Caracas Chronicles

Born in Havana in 1975, political scientist and historian Armando Chaguaceda has witnessed communist decay from his own home. An expert on authoritarian regimes in Latin America, he has long followed the experiences of Venezuela, Nicaragua, and post-Soviet Russia. Along the way, he has become a passionate advocate of pro-democracy struggles in these contexts. Faced with the violence of Díaz-Canel, Ortega, and Maduro, he argues that the global tools of democratic activism and civil resistance must be updated.

He describes Venezuelans as “the Poles of the Caribbean” for having a skilled diaspora deeply connected to the country’s aspirations for political change. And he defends María Corina Machado’s strategy of building ties with all possible allies—even the most uncomfortable ones—like Churchill and Mandela once did.

Petro has seized the U.S. military deployment to relaunch himself as an anti-imperialist, while Lula is offering himself as a mediator. Both say they advocate for peace and dialogue, which they failed to achieve in August 2024. How do you see the role of these figures in the conflict between the Trump administration and the Maduro regime?

The governments of Brazil and Colombia belong to branches of the left that are not authoritarian. They are both democratically elected presidents. But Petro and Lula come from a radical left. That is clearer in Petro’s verbal radicalism—who comes across more like an activist—than in Lula, who has a somewhat more statesman-like dimension, framed within the Brazilian political system with its size and complexity. Can they do more? Yes, although ideology and personal histories matter to them and to their circles. Petrismo is weaker and less institutionalized. In the case of the PT, which is a long-standing, institutionalized, strong party, there is a radical left faction closer to Cuba and Venezuela.

When reacting to a potential use of force from the U.S., they can have many motives. Saving an old friend or an ally is always present. We must remember that diplomatic channels have remained open between the governments, and that the matter of non-recognition has been somewhat ambiguous because there have been exchanges and agreements. I insist: there has been visible affection between chavismo and Petro, and between chavismo and Lula. Maduro is a product of that chavismo and those sympathies, which although less visible, have continued. There was no willingness to accompany the peace process beyond the first interventions around July 28. Now they are attempting to prevent the use of force from changing the balance of power and roles in the region. In these circumstances, we can assume that a Venezuela freed from chavismo-madurismo, with the U.S. having a central role, would make the leadership that Brazil has tried to assume and Petro’s relationship with other regional governments more irrelevant.

In certain think tanks and academic circles, notably outside Venezuela, there seems to be an obsession with the idea of a negotiated transition. With a democratizing process like the Chilean case. The idea is that if the U.S. and the opposition press the right buttons and whisper the right things into Maduro’s ear, there are real chances for a peaceful democratization with all parties satisfied. But state violence and the closure of democratic spaces speak for themselves. How do you explain these positions, which seem partly reactive to the policies of the Trump administration?

We should start by saying that in a post-truth world, some in the social sciences have normalized that there are perspectives, visions, and a kind of extreme constructivism where, just as I perceive the world, that is how the world is. Certainly our perceptions of the world shape our actions and partially construct realities, but the world is as it is. Chavismo is a regime that doesn’t belong to the category of conservative, right-wing authoritarianisms, the ones that, at the end of the Cold War, were more within the Western sphere of influence. Venezuela is not exactly a communist regime either, but it is closer to regimes of the old communist orbit, to the former national-military nationalisms with charismatic leaders and repressive systems as seen in Iraq, Syria, Egypt, and even Cuba. For several reasons it does not resemble the dictatorships of Chile or Argentina.

Machado’s message to Netanyahu is one of gratitude to the Israeli political class, as Edmundo González thanked Boric or members of the Democratic Party. They have thanked everyone, because that is what they must do.

First, because its global insertion matters. Those National Security regimes were inserted in the Western orbit. Then their mentor, the U.S., promoted a new approach—the transitions to democracy in the ’80s and ’90s—to deal with what those dictatorships had left behind in terms of violence, but also to contend with the alternative, which was a communist radicalization. When the mentor says that the old route is no longer valid, that you must re-institutionalize and democratize, they had to comply to some extent. That is not what happens here. Do you see Russia or China supporting democratic transition processes among their allies? Impossible.

Those Southern Cone regimes were murderous, criminal, and committed mass crimes, but they were reactionary regime—they reacted to youth and leftist movements, they responded to a critique of those times. They were conservative because they sought to preserve the status quo. Therefore, among the military there was not a general idea of wanting to stay forever and build a new order. They were not revolutionary regimes with a future-oriented project, they were reactionary. Even the Pinochet model included the idea of a referendum early on in the 1980s—it was in their constitution. They didn’t see themselves as perpetuating themselves in power, and that is a fundamental difference.

