Delcy Rodríguez

For years, the legal fight over Venezuelan assets abroad turned on one basic question: who does a foreign government recognize as the person entitled to act for Venezuela? In the United States, that question once pointed toward the opposition-led structure tied to the 2015 National Assembly and, before that, Juan Guaidó. After Guaidó fell, Dinorah Figuera became the head of what remains of that 2015 Assembly, the Comisión Delegada. Through that entity, the opposition continued trying to preserve control over foreign assets such as Citgo and funds held abroad.

Reuters reported in 2023 that the new opposition leadership under Figuera moved to oversee foreign assets, including Citgo and gold held at the Bank of England. During the Biden administration, the State Department likewise said in January 2023 that it would continue to recognize the democratically elected 2015 National Assembly as the last remaining democratic institution in Venezuela.

That is no longer the key US posture. In March 2026, the US government formally told a federal court in New York that the United States is recognizing Delcy Rodríguez as the “sole Head of State, able to take action on behalf of Venezuela.” The filing relied on the State Department’s March 5 statement normalizing relations with Venezuela under Delcy Rodríguez and on President Trump’s public remark that the United States had “formally recognized” the Venezuelan government. That is the legal pivot. Once Washington says who it recognizes as Venezuela’s head of state, US courts and agencies do not get to run their own foreign policy.

This is why the debate about Delcy’s legitimacy under Venezuelan domestic law, while politically important, is not the decisive question in New York, Delaware, Texas, or Washington. The majority of Venezuelan lawyers believe that Delcy Rodríguez is illegitimate. I am not arguing otherwise. However, under US constitutional law, recognition of a foreign sovereign belongs exclusively to the President of the United States.

The recognition question has shifted sharply in Delcy’s favor, even if some operational steps are still controlled by licenses, sanctions, and pending litigation.

In the case Zivotofsky v. Kerry, decided in 2015, the US Supreme Court said exactly that: the President has the exclusive power to grant formal recognition, and the nation must speak with “one voice” on that subject. Older US Supreme Court cases say the same thing in slightly different words. The practical result is simple: if the President recognizes one person as the one entitled to act for a foreign state, US courts (federal and state courts) generally follow that determination.

So, does that mean Delcy now controls Citgo? As a matter of US recognition law, the answer is yes, in the sense that authority now runs through the person Washington recognizes, not through whichever Venezuelan faction lawyers or commentators prefer. But there is one important practical wrinkle: Reuters reported that Delcy’s team still needs US Treasury clearance to take over Citgo’s US subsidiaries, and Citgo also remains entangled in ongoing court proceedings. In other words, the recognition question has shifted sharply in Delcy’s favor, even if some operational steps are still controlled by licenses, sanctions machinery, and pending litigation.

England works in much the same way. In the Bank of England gold litigation, the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom held that recognition of foreign heads of state is a matter for the executive, not the courts. The Court called this the “one voice principle”: English courts must accept the executive’s recognition position as conclusive. That is why the courts treated Juan Guaidó as the recognized head of state when the UK government recognized him. The logic is straightforward. English judges do not decide who truly won the constitutional struggle in Caracas. They follow the position taken by His Majesty’s Government.

If London does the same, the same logic will likely carry over to Venezuelan assets in England, including the gold dispute.

That is also why there is no serious legal basis for pretending that personal politics can change the answer. A lawyer may dislike Delcy Rodríguez. Another may dislike Dinorah Figuera. Someone else may prefer Edmundo González. None of that changes the recognition rule. On this issue, legal analysis is supposed to be colder than politics. If Washington recognizes Delcy, US institutions will generally treat Delcy as the person entitled to act for Venezuela. If London does the same, the same logic will likely carry over to Venezuelan assets in England, including the gold dispute. The law here is not about who we admire or dislike. It is about who the executive power of the US recognizes. Nothing else.

One last point matters. I have not found any official UK statement, as of now, publicly recognizing Delcy Rodríguez in the same clear way the United States has. A January 2026 statement by the UK Foreign Secretary referred to her as “acting President” and urged democratic steps, but it did not announce the kind of formal recognition statement the UK issued for Guaidó in 2019.

So the US conclusion is already here. The English conclusion depends on whether London takes that additional recognition step.

Caracas, March 13, 2026 (venezuelanalysis.com) – Venezuelan Acting President Delcy Rodríguez welcomed on Wednesday the formal recognition granted by the United States government to her administration as the South American country’s “sole” and legitimate authority.

Rodríguez argued that Washington’s decision goes beyond any individual figure or government. 

“It is not recognition of a person or a government; it is recognition of a country so that it is able to recover its life,” she said during a televised broadcast, referring to the impact of wide-reaching US unilateral coercive measures imposed since 2015.

The Venezuelan leader affirmed that the diplomatic move could help advance “national unity” and contribute to the “normalization” of the country’s political, economic, and social life. “What matters to me is that this can bring a process of reordering and normalization,” she added.

The recognition was communicated by Manhattan US Attorney Jay Clayton in a “statement of interest” addressed to federal Judge Sarah Netburn. Clayton is likewise heading the prosecution in the US Justice Department’s case against Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro.

