CARACAS, Venezuela — Time in Venezuela feels like it’s moving both too fast and too slow. The pillars of the country’s self-proclaimed socialist government are falling at a dizzying pace or not quickly enough. Economic relief is finally on the horizon or already too late.
Thirty days after the U.S. raid and capture of then-President Nicolás Maduro upended Venezuela, adults and children alike are still unsure of what exactly is happening around them. And as the initial shock gives way to a mix of uncertainty, hope and disappointment, a pervasive fear of another attack or more government repression continues to hang over them.
In the capital, Caracas, where government-sponsored billboards and graffiti demand that the U.S. free Maduro, many residents wonder whether his successor, acting President Delcy Rodríguez has any autonomy or is capitulating to White House demands; whether she is Maduro by another name, and — crucial to their immediate needs — whether to believe, as indicated by her, that a long-sought wage increase is on the horizon. Meanwhile, long-silent opposition leaders have finally emerged to speak publicly.
“It’s an important change, certainly, but everything is the same, everything,” retiree Julio Castillo, 74, said of the removal of Maduro from office. “I feel as if nothing much has happened.”
Venezuela’s government and its supporters consider the capture of Maduro and first lady Cilia Flores a kidnapping. Rodríguez and senior officials have pledged to fight for the couple’s freedom since U.S. President Donald Trump first announced their seizure in the early hours of Jan. 3.
The ruling party has organized demonstrations to show their loyalty to Maduro, whom the fiery Hugo Chávez anointed as his self-proclaimed socialist revolution’s torchbearer before dying in 2013. It has also adjusted its messaging from threatening a Vietnam-like war with the U.S. to admitting being militarily outmatched and needing to transform the relationship with Goliath.
Supporters — a minority compared to the crowds during Chávez’s presidency — see Rodríguez as lacking free will but trust that she can carry Chavismo, their political movement, through the next diplomatic battle.
“The Venezuelan state, and Venezuelans, are accepting this new situation in which we are acting under coercion,” José Vivens, a Maduro loyalist, said of Rodríguez’s decision to allow the Trump administration to control Venezuela’s oil money, the country’s engine. “They kidnapped our commander. And we have to give in because we have to live for another battle.”
Vivens, a justice of the peace, was in his apartment’s parking lot in Caracas when he heard a loud whistle, then a deafening explosion the night of the attack. He ducked behind his car, and when he looked up, helicopters were flying unnervingly close to his building.
“They’ve invaded us,” was Vivens’ immediate thought. Not exactly, but he would learn a few hours later that the U.S. military’s elite had captured Maduro at a nearby compound and loaded him onto a helicopter.
Rodríguez has used public events and gatherings with Venezuela’s private sector to assure anyone listening that she, not the Trump administration, is governing the South American country, even if she later acknowledges having a mutual agenda with the U.S., which was unthinkable weeks earlier.
“The people of Venezuela do not accept orders from any external factor,” she said during a meeting with oil executives to discuss an overhaul of the country’s energy law. “The people of Venezuela have a government, and this government obeys the people.”
Her proposed overhaul, which lawmakers swiftly approved and she signed into law Thursday, opens the nation’s oil sector to privatization, abandoning a pillar of Chavismo.
She introduced it following Trump’s assertion that his administration would take control of Venezuela’s oil exports and revitalize the ailing industry by luring foreign investment.
Many within the opposition had long expected that Maduro’s ouster, especially if led by Trump, would immediately result in one of their own taking the reins of the country. Trump’s decision to work with Rodríguez, instead of opposition leader and Nobel Peace Prize laureate María Corina Machado, continues to leave them baffled.
But as Machado’s supporters keep looking for signs that the White House will incorporate her meaningfully into its plans for their country, Venezuelans have begun testing Rodríguez’s commitment to what she has called “a new political moment” for Venezuela.
For days, dozens of people have kept vigil outside prisons demanding the release of loved ones they believe were detained for political reasons, including journalists, human rights advocates and members of the military. A handful of opposition leaders who had not been seen in public in Venezuela or made any statements for more than a year have spoken out.
“I believe that Venezuela’s destiny cannot be an oil agreement and a dictatorship headed by Delcy Rodríguez, because we could simply define that as a continuation of the dictatorship,” opposition leader Andrés Velásquez told reporters, reemerging after more than a year in hiding.
A privately owned television channel with national reach on Wednesday even aired a clip of Machado addressing reporters in Washington. Neither public nor private media outlets had shown a similar segment in years.
Still, many Venezuelans continue to self-censor as they remain deeply fearful of government repression. Their social media posts make no mention of politics. Written or audio messages on WhatsApp do not criticize the government. Some video calls involve writing and erasing information on whiteboards as an extra layer of protection.
There have been no large demonstrations calling for a new government or a presidential election. Nor has anyone dared to publicly celebrate Maduro’s capture — even if many had long hoped to see him handcuffed.
Many opposition leaders remain in exile. Wanted posters of Edmundo González, the opposition’s candidate during the 2024 presidential election, are still on display at airports and government offices.
Margaret García’s son could not sleep for days after Jan.3. He also did not want to go back to school fearful of not knowing what to do if another attack happened.
“We thought we were going to die,” she said of the moment her family heard a helicopter open fire near their 15-story apartment building near where Maduro was captured.
Her son’s fear was far from unique. Some Venezuelans still fear a second attack if Rodríguez’s government does not meet U.S. expectations — even as Washington has indicated it has no plans for further escalation.
“I can tell you right now with full certainty, we are not postured to nor do we intend or expect to have to take any military action in Venezuela at any time,” U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio told a U.S. Senate committee on Wednesday.
García, a teacher, said she could not understand how anyone could find satisfaction in the U.S. operation that killed dozens. Still, she said she believes that under Rodríguez’s watch, the country could see the lasting economic improvements that workers have hoped for more than a decade.
Like García, many public sector workers survive on roughly $160 per month, while the average private sector employee earned about $237 a month last year. Venezuela’s monthly minimum wage of 130 bolivars, or $0.35, has not increased since 2022, putting it well below the United Nations’ measure of extreme poverty of $2.15 a day.
“We see that a negative moment has brought us positive things,” she said of the potential changes that Rodríguez has signaled will come with an envisioned oil boom.
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