Politics can move too fast for few and too slow for many at the same time. Today is a perfect example of that. The brand-new Rodríguez regime seems quick at aligning with the Trump agenda, executing the sort of authoritarian due diligence needed to attract foreign investment and make things favorable for looming corporations. Yesterday they used a completely dominated National Assembly (one that neither admitted anything close to a debate nor disclosed the texts through official channels) to advance three legal initiatives related to doing business in the country. The non-chavista, systemic opposition group there led by Henrique Capriles and Stalin González decided not to take a stance. The parliamentary agenda included amending a massive energy-sector statute that could change the game for those aiming to become main oil-industry players.
But now it’s January 23rd. The most significant date for the country’s democracy legacy tastes bittersweet, carrying hints of frustration and even despair, but also of opportunity. The collapse of the Marcos Pérez Jiménez regime exactly 68 years ago represents the complete opposite of the type of political shifts we’ve witnessed since January 3, 2026. In 1958, after some turbulent weeks marked by protests and a failed military uprising, mid-level Army officers rose to topple the Pérez Jiménez regime and dismantle its entire repressive structure. The dictator and his infamous repressor-in-chief managed to escape the country unharmed (though the story doesn’t end there for the former). And in stark contrast to what many of our neighbors were enduring, the armed forces became a key actor in promoting a civilian-led democratic order that began to take shape in the following months. Wolfgang Larrazábal, the military figure who oversaw that process, became an icon of Venezuela’s democratic transition.
What we have after January 3rd, however, is the exact opposite. An external force removed the dictator and his wife, not a group of generals acting in the people’s interest. The shambolic state of the military was laid bare before the eyes of the world, a defenseless, even invisible, force that couldn’t even scratch a group of American helicopters. Crucial difference: the rest of the regime remains in place, including the entire repressive apparatus. Notwithstanding, the ruling Rodríguez faction announced the start of a “significant” release process of detainees days after that “Deus ex machina” moment that raised hopes of a Caribbean-style glasnost. Two weeks later, about 15% of political prisoners have walked out. The regime has conducted this in a way that prevents celebration: dropping prisoners in specific spots of the city rather than right in front of the gates, sending them straight to airports (which happened to Rocío San Miguel), and gaslighting the public about the actual figure. Regime officials including Jorge Rodríguez and Tarek William Saab repeat they’ve released 400 political prisoners. Rights watchdog Foro Penal has so far verified 155.
In Caracas, they were careful not to disturb traffic or make chants that would upset the police or chavismo itself, such as calling for presidential elections, Delcy’s removal, or explicitly invoking the July 28 mandate.
In defiance, families of political prisoners have been camping outside prisons and torture centers for two consecutive weeks. Two leading Catholic priests have stood alongside them, which is particularly meaningful following a recent accusation against the Archbishop of Caracas of being too close to the regime. Two veteran anti-chavista politicians, Andrés Velásquez and Alfredo Ramos, have shown their faces after going into hiding since August 2024, when Maduro & Co. went after every real and made-up opponent following the July 28 presidential election. Today, campuses in at least seven universities across the country (ULA, LUZ, and USB, to name a few) woke up with banners calling for the freedom of all dissidents and the closure of prisons for regime opponents.
Universidad Central student leaders organized a protest next to the capital’s main highway to honor today’s anniversary. Akin demonstrations took place in other parts of the country, such as Zulia, Mérida and Barinas. In Caracas, they were careful not to disturb traffic or make chants that would upset the police or chavismo itself, such as calling for presidential elections, Delcy’s removal, or explicitly invoking the July 28 mandate. Activists from PROVEA, trade union representatives and other human rights groups joined the students (who, by the way, have been quite active supporting families of detainees outside El Helicoide and the National Police jail in Boleíta). They released a joint statement. This is the core message:
We affirm that the “new political moment,” based on “reconciliation and reunion,” announced by the administration now headed by Delcy Rodríguez, will not be viable as long as urgent public demands remain unaddressed.
We believe that the most urgent demand, one that unites society as a whole, is the full, unconditional, and immediate release of all those who have been arbitrarily deprived of their liberty or subjected to judicial proceedings for political reasons, and who remain unjustly held in prisons and police stations across the country.
This won’t be enough to shake the nascent Rodríguez-led dictablanda and force comprehensive concessions. Sustaining such pressure requires time and careful coordination with party structures and the wider Venezuelan population. But it is, without a doubt, a more than decent way to push for political freedoms on this weird, confusing anniversary. The sort of freedoms that other foreign stakeholders have been, and will continue to be, slower to demand.