democracy

This article is also published in Spanish on the Hacha y Machete Substack

Last weekend, the opposition achieved the familiar show of unity in Panama City, something that is not always easy to pull off. Party representatives agreed to fight for free elections and to back María Corina Machado as the candidate in any eventual vote. Machado, for her part, promised to return before the end of 2026. 

This is a milestone that should inspire at least some optimism. Five months ago, this group of people was scattered, waiting, in exile or in hiding. But given the sheer scale of Venezuela’s democratic challenge, the unity photo-op, the return of exiled leaders, and the reemergence of figures from hiding remain insufficient. 

Some politicians have returned to the country or emerged from hiding, but without a clear, politically binding agenda for achieving free elections recognized by all actors. The current dynamics still force us to react to the regime’s horrors. The case of Víctor Quero and Carmen Teresa Navas is among the clearest examples. 

Before Venezuela can achieve a true transition, the country’s pro-democracy movement must first undergo its own internal transition. Returns and displays of unity can alter incentives only if they become part of a public, coordinated, and understandable strategy. These are the main elements such a strategy should include.

A clear division of roles and responsibilities

Opening up the political playing field requires a clear division of roles and responsibilities. María Corina Machado and Juan Pablo Guanipa can embody a kind of “good cop/bad cop” dynamic within the democratic movement. The “good cop” would be Machado, whose messaging is already closely aligned with Trump’s policy toward Venezuela. The “bad cop” is Guanipa, whose rhetoric has become increasingly impatient regarding the goal of democratic transition.

If the democratic transition is truly a la venezolana, the debate about it must be taken out of the conference rooms in Washington and Caracas. 

But that differentiation cannot remain confined to national leadership figures alone. Student organizations, victims’ groups and human rights defenders, labor unions, and social organizations are equally crucial. These actors have earned legitimacy on the ground before January 3, when many were swept aside by a brutal wave of repression from which parties are still recovering. Since then, civil society has reaffirmed new leadership figures who, despite lacking party experience, could play important roles in the looming political cycle.

What matters is that this differentiation of roles be coordinated rather than improvised or competitive. Opening up the political field does not mean diluting political leadership. It means expanding the democratic movement’s range of action.

Combine negotiation with protest

There is no contradiction between the two. Negotiation without social pressure does little more than managing stagnation. Protest without a political roadmap burns out. What is needed is to give the streets political content: mobilizing not only against the regime’s abuses, but also in favor of a concrete transition agenda.

The role of movements is to protest, propose, and articulate the kind of transition they want. Just as students in 2007 embraced the campaign against the constitutional referendum and defeated Hugo Chávez, these grassroots movements should also assume a proactive role in shaping the type of transition they identify with.

That requires organizing a kind of “social roundtable” capable of coordinating different causes. These are autonomous rivers that can converge into the same lake: free elections and a broad national agreement on the direction of post-electoral public policy. Each movement has its own identity and internal dynamics, but there must be some degree of coordination and communication among them and with the broader national political agenda.

Protests also present a constant dilemma for the ruling Rodríguez siblings, a litmus test for their supposed liberalization. Demonstrations must remain peaceful and disciplined in order to deepen their dilemma.

Open up the conversation about democratic transition

The Machado-led opposition coalition and its allies have a responsibility to promote an open discussion about transition: what it means, how it is built, and what dilemmas it entails.

Dilemmas are never truly solved. They are weighed in terms of risks, benefits, opportunities, and threats. If the democratic transition is truly a la venezolana, the debate about it must be taken out of the conference rooms in Washington and Caracas. Not everything was decided in Panama City.

This time, the goal would be to bring together different groups and individuals to debate the diverse and legitimate visions of our own transition.

That conversation should include at least three dimensions:

The political-institutional dimension: What minimum guarantees would make a transition possible? What conditions would make an election politically binding? Should Venezuela pursue a constituent assembly? Should the process begin with a presidential election or a parliamentary one? What are the advantages and disadvantages of each option?

The social-humanitarian dimension: How do institutional reforms connect with people’s daily needs, such as wages, public services, security, justice and family reunification?

The electoral dimension: What should the sequencing of elections look like? (As far as we know, there was no agreement on this point in Panama). Should Venezuela return to a manual voting system? How can a trustworthy electoral authority (CNE) be guaranteed, and who should be part of it? What expectations and steps are required to secure the political inclusion of the diaspora and of millions of citizens inside Venezuela who cannot vote in the current circumstances?

