Colette Capriles is a Venezuelan academic with training in social psychology and philosophy. She also participated in political processes, such as the negotiations in the Dominican Republic (2017–2018). Photo: Guacamaya / Luis Silvera.
Guacamaya, November 26, 2025. Colette Capriles is a prominent Venezuelan intellectual, recognized for her trajectory in political analysis, philosophy, and the sociology of power in Venezuela and Latin America. A social psychologist trained at the Central University of Venezuela (UCV), with a master’s degree in philosophy granted by Simón Bolívar University (USB), she has developed a solid academic career as an associate professor in the Department of Social Sciences at USB, where she teaches undergraduate and graduate courses in Venezuelan political sociology, political philosophy, and the history of political theories.
Beyond the university sphere, Capriles has had an active participation in key processes of Venezuelan public life. She was a member of the Strategic Group of the Democratic Unity Roundtable during the tenure of then–secretary general Ramón Guillermo Aveledo, and she participated in the civil-society consultation group that accompanied the opposition delegation in the negotiations with representatives of Nicolás Maduro’s government in the Dominican Republic. She is currently part of the Civic Forum, a plural space oriented toward promoting peace, institutionality, and civic understanding in Venezuela.
Her trajectory has been recognized by the Academy of Political and Social Sciences of Venezuela, where she occupies seat 18 as a full member, contributing from there to critical reflection on authoritarianism, democracy, and the possibilities for the country’s political reconstruction. Considered one of the most influential and respected voices of contemporary Venezuelan political thought, Capriles combines academic rigor, civic commitment, and a singular capacity to interpret social behaviors in contexts of crisis.
Q: How and when does Colette Capriles’ relationship with politics and peacebuilding in Venezuela arise?
A: With politics from always. I also come from a very politicized family, from what at a certain moment could have been called —and that no longer exists— but at that moment it was the progressive or left-wing intelligentsia. So I would say that the most important thing there is to underline this: politics is learned at home, let’s say it that way, in everyday life.
I, in fact, am not a political scientist, by the way; I am originally a social psychologist. And I wouldn’t know how to say at this moment what exactly is what makes one learn politics, or what makes one acquire sensitivity toward politics during the formative years.
Many acquire it when they already have university training or political training in high school, as used to occur before. It no longer occurs. But most people who are interested in politics have, close by, in their family, political narratives at their disposal, let’s say it that way. A vision a little more sophisticated than others. And I believe that is what is essential to understanding politics, because in the end politics is fundamentally a human activity. One of the most complicated things, I believe, for political scientists —they are not going to like this— is that, precisely, theorizing about a practice like politics is very difficult.
It is at once fundamental and at the same time perhaps one of the greatest difficulties of thought. I would say of Western thought, but well, in general it is that way, no? So you have to have that sensitivity. I don’t believe that sensitivity is acquired simply through theory. Rather, there is something in the field that in the end is related to power. And the family, of course, is another space of power: a space where powers are practiced, different types of power. So I believe there is something there.
In particular, that sensitivity exists, and in the university it also develops. When I was studying at the Central University, I honestly did not think in my professional career about dedicating myself to politics nor did I have too much to do with that.
At the beginning more toward philosophy, when I already began to do the graduate studies in philosophy. I thought rather of dedicating myself to philosophy of science, that other thing that had nothing to do… But well, politics always reaches one, you see?
So, I don’t know. I am remembering the birth of philosophy: the birth of philosophy is a relationship with the public, with the human world and with the most central phenomenon in the human world, which is coexistence, living together, and the arrangement of relationships among people.
So well, at the origin is Socrates and at the end also, let’s say, no? There is an arc of thought that is grounded in reflection on what humans can essentially do together. And that sounds very strange because it would seem that thought can exist by itself, and that is not true.
Not even Plato —who was able to construct a system that is practically the foundation of our philosophy in the West— could separate himself from the contingencies of his life and from the role that reflection has exactly on why and how we humans can be together, no?