It is clear that the Maduro regime has no intention of giving up power or truly reforming. So how do you explain the obsession with negotiating a supposed reform or concessions?

I also think there are two concurrent phenomena. One is the vantage point from which these actors look. Many of them, in academic circles and think tanks in the U.S. and Europe, would have a view very similar to yours or mine, because we are liberal democrats. But while it may be possible for someone to agree with us about the desirable world, at this moment it is more important for that person to confront Trump, to deprive him of political oxygen. Normatively, for us Trump might not be the desirable ally, we likely wouldn’t vote for him in an election. But here I quote Raymond Aron: sometimes the choice is not between good and bad but between the preferable and the despicable.

This is what remains for us, among other reasons because of the regime’s repression and the abandonment by the international community, especially in Latin America and particularly by the democratic left. For them, Venezuela is a case that must be resolved democratically, and we agree on that. But not at the cost of Trump being the one to resolve it and reap the benefits. For me, if Martians help resolve it I’ll be more than satisfied, because the situation is desperate. And here an important point arises: we must understand the contingent nature of the allies available—they are who they are—and their ideological, political, or programmatic nature doesn’t need to define yours.

Nelson Mandela, an icon of democratic struggle, embraced support from Gaddafi, Fidel Castro, the USSR, and East German communists. And of course he had to accept it! Looking back, I might have preferred a group of Swedes, Norwegians and Icelanders to liberate South Africa from Apartheid. But that didn’t happen. They were in the coalition. There was a strong solidarity movement, but when it came down to supplying arms and exerting battlefield pressure to defeat Apartheid—in Angola, in Namibia’s decolonization—it was communist and even terrorist weapons that forced the regime to negotiate.

In an environment of very high violence, Venezuelans—and especially Machado and Edmundo González—are still expected to pick allies who have refused to be their allies, to act with a decorum and finesse that their enemies don’t possess. Those who insist on these arguments purport to demonstrate ex ante that the nature of this contingent alliance will determine the future. I believe there can be several future scenarios. But the present is only one, and it is horrific.

María Corina’s politics seem to demand swallowing bitter pills in order to promote her agenda in the United States, courting figures like Trump and the MAGA movement. Recently, after receiving the Nobel Prize and after the Gaza ceasefire, Machado accepted Netanyahu’s support. How would you explain this to María Corina’s skeptics and skeptics of the opposition worldwide, especially those from the left?

I think all of this has been manipulated to some extent. María Corina is sending the messages she is forced to send. This was Churchill with Stalin when Britain’s independence was threatened. We forget that the anti-fascist camp, which carried great moral weight, included Stalin, who had produced the great waves of terror in the 1930s and had more deaths among his own population than the Nazi regime. Why? Because those were the allies available. It’s a situation of realpolitik. Machado’s message to Netanyahu is one of gratitude to the Israeli political class, as Edmundo González thanked Boric or members of the Democratic Party. They have thanked everyone, because that is what they must do.

There is a civil society that has been very resilient and mature in the face of authoritarianism, which has meant that for a quarter century chavismo has not completely imposed itself.

If a transition is achieved and it does not lead to a liberal republican order but to a far-right dictatorship with González Urrutia and Machado at the helm, I will be the first to criticize it. We can judge the outcome, but in the meantime we must be consistent. Their communications have been diverse, aimed at the allies who have supported them. They have been communications of political leadership.

If Maduro leaves power tomorrow and the Machado-led opposition becomes the new government, U.S. tutelage will exist. She would also need to deal with remnants from the old chavista regime. What experiences can shed light on overcoming these obstacles? How can a future government promote sovereignty and preserve long-term governability?

Projecting is always risky, especially in a scenario of such high complexity. What has predominated in this issue is a kind of preemptive blackmail by people who, out of open sympathy for chavismo, or because they see their own power opportunities displaced—I refer to chavismo, filo-chavismo, or a sector of the opposition, and also some people in consulting and NGOs—have tried to present this as a Libya-style scenario, for example. There are several differences here and Venezuela has several important advantages. First, it is a country with much greater ethnic-religious homogeneity than the disaster cases in the Middle East and Asia.

Second, I have read all the major opposition government programs worth reading, including the Unidad and Capriles program from 2012. I have seen how they were created by consulting with specialists and with broad participation from the best of Venezuelan society. There is a clear idea of what government management is, not only of taking power through democratic means, of rotating elites, and constituting representatives and institutions. In fact, we have seen how, with limited resources, the opposition has been able to govern states effectively when there was relative autonomy of management—you could see the differences in Miranda, Zulia, the Andes, etc.