Maduro was kidnapped by US special forces alongside First Lady Cilia Flores on January 3 during a military operation. The pair has pleaded not guilty to charges including drug trafficking conspiracy and will face a hearing on March 26. US officials have not provided evidence tying Venezuelan high-ranking officials to narcotics activities, while specialized reports have consistently found Venezuela to play a marginal role in global drug trafficking.

Clayton’s missive referenced a letter from State Department official Michael Kozak which identified Rodríguez as Venezuela’s “sole Head of State.” Kozak’s letter expressed the Trump administration’s argument that the recognition will help advance US interests in the Caribbean nation.

Trump publicly acknowledged Washington’s recognition of the Venezuelan government for the first time during the Shield of the Americas Summit on March 7. The White House argued that its stance would contribute to Venezuelan stability and economic recovery, as well as create the conditions for “a peaceful transition toward a democratically elected government.”

Caracas and Washington reestablished diplomatic ties on March 5 and have taken steps to reopen their respective embassies and consulates. The Maduro government severed ties with the first Trump administration in 2019 when the latter recognized then–National Assembly president Juan Guaidó as Venezuela’s “interim president.”

Kozak reiterated in his letter that since January 23, 2019, the US has not recognized Maduro as Venezuela’s head of state and that this position had not changed. 

“Maduro is an accused narco-terrorist awaiting trial in a US federal court for his crimes,” the document read. The Venezuelan president’s defense team is expected to argue that Maduro should be entitled to immunity from prosecution as a sitting head of state.

Washington’s formal recognition of the acting government in Caracas could also have implications for Venezuelan assets abroad. Since 2019, several bank accounts and US-based Venezuelan refiner CITGO have been frozen or under the control of the US-backed opposition.

The White House’s move will also pave the way for renegotiations surrounding Venezuela’s sizable sovereign debt, with creditors eager for a potential windfall after buying defaulted bonds at very depressed prices.

While Clayton’s address identified Rodríguez as the only person “able to take action on behalf of Venezuela,” US authorities have not clarified whether the Venezuelan government will retake control of its US-based assets.

In addition, the Justice Department attorney declined to take a position regarding “which counsel is authorized to represent certain Venezuelan state-owned entities.” On Thursday, Judge Netburn requested further clarification from the administration regarding the representation of Venezuelan interests before US courts before March 26.

In her Wednesday address, Rodríguez went on to acknowledge “daily exchanges” with US counterparts and expressed “gratefulness” for the reestablishment of trade relations. The acting president stated that Venezuela has imported medical equipment and medicines from US companies in recent weeks.

Since early 2026, the Trump administration taken direct control of revenues generated by Venezuelan oil exports, depositing funds into accounts held by the US Treasury. Around a quarter of an initial US $2 billion crude sale agreement has reportedly been returned to Caracas.

Recently issued US licenses allowing transactions in the Venezuelan oil and mining sectors likewise mandate that proceeds be deposited in Treasury-run accounts.

US officials have claimed that Venezuelan authorities need to submit a “budget request” to access the country’s funds and will only be allowed to import goods and services from US manufacturers.

Edited and with additional reporting by Ricardo Vaz in Caracas.

Six days after the commencement of Operation Epic Fury, President Trump took to Truth Social to announce, in the context of the ongoing joint American-Israeli military campaign against the Islamic Republic of Iran: “There will be no deal with Iran except UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER!” In the same post, the president seemed to equate such “unconditional surrender” with “the selection of a GREAT & ACCEPTABLE Leader” to lead Iran, which would enable the country to come back from the “brink of destruction” and emerge “stronger than ever.”

Just three days after announcing “unconditional surrender” as his goal, Trump, speaking on March 9 in Doral, Fla., proclaimed that the end of the war will happen “very soon.” One might be forgiven for experiencing some whiplash — especially because earlier that same day, Trump told Fox News he was “not happy” with Iran’s naming of a new supreme leader, Mojtaba Khamenei. In fact, around the same time he was demanding “unconditional surrender” the prior week, Trump had already called Khamenei the younger “unacceptable.”

What exactly is going on here?

Trump is a conservative nationalist, which means his general approach to foreign policy and his specific foreign policy “excursions” are guided by his view of how best to secure the American national interest. Accordingly, since Operation Epic Fury started, Pentagon press briefings featuring Secretary of War Pete Hegseth and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Dan Caine have repeatedly emphasized empirical metrics for measuring success, such as Iranian naval vessels sunk, Iranian air force planes shot down, Iranian ballistic missile silos and launch sites destroyed and so forth.

Trump hasn’t said it explicitly, but the Trump administration’s goal — and thereby, definition of victory — in Operation Epic Fury seems clear enough: the neutralization of Iran as an active, ongoing threat to the United States and our interests. If nothing else, at least, that is how victory in the current campaign should be defined.

That does still raise at least one pressing question, though, especially in the context of exiled Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi’s call to the Iranian people to prepare for “the decisive stage of our final struggle”: Where does that most controversial of foreign policy goals, “regime change,” fit into the puzzle?