Before the 2023 opposition primaries, there was one essential experience that helped build momentum: the Hablan los Candidatos debate, organized by students and activists in July 2023 at the Aula Magna of Universidad Católica Andrés Bello. Now imagine an event, or a series of events on a much larger scale. But this time, rather than candidates, the goal would be to bring together different groups and individuals to debate the diverse and legitimate visions of our own transition.

Use technology boldly

Technology can become a central tool to expand this deliberative process. Digital consultations, hybrid assemblies, spaces for dialogue with the diaspora, coordination mechanisms among professional associations, students, parties, unions, victims, and social organizations: all of this can help rebuild a democratic infrastructure for participation.

Producing a political milestone is not enough. A sequence must be built.

During both the primaries and July 28, the democratic movement used technology in exemplary and innovative ways. Through different applications, people found their polling centers, filed complaints, participated in defending the vote, and helped publish the real results. We need to use technology with that same boldness again, this time within a broader strategy of deliberating, coordinating, and disseminating the agenda of democratic transition.

Plan the sequence

The experience of January 2019 reminds us of something important: political milestones are never improvised. That strategy (whether or not one agrees with its tactics and consequences) was planned months in advance among political parties, civil society, and the leadership of the 2015 National Assembly. What is needed today is a similar level of preparation, but with one additional lesson that may prove decisive: producing a political milestone is not enough. A sequence must be built.

A unity photo may mark the beginning of a new phase. The return of political leaders may help shift public expectations or reshape the outlook of potential voters. A protest met with repression can show  the limits of the regime’s liberalization, something we have already seen this year with students, public-sector workers, and pensioners. A public debate can help organize competing visions of transition, giving oxygen and substance to a public sphere that must continue looking for spaces for deliberation. But none of these things, in isolation, constitutes a strategy.

The democratic movement has already found innovative, intelligent, and popular solutions to political dilemmas. It has pulled rabbits out of hats, brilliant plays in a perverse game, such as the feat of July 28, 2024. However, even rabbits do not appear by magic. The next move must emerge from the lessons and achievements that are already part of the movement’s democratic inheritance. 

We should do what we have already done and know we can do: open up the political field, bring people down from the stands, turn indignation into an agenda, and transform the return of many into movement-building.

Across South Asia, concerns over press freedom, political influence, and media credibility are drawing increasing international scrutiny. From Bangladesh and Pakistan to India, journalists and independent media organisations face mounting political, economic, and legal pressures that are reshaping how information is produced and consumed.

Recent international assessments point to what rights groups describe as a broader regional decline in media independence. The 2026 World Press Freedom Index placed multiple South Asian countries near the lower end of global rankings, reflecting concerns over censorship, political pressure, and growing ideological polarisation within news ecosystems.

Among these cases, India continues to attract the most sustained global attention due to its scale, democratic profile, and influence as the world’s largest electoral democracy.

When a country that defines itself as a global democratic model falls to 157th out of 180 nations on the World Press Freedom Index, the question is no longer whether there are challenges within its media environment. The question is how deeply those challenges have reshaped journalism itself.

Together with other regional indicators, the findings suggest not isolated failures but a structural transformation in how media systems operate across South Asia.

The concerns highlighted in global reports do not exist in isolation. Across South Asia, governments and political actors are increasingly accused of exerting pressure on journalists through legal action, advertising influence, regulatory scrutiny, and informal intimidation.

According to World Press Freedom Index in 2026, Bangladesh stood at 152nd. Afghanistan remained among the lowest-ranked countries globally, reflecting ongoing restrictions on press activity. Nepal, while comparatively better positioned at 87th, has also faced periodic concerns over political influence and media ownership concentration.

Analysts argue that while each country’s political context differs, a shared pattern is emerging: fragile media economies, heightened political polarisation, and increasing hostility toward independent journalism.

However, India’s trajectory is often singled out due to its democratic stature and its role as a regional political and cultural benchmark. This contrast between democratic identity and media freedom rankings has intensified global debate about the state of its information ecosystem.

Political Influence and the Changing Nature of News

Within India, one of the central concerns raised by international observers is the perceived growth of political influence over large sections of mainstream media.