“One of the things that occurs starting in 1998 is the reduction of political pluralism. And that is a deliberate reduction.”
Q: There is a word that generates noise in the current public debate in our country, and that is “polarization.” Is Venezuela in 2025 a polarized society?
A: Well, evidently… I mean, it depends on how we see it: in terms of the experience of polarization or as an objective phenomenon, let’s say, no? These are two visions. Sometimes the two planes are confused.
One of the things that occurs starting in 1998 is the reduction of political pluralism. And that is a deliberate reduction. Which is also constructed even over institutions, because what happens with the new Constitution in ’99 also generates —or is the foundation of— majoritarian electoral systems, which are polarizing in reality. In majoritarian systems, the one who gets one vote, well: with one vote the seat is won, no?
By losing proportionality, pluralism is very threatened, because in order to win a post you must face the other united, let’s say, or forming masses. Not precisely showing diversity, but on the contrary: denying it and turning political struggle into a struggle of blocs.
So we can speak of an institutional and political polarization for many years, not only now. It seems to me that the concept is used in another way. What is the problem with the concept?
“April 11 is when chavismo is really born, as a movement that finds itself in resistance against what it perceives as destituent forces, as they themselves say.”
Q: I mean that some pose it as a kind of false equivalence, or as if there were not two poles.
A: Well, there are two poles. What happens is that they can have different sizes; that has nothing to do with the other, no? Now, are there two poles? I don’t know at this moment, because also, again, it depends on what we are talking about.
In Venezuela there is a majority of Venezuelans who would like to see political change; I believe that is not in doubt. But there is also a minority that —apparently, from what can be seen from what occurred last year in the presidential election. So one would say: “Well, then there are two poles.” Let’s say, of different size. That is, equivalent as poles, one larger and another smaller. But they are not equivalent in terms of magnitude. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist. So I don’t see the problem with the concept. That is, in what does it make us advance to say that this is polarized or is not polarized? I ask another question: what is the narrative agenda behind that?
So that problem of equivalences is not trivial. We are talking about the recognition of each side of the conflict —a word that has also been demonized. “There is no political conflict here.” Well, I believe that we are in the exacerbation of political conflict in Venezuela.
We have lived it for 20 years or more, but the conflict continues. If Venezuelans do not share a national project —that is true—, that is, there is a conflict among us. And part of the conflict is, precisely, discussing —as I say, with the Venezuelan nominalism— discussing words, no?
Let’s say, turning political discussion into a merely nominal discussion, merely descriptive and merely ideological. In which the fundamental thing is to not recognize the other.
A dynamic of not recognizing the other that comes, indeed, inaugurated by Hugo Chávez. We cannot in any way evade that. But it was perfectly articulated with the non-recognition that, in turn, the non-chavista forces —which were not negligible at the beginning of Chávez’s first government, and afterward neither, because they always had significant size— did not advance either in recognizing that there was a political project there. And that a political project is faced with another political project.
And that a new political project had to be articulated that confronted it, let’s say it that way. That opposed Chávez’s proposal reasonably and politically.
So well, there is the whole interpretation we know about the limits that chavismo itself —and Hugo Chávez in particular— placed on his conception, in my view not democratic, of what an opposition to his regime could be or could not do. But we also cannot deny that there were episodes throughout all these years in which the fundamental argument of the opposition was an argument of non-recognition. Whether through what happened, for example, in 2004 with the referendum, where electoral fraud was spoken of: yes, the non-recognition of the institutions.
And, fundamentally, a non-recognition —or the political translation of non-recognition— that chavismo had a popular force, had an electoral force, and was a project.
It was a political project that had to be accepted in the sense that it had to be examined, understood, and understood that that reconfigured the political space in Venezuela. With conditions, in my opinion, very diminished for democracy.
That is, for me there are several of the contents of the 1999 Constitution that are precisely designed to disarm, to deconstruct what our democratic practices had been for many years.
