Caracas Chronicles

There’s still a heavy air of grief and trauma that refuses to go away. A year ago, in May 2024, a timid hope had begun to grow—one that only expanded as we approached the end of July. For the first time since the Joker took over Gotham, many felt change might be possible. Despite years of bitterness toward politicians and a thousand reasons to doubt, something had started to move.

The Joker, emboldened, ran his campaign while speaking of bloodbaths and harassing his enemies—showing the world his power to manipulate and destroy—facing off against an unfamiliar former official who somehow managed to rally popular support. On the streets, people said things that seem unthinkable today: “What’s the Joker going to do? Could this really be it? They’re criminals, but I’m voting anyway.”

What followed was a brutal reminder that winning elections means little when you’re up against a league of supervillains and gangsters. The Joker and his crew pulled off the most blatant theft in memory, then retreated to their hideout leaving behind a trail of dead and disappeared. Darkness fell over Gotham once again.

Now, the Joker’s son is stepping into the spotlight, landing interviews with broadcasters who once stood against censorship. The young villain proudly boasts of how people turn to mafia-linked insiders to solve their problems—knowing only they can, through their own networks of extortion. Meanwhile, the Joker and his gang are planning an exclusive party to set up the new parliament and the governors of all 23 states, and an imaginary one. It seems like a fast-track attempt to erase what happened on July 28th and assert themselves as the uncontested rulers of the city. To make it work, they’ve even invited a few former adversaries and their entourages.

The special guests

Among them is a governor who stopped confronting villains years ago. Several mayors in his region have recently fallen like flies. There’s also Harvey Dent, a once-prominent lawyer who has long tried to make a comeback as the face of the opposition, but now seems to prioritize an understanding with the regime over truly reconnecting with the people. When someone mentions how surprising it was that Dent’s political ban was lifted, a journalist close to him says that “it took a lot of work,” and that the ban had been “an illegal retaliation.” It raises the question: are the bans placed on imprisoned or exiled politicians any less illegal, or just as reversible?

Other guests include a former presidential candidate defeated by the Joker in 2018, and a former lawmaker who was captured and tortured that same year. The latter returns as the fresh face of a coalition of old politicians now seeking to accommodate themselves within the Joker’s institutional framework. They invoke the old logic of “not surrendering more ground” to the mafia and the Joker’s associates. This time they are not campaigning for political change, but about surviving the system, cooperating with villains to govern, negotiate perks, and maybe fix the occasional water pump. It seems there’s no other way.

The Joker, meanwhile, calculates that Dent, the old governor, and the hidden heroine are unlikely to cooperate ever again—and that there’s still time to wear her down and present the other two as the new holders of power.

At the Joker’s party, you’re not allowed to go after anyone: you’re in his house, under his rules, his traps, drinking his rum. For those attending and still calling themselves opponents, the challenge is far more complex than just “protecting spaces” or stopping a villain from winning a governorship. Those who still have a name in Gotham are only allowed in because they’re no longer seen as a threat to the regime—or because they’ve decided not to cause any more trouble.

Lucius Fox and Commissioner Gordon, two figures who once tried to drive change, can illustrate this: one is in prison, the other wasn’t even invited to the party. Though both have criticized the last heroine Gotham has had, they supported her and showed a willingness to work alongside her. Fox, before being imprisoned, denounced the Joker’s theft live on national TV and stood with the victims. Gordon still believes in confronting the Joker through conventional means—but he lacks the resources and support to do so.

The Joker, meanwhile, calculates that Dent, the old governor, and the hidden heroine are unlikely to cooperate ever again—and that there’s still time to wear her down and present the other two as the new holders of power.

The Joker’s meat grinder

Those who chose to participate insist they haven’t “moved on” from July 28th—and that the stolen victory must be replicated as often as possible, even if the Joker’s candidates may feel just as entitled to rig these elections. For those who despise the Joker, proving with evidence that they won—or even admitting that they lost—is a key step in not becoming villains themselves. They must show they aren’t being given a parliament seat or a governorship like the Joker did for his poorly disguised henchmen in 2020.

But once a candidate wins and the regime approves their appointment, experience since 2021 tells us they must stop acting as opposition. Criticizing the Joker, or supporting disruptive leadership, has led to prison or exile. Is it possible to hold office while defending the interests of voters who want political change and urgent improvements to daily life? Is it viable to run a governorship without becoming a client of the clown state?

The heroine recently shook things up by announcing that several of her aides had escaped the Joker’s siege and survived. But she insists Captain America must be the one to free the city.

To many voters, it feels impossible to be represented by governors who seem unmoved by repression in their own states, and silent on theft and expropriation.

The job of the fake opposition has been to insult and brand as traitors those who the Joker despises. Those who cleared the candidacies of Dent and his pals likely expect them to continue down that path to an extent. Today, the post and the election seem like an end in themselves. We don’t know what these candidates will propose if they reach the National Assembly, but the bare minimum is not to keep deepening the fragmentation of antichavis… sorry, anti-jokerism, as a whole.

Is it possible to be a hero?

The Joker’s toughest opponents are still reeling from the beatings of the last few months. Many are in prison, others in hiding, and some have fled. The heroine recently shook things up by announcing that several of her aides had escaped the Joker’s siege and survived. But she insists Captain America must be the one to free the city.

Beyond her call to boycott the party, she now seems out of tools to support the people and sow hope. Her message feels more aligned with a Captain America who continues to stigmatize Gotham citizens, than with building up the people’s ability to take action in some way.

Anyone today who receives the heroine’s blessing would be a dead man. Breaking this cycle of political stagnation may take many years. The country once again needs anonymous leaders and street-level pedagogy: building networks and fighting injustice on a daily basis, like the teachers, pensioners, unionists, and relatives of victims do.

A looming constitutional reform might be the first major challenge for any non-chavistas who make it (if they make it) to parliament. Maybe the only way to stop it is from inside the system—slipping in amendments and trying to convince some of the Joker’s allies that this could hurt them, too. Is that even possible? Why do the villains keep delaying the constitutional changes? At first glance, the non-chavista candidates don’t seem too worried about this looming threat. They repeat the mantra that voting is a right that must be exercised, no matter what. But the real question is: what will they do in office, if they get there?

At the very least, those attending the Joker’s party are expected to embody a new kind of leadership—one that offers hope, shows genuine empathy for the pain of so many families, and builds networks of collaborators, both inside and outside the country, to contribute something to the cause of change, be it gradual or not. There’s little expectation for the old guard. But young leaders carry the responsibility to act quickly and break from the old party playbook.

First, they need to win on Sunday. Then, get out of the party in one piece. The stage is set for a ceremony of the absurd.