A detailed report by Genocide Watch described what it termed a “severe crisis of credibility” in parts of the Indian media landscape, arguing that dominant narratives in some outlets increasingly align with those of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party rather than independently scrutinising power.

This does not imply uniformity across the entire media sector. India still has a diverse ecosystem of investigative journalists, regional newspapers, and independent digital platforms producing critical reporting. However, critics argue that the dominant tone of mainstream television and high-visibility digital media increasingly reflects political messaging rather than adversarial journalism.

The Reporters Without Borders (RSF) assessment echoed concerns about structural vulnerabilities. It highlighted the heavy dependence of Indian media on advertising revenue, including significant spending by both central and state governments. Critics argue that this financial structure creates subtle incentives for compliance, where editorial decisions may be influenced not through direct censorship, but through economic dependency.

In such an environment, formal restrictions are often unnecessary. Editorial caution can emerge internally, as news organisations weigh political and financial risks before pursuing certain stories.

The Rise of Divisive Television Narratives

Another recurring concern involves the increasing polarisation of televised political discourse.

Genocide Watch and other rights-focused assessments have warned that sections of mainstream media increasingly frame political and social issues through identity-based narratives, often centred on religion and nationalism. Complex policy debates are frequently simplified into binary positions, contributing to heightened social tension.

Human Rights Watch, in its World Report 2026, also documented concerns that hostile rhetoric in parts of media and online spaces has coincided with rising incidents of discrimination and attacks against minority communities, including Muslims in different parts of the country.

While causation is difficult to establish definitively, observers argue that repeated framing of communities through suspicion or collective identity can contribute to an environment where social hostility becomes easier to normalise.

The RSF report additionally pointed to structural imbalances within media representation, noting concerns about concentration of leadership within certain social groups and the underrepresentation of women in prominent political debate programming. These imbalances, critics argue, shape not only who speaks in media spaces, but also which perspectives are amplified or marginalised.

Self-Censorship and Invisible Constraints

Not all constraints on journalism are explicit. In many cases, they manifest as self-censorship.

According to Genocide Watch, journalists and editors increasingly avoid topics that could lead to political backlash, regulatory scrutiny, legal threats, or coordinated online harassment campaigns. Over time, this produces a newsroom culture in which certain subjects are quietly excluded before formal editorial decisions are even made.

This form of pressure is difficult to measure, but its effects can be significant. When reporters internalise risk calculations, the range of publicly available information can narrow without any formal ban or directive.

RSF similarly highlighted concerns over actions taken against independent journalists, commentators, and publications. It cited instances of restrictions, legal pressure, and bans on certain media outlets in sensitive regions, including Jammu and Kashmir, where authorities have taken action against publications accused of promoting separatism.

Critics argue that such measures contribute to a wider climate of caution, particularly around politically sensitive reporting.

A Broader Democratic Stress Test

The implications of these developments extend beyond journalism alone.

Genocide Watch framed the weakening of press freedom as part of a broader institutional credibility challenge linked to political polarisation and majoritarian dynamics. In this view, media independence is not an isolated issue but part of a wider ecosystem that includes accountability, governance, and civic trust.

A free press plays a central role in democratic systems by enabling scrutiny of power and facilitating informed public debate. When that role weakens, the consequences extend into how citizens engage with institutions and interpret political realities.

India’s trajectory in the RSF index over recent years reflects this concern. The country ranked 150th in 2022, fell further to 161st in 2023, improved slightly to 151st in 2025, and then declined again to 157th in 2026. Analysts interpret this pattern not as random fluctuation but as part of a longer-term structural challenge.

At the same time, government supporters argue that India remains a robust electoral democracy with active institutions, a vibrant political opposition, and a highly diverse media landscape. They contend that international rankings often fail to capture the complexity of India’s scale, security challenges, and internal diversity.

The debate, therefore, is not solely about classification, but about how democratic quality itself should be assessed.

South Asia in a Global Decline

These concerns are unfolding within a broader global downturn in press freedom. RSF’s 2026 index noted that worldwide media freedom has reached its weakest level in 25 years, with more than half of all countries classified as having “difficult” or “very serious” conditions.

South Asia reflects this global trend particularly sharply. Alongside India, countries such as Bangladesh remain in the lower tiers of the global rankings, highlighting shared regional challenges around political influence, media ownership concentration, and journalist safety.

