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Cilia Flores is one of the most prominent political prisoners in the world, yet most women’s rights organizations have not said a word in her defense.
On International Working Women’s Day in 2025, Cilia Flores, the wife of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, read a poem she wrote highlighting the historic role played by Latin American women in the fight against imperialism:
We’re not flowers the wind can pluck,
we’re roots of rebel and loyal land,
we’re grandmothers, mothers, daughters, granddaughters;
we are woman.
Our blood pulses with the Manuelas,
Luisas, Josefas, Juanas, Cecilias,
Apacuanas, Bartolinas, Eulalias,
Martas, Anas Marías, Barbaritas
and so many others who legacy inspires,
commits, and strengthens us
to continue walking and traveling our path.
And in our hands and chests
a light is on that nobody will ever turn off:
love, peace and liberty.
—Cilia Flores, International Working Women’s Day 2025
One year later, she languishes in a cell in New York City, having been dragged out of her room and kidnapped by US forces on the January 3 attack on Venezuela. The first images after her abduction showed her face bruised. We later learned she had broken ribs, 23 stitches in her forehead, and deteriorating health inside US custody.
Flores is no ordinary first lady. She first rose to prominence in 1992 as a defense lawyer for a group of Venezuelan military officers who rose up against the government of Carlos Andrés Pérez, which had massacred thousands of people in the Caracazo of 1989–nationwide riots following the imposition of neoliberal austerity measures. Key among those officers was Hugo Chávez, the founder of the Bolivarian Revolution.
Out of solidarity with Cilia, with Venezuelan women in general, we must make it our cause to fight for her freedom.
In 1993, Cilia founded the Bolivarian Circle of Human Rights and aligned herself with Chávez’s revolutionary movement. In 2000, having helped Chávez win consecutive presidential elections, she was elected to the legislature. By 2006, she became the president of the National Assembly, the first woman in Venezuela’s history to occupy the post. Flores held important positions in the United Socialist Party of Venezuela and became the country’s solicitor general in 2012, a post she left to run Nicolás Maduro’s presidential campaign after President Chávez’s passing.
Cilia married Nicolás, her longtime partner, following the election. Feeling that the title of “first lady” could not capture her importance to the Bolivarian Revolution, her husband dubbed her the primera combatiente, or first combatant.
After working behind the scenes as a key adviser to President Maduro, she ran for election to the National Assembly and won in 2015, 2020, and 2025.
Today, she faces charges of conspiracy to import cocaine, along with possession of machine guns and destructive devices. The charges are absurd.
In the early 1990s, back when Venezuela was a key ally of the United States, over 50% of the world’s cocaine was trafficked through the country. By 2025, as Venezuela was considered an “unusual and extraordinary threat” to the United States, that number was down to 5%. President Donald Trump’s rhetoric of Venezuela flooding the US with cocaine, and his constant conflation of cocaine with fentanyl (which is neither trafficked through nor produced in Venezuela), has no basis in reality.
Now that the Trump administration controls Venezuela’s oil trade, the rhetoric on drugs has flipped. Following a visit to Venezuela, the head of US Southern Command touted a new counternarcotics cooperation agreement. Was the abduction of Nicolás and Cilia sufficient to end whatever alleged narcotics operation the Venezuelan government was accused of running? It’s more likely that such operations never existed in the first place. The allegations of drug trafficking served not only to discredit the Venezuelan government and its leaders but also paved the way for the January 3 attack.
Cilia Flores is one of the most prominent political prisoners in the world, yet most women’s rights organizations have not said a word in her defense. She is a sitting member of Venezuela’s National Assembly and played an instrumental role in the movement that greatly expanded democratic, economic, and social rights in the country.
Cilia stands with Palestine. In a November 2023 conference in Turkey, she said: “We are witnessing a genocide… We see the victims in Gaza. We see the death of children, women, the elderly, and civilians. We see civilian victims coming out of their destroyed homes, but unable to leave the city because they are in an open-air prison.”
Cilia brought feminism to the Bolivarian Revolution. On International Working Women’s Day in 2023, she helped launch a social mission aimed at protecting women from the worst of the economic war. At the time, she said: “Venezuelan women have shown they are the vanguard. Women make up more than half the population, but we are also mothers of the other half, so we form a whole. And in this war that Venezuela has endured, we achieved victory and are standing firm thanks to the participation of Venezuelan women, who did not just stay home taking care of children, building their families, but also took to the streets to defend the nation. Our women are patriots... and in the next scenario, whatever it may be, we will be victorious because women will be at the forefront of any battle."
Little did she know that the next scenario would be a prison cell in the United States. Out of solidarity with Cilia, with Venezuelan women in general, we must make it our cause to fight for her freedom.
Recalling her beautiful poem above, today our blood pulses with Cilia.
The US propaganda assault shapes how Venezuelans make sense of their experiences in and—for those who left—out of Venezuela, generating more support for the illegal kidnapping of President Maduro among those living abroad.
After the Trump administration illegally kidnapped the legitimate president of Venezuela, Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, on January 3, 2026, we saw two distinct and divergent responses from Venezuelans. On the one hand, the Venezuelan diaspora, especially in the United States, celebrated President Maduro’s kidnapping and bombing of their birth country. They congregated in small gatherings the weekend of the abduction, including in Miami. These celebrations, alongside videos online, were widely disseminated in corporate and social media for a US-based (and broader Western) audience, all broadcasting the same message: Venezuelans support President Maduro’s abduction.
On the other hand, inside Venezuela, for weeks after the illegal abduction, citizens engaged in (almost) daily and massive demonstrations to condemn the attack that killed and wounded over 100 people. These protests have not been shared by US corporate media and have been suppressed in US-aligned social media; thus, a US audience is not privy to the substantial support for Chavismo and President Maduro.
The US propaganda assault plays a large part in generating these two opposing reactions regarding President Maduro’s abduction among Venezuelans, outside (celebration), especially among the US-based diaspora, compared with inside (condemnation) Venezuela. The US propaganda assault refers to the US’(or its aligned entities’) deployment of its vast ideological apparatus (White House communications, corporate media, academia, social media, NGOs, and international organizations) to impose narratives about Venezuela, especially its economic and political conditions, that undermine the Bolivarian Revolution to justify US intervention.
The US propaganda assault shapes how Venezuelans make sense of their experiences in and—for those who left—out of Venezuela, generating more support for the illegal kidnapping of President Maduro among those living abroad compared with those living inside Venezuela, where the propaganda assault faces reality and a stronger counteroffensive, undermining its effectiveness.
In general, Venezuelans in the United States are more likely to support the illegal kidnapping of President Maduro because of their adherence and susceptibility to US-deployed narratives about the Bolivarian Revolution, often linked to their socioeconomic background in Venezuela.
Venezuelans in the United States, as a group, “have higher rates of educational attainment than either native- or overall foreign-born populations” and they are, on average, more educated than their compatriots in Venezuela. Because education is a common marker of socioeconomic status, the Venezuelan diaspora tends to be more socioeconomically advantaged than compatriots who stayed in Venezuela. Moreover, some members of Venezuela’s upper class and elites migrated to the US after Hugo Chavez came to power in 1999, as they are the most vociferous opponents to his political project, a socialism of the 21st century. Thus, middle- and upper-class (and elite) segments of Venezuelan society are overrepresented in the Venezuelan diaspora in the United States. These individuals led comfortable lives in Venezuela until US economic attacks induced economic deterioration and emigration; they carry all of the disappointment, anger, hurt, and resentment associated with economic difficulties—or reduced advantaged among the upper-class and elites—and subsequent displacement.
The neoliberal imperial worldview is a crucial part of the propaganda assault against the Bolivarian Revolution, as it dictates the parameters, including premises and assumptions, that structure debates about Venezuela, including the legitimate role of the US in its affairs.
Venezuelans with middle- and upper-class backgrounds—and especially elites—tend to adhere most closely to a US-centric, neoliberal, and imperial worldview, a prevalent perspective among more advantaged individuals all over Latin America. Two dimensions of this worldview are imperative. First, the state should be subordinated to capital. Secondly, the US’ unruly “rules-based order”—with its related economic, political, and cultural dimensions—should have hegemony over the world, especially the Western Hemisphere. According to this worldview, US neoliberal imperial hegemony is morally superior to other arrangements; thus, US intervention in foreign nation-states to maintain its hegemony is justified. More advantaged, usually light-skinned sectors of Latin America, including in Venezuela, see themselves as part of a US-aligned cosmopolitan milieu, whose perspective they enforce, often violently, in their countries of birth.