Political pluralism, the issue of reelection and of the capacity, let’s say, to take advantage of what in the United States is called the incumbent. To exercise power to impede alternation. So we had democratic practices that did not survive the 1999 Constitution and that generated a different political field, different rules of the game. And are those the rules of the game that exist? No, no… I believe that chavismo feels and resents a lot —because then we already begin not so much in political differences, but in differences in the way political actors perceive themselves— and resents a lot the fact that an important part of the population —what we can call the opposition or the oppositions— resisted accepting the new rules of the political game.
And, indeed, they resisted, no? What occurred on April 11 is clearly an indication that another game had to be played, let’s say, an extra-political game, no? Or at least that is how part of the opposition thought, with a terrible effect that was precisely inventing chavismo. That is, on April 11 chavismo is really born. For me chavismo is born as a movement that finds itself in resistance against what it perceives as destituent forces, as they themselves say.
“Starting on July 28, the government broke with a fundamental political principle: popular sovereignty.”
So for me the identity of chavismo appears in 2004, actually. If one examines Hugo Chávez’s narratives during previous years, of course within the constituent proposals one could read a number of principles there. But essentially, in the end the Constitution ends up being a liberal Constitution, much more liberal than what Chávez’s own narrative made one expect.
So there were more tactical years, let’s say it that way. Much more… those years of Hugo Chávez, the first years, were years of constructing his institutions, marking the political field precisely, painting the yellow lines for what is and is not allowed. But April 11 caused crisis, no?
That caused crisis, and from there I believe there is a clear decision by Hugo Chávez to advance the revolutionary component of his proposal. That is, to reduce his margins of tolerance for negotiation, agreement, and consensus. That is where, in my view, what I call conflictivism appears, in contrast with the consensualism that had characterized democracy starting from the Punto Fijo pact. We had this very strange experience, for the moment in which it occurred, which was the construction of a negotiated democracy.
There the fundamental criterion is that in that pact all those agents or political subjects that could be eventually a threat to the system itself participated. Except, of course, what was going to happen after the armed insurrection, which precisely comes rather from exogenous facts, which basically is the Cuban Revolution.
And we already know, well: the impact that the Cuban Revolution had throughout Latin America was very important, and the official position of Rómulo Betancourt’s government was the Betancourt Doctrine, precisely: to defend democratic regimes and pressure the Cuban regime to hold free elections, etc. —things that were not occurring— and therefore it implies a rupture.
And there Venezuela proposes to the OAS to exclude Cuba. And that generated a rupture within AD —Acción Democrática— which ends up feeding, indeed, the revolutionary idea that had not ceased to be, because during the resistance to Pérez Jiménez it was very easy to construct also in that resistance the prelude to the socialist or Bolshevik revolution, or of any nature.
So that consensualism —that idea that we were able to build a democracy thanks to consensus, not only the initial consensus around respecting the rules of the democratic game, but converting consensus into the decision rule for all public policies and for the great strategies and plans of the nation— is not an idea of mine, by the way. Diego Bautista Urbaneja has laid that out in several of his works, and I believe that in the last one —which is very interesting— he says something that almost makes this theory of consensualism. I put more of the conflictivism part, because then we get used to living in a political world in conflict.
That is, chavismo inaugurates —I believe that is its great achievement, and I also believe that it was Hugo Chávez’s great personal objective— the destruction of consensualism. Because in that consensualism, it is true, the relevant actors were the ones who reached consensus. That decision rule, which is consensus in the sense that no relevant actor should be left out or harmed by public policies —something that was possible thanks to rent-seeking, etc., that is another topic— that decision rule was exactly what Hugo Chávez faced. And his political proposal is: “It is not consensus that we are going to cultivate as a society; we have to cultivate conflict,” in the sense that —and this can indeed be seen as something very Marxist or vaguely Marxist— the motor of history is conflict. And Chávez personally thought that.