Yet despite this broader pattern, analysts continue to emphasise that each country’s trajectory is shaped by its own political history and institutional structures. In India’s case, its global influence and democratic identity make developments in its media landscape particularly consequential for international observers.

What Is Ultimately at Stake

The credibility of media systems plays a central role in shaping the health of democratic life. Journalism informs not only public debate but also citizens’ ability to evaluate leadership, understand policy decisions, and hold institutions accountable.

When trust in media declines, democratic accountability becomes harder to sustain.

The findings from Genocide Watch and RSF should therefore be viewed not simply as criticism of individual outlets or governments, but as indicators of broader institutional stress across South Asia.

Addressing these challenges would require a combination of stronger protections for editorial independence, more diversified ownership structures, reduced reliance on state advertising, and greater safeguards for journalists facing intimidation or harassment.

Despite these pressures, the region continues to produce significant investigative journalism and independent reporting under difficult conditions. Many journalists continue to work at considerable personal and professional risk to maintain public access to information.

Acknowledging structural challenges across South Asia is not an indictment of any single democracy. Rather, it is increasingly seen by analysts as a necessary step toward strengthening the democratic principles that the region’s constitutions and institutions claim to uphold.

With information from Reuters.

WASHINGTON — The Congressional Black Caucus on Tuesday called on major corporations across the U.S., including those that previously expressed support for voting rights and racial justice, to oppose redistricting efforts by Republican-led states that seek to eliminate majority-Black U.S. House districts.

In a letter sent to more than 250 companies, members of the Black Caucus urge them to condemn the redistricting efforts, which the lawmakers describe as “coordinated efforts to silence Black voices at the ballot box.” Some of the companies had co-signed their own message to Congress five years ago urging lawmakers to pass the John Lewis Voting Rights Act, a Democratic proposal to restore and update the Voting Rights Act.

That 2021 coalition, Business for Voting Rights, was backed by many of the country’s most valuable and influential companies, including Apple, Amazon, Google, Meta, Microsoft, Tesla, Salesforce, Target, PayPal, Intel and Starbucks.

Tuesday’s letter is the latest effort by the Congressional Black Caucus and its allies to gather support for preventing more Republican-led states from redrawing their legislative maps in ways that would dilute Black political representation. Several states have moved to eliminate congressional districts represented by Black Democratic lawmakers after a U.S. Supreme Court ruling last month that severely weakened a key provision of the Voting Rights Act.

“Corporations that have profited from Black consumers, relied on Black workers, and amassed wealth in part from Black communities cannot look away while Black political power is dismantled in plain sight,” Rep. Yvette Clarke, chair of the Black Caucus, said in an interview.

Clarke described the letter as “putting corporate America on notice,” but she said the caucus was not seeking an adversarial relationship with corporations. Among those receiving Tuesday’s letter were companies based overseas that have a significant presence in the U.S.

The caucus last week called for Black athletes to boycott public universities in states that are gerrymandering their congressional maps to eliminate districts held by Black lawmakers. The 59-member Congressional Black Caucus consists entirely of Democrats, including more than a third from Southern states.

Some lawmakers have said mass protests and federal legislation might be necessary to undo the efforts underway in Republican-led states. Any new federal voting rights law would almost certainly require Democrats to secure majorities in both chambers of Congress and win the presidency.

It is unclear how companies will respond to the demands. The Associated Press was making efforts to contact them.

“Many companies that previously issued statements after the murder of George Floyd, pledged billions toward racial equity initiatives, and spoke forcefully in defense of democracy following January 6 now face a defining test of whether those commitments were rooted in principle or convenience,” the caucus’ letter states.

It also represents the latest instance of the caucus expressing frustrations with corporate America. A 2024 Black Caucus report noted that lawmakers were “troubled that some corporations that made pledges in 2020 have taken several steps in the opposite direction,” such as rolling back or failing to follow through on pledges to diversify their workforces.

“We understand who the occupant in the White House is and the reality of Republicans being in charge,” Democratic Rep. Steven Horsford of Nevada said of the caucus’ message. “But what corporate America also understands is that there will be a shift at some point.”

The letter calls on companies to publicly condemn the redistricting plans, meet with Black Caucus members to discuss corporate America’s role in protecting voting rights and disclose their political donations to Republican politicians in states that are redistricting their congressional maps.