At this point, it is undeniable that wholesale regime change is the most desirable outcome for the conflict in Iran. The pursuit of regime change as a goal unto itself is often now disparaged, coming in the aftermath of the failed neoconservative boondoggles earlier this century. But it ought to be axiomatic that there are some foreign regimes that behave in a manner that redounds to the American national interest, and there are some foreign regimes that behave in a manner that is contrary to the American national interest. It is natural and logical that we would wish for the latter types of regime to be heavily reformed or outright replaced — especially with the local populace leading the way.

Perhaps even more to the point: One does not take out a 37-year-ruling despot like Ali Khamenei, as the American and Israeli militaries did in the opening hours of the present operation, and not hope for full-scale regime change. All people of goodwill should be hoping for that outcome — for the Iranian people to rise up like lions and throw the yoke of tyranny off their necks once and for all, delivering a long-sought victory for the American national interest in the process.

But it’s entirely possible full-scale regime change won’t happen. The people of Iran just witnessed tens of thousands of their countrymen brutally gunned down during the anti-regime uprisings of late December and early January. They are an unarmed populace facing Nazi-esque regime jackboots, in the form of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and the Basij paramilitary.

All of that, then, raises one final question: Is it possible for there to be victory in Operation Epic Fury, and for the Iranian regime to be neutralized as a threat to the United States and our interests, if there isn’t full-scale regime change in Tehran?

In theory, the answer is yes. Venezuela provides a model.

Delcy Rodríguez, the current leader, is a hardened Marxist-Leninist in the mold of her predecessors Hugo Chávez and Nicolás Maduro. But Rodriguez has been fully cooperative with the United States since the astonishing January operation to extract Maduro for the simple reason that she has no real choice in the matter: She remains in power, yes, but only on the condition of an “offer” presented by Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio that, to borrow from Vito Corleone in “The Godfather,” Rodríguez “can’t refuse.” Rodríguez has thus been fully cooperative in areas such as American oil extraction and the reestablishment of diplomatic relations with the United States.

In theory, a similar arrangement is possible with a decimated, chastened regime in Tehran. And some experts predict that such an arrangement will characterize the regime in Iran a year or two from now. In practice, however, there is the ever-thorny problem that has frustrated and perplexed Westerners for decades when they attempt to reason with zealous Islamists: They do not fear death. A socialist like Delcy Rodríguez can, ultimately, be reasoned with; an Islamist like Mojtaba Khamenei (or his successor), perhaps not.

The cleanest solution to the Iran quagmire at this particular juncture — and the one that most clearly fulfills Trump’s “unconditional surrender” victory criterion — is indeed full-scale regime change. That is certainly the outcome that would be best for the neutralization of the Iranian threat and the corresponding advancement of the American national interest. I’m far from certain it will happen. But like many, I pray that it will posthaste.

Josh Hammer’s latest book is “Israel and Civilization: The Fate of the Jewish Nation and the Destiny of the West.” This article was produced in collaboration with Creators Syndicate. X: @josh_hammer

A longer version of this piece in Spanish was published on Marisela’s Substack.

After the systemic rupture that the US incursion of January 3 represents, chavismo has embarked on its third great metamorphosis, carrying out a profound reengineering in a context of tutelage and transactional pragmatism. In my view, the Venezuelan State is undergoing a deep transformation rather than facing an imminent transition to democracy. Nevertheless, the government of Delcy Rodríguez is pursuing this transformation with remarkable speed and bluntness.

The survival of the chavista system has required the sacrifice of its original forms, forcing a mutation that uses economic opening as social anesthesia and the sophistication of repression as a guarantee of stability.

From the oil embargo on Cuba to microeconomic measures that we will discuss in the following lines, these milestones are the material proof of a power that has chosen to fill itself with realism, and to sacrifice its traditional epic narrative.

The case of Alex Saab and friends

A most scandalous event over which public officials have remained silent is the alleged arrest of Alex Saab. Saab was removed as Minister of Industries and National Production on January 17. Although Delcy initially presented the move as a departure to assume new responsibilities, it ultimately marked the beginning of his demise in Venezuela. According to reports from The New York Times, La Nación, and Infobae, SEBIN agents detained Saab and businessman Raúl Gorrín, the owner of TV network Globovisión, who has long navigated sanctions and power and lost his media and political shield almost simultaneously with the capture of Maduro. The novel element in this second arrest of Saab is that reports describe an operation carried out with the knowledge and cooperation of the FBI. It would appear that the new leadership in Caracas is willing to hand over key figures to US authorities in exchange for validation and stability.

Both men immediately disappeared from the public radar. Two weeks later, the Spanish broadsheet ABC claimed that the Trump administration has demanded judicial cooperation from Delcy regarding nine figures close or formerly close to the government, including Maduro’s son (known as Nicolasito), Tareck El Aissami (arrested by Maduro in 2024) and, of course, Alex Saab and Raúl Gorrín. The report describes Saab as “the man who knows where the money is.” The dismissal on February 23 of Saab’s wife, Camilla Fabri (appointed vice minister for international communication a year earlier) reinforces the hypothesis of Saab’s detention.