The New York Times, the most powerful and effective mouthpiece of the US empire’s propaganda, recently acknowledged that US economic and financial attacks “crushed the Venezuelan economy and led to a humanitarian crisis.” As the US destroyed the Venezuelan economy and created a humanitarian crisis, it deployed (and continues to deploy) a propaganda assault that minimizes or outright obscures the role that US attacks have played in the economic devastation and political troubles in Venezuela. The propaganda assault shifts blame away from the US government onto Chavismo’s leadership, suggesting that the economic duress in Venezuela was primarily—or even exclusively—a result of “mismanagement and corruption” endemic to socialism, in general, and Chavismo, in particular, led by its “narco-trafficker” leader, Nicolás Maduro.
For instance, the claim that Maduro is a narco-trafficker who heads the nonexistent Cartel de los Soles was taken as fact in the most recent Rubio hearings about Venezuela, even though the US government itself has jettisoned this accusation from the “legal” proceedings against President Maduo, a tacit admission that it is false. The fact that corporate media knew about the military attacks ahead of time and refused to publish or sound the alarm is perhaps the best evidence that they are a complicit player in the assault against Venezuela.
The neoliberal imperial worldview is a crucial part of the propaganda assault against the Bolivarian Revolution, as it dictates the parameters, including premises and assumptions, that structure debates about Venezuela, including the legitimate role of the US in its affairs. For instance, at the referenced Rubio hearings, questioning from most senators relied on the premise that the US has the right to intervene in Venezuela’s internal affairs and kidnap its sitting president, a blatant violation of international law. Stunningly, though not surprisingly, some congressmen reprimanded Secretary of State Marco Rubio for not going further and targeting other high-profile Chavista leaders and installing opposition figure María Corina Machado as president, demands only conceivable under a neoliberal imperial worldview. The parameters of the debate that the US propaganda assault delimits is found in most debates about Venezuela, regardless of its interlocutors.
Moreover, when the Bolivarian Revolution defends itself against US attacks, including limiting US influence through opposition proxies, it is labeled “authoritarian.” For example, the US propaganda assault paints US-funded guarimberos as “political prisoners.” These criminals destroyed public and private property, including schools, and killed Venezuelans and targeted Chavistas, including by burning them alive in an attempt to dislodge the Bolivarian Revolution from power. When the Chavista government jailed these “political prisoners,” the US propaganda assault accused the Bolivarian Revolution of authoritarianism, noting that these actions are proof that President Maduro (and Chavez before him) is a dictator. The US propaganda assault does not acknowledge the heinous crimes these guarimberos committed. Due to Chavismo’s alleged authoritarianism, a neoliberal imperial worldview demands that the United States has a duty to intervene in order to “liberate” the allegedly “oppressed” people to clear the way for foreign capital with its subservient “democracy,” a “common sense” solution to its hardships.
The more privileged segment of the Venezuelan society diaspora, who strongly adhere to a neoliberal imperial worldview, is exposed to nothing but anti-Chavismo narratives in the United States. Notably, the US propaganda assault politicizes some members of the diaspora to such a degree that the “MAGAzolano” emerges as a political actor: Venezuelans who ardently support Trump, even though Trump is attacking their country, killing their compatriots with illegal military incursions, and making life unbearable for Venezuelan immigrants through oppressive immigration enforcement and the deportation regime in the US. Although the MAGAzolano is often found among more privileged Venezuelans—who tend to be light-skinned descendants of European immigrants who consider themselves white—they are not limited to this group.
Economic difficulties and subsequent emigration, refracted through a US propaganda assault, including a neoliberal imperial worldview, feeds and deepens these middle-class, upper-class, and elite Venezuelans’ disappointment, anger, hurt, and resentment about their situation, thereby hardening their views against Chavismo, including blaming Maduro for their personal difficulties. Consequently, these Venezuelans in the diaspora celebrate the military attack that led to Maduro’s illegal abduction.
Chavismo finds most support among working-class Venezuelans. For this reason, working-class Venezuelans are the primary target of the US propaganda assault. For instance, when Chavistas appear in corporate media, Chavismo is presented as a failed boogeyman. One corporate media report, which featured a Chavismo-supporting family who lost a son to the US military attack, describes the socialist Bolivarian Revolution as “faded” and “handicapped by corruption cronyism, and incompetence and”—wait for it, at the end of the list—“US-led sanctions.” Notably, the story articulates the lofty aims of the Bolivarian revolution that Chavez started but only to highlight its failures.
Due to the absence of forceful and consistent counternarratives in corporate-owned legacy and social media against US propaganda, arguments against Chavismo—largely unopposed— gain ground. Consequently, support for Chavismo weakens among this segment of the population in the US. Moreover, the propaganda assault is coupled with incentives to sing an anti-Maduro tune in the US, especially in co-ethnic communities like Miami, a hotbed of anti-socialist sentiment. In these locales, employment and other opportunities may vanish if one articulates support for the Bolivarian revolution. Furthermore, legalization incentives decrease articulating support for President Maduro, as a pathway to legalization might be more likely if one argues political persecution by the Chavista government. Thus, the US propaganda assault and material incentives undermine support for Chavismo, even among its followers. At the very least, every anti-Chavismo story in the press—in the absence of counternarratives—sows doubt, leading these working-class individuals who support the Bolivarian Revolution in the diaspora to ask: Is it true?
Condemnation for President Maduro’s illegal kidnapping is stronger and more visible inside Venezuela, largely because Chavismo is the strongest political movement inside the country, because these Venezuelans had to deal with bombs landing on their heads, and because the US propaganda assault encounters reality and a stronger narrative counteroffensive.
Chavismo is the strongest social movement in Venezuela. Since Chavez came to power, Chavismo has won most of the over 30 elections Venezuela has held at different levels of governance. They control all of the levers of power and enjoy the most mobilized base compared to other political movements, including the fractured political right. Notably Chavismo has empowered communes, which strengthen support for Chavismo on the ground. For instance, in November 2025, a national election took place so that communes could vote to prioritize projects whose support is provided by the federal government. The PSUV (Socialist Party) is the largest and most organized political organization in the country. Central to the US propaganda assault is to refuse to acknowledge, attempt to obscure, or outright deny this fact. While US propaganda buries this fact from a US-based (and Western) audience, including the Venezuelan diaspora, it cannot disguise it from Venezuelans inside the country, who see—with their own eyes—Chavismo mobilized on the streets, thereby undermining the US propaganda assault’s effectiveness.
The fact that the Bolivarian Revolution did not crumble after the kidnapping of its president, as many other societies have done after a US strike, reveals the Bolivarian Revolution’s strength.
Notably, the military attack against Venezuela generated a “rally-behind-the-flag” effect. The aggression against Venezuela affected all of its citizens, regardless of political ideology, leading Chavistas and non-Chavistas alike to condemn the intervention. For instance, bombs landed on La Boyera, a historically stronghold for the opposition, destroying homes and harming individuals. The attack also destroyed a medical warehouse that stored supplies for dialysis patients in La Guaira and damaged a research center in Miranda state. (In a show of solidarity, the Brazilian government donated medical supplies to help these patients.) Venezuelans of all political stripes are dealing with the psychological and emotional toll of Trump’s attack.
Among Venezuelans inside Venezuela, there is no confusion as to who bombed them and who defended them, heightening patriotism in defense of their sovereignty. Because Chavismo is in charge of the government, it emerged as the unequivocal defender of Venezuela sovereignty, generating sympathy (or quelling animosity), if not support, among some detractors. Maria Corina Machado’s gifting of her Nobel “peace” medal to Trump as a sign of gratitude for bombing Venezuela highlighted a contrast between those who support (extreme right-wing opposition) and those who reject (Chavismo) the US military attacks, defining the latter as the protector of the Venezuelan people. Importantly, the rally-behind-the-flag effect reveals why the propaganda assault was launched first, as it undermines and diffuses patriotic cohesion by concealing the US as the unequivocal aggressor. It is not surprising that some non-Chavistas have joined the demonstrations condemning the illegal attack. Having experienced the attack firsthand, they are not eager to stand in a town square and celebrate bombs raining down on them and the killing of their compatriots and neighbors.
Inside Venezuela, Chavismo supporters offer counternarratives to the US propaganda assault. Social media, state-sponsored media, and the pulpit of the presidency—among other avenues—are deployed to help people understand the US assault and what the Bolivarian Revolution is doing about it. For example, these outlets point out that the US attacked to steal their natural resources, not for democracy or any other excuse. Importantly, they debunk a range of narratives that attempt to divide and, therefore, weaken Chavismo (see below). They highlight how the extreme right-wing opposition has called for US military intervention and how they have celebrated the bombing of their compatriots; in doing so, they highlight how unpatriotic these right-wing sectors are and how little they care for the Venezuelan population. Importantly, they highlight the importance of socialist principles to understand and resist this attack, and how a deepening of socialism is the only answer to US pressure.
