One week after the dramatic capture of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro by US special forces, a profound sense of fear and uncertainty grips the South American nation. While the operation initially sparked euphoria among government opponents, hopes for democratic change have been swiftly dashed, replaced by what observers are calling a "more convenient dictatorship" under Maduro's former allies.
A Prisoner's Hope Dashed
Opposition leader Freddy Guevara, who endured 34 days of torture inside the notorious El Helicoide prison, had dared to hope. After his own traumatic experience—which involved stress positions, a black hood, and threats against his grandmother during the Covid pandemic—he believed the roughly 1,000 political prisoners still languishing in Venezuelan jails might finally be freed following Maduro's abduction from a military base last weekend.
Initial signs seemed promising. US President Donald Trump hinted that the "torture chamber" of El Helicoide was closing, and by Thursday, authorities announced the release of a "significant number" of detainees. High-profile figures like Spanish-Venezuelan activist Rocío San Miguel and former presidential candidate Enrique Márquez emerged. Yet, by Friday, only a tiny fraction of those incarcerated had tasted freedom, and the promised political thaw failed to materialise.
A New Regime, An Old Atmosphere
Instead of liberation, Venezuela has been plunged into an even more draconian atmosphere. The new regime, led by Maduro's vice-president, Delcy Rodríguez, and her brother Jorge Rodríguez, the president of the national assembly, has moved swiftly to assert control. Masked civilians armed with Kalashnikovs patrol the unnervingly quiet streets of Caracas on motorbikes. Security forces man checkpoints, scrutinising citizens' phones for anti-regime content. Journalists face detention, deportation, and entry bans.
In the working-class Caracas neighbourhood of 23 de Enero, paramilitary groups known as colectivos have imposed an informal curfew. "After 6pm you don't see anyone in the streets," reported one local, describing how these groups are recruiting homeless people and drug addicts to bolster their patrols. The fear is palpable nationwide, from the capital to the western border with Colombia, where one entrepreneur was too frightened to have his voice recorded, fearing identification and arrest.
'Just a Leadership Change': The US Strategy Unveiled
The rapid shift from hope to disillusionment was sealed when President Trump announced he would recognise Delcy Rodríguez and work with the remnants of Maduro's regime to "stabilise" the country. This move sidelined opposition leader María Corina Machado, whose movement is widely believed to have won the 2024 presidential election.
Veteran US diplomat Tom Shannon described the situation bluntly: "It's the same regime – [this was] just a leadership change. But instead of being a palace coup, it was an external coup." Andrés Izarra, a former minister under Hugo Chávez, echoed this, stating Trump had achieved "regime capture," not change. The US ambition was laid bare by the White House press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, who declared, "Their decisions are going to continue to be dictated by the United States of America."
Observers point to Venezuela's vast oil reserves—the world's largest—as a key motive. Izarra accused Trump of conquering an "oil hacienda" and hiring the Rodríguez siblings to run it. US Secretary of State Marco Rubio outlined a three-phase strategy for Venezuela under Washington's tutelage: stabilisation, recovery and reconciliation, and political transition. However, for many Venezuelans, this represents a continuation of oppression under new management.
A Future Shrouded in Distrust and Danger
The path ahead is treacherous. Maduro's capture, facilitated by deep CIA infiltration of his inner circle, has sown intense paranoia and distrust among his former allies. "If they were paranoid and untrusting of each other before, I can't imagine how it is now," said Izarra. This disorganisation was highlighted when gunfire erupted near the presidential palace on Monday night, initially sparking fears of a secondary coup, later attributed to a tense standoff between police and paramilitaries.
For exiled Venezuelans like former minister Moisés Naím, the initial exhilaration at Maduro's capture quickly turned to despair as the US focus shifted to oil over democracy. "The situation today is almost indistinguishable [from before]. You really have to use a magnifying glass to try to find differences," said Benjamin Gedan of the Stimson Center. "This is just a more convenient dictatorship… It was an unfriendly dictatorship and now it's a friendly one."
As Venezuelans like journalist Ricardo Alcalá cross the border into Colombia, passing armoured personnel carriers, they cling to fragile optimism. "We're into the last season of the series," Alcalá predicted of his country's turmoil. But when asked how it would end, he conceded the grim reality shared by millions: "The truth is, nobody knows anything."
