growing international scrutiny for authoritarian gestures.
The impact on the national public opinion may endure long enough to carry the politician forward, and the photo alongside a new "universal queen" may buy the necessary time for the campaigning politician. The campaign in high heels may have been successful in securing the final sale: the vote. And the ultimate goal: the entrenchment of power. The long-term consequences of a government's actions, not just their marketing, will have to be waited for and experienced by the Salvadoran people after the elections.