He was in that sense rather Leninist, I would say, because that was something very coherent with his own formation as a military man. Ultimately, if we had to distinguish those two moments, for me that is the fundamental one.
“In Venezuela, the narrative of the criminal or the moral prevails. And that is profoundly destructive. Not because we ignore the weight of illicit economies in the country —which no one can deny.”
That distinction between having a decision rule based on consensus —which incorporates all the relevant actors— and having a decision rule that favors conflict —in the sense of the dominance of some actors over others— is what allows change and, therefore, history to be set in motion. So I believe there is a point there that is very relevant for us, because if we have a political culture of conflict in which you have grown up, what do we do to rebuild a different political culture? That is the question that we, as Venezuelans, must pose if we want to live in a society in which there is a decision rule based on the predominance of some over others. However legitimate that predominance may be, by the way —I am not even talking about imposition by force, I am speaking in general.
Is there any other possibility from the point of view of our political culture? That I believe is an important question. And I answer it in a rather pessimistic way, because I have the impression that we are in an epochal, civilizational moment. Much less romantic than we would like. So, of course, there we could talk about peace.
And I believe that precisely we are in a historical context and in a historical trajectory that seems to me —again— a return; a return to earlier societal moments, let’s say.
Marx said in The 18th Brumaire, one of his perhaps more literary and interesting works: history occurs first as tragedy and repeats as farce. I would not go that far. I believe it can repeat as tragedy as well.
But yes, I feel that we are in a cycle that is recovering narratives and political emotions and worldviews that the 20th century had apparently —I don’t like the word “overcome,” because it would seem there is a natural evolution of things— but had metabolized, let’s say it that way. There were others opposite.
Look, in the glorious decade of democracy —which is from 1990 until the year 2000, until 2001, I would say—. That is the decade that ends with the Twin Towers attack. That is the moment when that marvelous decade breaks. The number of transitions and shifts toward democracy that there were was incredible.
And the famous optimism that begins to be generated about the possibilities of liberal democracy as the only game in town —that is, the only possible game— the possible conceptualization of modern power, the final victory, the end of history.
That decade leaves an imprint that I would say, in this moment, almost disastrous, because it made us all believe that democratic construction was simple or easy, that it had certain formulas or that certain patterns were repeated.
What begins to occur with the 21st century is —well, we know what political scientists constantly say— de-democratization.
Starting on July 28, the government broke with a fundamental political principle: popular sovereignty. Since then we have entered a different space, governed by rules that are no longer political, and in which —unfortunately— all actors have found a place. The opposition has also settled within that non-political logic.
In what way? By moralizing politics, turning it into a struggle between good and evil. The narrative is no longer political: one does not speak of a project, of a revolution, of socialism, or of authoritarianism. There is no political construction of madurismo; instead there operates a criminalizing or moralizing narrative, rules outside politics.
In this scenario, the field in which one can discuss politically seems to have evaporated. That is why, when I state that we must rebuild politics from the economy, it sounds like madness to many. But it is exactly what must be done: weaken the moral narrative, dismantle the idea that the Venezuelan dispute is between “good and evil.”
It is not about denying that each person has principles or convictions; it is about understanding that without rebuilding the political, no democratic solution is possible.
This erosion of the political is not exclusive to Venezuela. Trump, in foreign policy, de-structures international politics; Putin, by invading Ukraine, destroys the rules that sustain it. That game is over. And we will have to go back to the basic principles: politics is, above all, conflict between interests, articulated within rules, not within moral or penal narratives.
In Venezuela, instead, the narrative of the criminal or the moral prevails. And that is profoundly destructive. Not because we ignore the weight of illicit economies in the country —which no one can deny— but because replacing politics with penal categories prevents constructing solutions.
“A political irresponsibility is to support a strategy —in this case military or any other— and not talk about the consequences it has.”
Colette Capriles was a member of the Strategic Group of the Democratic Unity Roundtable and participated in the civil society consultation group that accompanied the opposition delegation in the negotiations in the Dominican Republic. Photo: Guacamaya / Luis Silvera.
