Delcy Rodríguez

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.

Caracas, February 12, 2026 (venezuelanalysis.com) – Venezuelan Acting President Delcy Rodríguez hosted US Energy Secretary Chris Wright at Miraflores Palace in Caracas on Wednesday.

Wright is the highest-ranked US official to be received at the presidential palace in over 25 years. The high-profile visit took place a little over a month after US forces bombed Caracas and kidnapped Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and First Lady Cilia Flores on January 3.

Rodríguez and Wright, who was accompanied by US Chargé d’Affaires Laura Dogu, held a private meeting before briefly addressing the press.

Venezuela’s acting leader centered her statements on a joint “energy agenda” between Caracas and Washington that could be “mutually beneficial.” The talks reportedly included discussions on oil, natural gas, electricity, and mineral projects.

“The main point in our agenda is the establishment of a long-term productive alliance, with an energy agenda that becomes the engine of our bilateral relations,” Rodríguez told reporters. “This energy agenda should be effective, complementary, and beneficial for both countries.

Defending the recent rapproachment, she pointed to Venezuela and the United States’ energy ties dating back 150 years. 

“Our relationship has had its ups and downs in political terms, but I am confident that through diplomacy we can overcome our differences,” Rodríguez added. She made no mention of Maduro in her public remarks. 

Rodríguez, who served under Maduro as vice president, assumed the presidency on an acting basis on January 5 as directed by the Supreme Court’s Constitutional Chamber. Maduro and Flores have pleaded not guilty to charges including drug trafficking conspiracy.

Venezuelan authorities have fast-tracked a diplomatic reengagement with the Trump administration since the January 3 attacks. In a recent interview, National Assembly President Jorge Rodríguez, brother of the acting president, emphasized the prospect of establishing a “win-win” relationship with Washington.

The parliamentary leader stated that Venezuela was “adapting” legislation to attract US investment. The Venezuelan legislature recently overhauled the country’s Hydrocarbon Law to grant increased incentives to foreign corporations. Under the reformed law, private corporations will enjoy reduced taxes and royalties, as well as expanded control over operations and sales and the prerogative to take disputes to external arbitration bodies.

For his part, Wright said that he brought “a message” from Trump, that the US president was committed to a “broader agenda to make the Americas great again.” The Energy Secretary praised a “wonderful and candid dialogue” with Venezuelan leaders and spoke of “tremendous opportunities” in the Caribbean nation’s energy sector.

Wright highlighted the Trump administration’s recent sanctions waivers allowing US companies to return to the Venezuelan oil sector and permitting exports of diluents, other inputs, and technology for oil operations to the South American country.

“We have been working to issue licenses to existing businesses, to new businesses that want to enter Venezuela, for Venezuelan companies to buy [US] products and raise oil production,” he continued. “We want to set the Venezuelan people, and the economy, free.”

On Thursday, Rodríguez and Wright visited Petroindependencia, a crude upgrader in the Orinoco Oil Belt. According to reports, Wright is also scheduled to visit Petropiar. Chevron is a minority stakeholder in both joint ventures. The US official will also hold meetings with business executives, and claimed he wants to “improve the management” of PDVSA.

Since January, the Trump administration has exerted control over Venezuelan oil exports. Commodity traders Vitol and Trafigura have lifted Venezuelan crude to resell to other customers, while depositing proceeds in US-run accounts in Qatar. Washington has thus far returned to Caracas US $500 million out of a reported $2 billion initial agreement.

The recent licenses likewise mandate that payments be made to accounts designated by the US Treasury and block transactions with companies from China, Cuba, Iran, North Korea and Russia. US forces have maintained a naval blockade and seized several tankers for allegedly transporting Venezuelan crude. PDVSA also remains under financial sanctions.

Former President Hugo Chávez (1999-2013) had a confrontational relationship with Washington, repeatedly denouncing US interventions abroad, including in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, and Syria. He likewise promoted several regional integration projects.

Maduro severed diplomatic ties with the US in 2019 after the first Trump administration formally recognized the Juan Guaidó-led self-proclaimed “interim government” as the country’s legitimate authority.

Despite the rapid rapprochement, the White House has yet to recognize the acting government of Delcy Rodríguez. The formal recognition could pave the way for a restructuring of Venezuela’s sizable foreign debt.