After the military aggression, the US propaganda assault against the Bolivarian Revolution has jumped into hyperdrive to generate division and weaken Chavismo in an effort to dislodge the socialist project from controlling the Venezuelan government. The US propaganda assault continues to try to break Chavismo, targeting Delcy Rodriguez, the vice president who is now in charge in President Maduro’s absence, Jorge Rodriguez, the head of the assembly (and Delcy’s brother), and, most importantly, Diosdado Cabello, the interior minister. These narratives include:
One of these narratives—“Delcy is a narco-trafficker”—is a rehashing of US accusations against Maduro. The Bolivarian Revolution’s resistance to these nefarious narratives is also working overtime, undermining the attacks’ effectiveness, providing almost instantaneous rebuttals. Many of these US propaganda narratives have been thoroughly debunked. But new ones emerge, and old ones are recycled, almost on a daily basis. As Vijay Prashad notes, “Every single Western corporate newspaper has run a story on how the Venezuelan leadership made a deal with US to hand over Maduro.” The evidence? Boogeyman “anonymous sources,” who almost always turn out to be US intelligence campaigns that feed corporate media the narrative the US wants to impose. The corporate media, for their part, does little to investigate and corroborate the anonymous sources’ claim; they just print them without proof or verification, acting as a propaganda arm of the US government. Note that as the Chavismo leadership negotiates with the US, the latter is engaged in a ferocious propaganda assault to undermine the Bolivarian government.
Finally, Venezuelans abroad try to silence support for Maduro by arguing that those who did not experience the economic hardships that they experienced do not have a right to speak. As a rebuttal, those inside the country argue that Venezuelans who left during the most difficult times as a result of the US financial attacks did not experience the subsequent economic upward swing that Chavismo engineered, despite US-imposed crippling sanctions. Venezuela has experienced continued economic growth from 2020-2025, which is one of the primary reasons the United States used the military to encircle and attack it; the Bolivarian Revolution was outmaneuvering US economic sanctions. Those who stayed in Venezuela experienced, firsthand, economic recovery, however slow, a reality that cannot be denied to those who experienced it.
US propaganda assault deploys narratives to undermine the Bolivarian Revolution that face few counternarratives in the United States, including among self-professed “progressives,” “leftists,” or “democratic socialists.” One of the most despicable arguments that emerges out of this group, which I refer to as the “imperial left,” is the ever self-serving “both-sideism” claim. It states that both of the following claims are true: Maduro—and Chavismo more generally—is “corrupt” and “authoritarian” and “mismanaged” the economy and the US carried out an illegal attack and abduction against Venezuela and its leader. These imperial leftists reject both Chavismo and the United States’ actions, thereby projecting a seemingly “neutral,” “objective,” and “unbiased” perspective.
Although “both-sideism” appears as a “neutral,” “unbiased,” and “objective” stance, it is actually in alignment with US aggression against the Bolivarian Revolution. This narrative creates a moral equivalence between the victim (Venezuela and its Bolivarian revolution) and its aggressor (the United States) that renders them both objectionable, which undermines support for Chavismo and, consequently, demobilizes anti-imperial resistance inside the US and strengthens Venezuelan diaspora support for the illegal kidnapping of President Maduro. Notably, for this “equivalence” to work, imperial leftists accept narratives deployed by the US government, including that Chavismo’s mismanagement, corruption, and authoritarianism is primarily responsible for Venezuela’s economic duress, ignoring actual evidence.
In doing so, “both-sideism” legitimizes US government claims and, consequently, its purported reasoning for intervention. For the imperial left, self-defense under imperial aggression is dictatorship; concessions forced under imperial attacks exemplify lack of revolutionary commitment; and neutralization of US proxies reveals authoritarianism. If not a perfect socialist utopia, the imperial left is more than happy to join right-wing forces against revolutionary governments working toward socialism, including in Latin America. All they accomplish is undermining solidarity and resistance against imperial aggression.
By highlighting Venezuelans abroad who celebrated the January 3 military attack against their birth country, the US propaganda assault seeks to impose the narrative that all Venezuelans support the illegal kidnapping of President Maduro. To do so, it obscures Venezuelans inside and outside the country who disagree. Even outside of Venezuelan, however, opposition to the illegal kidnapping of President Maduro is alive and well—and ignored by US corporate media. For instance, in a demonstration in Paris, France a Venezuelan migrant raised her voice and spoke thus:
I lived in Venezuela until 2017 and had to leave—not because I wanted to, but because of the economic sanctions the US imposes against my country for the fact that Venezuela dared to nationalize its resources, including oil. But corporate media will not tell you this; its propaganda—along with the far-right extremist elements of the Venezuelan opposition—want you to believe that Venezuela is a failure. But this is not true. Venezuela is a country that, despite imperialist sanctions, endures. When are we going to believe Yanquí propaganda? It’s time to stop legitimizing narratives that justify invasions. History is on our side.
Although ignored, voices like these ring out all over the world, despite having a difficult time finding a public platform for dissemination. Inside Venezuela, these voices are loud and find themselves in every nook and cranny of the national territory, which make them hard to ignore or obscure.
US violence against Venezuelans is intentionally obscured by the US propaganda assault, but it inevitably becomes apparent, often in the midst of dire circumstances, especially in the United States. At the end of one of Maduro kidnapping celebrations, for instance, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents showed up and detained some Venezuelans. One of those individuals captured articulates the reality that the propaganda assault conceals. He says: “We were only celebrating Maduro’s capture. And they brought us here [to an ICE detention center]. It's unjust. Now that I am in this condition, I don’t know who the bad guy is. I thought Maduro was the dictator, but it is Donald Trump who has jailed us.”
The analyst Diego Sequera describes the successful US military aggression that led to the kidnapping of President Maduro as a “sugar-high victory,” suggesting it is momentary and fleeting. Right now, the Trump administration and the extreme right-wing opposition is overcome with glee, expecting the abduction to signal the beginning of the end of Chavismo. However, events subsequent to the abduction call for a different interpretation. Chavismo endures. In the aftermath of the attacks, Venezuelan institutions held their ground, with Chavismo controlling all levers of power. Organizational capacity is strong. For instance, buildings destroyed by the attack were rapidly renovated, highlighting how the Bolivarian Revolution’s primary goals are to serve all Venezuelans. Moreover, due to the limited sanction relief, economic growth under the leadership of Delcy Rodriguez may generate more sympathy for Chavismo among skeptics and deepen commitment for the Bolivarian Revolution among its supporters. As it stands, approval for Rodriguez is high.
The US propaganda assault will continue to try splinter Venezuelan society, including sowing divisions between those who live inside and outside the country. This propaganda assault obscures the fact the military attack was a violation of Venezuelan sovereignty, not just aggression against the Bolivarian Revolution, a point the Bolivarian Revolution makes over and over again. Chavismo is absorbing the attack as a singular moment of vulnerability; it is re-grouping, re-organizing, and now re-energized, as it has done time and time again after each illegal, immoral, unjust US attack over its history. The fact that the Bolivarian Revolution did not crumble after the kidnapping of its president, as many other societies have done after a US strike, reveals the Bolivarian Revolution’s strength.
The time ahead is full of uncertainty, sometimes necessitating temporary changes and strategic deceleration or concessions—as Chavez once said in a previous moment of political vulnerability—“por ahora” (for now). But the process continues. As the movement’s chant reminds us, “Chavez Vive! La Lucha Sigue!” For Chavistas, the Bolivarian Revolution está en marcha (marches on). There is never a final defeat or a final victory. Just temporary battles won or lost on the path toward a different world. Chavismo is now a structural feature of Venezuelan society, part of its DNA. Whatever happens in the coming days, something is assured: Chavismo is here to stay—working, building, organizing to unite Venezuelans, which the US propaganda assault has divided, and building, slowly, toward its next leap forward.
Again and again, external actors arrive convinced that this time, through capital, force, or expertise, they have finally grasped what Venezuela is and what it needs. The confidence never lasts.
When US forces carried out a large-scale military operation in Caracas on January 3, 2026—capturing President Nicolás Maduro and transporting him to New York to face US indictments—Washington framed the moment as resolution. President Donald Trump declared Venezuela’s long crisis effectively over, announcing that the United States would “run” the country for a period of time and openly discussing the reinstallation of US oil interests. The language was casual, almost improvisational, as if Venezuela were an unruly subsidiary finally brought to heel.