Q: Throughout the last decades, the military interventions of the United States have left a complex balance in different scenarios around the world. In Iraq, the 2003 invasion destroyed the state structure and gave way to years of sectarian violence that still persist; in Libya, the 2011 intervention led to institutional collapse and to a prolonged civil war; and in Haiti, the succession of international missions and military operations did not manage to stabilize the country, but in many cases worsened its political and social fragility.
In this context, some Venezuelan political actors have maintained that an intervention of that kind “would not have the same effects in Venezuela,” arguing that the country has an “institutional and democratic tradition” that would avoid a scenario of chaos. That reasoning has been used, at times, to justify the possibility of a foreign military action with regime-change aims.
Based on your experience and knowledge in the area of conflict resolution and international politics, what is your perception regarding this argument? Do you believe that the collateral effects and the long-term consequences that an action of this type entails are being ignored, both in terms of political stability and of social cohesion and institutional legitimacy?
A: One thing is that if you oppose it, they tell you that you are defending the government, or that no one is going to defend the government in an eventual conflict. What happens is more complex than that, and it is that the structures that the government has set up are not to defend itself. The narrative of the officialdom is for each person to defend himself. That is, in Venezuela there are more than 6 million weapons in civilian hands.
That is to say, people are not going to go out to defend Maduro. Well, but no one is going to go out to defend anyone. You are going to have to defend yourself. That is, it is the war of everyone against everyone.
That is the scenario; it is not a scenario in which there are some loyal forces and then a force of I don’t know who that confronts the loyal forces. That chessboard or whatever I don’t even understand, because on what basis is that thought? So I think that the question that must be asked is: it doesn’t matter what hypothesis people have; the question is on what they base it.
In my opinion, it is on an absolute lack of knowledge of how the Armed Force is operating, of what the institutional capacities of the Armed Force are, of how there has been what political scientists call coup-proofing, that is, the shielding against military coups that has been taking place since April 11.
That completely changes the lines of command of the Armed Force. These ZODI were created that have a network that makes it so they cannot communicate horizontally with one another. You have to go through a channel that is different from the logistical channel, moreover. So any uprising cannot have repercussions in the rest: it is automatically isolated.
That is, there is a system of shielding against military coups put into practice for many years and also an internal culture. I was reading the message that Nicolás Maduro’s pilot sends to the CIA operative who supposedly had tried to bribe him. And the man told him: “Look, we may be anything, but traitors never.” He rejected 50 million dollars.
So, I wouldn’t say that is a harbinger of a rupture. That may be an exception and maybe another person would have done something different, but it is a message. And it is a message that shows how counterproductive these things can be and what is intended to be done, and —I go further— it makes clear the absolute lack of knowledge.
You have to know, and there isn’t even an intention to know how —again— the Armed Force functions: what are its values?, what is its internal narrative?, how is its relationship with civilian power?, what are they willing to do?, and what is the relationship with the opposition? So, without those foundations, how can they justify any action? And I repeat: I am not judging it morally.
“The fundamental political objective that we must pursue is political alternation.”
That is, people can say: well yes, it seems to me that one must have a force intervention because political paths have been exhausted, let us suppose. We can discuss the substance —I do not agree with that— but that I can debate if they give me the foundations of that strategy. That is, on what is that strategy based? And how can you expect the success of such a strategy? Where does it lead us?
Philosophically, one can always argue about the foundations and the principles or about the consequences. Right? One can have a consequentialist agenda in that sense. That is: I do not judge morally nor politically what they are proposing, but I can judge morally and politically the consequences of what they are proposing.
And I believe that that is exactly the turn that U.S. public opinion and the political calculations with the Democratic reaction have taken. They say: “No, hold on. Let’s not even start to discuss motives, reasons; let’s discuss the consequences.”
