Caracas Chronicles

No one can deny that Edmundo González Urrutia had reasons to flee. Facing the state of terror visible to everyone, it’s evident chavismo proudly seeks to break its own records of brutality and will do anything they can, including the profanation of foreign soil at an embassy. González and his family, of course, must have been frightened. We can understand it, because we all are: those in Venezuela, those abroad, and even chavistas, who constantly fear being ousted and therefore work tirelessly to keep power at any cost. 

Being Venezuelan means living with fear. The difference with González is that more than seven million people chose him to become president, as proven by the voting tallies published by Comando por Venezuela, confirmed by several researchers and global media, and acknowledged by institutions like the Carter Center and the European Union, along with various governments. 

No one else on Earth has this feature unique to Edmundo González. Certainly it’s not what Maduro has, nor what Juan Guaidó or Henrique Capriles had: an undisputable mandate issued by millions to lead the reconstruction of the country that has suffered the most drastic social and economic devastation—without a civil war—in modern history.

So while González was undoubtedly threatened, his departure to Spain, suddenly, late on a Saturday night, remains extremely grave, if not catastrophic, considering he is the man supposed to—according to the constitutional order Venezuelans are trying to restore—take oath as president on January 10th, 2025. 

As part of the unjust chain of events we all know, González accepted the candidacy, one can assume, understanding the massive risks involved. And with that decision, he won the election with numbers unprecedented in Venezuela. Five weeks later, cornered by an inhuman dictatorship, he fled to Madrid, from where he sent a voice note and later a statement that, to my knowledge, ranks among the worst pieces of political communication produced in the Venezuelan sphere in decades.

This happened. And Venezuelans, even those abroad who couldn’t vote, have the right to feel sadness, anger, frustration, and despair. We have the right to feel betrayed—especially those with loved ones in jail or in a cemetery, for having worked for the election, for doing journalism, for defending victims of violence, or simply for protesting the theft of the will of millions who voted for the same man who, inevitably, went into hiding and now resides in Spain, without confirming whether he plans to return or even still feels committed to the mandate issued by the majority of Venezuelans in their country. 

No one else on Earth has this feature unique to Edmundo González. Certainly it’s not what Maduro has, nor what Juan Guaidó or Henrique Capriles had: an undisputable mandate issued by millions to lead the reconstruction of the country that has suffered the most drastic social and economic devastation—without a civil war—in modern history.

This is what really matters. July 28 is not just a victory for María Corina Machado and the Unitary Platform, or even for Edmundo González. It is, above all, a victory for our people. Millions took the risk of going to the polls. At least tens of thousands took an even bigger risk to collect the tallies, keep them safe, and help gather the evidence the world has seen, evidence that Maduro cannot erase.

All of us, especially those volunteers, need to know the plan now. We need the leaders to remember what we’ve endured for a quarter of a century: how chavismo stole our future, rewrote our past, and tore apart our present. 

We need the opposition leaders to remember that while we may be magical-realists, folksy, and emotional, we are not stupid. We know we’re facing a dictatorship, that this can’t be solved overnight, and that it’s not easy.

They can’t sweeten bad news with historical quotes, like a letter from Rómulo Betancourt claiming that his exile would help the cause. We know Edmundo González is not Betancourt, this is not mid-20th century Venezuela, and that History is full of exiled leaders who never returned, and good causes that never succeeded. 

They can’t just say the truth will prevail, no matter how appealing it sounds. These are great times for conspiracy theories, misinformation, and lies as political weapons. It’s hard to find a moment in contemporary history when truth has held less value than it does now.

All of us, especially those volunteers, need to know the plan now. We need the leaders to remember what we’ve endured for a quarter of a century: how chavismo stole our future, rewrote our past, and tore apart our present.

We can’t cling to the idea—inherited from the generation that democratized Venezuela from 1928 to 1958—that democracy lies at the end of the road, a treasure over the rainbow. We wish! But success isn’t guaranteed. Actually, we’ve been dragged away from democracy for a quarter of a century while it falters in several countries we never imagined could fall. Democratic recovery isn’t the default outcome: it’s immensely hard to achieve, and almost none of us know how to do it. We need those who do to explain it.

We can’t expect to be freed from slogans, but “hasta el final” and “strategic patience” are starting to sound like Capriles’ “the times of God are perfect.” That was already hard to accept in 2013. After the humanitarian crisis and mass migration, it’s unacceptable.

Instead of answers, we’re getting empty phrases, or worse, disturbing silence. In early August, it seemed like everyone—from Machado to Biden—was waiting for Lula and Petro to convince Maduro to negotiate his exit. But Maduro didn’t even pick up the phone. A month passed, and our leaders left us waiting for their reactions, when they bothered to react. Their silence during the last blackout was deafening, but the incoherence after González’s exile is enraging.

Due to chavismo’s abuses, the weak international response, and now that flight to Spain, Machado is in a tight spot—and we are there with her. While admitting the task was titanic, she always promised to win and collect. But unlike Capriles, this time there’s no doubt the opposition won, and our hands remain empty.

What we all feel, from those who professionally analyze and explain Venezuela to every Venezuelan across all walks of life, is that our leaders don’t know what to do. María Corina built enormous political capital in a few months, showing admirable courage by admitting González’s exile increases the risk to her but staying in Venezuela anyway. I respect her shift to connect with more people. But after leading the collective achievement of July 28 and proving the victory with the tallies, she seems to have reached the limits of her expertise. It’s no longer about mastering the electoral system and engineering solutions with her experts—it’s about aligning domestic and foreign pressure to dismantle the alliance propping up Maduro.

Due to chavismo’s abuses, the weak international response, and now that flight to Spain, Machado is in a tight spot—and we are there with her. While admitting the task was titanic, she always promised to win and collect. But unlike Capriles, this time there’s no doubt the opposition won, and our hands remain empty. 

Yes, she is the true leader, yet the tallies proving that Maduro must go don’t say that Machado won the election—they say the former diplomat who left did. So, how would he take the oath in January? How can domestic pressure be organized when the man for whom people voted is gone, thanks in part to the mediation of figures like José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero? And without domestic pressure, with people in Venezuela refusing to protest, what incentive do governments or institutions like the International Criminal Court have to do more, within the little they can actually do?

Most of the answers to those questions are horrifying. They contain things we don’t want to hear. But we deserve the truth. Those seeking trust must treat people as citizens, not social media followers, because the real protagonists of this story are the millions living in Venezuela under the horror of dictatorship.