What the operation revealed, however, was not strategic clarity but a familiar blindness. Once again, US power moved decisively while understanding lagged far behind. Leadership was removed, headlines were captured, yet the deeper structures shaping Venezuelan life—its history of extraction, its social networks, its hard-earned skepticism toward imposed authority—remained untouched. The episode fit neatly into a long pattern: Outsiders mistaking control for comprehension.
For more than five centuries, Venezuela has attracted this kind of attention. It has been treated as a resource cache, a geopolitical puzzle, a cautionary tale, or a problem to be solved. Rarely has it been approached as a society with its own internal logic. Again and again, external actors arrive convinced that this time, through capital, force, or expertise, they have finally grasped what Venezuela is and what it needs. The confidence never lasts.
The misreading begins early. When Alonso de Ojeda and Amerigo Vespucci reached the northern coast in 1499 and named it Veneziola, they imposed a European metaphor on a place already dense with meaning. Indigenous societies—the Timoto-Cuica in the Andes, Carib and Arawak peoples along the coast—had built complex agricultural systems, trade routes, and ecological knowledge. Spanish conquest dismantled much of this world, extracting pearls, gold, and cacao while concentrating power in Caracas, a city whose monumental architecture masked the fragility beneath it.
Venezuela has been misread repeatedly. Not because it is unknowable, but because powerful outsiders rarely bother to know it on its own terms.
Colonial Venezuela was never cohesive. Authority flowed downward; legitimacy never followed. The German Welser banking house, granted control of the territory in the 16th century, pursued gold through enslavement and violence. Later, the Guipuzcoan Company monopolized trade, choking local economic life. Periodic uprisings were crushed rather than resolved. The lesson repeated itself quietly but insistently: Wealth could be extracted, order imposed temporarily, but social trust could not be engineered from afar.
Independence did not resolve these tensions. 19th century unfolded through fragmentation, regionalism, and civil war. Simón Bolívar understood Venezuela better than most foreign admirers or critics since, yet even he struggled to translate military success into durable political unity. The Federal War left the country devastated and more unequal, reinforcing a pattern in which power was centralized while social cohesion remained elusive. European creditors and early oil prospectors took note, circling patiently.
Oil altered Venezuela’s position in the world but not its underlying dynamics. In the early 20th century, Juan Vicente Gómez offered foreign companies stability and access in exchange for political backing. Later, Marcos Pérez Jiménez presented a gleaming vision of modernization—highways, towers, civic monuments—that impressed visiting dignitaries. The spectacle worked. Venezuela appeared governable, even exemplary. Yet outside the frame, inequality hardened and participation narrowed. Development was visible; legitimacy was thin.
By the time the bolívar collapsed on Black Friday in 1983, the illusion was difficult to sustain. An economy tethered to oil rents proved dangerously exposed to global shocks, while political institutions remained distant from everyday life. The Caracazo riots of 1989 were not a sudden breakdown but a release, an eruption from a society that had absorbed decades of exclusion. International observers described chaos. Venezuelans recognized continuity.
Hugo Chávez entered this landscape not as a rupture but as a condensation of long-simmering forces. His rise drew on popular frustration with a system that had promised stability and delivered precarity. The brief 2002 coup against him, quietly welcomed in Washington, collapsed almost immediately, undone by mass mobilization. Power changed hands; legitimacy reasserted itself. Chávez’s social programs produced real gains while deepening reliance on oil, leaving unresolved the same vulnerability that had defined Venezuelan political economy for a century.
After Chávez’s death, Nicolás Maduro governed a system already under strain. Falling oil prices, hyperinflation, protest cycles, mass migration, and partial dollarization followed. External pressure mounted, sanctions, recognition battles, diplomatic theater, often treating Venezuela less as a society than as a message. Leadership was personalized; history flattened.
The capture of Maduro followed this script. It was decisive, dramatic, and legible to a US political culture that favors clear villains and clean endings. What it did not do was engage the complexity of Venezuelan life: the informal economies that keep neighborhoods fed, the communal networks that substitute for absent institutions, the cultural memory shaped by centuries of extraction and resistance. These dynamics do not disappear when a president boards a plane.
Venezuelan resilience rarely makes headlines because it lacks spectacle. It is found in Indigenous land stewardship, Afro-Venezuelan cultural traditions, cooperative food systems, remittance networks, and everyday improvisation. Migration, so often framed solely as collapse, has also become a form of continuity, extending social ties across borders rather than severing them.
Oil still looms over everything. The 1970s boom, including Saudi-Venezuelan cooperation, promised autonomy through abundance and delivered deeper dependence instead. Resource wealth invited intervention and centralization while postponing harder questions about participation and governance. The pattern has proven remarkably durable.
Venezuela’s history does not yield easily to slogans or interventions. It resists tidy moral arcs and quick fixes. Again and again, external actors—most recently the Trump administration—have approached the country as if force, markets, or managerial confidence could substitute for understanding. Each time, they discover too late that Venezuela is not an abstraction but a living society shaped by long memory and adaptive survival.
Venezuela has been misread repeatedly. Not because it is unknowable, but because powerful outsiders rarely bother to know it on its own terms. And so the cycle continues: decisive action, confident declarations, and, beneath them all, a society that endures—complex, unfinished, and stubbornly beyond control.This is not to say the Venezuelan government is perfect nor to endorse the fairness of last month's election. But let's be clear: Venezuelan political disputes should be settled by Venezuelans, not by the United States.
There is now widespread controversy surrounding the Venezuelan presidential election on July 28th. The National Electoral Council says that current President Nicolás Maduro was reelected with a 51% majority. The opposition, led by Maria Corina Machado, claims that its candidate, Edmundo González, won with an overwhelming majority of the votes cast. The primary questions being asked in the media are “who really won?” and even “how can Maduro be made to step aside?”
Instead the question US observers should be asking is, “what business is this of ours?”
The United States government constantly criticizes elections around the world that it deems to be undemocratic. It claims to support an “international rules based order” and maintain a foreign policy with human rights at its center. But the United States of America isn’t exactly a fair arbiter. It is without question the most hyper-interventionist country in the history of the world. It has repeatedly intervened in the internal affairs of governments it doesn’t like, often invading and overthrowing them, ostensibly, for the cause of democracy. It does not, however, criticize the antidemocratic behavior of its allies, like apartheid Israel or the absolute monarchy that rules Saudi Arabia. As in Orwell’s famous novel, America may claim that all animals are equal. But it’s clear that it believes some animals are more equal than others.
On July 27th, a day before the Venezuelan election, the People’s Forum, a New York City movement incubator, released a letter warning that, “a Western media narrative is already being spun to present the election as inevitably fraudulent – and pave the way for a new regime change operation if the right-wing opposition does not prevail at the ballot box.”
That letter has come under criticism for asserting that, “the campaign has seen energetic participation all across the country and vigorous, democratic debate,” and that since 2002, “Venezuela has held over 30 elections that have been conducted professionally and impartially.” In the days after the most recent election international organizations like Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and a fact-finding mission from the United Nations have disagreed, citing reports of politically motivated arrests, assaults, intimidation, and even deaths. The governments of Colombia, Mexico, and Brazil are calling for more transparency.
But the credibility of Venezuela’s elections should not be the main issue in question. The main issue is that criticism is used as an excuse to promote US intervention and regime change or to justify more deadly sanctions that kill Venezuelan people. True to form, on Thursday August 1st the U.S. State Department announced that it recognized González as the winner.
In one egregious example of media promoting intervention, a July 31st editorial in the Boston Globe called on the Biden Administration to intervene, saying, “It’s in U.S. interests for the Biden Administration to help deliver the regime change Venezuelans have voted for.” It endorsed the policy of former President Donald Trump, suggesting that President Biden should revive the office of special representative to Venezuela and later quoted the man who held that office under Trump, Elliott Abrams.
But it failed to provide extremely important context about Mr. Abrams. In 1991 Elliott Abrams, who still serves in government, pled guilty to two counts of lying to the US Congress about his knowledge of the Iran-Contra affair, a secret deal to illegally sell arms to Iran and use the proceeds to fund right-wing militias trying to overthrow the left wing government of Nicaragua. Congress had explicitly forbidden military assistance for the purpose of overthrowing the Nicaraguan government. A man who was deeply involved in the attempted overthrow of a Central American government is not a credible voice on Venezuelan democracy.
The United States has a terrible record when it comes to supporting self determination, globally, in Latin America, and in Venezuela specifically. The U.S. has interfered with the affairs of Cuba, Nicaragua, Mexico, Brazil, Chile, Panama, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Bolivia, Venezuela, and more. Focusing on Venezuela alone there are multiple instances of interference just in the 21st century.