In the mining sector, foreign capital has abandoned concessions due to the absence of minimal infrastructure and the suffocating control of armed groups.

In theory, the US would be seeking access to Saab’s testimony and archives in order to finish dismantling the money laundering and drug trafficking networks surrounding Maduro’s inner circle. Following his arrest in Cape Verde in 2020 and a prolonged legal battle in Florida over his alleged diplomatic immunity, Saab was released and sent back to Venezuela in December 2023 through a complex prisoner exchange. Upon arrival, he was granted a high political profile and appointed president of the International Center for Productive Investment, positioning him as the key operator for attracting foreign capital under sanctions.

The Saab-Gorrín case demonstrates that chavismo’s ongoing metamorphosis involves sacrificing the financiers who helped evade sanctions in previous years. Even after leading an intense campaign for Saab’s release in 2023, National Assembly president Jorge Rodríguez has shown no hesitation in serving in a government that makes him disappear on the orders of a foreign power. Ruling chavismo now seeks to present itself before Trump as a renewed, pragmatic actor and, above all, one unified under a centralized command without visible fractures. The official silence surrounding this issue stems from the fact that the capture of strategic allies buys the Rodríguez siblings time to manage the internal divisions this would inevitably generate.

Supervised economic liberalization

Since early January, the government has accelerated decrees and measures of economic opening that were previously unthinkable, such as the Hydrocarbons Law’s reform. The objective is to accelerate economic timelines in order to demobilize political demands. However, while the government is betting on a rapid economic rebound to pre-empt any possibility of opposition reorganization, a deep gap is beginning to emerge between the rhetoric of hope and the reality of purchasing power, which continues to deteriorate.

To assess the supposed implementation of these measures, I spoke with economist Manuel Sutherland to unpack the speculation that currently dominates public debate. According to his analysis, the exchange rate system has not undergone structural change: the allocation of foreign currency remains discretionary. Financial flows reveal a complex triangulation in which oil revenues are deposited in a fund in Qatar and then routed to an account at the US Treasury Department. From there, major banks acquire foreign currency through auctions restricted to the purchase of American goods. This process, executed in an opaque environment by private banks, occurs alongside discussions of tax exemptions for certain goods, such as vehicles.

Contrary to public perception, there has been no acceleration of privatization, while in the mining sector, foreign capital has abandoned concessions due to the absence of minimal infrastructure and the suffocating control of armed groups. What initially appeared to be a fast-tracked path toward economic recovery under American supervision now seems to be advancing at the same pace as, or even behind, political changes. The dissonance that once represented a danger for democratization (rapid economic liberalization coexisting with political stagnation) is not occurring. On the contrary, the slow economic rebound is unable to keep pace with the acceleration of political dynamics, which has gained renewed vigor through the mobilization of relatives of political prisoners. While the economy remains trapped in inertia and opacity, the political chessboard is being shaken by social pressure that the government appears not to have anticipated in its calculations for stability.

Amnesty and softer repression

By managing to adapt to this new scenario, chavismo shows it retains room of maneuver to ensure its permanence. This continuity is guaranteed by opening strategic pressure valves in response to the two main sources of coercion: internal social pressure and external pressure. The tactical softening of repression manifests itself as an unfolding of chavismo toward more sophisticated forms of exercising power. During the opening of the judicial year, the acting president delivered a striking speech announcing an amnesty law. The timeframe established for the law (1999-2025) functions as a symbolic rupture with the era that precedes her. All of this seeks to project renewed leadership based on the pillars of efficient technocracy and a pacifist façade.

The Amnesty Law thus operates as both a pacification mechanism and a transactional trophy for the Trump administration. A trophy meant to reduce the political cost of external pressure without implying any real dismantling of the repressive apparatus. It is a functional mutation that attempts to stabilize the system through a new version of authoritarian peace that can only be challenged if social pressure and mobilization manage to move beyond the mirage of this merely symbolic rupture.

Venezuela has ended up suffocating Cuba more effectively than the Helms-Burton Act.

However, attempts to “unify” the country through this law have had the opposite effect. Instead of extinguishing the spirit of struggle, it has revived it. On February 6, while the amnesty bill was still being debated, National Assembly president Jorge Rodríguez appeared at an infamous detention center before the mothers of political prisoners who were on vigil. Rodríguez established a novel form of blackmail: if the law were approved within a record seven days, their children could be released. None of this happened. The discussion was delayed, and once the law was enacted, the release process proved extremely slow. In addition, new cases of abductions and disappearances have emerged, while those who have been released leave prison without fear and determined to remain in the streets. None of this had been anticipated by Jorge Rodríguez.

This whole process, which is still ongoing, has brought the tacit recognition of political prisoners, the implementation of mass release measures, and the positioning of political prisoners within the public discourse—an issue the Maduro government always preferred to deny.

Oil embargo on Cuba and sales to Israel

The abrupt halt in crude shipments to Cuba—confirmed through maritime tracking by specialized firms—has also not been officially acknowledged by Venezuela. Reuters has been the leading outlet reporting the drop in shipments. According to its investigations, based on internal documents from the state oil company PDVSA and export data, Venezuela has prioritized cargoes destined for companies such as Chevron in order to secure foreign currency flows, leaving supply to Cuba in operational limbo. What is new? The beginning of a phase of energy suffocation for Havana led by Venezuela.