They say: if they are going to involve us in a warlike situation in Venezuela, does it not involve, in fact, a permanent presence of the United States in that territory? What is the scale? What is this about? What happens to the people? You know? You begin to see the key questions. So, that’s why I was saying earlier, conversation is important.
Because behind much of what is said —especially on social media, just imagine, in the public space that we have in Venezuela— is composed of slogans that do not complete the reasoning: only the premises, but no one wants to assume the consequences, and that is an irresponsibility.
A political irresponsibility is to support a strategy —in this case warlike or any other— and not talk about the consequences it has. So, it is very complicated, because of course: it is also said that there is nothing worse than the present, and that basically anything that comes is better. It is said that there is nothing worse than what we have, but we know —from experience— that there is always something worse.
History and academia tell us how, in various moments, we have seen that it was said “nothing can be worse than Chávez,” and there we have it. In short, we know perfectly that that is not an argument; that is an absolute fallacy. First fallacy that one is taught in philosophy: it is a probabilistic fallacy.
Notice that we are then in a dilemma about how to get out of this. Look, just as I am —let’s say— articulating, trying to describe my own bewilderment about how it is possible that these strategies are proposed, let’s say, to recover our democracy —I believe that that is the objective; I believe that no one can say that that is not everyone’s objective—.
And for that reason precisely I put my finger on the topic of the consequences of the political responsibility that must be had when certain proposals are made, right? In the case of warlike interventions or strategies of force, or maximum-pressure strategies —we can put them all there, although they are not the same— or the rupture strategy, because it is supposed that all of this was to take power; or the collapse strategy, that —in some way, we don’t know how— this would put Maduro’s government before some dilemmas. Well, it doesn’t matter. But the point is: one must assume responsibility for the consequences that any of these political actions will have.
And the reverse, on the other side also —on the other side of the mirror— among those who say, and I count myself among those who say: “Well, no, hold on, wait. This crisis…” It’s that the word crisis is too small, right? From being repeated so much. In this existential circumstance in which we are as Venezuelans, well also one must take responsibility for the consequences of the proposals that one may have, which are proposals in which we have to rebuild the political fabric, we have to manage that —in some way— the pressure must be placed so that Maduro’s government rebuilds its own institutional base, that is, it stops violating the institutions and the Constitution. The fundamental political objective that we must pursue is political alternation.
Now, what are the consequences of a policy like that? Time. It is not instantaneous, it has no guarantee of success, it may happen and it may not. So, tactics must be built for that, which —in my opinion— must be tactics in the economic order.
I believe that the possibilities to rebuild a democratic space in Venezuela pass very much through reconstructing the economic capacities of the State, something that —in this juncture— can be very useful so that those renewed economic capacities must come accompanied —and there is the political pressure— by political reforms and political liberalization. And by something key, which is the recognition of the opposition and, in short, respect for the Constitution. That is, in all this juncture the government has been able to save itself from being the recipient of the consequences of this horrendous new economic crisis in which we are, right?
So, that background is there. The government does not have economic capacities to assure —I am not saying sympathies— but even governability in a certain sense, right? Therefore, there is an entry door. For example, the reinsertion of Venezuela into the international financial system.
That is, access to the funds and loans of the International Monetary Fund or of the hemispheric funds. It is a door. There are funds there and they are conditional, because no loan of the International Monetary Fund is made if there are not macroeconomic conditions, right? And transparency of accounts, which would then allow helping Venezuelans in the condition of knowing what is the economic project of this government and what is the current condition of the economy and what can be done. There that has much to do with how it was done in the Barbados and Oslo negotiations when the agreement on the social fund was proposed.
But this would have to be on a larger scale. But a bit of that can be conditioned, that political and institutional behavior of Maduro’s government with that which in reality are pressures, but in the economic order. So, there exists the possibility that the government will do —as Cuba sometimes does, which has just done it— that it rejected humanitarian aid.