In 2002 the Bush Administration sanctioned a coup attempt against Maduro’s predecessor Hugo Chavez. In March of 2015 the Obama Administration unilaterally levied harsh economic sanctions on Venezuela. President Obama declared that Venezuela posed an “unusual and extraordinary threat to the national security and foreign policy of the United States.” The effects of such sanctions, and even more punitive ones imposed by the Trump Administration, were studied by the Government Accountability Office in 2021. They found that the sanctions have already killed tens of thousands of people in Venezuela, due to restricted access to food and medicine.
In 2019 the Trump Administration recognized 35 year old opposition leader Juan Guaidó as the legitimate president of Venezuela, despite the fact that he never ran for the office. They then handed over control on Venezuela’s assets in the United States to Guaidó, a move that the New York Times called, “one of Washington’s most overt attempts in decades to carry out regime change in Latin America.”
Given the exhaustive record of U.S. interference and intervention in the politics of Latin American countries, it’s just common sense to be skeptical about pronouncements from Washington regarding Venezuela’s election. That’s asking the fox's opinion on the management of the henhouse. To be clear, this is not to say that the Venezuelan government is perfect or to endorse the fairness of the July 28th election. It is to say that Venezuelan political disputes should be settled by Venezuelans, not by the United States.
With its own presidential election less than three months away, the U.S. has enough on its plate. The recent history of presidential elections in the United States is less than stellar. Two of the last six presidential elections were won by the candidate who received less votes (George W. Bush in 2000 and Donald J. Trump in 2016). In 2000 Bush had a co-chair of his campaign purge 173,000 voters from voting rolls as Florida Secretary of State, in a key election decided by 500 votes. Trump tried to stay in power after losing the 2020 election to President Joe Biden. His followers famously stormed the Capitol Building in an effort to stop the certification of that election on January 6th 2021.
The bottom line? We have authoritarianism at home. When it comes to taking action abroad to “defend democracy” America would do well to adhere to the motto recommended by Founding Grandfather Benjamin Franklin: “Mind your business.”
Following a disputed election, the government of President Nicolás Maduro has yet to publicly release the full tally sheets of the results. Meanwhile, U.S. officials are keeping quiet about their links to the opposition.
Since the disputed July 28 presidential election in Venezuela, U.S. officials have been calling for transparency from the Venezuelan government while keeping quiet about their efforts at regime change.
Claiming that Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro has stolen the election, U.S. officials have been working to bring to power the Venezuelan opposition. With nothing to say about their decadeslong relationship with opposition leader María Corina Machado, who has previously benefited from U.S. funding, U.S. officials have been portraying the opposition as a popular movement that won the election, all without external support or interference.
“The Venezuelan people deserve an election that genuinely reflects their will, free from any manipulation,” Secretary of State Antony Blinken said on the day of the election.
If U.S. officials are serious about wanting to see an election free from any manipulation, then they must be transparent about the U.S. role in the country. While it remains important for the Venezuelan government to release detailed voting results, just as several leftist leaders in Latin America have requested, it also remains critical for the United States to release detailed records about its relationship with the opposition, something it has spent years trying to keep hidden.
For decades, the United States has been the primary source of manipulation in Venezuela. With the goal of achieving regime change, the United States has been supporting an opposition movement that has been trying to mobilize the Venezuelan people against the Venezuelan government.
During the early 2000s, U.S. officials worked closely with Machado, the current opposition leader, who has long faced allegations of trying to overthrow the Venezuelan government. With funding from the U.S. government and support from U.S. diplomats, she and her organization Súmate led an effort in 2004 to oust then-Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez in a recall referendum. When it failed, Machado repeatedly cast doubt on the results, even though data collected by her organization indicated that Chávez had won, just as election monitors found.
At the time, former President Jimmy Carter charged members of Súmate with deliberately distributing misleading data for the purpose of manipulating the election. “There’s no doubt some of their leaders deliberately distributed this erroneous exit poll data,” Carter said, as reported by The New York Times.
Since then, U.S. leaders have overseen many additional efforts at regime change, targeting both Chávez and Maduro, all of which have failed. In 2019, the Trump administration made one of the most audacious moves, rallying behind opposition leader Juan Guaidó, who led a failed uprising and later fled the country.
At the same time that they are demanding that the Venezuelan government be transparent about the results, [U.S. officials] are keeping quiet about their own efforts to empower the opposition and achieve regime change.
“Our conundrum, which is to keep the opposition united, has proven devilishly difficult,” then-Secretary of State Mike Pompeo lamented, as reported by The Washington Post.
In the July 28 election, the Venezuelan people voted in the context of widespread social and economic collapse, which has been facilitated by the United States. During the Trump administration, U.S. officials imposed severe sanctions on Venezuela, trying to make life so miserable for the Venezuelan people that they would turn against the Venezuelan government.
As former officials in the Trump administration recently acknowledged, they expected their approach to cause the Venezuelan economy to collapse and many people to flee the country. Not only did their actions push Venezuela into the one of worst economic collapses in modern history, but they made life so difficult that more than 7 million Venezuelans fled the country in one of the worst humanitarian crises in the world.
Many Venezuelan migrants have sought entry to the United States, driving the large increase in border crossings, all of which had been anticipated.
The Venezuelan people who have remained in their homeland are still suffering from the effects of U.S. sanctions. Even with the recent election, they have faced few good options, having been forced to deal with a hostile United States.
One of their options has been to support Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, the current target of the United States. A vote for Maduro could lead the United States to preserve its sanctions, all but guaranteeing more years of suffering.
Another one of their options has been to side with the U.S.-backed opposition. A vote for the opposition could lead to relief from U.S. sanctions, but it risks bringing to power a right-wing regime that will prioritize U.S. interests and perhaps even transfer the country’s oil wealth to U.S. corporations. Machado, for example, has insisted that she will privatize PDVSA, the state oil company.
Although the Venezuelan government barred Machado from running for office, she remains the main opposition leader, being the driving force behind little-known opposition candidate Edmundo González, who has been serving as her proxy.
U.S. officials have said that public opinion polls display widespread support for González, but critics have questioned their reliability. Analysts at the Center for Economic Policy and Research have reported that support for González has been overestimated, largely due to polling bias.
Through it all, U.S. officials have been highly secretive about their actions, even while calling for transparency. They have not disclosed which opposition groups they are funding, a longstanding practice.
Neither have they been open about their links to Machado, perhaps due to a critical change in their approach that they began to consider after the 2004 referendum. Once the Venezuelan government began publicizing Machado’s connections to the United States, even charging her and her colleagues with treason, U.S. officials began to consider how they could empower her without appearing as if they were her puppet-master.
During a private meeting on January 10, 2005, then-U.S. Senator Christopher Dodd (D-CT) floated one possibility, advising Machado and her colleagues “to seek international financing from non-U.S. sources” so that the Venezuelan government “cannot credibly label Súmate as a USG-backed organization.”
Machado rejected the advice, however, insisting that Súmate should be able to openly receive funding from the United States, including from the National Endowment for Democracy (NED). “Foreign financing for NGOs is legal, despite the GOV’s contention to the contrary,” she claimed. “Súmate will continue to apply for NED and other grants.”
Initially, the U.S. government supported her approach. In 2005, then-President George W. Bush welcomed Machado to the White House, where he openly supported her. Not long after the meeting, Machado announced that the United States would provide Súmate with additional funding.
Concerned about how the Venezuelan government might respond, U.S. diplomats in Venezuela, who were closely coordinating with Súmate, called for some adjustments. Their main advice was to continue supporting Súmate while making it appear as if there was some distance between Súmate and the United States.
“A continuing, too evident, public identification with the U.S. could now be counterproductive,” the diplomats warned. “At the same time, however, we need to ensure that Súmate has the resources it needs to exploit this new vantage point it enjoys.”
Not only have U.S. officials remained silent about these past moves, but they have been employing many of the same tactics. Taking the approach favored by U.S. diplomats, officials in Washington have been trying to appear distant from the opposition while remaining supportive.
During the most recent election, the Biden administration prepared for multiple scenarios, including ways of supporting the opposition in the case that Maduro was declared the winner. With its public diplomacy, it has framed the vote as a struggle by an admirable and heroic opposition against a corrupt and fraudulent government, just as past administrations have done.
In perhaps its most striking move, Biden administration declared that the opposition won the election, even without having access to the data that administration officials repeatedly said is necessary for confirming the results. After spending days demanding that the Venezuelan government release detailed polling data, the administration went ahead and announced the opposition’s victory anyway.
“Venezuelan opposition and civil society provided decisive evidence showing that Edmundo González received a majority of the votes in this election,” State Department Spokesperson Vedant Patel claimed.