There is a civil society that has been very resilient and mature in the face of authoritarianism, which has meant that for a quarter century chavismo has not completely imposed itself. That is why I always say you are the Poles of the Caribbean. You have social and cultural capital formed in democracy that has been forcibly displaced, but that maintains links with Venezuela and has contributed to opposition government programs. Those elements make reconstruction in terms of administrative capacities much more feasible.

This diaspora and human capital are also less politically scattered than Cubans or Nicaraguans, because they have, in some way, remained consolidated or connected with representation in the territory. In this case, a leadership like Machado’s. If that human capital is present, for instance in the form of researchers in Europe, the U.S. and Latin America, those people could eventually return. There is another major difference there.

What about sovereignty and territorial control?

That will depend on how the eventual transition occurs, the levels of use of force and its impact on the chavista armed base, which is a very diverse and fragmented coalition that includes groups within state structures and more informal groups, like the colectivos. What strikes me is how this has been used as a tool to say, “we must see if they want to transition, because if not, they will destabilize the territory.” And if they don’t want to, what do we do? In the future, there must be processes of reconciliation and incorporation of elements not accused of crimes against humanity into the new security force to be created, and operations of neutralization will be required against groups that rise against the republic. You must look at Venezuela’s own history in that sense.

Betancourt’s government, which was very fragile, faced uprisings from the right and from the left. It survived by creating a social state, not merely a democratic republic. That was a government that provided many collective goods for the people. Regarding sovereignty, it is always a risk to owe a lot to a powerful ally. What is not a risk but a misfortune is to be occupied by an elite that governs the country alongside powerful and criminal allies. Right now, Venezuela is somewhat mortgaged like China in the 19th century, which was a semi-colony.

The means and ends of democratic struggle have been peaceful and democratic based on the world that came immediately after the Cold War. That world is ceasing to exist.

Venezuela has a formal authority that controls parts of the national territory. But it also has criminal authorities colluding with that formal authority that control certain rent-seeking spaces and natural resources, especially mining. And there is a cession of sovereignty to the Russians, the Cubans, the Iranians, and to a large extent to the Chinese in the economic sphere. So, what sovereignty are we speaking of? The point is that we are not choosing between two risks. We are choosing between a hypothetical risk and an ongoing tragedy.

The means don’t always compromise the ends. The means’ content define the content of the end when the nature of the means— for example, the use of force—becomes part of the nature of the end. For example, if a military dictatorship is established after a military intervention that gives way to a transition.

It’s important to make that clear, because now a significant wave of opinion—not so much from a deeply discredited chavismo, but from many think tanks, pundits and the prêt-à-porter opposition created by chavismo—is moving in that direction. They want to present themselves as pacifists, as a center between two extremes, but there is no moral, political, pure and equidistant “center” between two extremes. There is a repressive dictatorship with dwindling popular support, and a people who said “enough” on July 28, 2024. Here political variables, power ambitions, ethical variables and frankly deplorable positions intersect—such as constantly questioning more or less correct decisions in such a constricted space for the Comando por Venezuela. An example of someone I greatly respect who could have represented such a center is Enrique Márquez. Where the hell is Enrique Márquez now? The government gave the answer. All this false centrism is intellectually and ethically deceitful, and politically sterile. It leads nowhere.

Does the Venezuelan experience provide any lessons to the global struggle against authoritarianism?

First I must say it is a mistake to label Venezuela or Cuba as failed states. They are autocracies, dictatorships in collusion with criminal elements and authoritarian global powers. Madurismo is not a mere cartel whose only interest is making money, although I understand why some would want to define it that way. These are corrupt, authoritarian elites who have decided to stay in power at all costs. And they must be treated as such.

I think we must update the script—the software and the hardware—of the democratic struggle in the 21st century. There is a debate right now in academic circles worldwide, notably in the U.S., about peaceful civil resistance and democratization, where means and ends have been peaceful and democratic based on the world that came immediately after the Cold War. That world is ceasing to exist. It has not disappeared completely—values, some institutions, certain countries and alliances remain—but the so-called bad guys have advanced in partially reconfiguring that order. We have to update our tools of transformation inside that order. As Mandela said, the type of struggle is defined by the oppressor.

I believe we will have to re-update not only the forms of peaceful civil resistance, NGO dissidence in international spaces, or appeals to international bodies. We will have to recover the form of violent resistance whenever it contains a democratizing component and does not seek to topple a dictatorship only to establish another. We will have to maintain within the paradigm and actions of a human-rights movement, to monitor both oppressors and new leaders if they overreach once they come to power. But together with that movement of NGOs, human-rights activists and independent journalists there must be covert actions, armed operations, elimination of actors who previously committed crimes against humanity. We may not yet be materially prepared to have that discussion, but intellectually and morally we must be.