President Trump last year kicked off the unusual mid-decade round of congressional redistricting when he pushed Texas lawmakers to redraw their maps in a way that would add Republican seats. Democratic-led California responded, but it has been mostly Republican states redrawing their lines since as the party tries to maintain its majority in the U.S. House during this year’s midterm elections.

The effort was supercharged by the Supreme Court decision, which allowed even more Republican states to redraw congressional maps that previously had protected minority communities.

Horsford, who chaired the Black Caucus during President Biden’s Democratic administration, said the caucus is demanding that companies “stand on the side of democracy, fairness and equal representation.”

“This is about power, who holds it and what it’s used for,” he said. “And when you’re diluting Black economic and political power, we need to know where these companies stand in this moment, and what side of history they’re on.”

Brown writes for the Associated Press.

Sometimes it seems as though the only thing that stands between a functioning democracy and a full-on Trump autocracy is a thin, black-robed line.

Although the Supreme Court, in general, and conservative appellate courts, in particular, have bowed and granted President Trump permission to do pretty much anything he wants, they haven’t thoroughly capitulated to his endless grasping for ever more power. (The way invertebrate congressional Republicans have.)

At the lower-court level, judges have repeatedly ruled in ways intended to check Trump, most notably when it comes to violating civil and constitutional rights in pursuit of his indiscriminate immigration dragnet.

The tendency to slow-walk his administration’s response to those rulings — and ignore others that Trump thinks he can safely snub — only contribute to the perception of presidential lawlessness and a sense that our judicial system is being strained to something approaching a breaking point.

Go ahead, if you’d like, and dismiss those concerns as just so much overwrought hand-wringing, or the mindless anti-Trump blathering of your friendly political columnist. A new survey of legal experts — including federal judges, top-tier lawyers and scores of professors from some of the country’s leading law schools — finds widespread concern about the brittle state of our legal system.

And it’s not just the fears of a lot of shaggy-thinking liberals.

“The nation is strong as is its commitment to the rule of law,” said one appellate judge, a Republican appointee. “The current president presents the greatest threat in decades.”

The survey was conducted by Bright Line Watch, a nonpartisan academic group that monitors the health and resilience of American democracy, in conjunction with the Safeguarding Democracy Project at UCLA’s School of Law.

Conducted between mid-February and early March, the poll anonymously surveyed 21 federal judges, 113 lawyers, 193 law professors, 652 political scientists and a nationally representative sample of 2,750 Americans.

What leapt out to UCLA’s Rick Hasen, director of the Safeguarding Democracy Project, was that “across the ideological spectrum and across judges, lawyers and law professors, there was considerable agreement that the rule of law in the U.S. is under tremendous stress.” That consensus, he said, suggests “a real risk to democracy.”

Most legal experts agreed that Trump is using executive power excessively, with a majority doubting the conservative-leaning Supreme Court would handle cases involving the Trump administration impartially. The experts also expressed concern about politicized law enforcement — Trump seeking to persecute his perceived enemies — executive branch overreach, and the failure of Congress or the Supreme Court to do more to rein in the rogue president.

Eight in 10 of those surveyed said federal officials fail to comply with court orders somewhat or very often, and nearly 9 in 10 said political appointees in Trump’s Justice Department mislead federal judges somewhat or very often.

Talk about contempt of court — not to mention our vital system of checks and balances.

There was, unsurprisingly, a split among conservatives and liberals who took part in the survey. (The study defined legal conservatives as those saying the Supreme Court should base rulings on its understanding of what the Constitution meant as originally written. Liberals, who made up most of the respondents, were defined as those saying the court should base its rulings on what the Constitution means in current times.)

Conservatives, for instance, were more likely than liberals to see former President Biden as a greater threat to the rule of law than Trump. Liberals were more likely than conservatives to see evidence of Trump politicizing the Justice Department.

There were also differences between legal experts — those most intimately involved in the judicial system — and the public at large. The experts were more concerned about Trump’s excesses and threats to the rule of law, which, Hasen said, stands to reason.

The legal system is not something most people encounter daily in the same way they do, say, gasoline prices or the cost of groceries. “Yet,” Hasen said, “it’s one of these background things that really matters.”

Why?