So of course, Maduro’s government says: “No, no, I am not going to open myself to anything.” And well, we will be the second Cuba and the third Nicaragua. But I think that there is a path, because it may be useful and interesting to advance. I also ask myself there: what is the political responsibility that must be had there?
The political responsibility that must be had is to say: well, this is a process that may be successful or may fail and that needs patience and time.
And it goes through, unfortunately, saying: we are going to set aside the political for now; we are going to reconstruct the economic institutions, we are going to rebuild a minimum of stability, and we are then going to begin the work of political opening, which cannot fail to be done because if not, the economy will continue collapsing. I believe that there is a path.
I ask: who takes responsibility for telling Venezuelans that? Because that is the most unpopular thing there can be. Popular is, instead, to promise that an external actor can resolve a situation as complex as the Venezuelan one.
So again: both need political responsibility. And I believe that that is common. They are going to tell me that I am comparing the two, but no. I believe that it is not only a problem of political actors: Venezuelans, in general, are very irresponsible with our own political opinions. And with our own preferences.
It costs us nothing to change preference. That is, do you remember in the time of Juan Guaidó? That slightly mocking enthusiasm, right? But there was like a certain certainty: well, this is already fixed and this is going to happen and we already have how to get out of this and such.
The same people who later ended up criticizing and disappointed by what occurred with Guaidó, well now it turns out that they are not disappointed when the same policy is presented to them. There is a very complex issue. I see people, moreover, very occupied with their own survival. That is the other element.
There is a geopolitical reconfiguration happening, right? That is, Make America Great Again is not an empty slogan: it implies recovering something akin to Lebensraum, the “vital spaces” in which we are located. The vital space of the United States, of which we are a part: Venezuela is part of that, Latin America is part of that. And therefore, that recovery operates on two fronts. On the one hand, it is about reclaiming the hemispheric space itself.
As we can see, for example, the loan granted to Argentina is a very strong form of economic alliance: it means building a commercial and financial ally. The same could happen in Bolivia. And there is also what is happening in terms of military cooperation with Ecuador, with Trinidad, now with Jamaica because of the hurricane, and undoubtedly also with the Dutch Antilles. So there is an extremely clear message of recovering influence. And I would say more than influence: dominance. I wouldn’t call it “neo-imperial,” because imperial logics are something else, more extractive, and so on.
Here it’s not only about that: it’s about Trump’s originalist project, which holds that America is meant to prevail, and that its global prevalence —its ability to influence, to make decisions, and to participate in decisions in other political and geopolitical arenas— will depend on the strength it can actually assert in its own backyard, precisely in its own hemisphere.
“Even from a political self-preservation point of view, if someone has a democratic transition project, they should not support the indefinite prolongation of sanctions.”
Q: There is something I want to ask you, in connection with that. In distinct political transition processes —like Spain in the democratic Transition (1975–1982), South Africa after apartheid (1990–1994), or Poland of the Solidarity movement in the 1980s— the middle class played a determining role as mediator between political power, social actors and the citizenry. Its educational, professional and organizational capital allowed demands to be channeled, dialogue to be sustained, and deep social fractures to be avoided.
In light of these precedents, and considering that Venezuela, like Iran, is an economy deeply dependent on oil, do you believe that international sanctions have had a similar effect in the weakening of the Venezuelan middle class —traditionally a key actor in citizen and political organization— all that without ignoring the impact of the economic measures taken since the time of Hugo Chávez? To what extent has this impact limited the possibility of building spaces of autonomous dialogue, mediation, and social participation?
A: There has not occurred a collapse similar in times of peace, as Francisco Rodríguez has shown very well. And there, honestly, the discussion, again, is nominalist: it continues to be a discussion of pure words, which want to signal other things, right? The discussion about whether the Venezuelan drama —the drama that we Venezuelans live day to day— is due to the sanctions or to the Revolution makes no sense. That is, it makes absolutely no sense. There are sanctions and there is revolution. The two must have an effect, simply. If sanctions had no effect, they would not be imposed.