Indeed, U.S. officials are once again throwing their support behind the opposition. At the same time that they are demanding that the Venezuelan government be transparent about the results, they are keeping quiet about their own efforts to empower the opposition and achieve regime change.
Until the United States lifts its sanctions and ends its meddling, the people of Venezuela will never participate in elections that are free from manipulation, just as Secretary of State Antony Blinken insisted they deserve.
As head of the National Congress following the U.S.-supported coup in 2009, Hernandez—who later ascended to the presidency—was seen as particularly amenable to Washington's desires.
On March 8, a Manhattan federal court found Juan Orlando Hernández, president of Honduras from 2014 to 2022, guilty of conspiracy to import large amounts of cocaine into the United States over nearly two decades.
Mainstream U.S. media generally framed the ex-president’s trial and conviction as a triumph of justice, a service rendered by the impartial U.S. justice system to the people of Honduras.
The great majority of such accounts, however, ignored and obscured context crucial for understanding Hernández’s rise and rule; in particular, how Washington contributed to both. Though the mainstream narrative around the ex-president rightly connects his tenure in office with massive emigration from Honduras, it has elided the degree to which U.S. influence enabled Hernández’s career and thus partially drove the migration that arose in response.
For roughly two centuries, Honduras, the original “banana republic,” has suffered a deeply unequal relationship with the far more powerful United States. One of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere, Honduras and its people have endured frequent American military interventions, U.S.-backed coups, and a corrupt, rapacious local oligarchy closely tied to U.S. corporate interests.
Despite Hernández’s ultimate conviction on U.S. soil, he served Washington for many years as a loyal client. The single most important event in the ex-president’s political career was a 2009 coup, which overthrew center-left president Manuel Zelaya (whose wife, Xiomara Castro, won election in 2021 and currently occupies the presidency). Zelaya raised the minimum wage, subsidized small farmers, and authorized the morning-after pill, infuriating the country’s business elite and, in the last case, ultra-conservative religious leaders. Moreover, to Washington’s consternation, he made overtures toward Hugo Chavez’s socialist Venezuela and sought to convert a crucial U.S. airbase entirely to civilian use.
Joint action by Honduras’ military and judiciary — in a manner the U.S. ambassador called “clearly illegal” and “totally illegitimate” at the time — forced Zelaya to pay for these sins in late June 2009. While the White House’s reaction to the coup initially appeared confused, Washington soon recovered its footing. Even as huge protests raged, the Obama administration played a key role in ultimately compelling Honduras’ people and the region’s governments to acquiesce to the regime change as a fait accompli.
Despite widespread repression by the post-coup de facto government, accounts of fraud, and the condemnation of many countries and international organizations (including the normally deferential Organization of American States), U.S.-endorsed elections in November 2009 received Washington’s imprimatur. In her memoirs (the passage excised from the book’s paperback edition with no explanation), then-Secretary of State Hillary Clinton explained that the U.S. sought to “render the question of Zelaya moot and give the Honduran people a chance to choose their own future.”
It was in this context that Hernández catapulted into power. After Porfirio Lobo won the 2009 presidential race, Hernández became President of the National Congress as a member of Lobo’s National Party — an institution historically closely linked to U.S. agribusiness. Lobo was Hernández’s mentor and groomed his protege to succeed him. But while Hernández enjoyed success, the coup’s consequences constituted disaster for ordinary Hondurans.
Political violence and repression became routine. The murder rate, much of it due to cartel-related gang violence, soared — it was the world’s highest for three years running. As the economic situation also deteriorated, and Lobo and his son allied with major narcotics syndicates, a huge surge of emigration swelled out of Honduras, with desperate citizens flooding northward. The total number of Hondurans apprehended at the U.S. border exploded — from less than 25,000 in 2009 to nearly 100,000 in 2014 — reaching 250,000 by 2020.
In Washington’s eyes, however, such concerns took a back seat to longstanding strategic needs: above all, Honduras’ openness to foreign investment and its role as a base for American military power. And, as head of the National Congress, Hernandez was seen as particularly amenable to U.S. desires.
“The State Department loved Hernandez,” according to Dana Frank, an expert on Honduras at UC Santa Cruz. As Lobo’s heir apparent, “he was young and could stay in power for a long time.” Frank cites a 2010 cable from the U.S. embassy in Tegucigalpa asserting that “He has consistently supported U.S. interests.”
The depth of American support for Hernández became clear after his 2013 election to the presidency. Despite credible reports of fraud, his National Party’s control over the counting process, and a wave of threats and sometimes lethal violence against opposition candidates and activists during the campaign, the State Department commended the election as “transparent, free, and fair.”
In 2015, a major corruption scandal centered on the misappropriation of funds from Honduras’ Social Security Institute exploded, prompting unprecedented popular demonstrations against Hernandez and calling for his resignation, “There was a real sense that Hernández could fall,” according to Alexander Main, a Latin America expert at the Washington-based Center for Economic and Policy Research. Fortunately for Hernández, however, the U.S. swooped in, helping to defuse the unrest by prodding the OAS to organize a local anti-corruption body known as MACCIH.
In that same year, according to Frank, Washington gave an “official green light” to a “completely criminal” power grab by Hernández whereby his hand-picked Supreme Court ruled that he was eligible to run for a second term in clear violation of Honduras’ constitution. Washington’s complacent reaction — “It is up to the Honduran people to determine their political future” — stood in remarkable contrast to 2009, when Zelaya’s mere suggestion that the constitution might be amended to permit a second term served as the pretext for the coup that the U.S. subsequently legitimized.
In Hernández’s 2017 reelection bid, the fraud was so blatant and widespread that even the generally conservative OAS declared the incumbent’s victory an example of “extreme statistical improbability” and called for new elections. The State Department, however, stood by Hernández, prodding Mexico and other OAS members to recognize the results, even as security forces suppressed massive and prolonged protests with live ammunition.
Indeed, U.S. training and funding also proved crucial in the creation of the brutal special operations units Hernández’s government used to terrorize opposition and environmental activists. Particularly significant in the military sphere was the role of U.S. Southern Command (SOUTHCOM), the American combatant command responsible for Latin America. Hernández was a particular favorite of John Kelly, SOUTHCOM’s head during Obama’s second term (and then White House chief of staff for Donald Trump), who, as Dana Frank noted, once referred to the convicted drug trafficker as a “great guy” and “good friend.”
Considering the U.S. relationship with Hernández, it is perhaps unsurprising that U.S. officials seemingly turned a blind eye to his deep involvement in narcotics trafficking. As both Hernández’s recent trial — during which a witness claimed Hernandez had privately vowed to “stuff drugs up the noses of the gringos” — and that of his brother in 2019 showed, the drug trade’s reach into the Honduran government was unmistakable, with numerous high-ranking security officials repeatedly implicated.
CEPR’s Main argues that it was “highly unlikely American officials were unaware” of Hernández’s criminality. Indeed, as a document from his brother’s trial revealed, the DEA began investigating the ex-president as early as 2013. As noted in Hernández’s trial, just weeks after his inauguration in 2014, the agency reportedly obtained video evidence indicating his involvement with major drug traffickers. Even after his brother’s 2019 conviction, when it became apparent that millions of dollars in drug money helped underwrite Hernández’s political career, President Donald Trump publicly praised him for “working with the United States very closely” and for his help in “stopping drugs at a level that has never happened.”
Given all this, the U.S. media’s failure to probe the influence of American policy on Hernández’s career begins to look less like an anomalous oversight and more like a manifestation of structural dynamics that tend to reinforce the notion of American innocence. We can see the same logic apply to the frenzied media accounts detailing “caravans” of Central American migrants headed to the U.S. While mainstream news outlets rightly note the relationship between Hernández’s presidency and increased migration from Honduras, they nevertheless fail to connect the two to the impact of U.S. policymaking. Without Washington’s complicity and assistance, Hernandez might have spent 2014 to 2022 in prison, rather than the presidency. Unfortunately, it was the Honduran people who paid the price.
In a 1981 memo, written weeks before his confirmation by the Senate, Abrams stated that “human rights is at the core of our foreign policy.” His record says otherwise.
Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, or any other country that respects human rights do not have fond memories of Elliott Abrams. The Biden administration’s nomination of Abrams to the Advisory Commission on Public Diplomacy is wrong and, given his track record, is an insult to diplomacy.
