Caracas Chronicles

When Air Force planes flew just above Miraflores Palace in the early morning of January 23rd, 1958, they signalled the end of Marcos Pérez Jiménez’s dictatorship. As multiple pockets of the Venezuelan Armed Forces had declared themselves in a state of rebellion against their commander in chief, and civilians had called for a national strike days before, the house of cards upon which the regime was built started to collapse. 

But it wasn’t a clean break: it was marred by the chaotic release of political prisoners and widespread looting while the army protected protesters. In Caracas’ Plaza Morelos, the former headquarters of the Seguridad Nacional—Pérez Jiménez’s secret police—were in flames. 

A transitional junta took power on the same day. Its leader, Rear-Admiral Wolfgang Larrazábal, declared that the Armed Forces were the stewards of the next democratic era. In a country where the army was used to acting as judge, jury, and executioner, the men in uniform were not going to relinquish this role so easily. 

This was the climate that Rómulo Betancourt found upon his return to Venezuela from forced exile. The one that shaped the Puntofijo Pact, signed by civilian party leaders in October 1958 as a safeguard against another military coup. Betancourt’s electoral triumph that December came amid tensions—and the central question of the day: how could a civilian government rein in the very military forces that had helped bring his democratic dream to life?

Larrazábal and the emergence of a republican military

In the wake of the dictator’s demise, the armed forces had found themselves at a crossroads. They had been key in sustaining the dictatorial regime of Pérez Jiménez after toppling Rómulo Gallegos in 1948; ten years later, they were the missing piece for finally bringing about democracy to a citizenry that had lived for too long under the soldier’s boot. The military elite had to preserve its institutional legacy, so it embarked on something that can only be called a massive public relations campaign. They presented themselves as the guardians of the Venezuelan republic and stated that they would concede power to the will of the people.

Not surprisingly, the campaign worked just fine. The Venezuelan citizenry hailed and praised the armed forces for their role, whilst the military still maintained control over key ministries, and hardliners from the MPJ years kept positions of power.

The first major shocks came with the Barcelonazo and Carupanazo revolts of 1961 and 1962, when nationalist factions within the armed forces—sympathetic to the Castro revolution in Cuba—took up arms.

That’s why Betancourt himself called it “military tutelage dressed in electoral clothing.” This dynamic became evident in the December 1958 elections, where Larrazábal’s URD candidacy was widely perceived as a sign of the army’s reluctance to give up power. Despite a strong showing by Larrazábal, Betancourt won the election with 49% of the vote, securing a mandate for civilian rule. The military’s narrative of virtuous republicanism was less a sign of institutional reform than a carefully managed image campaign.

However, it must be said that this narrative of republicanism was embraced  by the larger and more powerful of the two factions within the armed forces. Many hardliners from the Pérez Jiménez era rejected Larrazábal’s vision of a virtuous army that retained political influence. The interim government itself survived two coup attempts—both thwarted because enough officers supported the junta, even after it had legalized the Venezuelan Communist Party (PCV) and launched an economic emergency plan.

Betancourt in the crossfire

In his now famous February 1959 address to Congress as the newly-elected president, Betancourt declared: “Let it be clear: the age of barracks governance has ended, soldiers will return to their posts, and civilians will govern the republic.” A quote that helps understand the core belief behind Betancourt’s moves to assert institutional control over the army.

One of his first maneuvers was to attribute defense planning to the executive power under the Ministry of Defense, as well as creating a civilian-led intelligence agency rather than continuing to rely on military channels, and trying to introduce clearer civilian oversight over defense budgets and promotions. Betancourt’s attempts to institutionalize the military were met with strong resistance from the armed forces, like the armed rebellions that his government had to endure, and many within its ranks saw reforms as provocations by Betancourt. But the army still held the monopoly of violence, and had the ability to push back. 

Furthermore, Betancourt’s embrace of liberal democracy, close collaboration with the United States, cooperation with foreign oil companies, staunch anti-communism, and cautious land reform sparked considerable resentment among radical factions within the domestic political arena—including members of his own party—and placed him squarely in the crosshairs of emerging Marxist guerrillas. Yet despite these challenges, Betancourt fought relentlessly to uphold his vision and take the first steps toward his republican dream. He dared to draw a clear line between the rifle and the ballot, and never once stepped back from it.