That is, what I tell people who refuse to understand that the oil and secondary sanctions that are taken from 2019 onward do have a fundamental effect over the Venezuelan economic structure and the Venezuelan social structure —including, of course, the diaspora and all the consequences that we know— is that: “so, if the sanctions do not affect anything at all, then why are they there? Well, perfect, if it is so, then we do not need sanctions, what are they for? Remove them, no?”
Then they will have to tell me: “No, they do have an impact of pressure.” So I ask: “Ah, then there is an impact over the population?” To the extent that the fiscal revenues of a nation are cut, then some effect it must have over a society that, indeed, depends on oil.
What surprises me is that it is a new case, it is like what we were talking about earlier regarding polarization: it is a new case of a false opposition, of a false dilemma, which what it does is take energy away from us. And what it does, precisely —there we go to the topic of polarization— is continue creating opposing narratives, narratives that have nothing in the middle. Conflictivism.
That is: the truth, the only possibility is that “the” truth prevails and the construction of the truth that I have made. There is no other. And, therefore, we are no longer in the field of politics, which I believe is where we can end up landing in this rough flight that we have done.
“Today we live a paradox: a State omnipresent symbolically, hyper-vigilant, hyper-repressive, but nonexistent in the concrete. It is not in hospitals, in transportation, in pensions, in the economy. For the people, the State does not exist.”
The destruction of the oil industry is a fact. As sanctions continue striking production, they also reduce the recovery capacities of the industry itself. That implies that the longer this scheme is prolonged, the more difficult and less probable it will be in the future to rebuild it.
Even from a political self-preservation point of view, if someone has a democratic transition project, they should not support the indefinite prolongation of sanctions. In the end, oil —whether we like it or not— will be the fundamental source of resources for any democratic and institutional reconstruction. Even for that, one asks: what discussion are we really having?
We know it well, and the experts know it. Francisco Rodríguez has just published the book The Collapse of Venezuela and there is everything that needs to be known about sanctions and their effects. They are facts. That someone may want to accept them or not is another matter, but the facts are there. And a democratic future after so many years of sanctions is inevitably different from the future we would have without them.
The brief economic recovery of the last years shows it: when sanctions are relaxed, the economy breathes, even if modestly, because growth has not been spectacular either. But a future with the smallest possible amount of ups and downs derived from the sanctions regime is, without a doubt, better than a future with sanctions prolonged for decades.
From that perspective, insisting on more years of sanctions is even irresponsible. It is like wanting to arrive to power while creating conditions that will make that power ungovernable. It turns out contradictory.
And an uncomfortable reflection arises: why can’t we talk about these things? Why must those of us who study these topics —few, because most people are busy surviving— subject ourselves to slogans? Why provoke hostility simply for pointing out the logical consequences of what some defend?
We have lost public culture. In the experiences of the Civic Forum, and in other listening exercises that we did, what we found is that agreements are greater than disagreements when adequate conditions to converse exist. People have a strong demand for institutional order. They want a State that functions. It is simple.
There is a nostalgia —perhaps idealized— for a State that truly provides justice, services, protection. Justice understood as that bridge between the citizen and the State. Today we live a paradox: a State omnipresent symbolically, hyper-vigilant, hyper-repressive, but nonexistent in the concrete. It is not in hospitals, not in transportation, not in pensions, not in the economy. For the people, the State does not exist.
And what people want is precisely that: a State that functions. That is the true political project of the common citizen.
For that reason we need to return to listening to one another, recover spaces of conversation, and avoid the superficial polemic that dominates the public space —a small, fragmented and, symbolically, bloody space. And not only symbolically: the restrictions and risks are real.
But even so, we must look for exits. We cannot continue trapped in this exhausting cycle: whether there will be invasion or not; whether there will be change or not. Meanwhile, the government does not finish consolidating, but neither does it fall. It is there, without even resolving the economic issue, but resisting.
That is how things are. And with that note, at least, a little optimistic, I finish.