Despite the evidence of reduced shipments, neither Caracas nor Havana has issued statements acknowledging a suspension. What has been officially reported, however, is the dismantling of Cuban missions in Venezuela. Official Gazette No. 6,885 published decrees ordering the intervention, restructuring, and liquidation of emblematic social programs such as Mission Barrio Adentro and the Housing Mission.

In addition, international correspondents in Caracas, such as Sarah Kinosian, have reported the departure of Cuban medical personnel and military advisers. These reports cite internal sources in ministries and testimony from health workers who have been notified that their contracts are ending and that they must return immediately to the island.

Within a span of only a few minutes, the Venezuelan Foreign Ministry published and then deleted from all its platforms a statement expressing solidarity with the Islamic Republic of Iran following recent bombings.

How long can the rupture between Caracas and Havana remain hidden in discourse? And what implications does it hold for the Latin American left, which has remained silent about Venezuela’s authoritarian drift in order to preserve a utopian narrative? The only official source regarding the oil embargo on Cuba came from Miguel Díaz-Canel, who admitted that “we are going to live through difficult times” and announced a plan to deal with “acute fuel shortages,” acknowledging that no crude has arrived since December. As one of history’s paradoxes, Venezuela has ended up suffocating Cuba more effectively than the Helms-Burton Act.

Another shift that also lacks official confirmation is the presumed resumption of oil sales to Israel, reported only by Bloomberg and maritime tracker Kpler. Although the government has dismissed these reports as fabricated news through its communications minister, the flow of roughly 200,000 barrels toward the Haifa refinery suggests a reality consistent with the scenario of tutelage and its geopolitical ramifications (Venezuela severed relations with Israel in 2009).

The erosion of the anti-imperialist narrative

An episode that occurred on March 1 offers a window into the speed with which the government has decided to push through a compliant policy shift and how it appears to be redefining its strategic ties. Within a span of only a few minutes, the Venezuelan Foreign Ministry published and then deleted from all its platforms a statement expressing solidarity with the Islamic Republic of Iran following recent bombings.

The episode suggests a latent tension between the discursive inertia of certain officials and the logic of tutelage guiding the government’s current decisions. More than a mere coordination error, the incident could be interpreted as a symptom of constant monitoring of Venezuelan foreign policy by the US embassy in Caracas, or of unclear internal guidelines regarding this shift, where preserving negotiation channels with Washington must prevail over historical ideological loyalties.

The novelty of this shift lies not only in the rhetorical distancing, but in the fact that the internal fissure has become visible. For the first time in decades, the opportunity cost of maintaining a symbolic alliance with Tehran appears to be perceived by the political leadership as greater than the benefit of ideological consistency. This exercise in digital cleansing reinforces the hypothesis of a system that will prioritize the stability of financial flows guaranteed by American tutelage over the rhetoric of confrontation, marking a drastic departure from the alliances that once sustained chavismo.

The reality is that there has been a change in governmental behavior. Not only has the government implemented measures that clash with the historic conduct of a regime attached to the ideological agenda of the revolution, but it has also shown clear difficulty in the communication management of these measures. This suggests they may respond to a strategy of obedience to the occupying power while exploiting certain windows of opportunity for remaining in power.

Delcy Rodríguez’s government knows that exposing the measures recently adopted could generate even deeper cracks within the internal structures of chavismo. So now, in many instances, we just have silence.

One of the fundamental issues that a Constitution must regulate is what happens when the head of State is absent. The most important scenario is how to proceed when the president’s absence is absolute, that is, when it is known that he will no longer serve as president permanently.

So what should happen in Venezuela when the president of the republic is absent?

The two scenarios of presidential absence: Under the 1999 Constitution, there are two scenarios of presidential absence: temporary absence and absolute absence. The Constitution implicitly categorizes all scenarios of absence into one of these two: either the president is temporarily absent, or the president is absolutely absent. The Constitution assigns different consequences to each scenario.

Constitutional rules regarding temporary absence: If the absence is temporary, the vice president fills the vacancy for a period of 90 days, which may be extended by the National Assembly for up to another 90 days. If the temporary absence extends beyond 90 days, the National Assembly may, by a majority vote, consider the absence to be permanent (Article 234). After these 90 or 180 days have elapsed, depending on whether or not the period is extended, the absence must necessarily be considered permanent. Consequently, in accordance with Article 233 of the Constitution, elections must be held within 30 days of the permanent absence.

Constitutional rules regarding permanent absence

If the absence is permanent and occurs within the first four years of the constitutional term, elections must be held within 30 days of the permanent absence (Article 233). The Constitution lists, in a non-exhaustive manner, the circumstances of absolute absence (that is, there may be other reasons, such as the president’s removal and imprisonment abroad): death, resignation, or removal from office decreed by a TSJ ruling; permanent physical or mental incapacity certified by a medical board appointed by the TSJ and approved by the National Assembly; abandonment of office, declared as such by the National Assembly; and referendum recall of the president.