Abrams gained prominence when he served as President Ronald Reagan’s Assistant Secretary of State for Human Rights and Humanitarian Affairs. He later became Assistant Secretary for Inter-American Affairs. And yet, Abrams has been accused of covering up atrocities carried out by the military forces of U.S.-backed Central American governments in Guatemala and El Salvador and of supporting the Contra rebels in Nicaragua. With characteristic chutzpah, he accused his critics of being “Un-American” and “unpatriotic.”
In a 1981 memo, written weeks before his confirmation by the Senate, Abrams stated that “human rights is at the core of our foreign policy.” In 1985, The Lawyers Committee, Americas Watch and Helsinki Watch charged Abrams for developing a policy that undermined the purpose of the human rights bureau in the State Department.
Abrams dismissed the gravity of the massacre, stating to a Senate committee that the reported number of deaths at El Mozote was not “credible” and that “it appears to be an incident that is at least being significantly misused, at the very best, by the guerrillas.”
What has Elliott Abrams done to receive such harsh criticism? In 1983, as Assistant Secretary of State, Abrams advocated aid to Guatemala then ruled by dictator General Efraín Ríos Montt. Abrams stated that Ríos Montt’s ruling “brought considerable progress” to human rights in that country.
Ríos Montt came to power in 1982. In 2013, he was found guilty of overseeing a mass campaign of murder and torture of Indigenous people in the country. Ríos Montt’s defense was that he had no operational control of the military forces involved in the massacre.
In El Salvador, on December 10, 1981, the Salvadoran military bombarded El Mozote, a small town in the Morazán district of El Salvador. An estimated one thousand people were massacred, with almost half of the victims being minors. After the massacre, the troops returned to their headquarters to inform their superiors of the operation’s “success.” To this day, the El Mozote Massacre marks the largest massacre to occur in Latin America.
Abrams dismissed the gravity of the massacre, stating to a Senate committee that the reported number of deaths at El Mozote was not “credible” and that “it appears to be an incident that is at least being significantly misused, at the very best, by the guerrillas.” A 1992 Human Rights Watch report criticized Abrams for downplaying the massacre.
The Salvadoran deaths squads—commanded by Major Roberto D'Aubuisson, who proclaimed himself “The Fuhrer of El Salvador”—didn’t even spare religious figures. The most noted victim was Archbishop Oscar Romero. Romero was assassinated while presiding a memorial Mass in the Carmelite Chapel of the Hospital de la Divina Providencia on March 24, 1980.
He had issued an appeal to soldiers carrying out assassinations to disobey their orders. “In the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cries rise to Heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you in the name of God: Stop the repression!” In 2001, Abrams said that Washington’s policy in El Salvador had been a “fabulous achievement.”
In Nicaragua, Abrams worked closely with Contra rebels who were trying to overthrow the Government. In 1982, Congress shut down funding for the Contras through what was known as the Boland Amendment. Behind the scenes, Abrams worked closely with Colonel Oliver North secretly seeking contributions to assist the Contra rebels.
In 1986, to obtain additional funds for the Contras, Abrams met with Brunei’s defense minister General Ibnu Basit bin Apong in London, to solicit a $10 million contribution from the Sultan of Brunei. Because of a clerical error in Oliver North’s office, the money was sent to the wrong Swiss bank account, and the Contras never received the funds. As an intelligence operation it was a total failure; the blunder, however, made someone extremely happy.
In 1991, Abrams admitted in his Congressional testimony that he knew more about the case than he had acknowledged, and reached a plea agreement in which he pleaded guilty to two misdemeanor counts of withholding information from Congress. Abrams was sentenced to a $50 fine, probation for two years, and 100 hours of community service. He was later pardoned by President George H. W. Bush in December 1992.
Abrams also left traces of his nefarious political involvement in Venezuela. Hugo Chávez, the democratically elected president of Venezuela, carried out a series of reforms that infuriated Washington. The U.K. Observer reported that Abrams had advance knowledge of these reforms and had approved the military coup that removed Chávez from power for 47 hours.
Abrams was also one of the intellectual architects of the 2003 U.S.-led invasion and occupation of Iraq. In 1998, he co-authored a letter to President Bill Clinton urging regime change in Iraq. It is now widely accepted that the invasion of Iraq was a failure. It didn’t produce any substantial economic development, improve the country’s judicial institutions, or create a better standard of living for the Iraqis.
Abrams’ track record on human rights is the antithesis of public diplomacy. Nominating him for a diplomacy post is wrong. It means that a man who has shown a tremendous disregard for human rights, democracy, and the rule of law can still be rewarded and celebrated.
The famous singer used his celebrity to support causes from civil rights to anti-colonialist and anti-war movements and Black Lives Matter.
On a freezing cold day, February 15th, 2003, Harry Belafonte, the legendary singer, actor, and activist strode onto a stage outside the United Nations in New York City. Rallies against the imminent U.S. invasion of Iraq were taking place around the globe that day, in what is believed to be the largest mass protest in human history. Belafonte then did what he had been doing for over half a century–he spoke truth to power:
"We stand for peace. We stand for the truth of what is at the heart of the American people."
Harry Belafonte died this week at the age of 96. Throughout his life, he fought for justice, using his celebrity to support causes from civil rights to anti-colonialist and anti-war movements and Black Lives Matter.
Harry Belafonte never relented. He intensified his fight against South African apartheid and the ravages of U.S. imperialism abroad. He challenged those in power regardless of political party, from George W. Bush to Barack Obama, from Donald Trump to Joe Biden.
Belafonte continued in that 2003 speech, delivered to several hundred thousand anti-war marchers in New York:
"We were misled by those who created the falseness of the Bay of Tonkin, which falsely led us into a war with Vietnam, a war that we could not and did not win. We lied to the American people about Grenada…about Nicaragua, El Salvador, Cuba, and many places in the world. We stand here today to let those people know that America is a vast and diverse country, and we are part of the greater truth of what makes our nation. Dr. King once said that if mankind does not put an end to war, war will put an end to mankind."
Harry Belafonte was one of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s closest advisors and confidants. He first met King in 1956, during the Montgomery bus boycott. Their initial meeting, slated for 20 minutes, lasted four hours.
"At the end of that meeting, I knew that I would be in his service and focus on the cause of the desegregation movement, the right to vote, and all that he stood for," Belafonte said at the Sundance Film Festival in 2011, on the Democracy Now! news hour. "Although we understood how perilous the journey would be, we were not quite prepared for all that we had to confront. I think that it was the most important time in my life."
Thus began a historic friendship that shaped the struggle for desegregation and racial equality. Belafonte knew King like few others. He was loyal to him until the end, when many had abandoned King as his agenda broadened to include fierce opposition to the Vietnam War.
In his memoir, My Song, Belafonte recounts a conversation with King one week before his assassination in Memphis on April 4, 1968. King was organizing The Poor People's Campaign, to link and overcome the three evils he saw in our society: racism, militarism, and materialism. As King described the campaign's strategy, he was challenged by Andrew Young, an advisor who would later become the Mayor of Atlanta and the U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations. Belafonte recounted King's reply:
"'The trouble,' Martin went on, 'is that we live in a failed system. Capitalism does not permit an even flow of economic resources. With this system, a small privileged few are rich beyond conscience and almost all others are doomed to be poor at some level…That's the way the system works. And since we know that the system will not change the rules, we're going to have to change the system.'"
Dr. King frequently spoke out against capitalism, but this private moment shared by Belafonte shows the depth of his critique. "At heart, Martin was a socialist and a revolutionary thinker," Belafonte wrote. One week later, King was dead, shot while standing on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel.
Harry Belafonte never relented. He intensified his fight against South African apartheid and the ravages of U.S. imperialism abroad. He challenged those in power regardless of political party, from George W. Bush to Barack Obama, from Donald Trump to Joe Biden.
In 2006, as President George W. Bush's disastrous war in Iraq was still raging, Belafonte traveled to Venezuela and spoke at a mass rally, standing alongside President Hugo Chavez:
"No matter what the greatest tyrant in the world, the greatest terrorist in the world, George W. Bush, says, we're here to tell you: Not hundreds, not thousands, but millions of the American people—millions—support your revolution, support your ideas, and, yes, expressing our solidarity with you."
Not long after, Belafonte was disinvited from speaking at the funeral of his dear friend, Coretta Scott King, as President Bush was going to attend.
Belafonte often told the story of his mentor, the singer and activist Paul Robeson, who told him, "Get them to sing your song and they will want to know you." As Harry Belafonte is laid to rest, his message still sings out: We cannot rest.
The Monroe Doctrine became the ideological basis for US hegemony in the region, justifying the violation of the rights of nations of self-determination, as was the case for Venezuela in 2002 and since then.
On April 11, 2002, there was an attempted coup against President Hugo Chavez's democratically elected government in Venezuela. Chavez had prioritized programs to improve living conditions for those who were previously unrepresented, and established an independent foreign policy in favor of the nation's interests.
