Caracas Chronicles

Even as global public opinion and world leaders focus on the possible outset of a peace process in Gaza, or the flight of Russian drones over European skies, we cannot ignore what the United Nations says—and has been saying for years—about Venezuela. Nor what that means for the country’s democratic aspirations, beyond the growing tension between the U.S. and the Maduro regime.

Multilateralism is in crisis. Leaders around the world have said it, and the UN Secretary General himself agrees. Everyone talks about the need to reform the UN system, forgetting that the organization is only a reflection of what its member states want it to be. True, the UN needs reform to become more effective. But in Venezuela’s case, it has once again been firm.

Its latest contribution, a 172-page report by independent experts for the Human Rights Council, made that clear two weeks ago when it was published and debated. Together with the series of reports released over the past five years, it shows how Venezuela has transformed into a full-fledged dictatorship, where Maduro and his inner circle have erased almost all their opponents—forcing them into hiding, prison, or even death—through methods consistent with the Rome Statute’s definition of crimes against humanity.

Why does the new report matter so much?

Because it covers human rights violations committed before, during, and especially after the electoral process that Maduro nullified, despite Edmundo González’s landslide victory.

The report is based on 237 interviews with victims, relatives, and other sources on the ground, along with over 360 pieces of evidence provided by governments, international bodies, and NGOs inside and outside Venezuela.

The report also exposes the most grotesque aspects of chavismo’s terror apparatus. Among other things, how Venezuela’s prisons have been deliberately turned into hellscapes.

Unable to enter the country, the investigators traveled to a third nation to meet key sources. The report vindicates the invaluable work of Venezuela’s civil society organizations and journalists who continue documenting the imprisonment and abuse of minors, the persecution of activists and their relatives, and deaths in custody across the nation’s prisons.

All this comes in a year of relentless repression and assault against any space critical of—or merely perceived as critical of—the dictatorship. Journalists like Nakary Ramos, Carlos Julio Rojas, and Rory Branker have been disappeared by state forces, as have human rights defenders like lawyers Eduardo Torres (Provea) and Kennedy Tejeda (Foro Penal).

In Venezuela’s case, the UN’s work has been impeccable. The names Marta Valiñas, Francisco Cox, and Patricia Tappatá, members of the Independent Fact-Finding Mission, may be unknown to 99% of Venezuelans, and their anonymous research team even more so. But history will remember them. Their work is already having an impact today, and may influence the decades to come, as investigators seek to hold perpetrators of crimes against humanity accountable in international courts. Or as others expose the methodology of repression and silence, identical to those used in Russia, Iran, Belarus, and North Korea.

A report on the routine of terror

This latest report doesn’t just describe acts of violence, it names those responsible within the state hierarchy. For instance, it reconstructs the chronology of the protest at Maracay’s Obelisk in defense of the July 28 results, perhaps the deadliest of the post-election demonstrations. It left six dead: five protesters and one National Guard. The report details each victim’s profile, where they were wounded, and crucially, the type of ammunition used. Jesús Tovar Perdomo, 21, was struck by shotgun pellets typical of those used by the National Guard. Rancés Yzarra Bolívar, 30, was hit in the chest by a rifle bullet.

The Mission identifies the chain of command responsible—from the Central REDI Commander (later promoted to lead the Militia) and the ZODI Aragua chief to the National Guard officer overseeing the area. It also cites the Army’s 99th Special Forces Brigade, whose members took part in the confrontation during the peaceful protest.

In the past year, this practice has expanded to include foreign nationals: residents, travelers, or even people outside Venezuelan territory.

The report also exposes the most grotesque aspects of chavismo’s terror apparatus and how Venezuela’s prisons have been deliberately turned into hellscapes. At least 218 minors were arrested in the post-election crackdown, jailed on fabricated charges, their low-income families harassed and extorted. The report documents torture and cruel treatment, including beatings with bats and blunt objects, and the use of electric shocks to prisoners’ genitals. It collects testimonies of sexual violence inside prisons, in some cases against teenagers.

Although the Mission avoids the term “rape,” describing it technically as sexual violence, it establishes this as evidence. In Maduro’s prisons, political detainees falsely accused of terrorism or conspiracy can be forced to perform sexual acts, either at the whim of guards or as part of an intra-prison economy.

Meanwhile, the systematic repression and isolation of individuals has become Venezuela’s new normal. Every week, someone (“political” or not) is abducted by masked men and doesn’t return home.