The Constitution distinguishes how to proceed in the event of the president’s absolute absence depending on the time elapsed since the beginning of the presidential term.

Under the 1999 Constitution, there is no constitutional provision that supports Maduro’s forced absence. His absence is either temporary, to which the rules of temporary absence must be applied, or permanent, to which the Constitution also says what to do.

When the president-elect becomes absolutely absent before taking office, a new universal, direct, and secret election will be held within the following 30 consecutive days. While the new president is being elected and takes office, the president of the National Assembly will assume the presidency (this was the rule used analogously to support then-Speaker Juan Guaidó as interim president in 2019).

If the president’s permanent absence occurs during the first four years of the constitutional term, a new universal, direct, and secret election will be held within the following 30 consecutive days. While the new president is being elected and takes office, the executive vice president will assume the presidency. In the aforementioned cases, the new president will complete the corresponding constitutional term. If the permanent absence occurs during the last two years of the constitutional term, the executive vice president will assume the presidency until the end of that term.

Maduro’s absence occurred within the first four years of the presidential term.

What the Supreme Tribunal of Justice has said

What has been the TSJ’s position on Maduro’s absence and the constitutional consequences of that absence? First, it issued a ruling on January 3rd ordering that Delcy Rodríguez, as executive vice president, assumes and exercises, in an “acting” capacity, all the powers, duties, and faculties inherent to the office of president.

It characterized Maduro’s absence as “forced.” However, it did not specify whether this absence is temporary or permanent.

Therefore, the Constitutional Chamber considers that Maduro is in a forced absence, which must be filled by Delcy Rodríguez.

Under the 1999 Constitution, there is no constitutional provision that supports Maduro’s forced absence. His absence is either temporary, to which the rules of temporary absence must be applied, or permanent, to which the Constitution also says what to do. There’s no situation such as “forced absence”. That “forced absence” of Maduro, from which the “interim” presidency of Delcy Rodríguez derivates, is based only on the sentence issued by the Constitutional Court on January 3.

Furthermore, Rodríguez is simultaneously holding the acting presidency (and therefore cannot be considered executive vice president) and the Ministry of Hydrocarbons. In Venezuela, ministers are appointed by the president. Therefore, the only person who could remove Rodríguez as minister is Rodríguez as President. A constitutional absurdity.

If the extension is declared, it will expire on July 3. From that day, 30 days must elapse within which the presidential election must be held.

There’s an additional peculiarity: in Official Gazette No. 6,963 of January 14, a ruling was announced by which the Constitutional Chamber supposedly had the authority to “determine the applicable legal framework to guarantee the continuity of the State, the administration of government, and the defense of sovereignty in the event of the forced absence of the President of the Republic.” That is, the Constitutional Chamber was or is going to issue a posterior sentence to define the constitutional route after Maduro’s absence.

However, at the time of writing, this ruling has not been published on the Supreme Court’s website. This is an anomaly, since the general rule is that when a ruling is published in the Official Gazette, it has already been published on the Supreme Court’s website several days prior. Something happened within the regime that led its leaders to decide it would be better not to publish such a sentence.

We can assume that the acting president and the Supreme Tribunal of Justice consider Maduro’s absence to be temporary. Under that scenario, according to the Constitution, on April 3, 2026, the National Assembly could extend Delcy Rodríguez’s acting presidency for another 90 days.

If it does not, the Constitution requires us to assume that Maduro is permanently absent, and elections must be held within the following 30 days.

If the extension is declared, it will expire on July 3. From that day, 30 days must elapse within which the presidential election must be held.

Any other solution has no basis in the 1999 Constitution.

And that is something that should be discussed.

An interesting debate about the past two months centers on the extent to which Delcy Rodríguez is finding her new seat comfortable. There are areas where she feels like a smooth operator (or a yes-woman for Rubio and Trump) and levers she can’t yet pull without finding resistance from her old comrades.

One can sense she isn’t too bothered driving Trump’s energy agenda. As Maduro’s economic vice president and oil minister, the last few years saw Delcy spend serious amounts of energy lobbying for sanctions relief, engaging with consecutive US governments, and maneuvering to bring in new players to the oil industry. Experts still cast doubt on her  ability to reinvigorate an economy and energy sector that still requires an institutional revamp much broader than a single piece of legislation. 

The issue is not the written rules themselves, but that the chefs in Washington DC are currently rebuilding the restaurant with the same cooks who, no matter how new the pots and pans, will sooner or later revert to the habits that made the kitchen a pigsty to begin with.

Sure, steps are being taken to move on the economic trajectory the US has imposed. In the first 50 days of the so-called “new political moment,” we have a new energy law, a US Treasury account holding Venezuela’s oil revenues, and dollar auctions for private banks at a free exchange rate. Last week, Trump’s Energy Secretary Chris Wright visited the country. In front of him, Chevron boasted of its crown jewels. The US followed up with further sanctions relief, albeit limited and subject to specific authorizations.