Chavez’s stance conflicted with the Monroe Doctrine of 1823, which laid the groundwork for the use of U.S. military force and other forms of intervention to oppose any government, be it foreign or regional, that jeopardized U.S. interests. The Monroe Doctrine became the ideological basis for US hegemony in the region, justifying the violation of the rights of nations of self-determination, as was the case for Venezuela in 2002 and since then.
With Washington's backing, Venezuela's pro-Washington elite, high-ranking military officials, leaders of the traditional labor organizations, the Catholic Church hierarchy, and the nation's chamber of commerce had embarked on ousting a popular government. The Chávez administration had redefined the rules of democracy by drafting a new Constitution, one that was voted on by the people, and that allowed for greater popular participation. The Chavez government was also reasserting its sovereignty over its vast oil wealth by ending the process of privatization of PDVSA, the state oil company. In September 2000, It organized a summit meeting in Caracas of OPEC oil-producing countries to stabilize prices at higher levels to increase the country’s main source of income.
Washington’s main opposition to Chávez's foreign policy came when he met with OPEC leaders considered to be U.S. adversaries, including the governments of Libya, Iraq and Iran in preparation for the 2000 OPEC summit. He met again with Saddam Hussein and Muhammar Ghaddafi the following year, and spoke out against the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan as a reaction to 9/11, saying "You can't combat terror with more terror."
An intelligence brief dated April 6, 2002 — a mere five days before the coup plot would be carried out — explicitly states that a coup was set to take place.
Under previous Venezuelan governments, neoliberal reforms had increased poverty and the police and military had used violent repression, but the U.S. still perceived Venezuela as a flourishing democracy. Nevertheless, upon Chavez's ascension, the fundamental premise of respecting an elected leader's mandate was swiftly ignored by the United States. A State Department cable leaked right before the coup revealed the dissident military factions’ intentions to detain and overthrow Chavez, exhibiting advanced knowledge and direct involvement with the conspiracy.
On April 10, a day before the coup, U.S. Ambassador Charles Shapiro spoke to the press after meeting the Mayor of Caracas and when asked if the U.S. supported President Chavez, his reply was: “We support democracy and the constitutional framework” and he advised U.S. citizens in Venezuela to “be careful”. The Caracas Mayor, by his side, said: “If he doesn’t rule like a democrat, Chavez will leave office sooner than later.”
What came after was a wave of violence and repression that led to the arrest of Chavez, the killing of 19 people and injuring of over hundred, and a business leader swearing himself in as President, followed by a visit from Ambassador Shapiro. All according to regular Monroe Doctrine protocol, thus far.
Yet the one factor not taken into consideration: the will of the Venezuelan people.
On April 13th, the people of Venezuela made history and made a dent on the Monroe Doctrine’s record. Community leaders and organizers, despite facing police repression and a corporate media blackout, took the streets to demand that Chavez was brought back to office. Military officers and troops, loyal to the Venezuelan Constitution that the people had given themselves, rose up against commanding officers and demanded that Chavez be reinstated as the legitimate President. This joint civilian and military popular rebellion to save Venezuelan democracy made history and overturned the Monroe Doctrine formula that had successfully overthrown other independent Latin American leaders in the past, such as Jacobo Arbenz, Salvador Allende, Joao Goulart, Juan Bosch and Jean-Bertrand Aristide.
The question we must ask on an anniversary like this is why the United States continues to insist on a 200-year-old doctrine that has its back turned to the aspirations of the peoples of Latin America and the Caribbean? Why does the U.S. government continue to promote violence, human rights violations, and undemocratic governance that we would not tolerate on our own soil? Why do we continue to make people suffer in places like Venezuela by sanctioning the entire country for standing up for their self-determination? Wouldn’t we, as a people, expect solidarity and respect for standing up for our own democratic ideals?
In the end, the Monroe Doctrine is condemned to failure because people’s determination to be free will always prevail. Why not turn, instead, to a policy of mutual cooperation, of respect for Latin American and Caribbean internal affairs? Why not convince rather than coerce, collaborate rather than take advantage? Why do we still not understand that the instability, violence, and exploitation we promote in our region backfires and leads to the migration challenges we face today in our own country?
In Venezuela now, there’s a popular saying that refers to the day of the 2002 coup and the day–two days later–that Chavez was reinstated: Every 11th has its 13th. It is a significant sign of the new Latin America and Caribbean that has emerged in the 21st Century, a region that wants to bury 200-year-old interventionism. For every Monroe Doctrine intervention, there will be an April 13th rebellion for sovereignty and dignity.
Last month I followed Colombia's elections very closely. Unlike many of my countrymen, I'm very passionate about the history and affairs of our closest neighbor. To be completely honest, I thought Petro was not going to make it.
How can voters be convinced, or regained, with the wear and tear that comes with 20 years in power? And is this still Hugo Chavez's political project?
Weeks later, I'm still happy as well as convinced that his triumph would not have been possible without his running mate. Francia Marquez is an Afro-Colombian activist who was born into poverty in the Cauca region, took the fight to mining corporations and is now in the Narino Presidential Palace.
Up next, the elections in Brazil are circled on my calendar. Lula's campaign has a "back to the future" vibe to it, it's a great reminder that politics, like life itself, can be full of surprises. The unexpected might be just around the corner.
Some suggest Lula's second go-round will be tougher, that he will be forced into making concessions, etc. But I think there are reasons to be hopeful. There's a horizon that becomes clearer as the Bolsonaro nightmare comes to an end.
But then, like a bad omen, a specific date pops up in my head: 2024. That year, barring unforeseen circumstances, Venezuela will hold its most unpredictable presidential elections ever. It's even hard to picture them.
In recent weeks, I've started to pay more attention to opinion polls. Two in particular stood out to me, the ones by Datincorp and Delphos (though I know they have a historical anti-Chavista bias). The former stated that 63 percent of those polled want a president that is neither from Chavista or opposition ranks. The latter claimed 48.3 percent don't trust any political party.
The data rang familiar. Yet 10 years ago, 80 percent of Venezuelans identified either as opposition or (mostly) Chavista. More than that, the battle lines were clear and we were determined to defend our trench. That is hardly the case today, certainly not with a similar intensity.
One way or another, it seems most people have the same immediate goals: securing minimal conditions to live peacefully. In such a scenario, many analysts see fertile ground for the emergence of an "independent" or "outsider" figure, which usually are hardly one thing or the other. However, perhaps because of the polarization we're so used to, it doesn't seem all that probable.
I have no idea what is going to happen, but what really bothers me is not knowing what I want to happen. For one, I'm absolutely sure I don't want any of the opposition "leaders" anywhere near Miraflores Palace. On the other hand, I feel that institutional Chavismo needs to change its way of doing politics. I write this down, read it again and I'm scared that I don't want to erase it.
But I'm not sure I would welcome six more years like the ones we've been through. It's not blasphemy, rather a sort of natural exhaustion. In the past three elections, the ruling Socialist Party (PSUV) ran on a platform that it is the only political outfit with the ability to run a country devastated by the crisis and the US blockade.
At the end of the day, it is the only bloc that mobilized to ensure, at the very least, subsidized food bags for the people and that the lights stayed on, barely. Meanwhile Guaido stole our assets abroad while calling for sanctions and foreign invasions.
As I think about it, this official line of reasoning has been used to justify liberal-style economic adjustments and claim they are the only alternative.
Now, how long can this discourse last? When can we start to demand more than a little order amidst the chaos? Will that be enough to win in 2024? It's very possible. But is this what we deserve or fight for? In a recent televised broadcast, a communal leader told the president it was "time to move from resistance to emancipation." Is the government ready to do so?
The internal political conflict has subsided and we are even witnessing a renewed dialogue with the US. This means some of Chavismo's main arguments are weakened: "the coup-plotting opposition and US intervention make governing impossible." If that is out the window, what then? An accelerated economic recovery would be quite handy for an electoral campaign.
On the opposition side, the Unitary Platform, a hodgepodge of parties, has begun registration for "open primaries" to define a unified candidate from this hardline sector for the 2024 contest. Still, the "interim government" circus carries on at the same time.
For its part, Chavismo retains a 4 million-strong electoral base but this in itself does not assure victory. If the opposition does not run split like in recent votes, Chavismo needs to fight to regain the ground it has lost ever since securing 7.5 million votes in 2013.
Question is, is that possible? What's the strategy? How can voters be convinced, or regained, with the wear and tear that comes with 20 years in power? And is this still Hugo Chavez's political project? Even I want to be persuaded!