In the past year, this practice has expanded to include foreign nationals: residents, travelers, or even people outside Venezuelan territory. And this is where the world must pay attention: to understand what can happen to you, foreign friend, if you encounter Venezuelan police at the wrong time and place.

The hostage black box

The Mission documented 84 cases of foreign nationals (only 27 with dual Venezuelan nationality), though the real number is higher. It estimates that between 120 and 150 foreigners were detained in Venezuela between September 2024 and August 2025. According to Foro Penal, 89 foreign nationals remain arbitrarily imprisoned. That would be about 10.8% of all political prisoners in Venezuelan jails.

These detainees lack the local support networks that usually sustain families of political prisoners. Many have been held incommunicado for months; when they were arrested, their families abroad often had no idea what had happened to them or where they were.

Typically, relatives of political prisoners in Venezuela react to detention by visiting prisons, seeking help from NGOs, or trying to communicate with state officials. But for families abroad, their only recourse is to contact international organizations or their own consulates to intercede with Maduro, the Rodríguez siblings, or regime-linked intermediaries.

In these circumstances, the Maduro regime has turned these foreign hostage cases into a black box. The public generally knows almost nothing about their status or whereabouts. Unlike Venezuelan political prisoners—whose relatives and NGOs occasionally learn about their health, mistreatment, or transfers—foreign detainees remain shrouded in complete secrecy. Often, even their names or connection to Venezuela are unknown.

Many arrests of this type now occur in border regions, as the report notes. This reveals Maduro’s deliberate strategy to deploy personnel and resources to capture “bargaining chips” in porous, high-transit areas.

As the Mission notes, the Public Prosecutor’s Office “has made a significant effort to keep all information secret, including the detainees’ procedural status.” The report adds: “The Mission found no evidence that foreign nationals have been brought before a judge, except for two who have been released.”

Meanwhile, the regime denies these detainees their right to consular protection as established by the Vienna Convention (which Venezuela has ratified). This means that consular staff from countries like Spain or Colombia—both of which still have official representation in Venezuela—cannot visit prisoners, verify their detention conditions, provide legal counsel, or ensure medical care. There is, of course, no due process to monitor.

Other countries, like the United States and Argentina, which severed diplomatic ties with Caracas, must manage hostage cases through intermediaries or high-level negotiations. Such as the July prisoner swap between the U.S., El Salvador, and Venezuela.

As with Venezuelans labeled “traitors to the patria,” chavismo justifies these detentions by branding foreign prisoners as mercenaries, terrorists, CIA spies, or Colombian paramilitaries.

Consider the case of José María Basoa and Andrés Martínez Adasme, two Basque tourists arrested in Amazonas a year ago on the orders of Interior Minister Diosdado Cabello, who accused them of being Spanish intelligence agents plotting to kill Maduro, Bolívar’s state governor, and Cabello himself. Or Maduro’s statements two days before his illegal 2025 inauguration, amid a new wave of repression: he claimed that “150 mercenaries” from up to 25 countries had confessed to U.S.-funded terrorist plots.

These spectacles are nothing new—they follow long-standing patterns of repression against those chavismo perceives as enemies. What’s new is that many foreign arrests now occur in border regions, as the report notes. This reveals Maduro’s deliberate strategy to deploy personnel and resources to capture “bargaining chips” in porous, high-transit areas, disguising their abductions as counterintelligence operations.

Beyond issuing statements and travel warnings that stress personal risk, some governments constantly weigh transactional alternatives. Yet silence and persuasion while awaiting favors or clemency are no longer enough.

That’s how Argentine officer Nahuel Gallo was arrested by National Police officers while in a taxi near the San Antonio del Táchira border crossing. Or how French-American tourist Lucas Hunter—released in the July deal—was captured. Hunter had been on a kite surfing trip in Colombia’s La Guajira department between December 2024 and January 2025, when repression spiked and several governments prepared to reject Maduro’s inauguration. The Mission reports that armed men seized him on Colombian soil and took him to a SAIME office inside Venezuela, where officials awaited “orders from above” to send him to Caracas.

Faced with this hostage diplomacy and the limitations of the international system, what more can states do?

Beyond issuing statements and travel warnings that stress personal risk, some governments constantly weigh transactional alternatives. Yet silence and persuasion while awaiting favors or clemency are no longer enough.

Perhaps it’s time—in the current international context—to truly bet on change. To help Venezuelans reclaim their freedom and enforce what they expressed, clearly and courageously, on July 28, 2024. So that those 89 prisoners of all nationalities may also see the light.