In the opposite end, the country still lacks clarity over political trajectory. The puzzle of democratization has hundreds of missing pieces. It’s not just a matter of whether elections will be held and results enforced, with the opposition choosing its candidate, with competitors sitting down to discuss the day after the vote, etc. Every question about freedoms and human rights has come attached to the ifs, buts and maybes of a regime that can’t even agree on the degree of control it gives up or whether politicians will be allowed to behave like politicians. The Guanipa incident suggests the answer is still no. So does the fact that Miguelangel Suárez, the Universidad Central student leader, was chased and spied on hours after last week’s Youth Day protest.

It’s still early, but in the sphere of political liberalization, the mantra from Jorge and Delcy Rodríguez seems to be: raise expectations and fall short.

Big headlines, slow progress

As noted by Camila González in our latest post, the Rodríguez siblings are trying to convey the idea that they’re true political reformers rather than the alleged traitors of the revolución that foreign newspapers obsessed with after January 3. Their messages are simple: we know how bad things are, though we can’t always admit it, we will empty the country’s prisons, we’d like to overhaul the courts.

Delcy’s speech at the Supreme Tribunal on January 30^th is a prime example. Not only did she order the creation of an amnesty statute covering chavismo’s lifespan and the shutdown of El Helicoide. She invoked a “great national consultation” for a new justice system (which likely points at behind-the-scenes discussion the ruling elite and the military are having) before naming some of the issues that make the system so dysfunctional: lacking access to justice, procedural delays, and corruption across the country’s tribunals and prosecutors’ offices. Jorge, more adept at improvising to manipulate different audiences, later said that guys like him need to both “forgive and ask for forgiveness” before describing political prisoners as necessary, “due to the realities, circumstances and the concrete situation of a society.” Three weeks after his remarks, 444 political prisoners have been released. Six hundred are still behind bars.

In theory, the amnesty law should also entail the release of the so-called historic, Chávez-era political prisoners.

These performances seem to align with the tendencies of the biggest external stakeholder in the process, Donald Trump, who has publicly praised Delcy Rodríguez and releases as a powerful humanitarian gesture. But in Venezuelan cliques, the implementation and discourses around these initiatives (brought about under a careful management to shield domestic stakeholders from further pressures) underscore the internal resistance and tensions playing inside chavismo.

The amnesty law, a key landmark of any political transition, would open the door to the return of political figures that includes many of chavismo’s longtime enemies, and perhaps more crucially, confrontation with the consequences of years of having imprisoned military officers subjected to the worst kind of punishments under the high command’s oversight. Foro Penal reports that 185 FANB personnel are still imprisoned. Venezuelan journalist Hernán Lugo Galicia affirms that most of them are National Guards and Army officers, and that only a handful have been released since the process began on January 8.

An amnesty in handcuffs

In theory, this policy should also entail the release of the so-called historic, Chávez-era political prisoners: public officials convicted in trials riddled with irregularities. This group includes Héctor Rovaín, Erasmo Bolívar, and Luis Molina—former officers of the now-defunct Caracas Metropolitan Police accused of shooting demonstrators and supplying weapons to coup participants during the massive anti-Chávez protest of April 11, 2002 (the narrative chavismo used to shield armed colectivos and party leaders from legal responsibility). It also includes Otoniel, Juan Bautista, and Rolando Guevara, three police agents convicted for the murder of Danilo Anderson, the prosecutor investigating the planning of the 2002 coup.

These cases are deeply symbolic for the regime: the conviction of the Metropolitan Police officers helped cast blame on a handful of supposedly putschist cops while insulating the Chávez government from responsibility for the violent deaths. The Guevara case, meanwhile, appears designed to silence the controversy and corruption that surfaced during investigations into the events of 2002.

Releasing the históricos (who go back to a time where Delcy and Jorge Rodríguez were not in politics) would be an admission that chavismo engaged in political persecution early on, tearing down the myth of one of its martyrs in Anderson and the Policías Metropolitanos as the sole rotten apples of 2002. Releasing FANB members, many in terrible shape because of mistreatment and prolonged isolation, would of course add another layer of pressure to a military high command embarrassed by the American incursion that killed dozens of subordinates and captured the commander-in-chief, not to mention the array of testimonies and revelations that a decision like that could start to induce. Interior Minister Cabello is well aware of that, and sounds resolute in his opposition to the release of those accused of plotting or rebelling in arms.

The amnesty bill is now stuck. Chavista lawmakers don’t yet agree on the contents of Article 7, which commands dissidents charged with relevant crimes, many of which went in hiding or fled the country, to turn themselves in in order to become amnesty beneficiaries.

Reality suggests that supposed moderates still fall short, unable to break from the dominant logic of  fear and control.

“They said they didn’t do anything. Not lobbying for sanctions, not cheering at the (US) intervention. The amnesty is about acknowledging mistakes,” Iris Varela recently said in a pro-chavista podcast. “If you want both an amnesty and to return to the country, then come over here, prove you were under persecution, and get the amnesty.”

Varela is one of the lawmakers in charge of the amnesty project, but she is known as a radical chavista for more than 20 years. After her intervention in the National Assembly last week, Jorge Rodriguez decided to adjourn the discussion arguing that the minority bloc led by Henrique Capriles had requested further amendments.