Betancourt understood the complexity of such times, and the challenges and sacrifices required to build a democracy and defend it fiercely against autocratic forces.

It’s no surprise, then, that the true tests of Betancourt’s civilian republicanism came not from a single confrontation, but from a combination of threats to the fragile republic he was trying to build. He faced growing discontent both within Venezuela’s own barracks and from guerrillas supported by Fidel Castro.

The first major shocks came with the Barcelonazo and Carupanazo revolts of 1961 and 1962, when nationalist factions within the armed forces—sympathetic to the Castro revolution in Cuba—took up arms. Although these rebellions were ultimately suppressed by forces loyal to Betancourt, they revealed not only a fragmented military but also an ongoing struggle for dominance as the armed forces vied to be the country’s key power player.

The 1962 Porteñazo rebellion was even more consequential, as naval officers openly rose up, claiming to defend the flag against an oligarchic and imperialist regime. The uprising left 400 dead on the streets of Puerto Cabello and marked Betancourt profoundly, as he realized the urgent need for an army loyal to the constitution. At the same time, a new front of defiance emerged with the Cuban-backed Marxist Fuerzas Armadas de Liberación Nacional (FALN), which used urban guerrilla tactics and sporadic bombings to destabilize Betancourt’s government.

Keeping the course during the storm

International dynamics also played a crucial role in Venezuela’s turbulent path. Betancourt enjoyed full support from Washington, especially within the framework of Kennedy’s “Alliance for Progress.” This program provided his government with millions of dollars in aid—on top of steady oil revenues—which were vital in positioning Venezuela as a bulwark of democracy in the region. Meanwhile, insurgencies within the country received backing from Cuban and Soviet interests, turning the territory of the United States’ largest energy supplier into a small proxy conflict of the broader Cold War.

But the threats to Betancourt’s government went beyond internal unrest and guerrilla fighting. Following an outspoken condemnation of infamous rapist-dictator Rafael Leónidas Trujillo in January 1961, an assassination attempt was launched against him just four months later. On June 24, 1961, Trujillo’s agents carried out a sophisticated car-bomb attack on Betancourt’s presidential convoy along Paseo Los Próceres. It nearly killed the president and his wife, and claimed the life of the chief of the president’s military guard, Colonel Ramón Armas Pérez—a stark reminder of the dangers Betancourt faced.

To confront multifaceted threats, Betancourt established the Dirección General de Policía (DIGEPOL), an agency that employed targeted repression in an effort to maintain control. However, while it helped stabilize the country in the short term, DIGEPOL also planted the seeds for future intelligence repression and brutality in years and decades to come.

But following the initial growing pains, and attacks by the military on Betancourt’s government, the Army finally accepted civilian-led republican rule. Although never explicitly stated, this legitimation of the newly formed Republican order could be seen through the army’s protection of the 1963 elections.The ones in which Rómulo Betancourt stepped down, and Raúl Leoni’s electoral victory was supported by the armed forces following the turbulent previous years which had seen: open rebellion, flagrant assasination attempts and destabilization attempts by guerrilla forces. Despite a failed Cuban invasion in 1964 and the fact that the FALN continued operating, the Venezuelan Republic once again had a loyal corps of armed forces. 

The new democratic era did not emerge from consensus but from confrontation. In his 1956 book Venezuela: Política y petróleo, the man regarded as the father of Venezuelan democracy wrote that this system could not endure if it remained “permanently subject to the unpredictable loyalties of the bayonet.” 

Yes, his methods can be debated, and he set some complex precedents during his presidency that had irreparable consequences in the future. Regardless of the opinions one may have of the man, there is no denying that he got in the ring and fought against a militarized country, dragging a state built upon military repression, kicking and screaming, into the democratic era.

Today, many are quick to pull opposition leaders off the pitcher’s mound the moment they don’t fit a perfect ideological mold, judging them by political purity rather than by their ability to compete in the high-stakes game of democracy versus authoritarianism. Betancourt understood the complexity of such times, and the challenges and sacrifices required to build a democracy and defend it fiercely against autocratic forces. In that game, there’s no room for flashy curveballs or screwballs—you need someone who can throw a steady, effective fastball. Maybe it’s time we judged today’s leaders not by how polished or ideologically perfect they are, but by their unwavering commitment to democracy, human rights, and moral clarity—even if they’re a little rough around the edges and don’t always throw the flashy pitch.