Hasen put it this way: “Imagine that a person had a dispute with their neighbor and it ended up in small claims court before a judge and the judge made the decision not based on the merits of the case but based on whether he was friends with one of the parties, or didn’t like people who were similar to one of the parties.”

Now imagine that kind of corrupted, perverted system of justice writ large.

If, for instance, “people know that the government can successfully seek retribution from people who criticize it, people will be less likely to criticize the government,” Hasen said, leaving the country worse off by muzzling those who would hold their elected leaders to account.

Or if, say, rioters overran the U.S. Capitol and tried to steal an election and, instead of being punished, received cash payouts from the federal government, what incentive would there be to follow the law?

Happily — and who couldn’t use a bit of good cheer right about now — all is not lost.

People “can demand that their elected representatives take steps to assure that the rule of law will be followed,” Hasen said, and can insist “that the government [not] play favorites or seek retribution against perceived enemies.”

That’s the power people have, come election time. That’s why voting matters.

There are lots of things riding on the outcome in November, not least the sanctity and integrity of our legal system.

Bear that in mind when you cast your ballot.

In August 2026, Kazakhstan will hold an unusual election. The newly established unicameral parliament—the “Kurultai”—will, for the first time, be formed entirely through party lists. Independent candidates and regional representatives will no longer enter the core of state power. As a representative institution of so-called “steppe democracy,” the Kurultai has undergone multiple transformations throughout history, both in its functions and in the composition of its participants. According to recent constitutional arrangements, this mechanism has been elevated to an unprecedented level. This raises a key question: what direction does this transformation reveal in the current round of political modernization?

Historically, the Kurultai functioned as an important mechanism of consultation in steppe society, not as a system of mass participation, but as a platform composed of multiple layers of elite actors. Its participants included khans and sultans who held political authority, biys who were responsible for adjudication and governance, military leaders who organized mobilization in times of war, as well as tribal elders and influential akyns and zhyrau who shaped public discourse. In addressing critical issues such as succession, warfare, and internal conflict, the Kurultai did not rely on formalized procedures or fixed institutional rules. Instead, decisions were reached through authority, negotiation, and consensus. Although ordinary people did not possess direct institutional channels of participation, their interests and attitudes indirectly constrained decision-making through tribal structures, public opinion, and their willingness to comply with and implement decisions.

During the Soviet period and the early years of Kazakhstan’s independence, the Kurultai gradually lost its function as an operative political institution and became a symbol of historical memory and cultural identity. It was not until 2022, amid a serious crisis of political trust, that this traditional symbol was revived and institutionalized as the “National Kurultai,” reintroduced as a new format of public dialogue within the framework of state governance. Its declared purpose is to strengthen interaction between the government and society. In terms of composition, the National Kurultai formally continues the tradition of “broad participation,” including regional representatives, members of parliament, professionals from various sectors, and leaders of social organizations with a degree of public influence. However, this diversity is largely structural rather than functional. It reflects broad inclusion, but does not necessarily translate into a substantive mechanism for reconciling competing interests. The institution lacks the capacity to independently coordinate diverse social demands.

Moreover, the agenda-setting process and operational logic of the National Kurultai remain distinctly top-down. Key issues are primarily defined by the state, while participants tend to act as interpreters and endorsers of pre-established policy directions. In this sense, “consultation” often takes the form of explaining and legitimizing the state agenda. Through the participation and symbolic endorsement of elite actors, the state is able to construct an image of “broad public dialogue,” thereby reinforcing the legitimacy of its reform agenda. In this respect, the National Kurultai should not be seen as a simple continuation of a traditional consultative institution, but rather as an institutionalized platform for political communication and discursive integration. Its core function lies not in generating genuinely competitive policy alternatives, but in organizing a process of “consensus production” aimed at shaping values, mobilizing society, and reproducing the legitimacy of ongoing reforms.

In 2026, President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev announced a major reform of Kazakhstan’s parliamentary system, proposing the transition to a unicameral “Kurultai Parliament.” Its members will be elected entirely through proportional representation based on party lists. The reform abolishes both the presidential quota and the special quota previously allocated to the Assembly of the People of Kazakhstan. At the same time, quota guarantees for women, youth, and persons with disabilities will be retained, but incorporated into party list mechanisms rather than being directly allocated by the state.