Therein lies another distinction in the official choreography surrounding the amnesty saga. Even if all chavista voices ultimately recycle the same talking points about sovereignty, malign NGOs, and chavismo as the guarantor of peace, their performances differ in tone and posture. While figures such as Diosdado Cabello and Iris Varela maintain an unyielding stance toward traditional opponents, more civilian-facing chavista actors are attempting to stage a process in which civil society groups ostensibly have a say in shaping the amnesty bill.

Representatives from leading human rights organizations such as Provea and Foro Penal attended a meeting with the parliamentary Domestic Policy Committee, shortly after Professors Guillermo Aveledo (Universidad Metropolitana) and Juan Carlos Apitz (Universidad Central de Venezuela) were allowed to criticize and question the extent to which reforms are actually in motion, while in the same room as Jorge Rodríguez and Nicolás Maduro Guerra.

These meetings may well be cosmetic, and are unlikely to determine the final legal outcome, but they appear designed to position certain chavista officials within a “moderate” camp: figures supposedly willing to build bridges with the opposition and entertain uncomfortable truths, even if their broader script remains unchanged.

Reality suggests that supposed moderates still fall short, unable to break from the dominant logic of  fear and control. After what appeared to be a staged embrace with relatives of political prisoners, the promise by Jorge Rodríguez to release all detainees held at the PNB jail in Boleíta, eastern Caracas, is yet to materialize. Meanwhile, Jorge Arreaza, who heads the Internal Policy Committee, recently offered little beyond justifying Guanipa’s re-arrest as relatives of victims and journalists pressed him for answers about the release process.

Scenes like these—Rodríguez, however calculated the gesture, appearing outside a political prison, and Arreaza being publicly challenged and scrutinized in the streets—would have been inconceivable just a year ago. They are a novelty in the politics of late-stage chavismo. But novelty is not reform. Such gestures are unlikely to persuade a skeptical public that a genuine shift is underway. Again, emphasis appears to rest more on optics than on tangible results.

Perfume and polish for the security sector

The Interior Ministry is still in Cabello’s hands, with top cops and allies running the main security agencies: Douglas Rico at CICPC, his cousin Alexis Rodriguez Cabello at SEBIN, and his old pal Gustavo González López now commanding both Delcy’s security ring and the fearsome DGCIM (his predecessor was fired after the US captured Maduro and Cilia Flores). Colonel Alexander Granko, who became the face of state violence in the 2020s, remains DGCIM’s special ops star, but has kept a low profile in recent weeks.

Having said that, recent moves suggest that Delcy Rodríguez retains an interest in the structure and functions of a security apparatus she does not fully control—and is willing to upgrade and trim it where possible. On February 9, the government officially dissolved the Strategic Center for Security and Protection of the Homeland (CESSPA), the intelligence body tasked with monitoring “foreign and domestic enemy activity” by centralizing data from all state security organs. Its shutdown came with the elimination of six social missions dating back to the Chávez and Maduro periods.

Senior politicians close to the opposition leader—Guanipa, Perkins Rocha, and Freddy Superlano—remain under house arrest. The amnesty law, scheduled for discussion tonight, would be entirely incompatible with that fact.

Earlier, flanked by senior chavista leaders and military generals, Rodríguez announced the creation of a new intelligence body: the National Office for Defense and Cybersecurity, conceived as a hub “where Venezuela’s scientists and technology experts should come together to defend our cyberspace.” She appointed Gabriela Jiménez to lead it, a biologist who previously served as Science and Technology Minister and was part of chavismo’s delegation during the Mexico negotiations. In August 2024, Jiménez had already alleged that the National Electoral Council (CNE) and dozens of Venezuelan institutions were the target of cyberattacks in the context of the July 28 presidential vote.

Delcy may have already taken a step toward the state goal of reforming the judicial system. This month, the National Assembly approved an amendment to the statute governing the CICPC, emphasizing clearer chains of command and defining officers’ roles in criminal investigations. In a country where the scientific police (whether the CICPC or its predecessor, the Policía Técnica Judicial) has long exercised outsized influence over the justice system, the reform does sound interesting. It doesn’t undo Chávez-era decrees that subordinate judges and prosecutors to intelligence bodies rather than positioning them as institutional checks. Whether this marks the beginning of deeper changes with chavismo in power also remains to be seen.

Information remains scarce and, now more than ever, the country’s future is being discussed behind closed doors, with few listening in—such as yesterday’s meeting between Southern Command chief Francis Donovan and Delcy Rodríguez, Cabello, and Vladimir Padrino López. Our latest Political Risk Report indicates that María Corina Machado’s return to Venezuela featured prominently in conversations between Secretary Wright and Delcy last week. That development would not only deepen tensions within chavismo, but also test the resilience of the supposed transition now being pursued.

Senior politicians close to the opposition leader—Guanipa, Perkins Rocha, and Freddy Superlano—remain under house arrest. The amnesty law, scheduled for discussion tonight, would be entirely incompatible with that fact. We will soon see how far the so-called moderate lawmakers are willing (or able) to push it.