From the perspective of institutional design, this reform strengthens the role of political parties as key intermediaries within the political system, positioning them as the primary channel through which social demands are transmitted to the state. In the context of electoral competition, parties are expected to secure support by more effectively representing public interests, while also integrating fragmented social demands. Compared with the previous mixed model of representation, which included multiple categories of actors, a party-centered system enhances the coherence of political positions: social demands are systematically aggregated and restructured before entering the political arena, thereby improving, to some extent, the efficiency of policy articulation and decision-making.

Building on this, if meaningful and substantive competition among political parties can be established, this model has the potential not only to integrate social interests but also to more fully reflect the diversity of social groups. Political parties could function not merely as instruments of organization and coordination, but also as a crucial link between diverse societal demands and the process of state decision-making—balancing efficiency in representation with breadth and inclusiveness.Under such conditions, the consultative model of the Kurultai may gradually evolve from an elite-driven mechanism of integration into an institutionalized system of interest articulation grounded in party competition, thereby enhancing, to a certain extent, its capacity for bottom-up representation.

On Sunday night, tens of thousands of Hungarians packed the banks of the Danube waving flags, crying of joy, popping bottles. Celebrating something that political analysts had spent years telling them was almost impossible: the electoral defeat of Viktor Orbán, the autocrat whose ploys and manipulations made him a uniquely disturbing force in the European Union. After 16 years in power, Hungary’s self-proclaimed architect of “illiberal democracy” conceded defeat within hours of the polls closing.

His rival, Péter Magyar (the equivalent of Pedro Veneco), had won 137 seats in a 199-seat parliament, a two-thirds supermajority that gave him not just a government, but the ability to rewrite the very constitution Orbán had rigged to protect himself. This appears to be the plan.

Venezuelans watching from afar could be forgiven for feeling two things at once: genuine joy, and a familiar, creeping doubt. 

Sure, but that’s Hungary.

The doubt is understandable. It’s also, at this particular moment in Venezuelan history, worth interrogating.

To understand whether Hungary provides a useful lesson, we need to venture farther than our diasporic links, like La Danubio, Catherine Fulop and Shirley Varnagy. You first need a category distinction that political scientists call the difference between a closed authoritarian regime and a competitive one. A closed autocracy doesn’t bother with the pretense of real elections. Or when it does, it simply invents the results. Especially after July 2024, Venezuela had become exactly this: we all know what happened. Politically, there was no game to play unless you played by the regime’s rules. The game was a charade. 

Orbán’s Hungary was something different, more insidious. Similar to what Chávez did to the institutions in the 2000s, while using hyper-ideological and reactionary rhetoric. The European Parliament had classified it as a “hybrid regime of electoral autocracy.” Orbán bent every institution he could reach: the judiciary, the media, the electoral rules themselves.

The scene on the Danube on Sunday night was a piece of great news in a political era that doesn’t offer many of them. The scenes in Budapest matter to us. But it shouldn’t be mistaken for a mirror.

He gerrymandered the system to favor the largest single party, confident that party would always be his. But he never quite crossed the line into fabricating vote counts, à la Maduro or Lukashenko. The game was still real, even if the playing field was tilted.

That distinction is now relevant because Venezuela’s political reality has shifted in ways that were unimaginable five months ago. The current regime Delcy Rodríguez leads is not identical to that of 2024 and 2025. Under US pressure, a few hundred political prisoners have been released and an amnesty law was approved in February. albeit with mixed results (more than 500 political prisoners are still behind bars, and amnesty has been formally denied to high-profile politicians and NGO leaders like Javier Tarazona). Overall, we see gestures that try to transmit magnanimity, but are moves meant to look like compliance while chavismo waits for Washington’s attention to wander.

But here’s the thing: even performative openings create real cracks, and the cracks are showing. In February alone, Venezuela has recorded dozens of protests, an exponential increase compared to the same month in 2025. Workers and students have taken to the streets of Caracas four times this year demanding salary increases, openly calling on the Rodríguez siblings to answer for their pleas. Last weekend in Valencia, in a football game between Carabobo and Universidad Central (a game which has enough backdrop to make a book about it), football fans directed chants against the son of Alexander Granko Arteaga (who plays for UCV): “¡Dónde están que no se ven, los enchufados de la UCV,” loud enough so it could be hear transmission (that would translate roughly to “nowhere to be seen, the UCV cronies are nowhere to be seen”). In 2025, that chant would have landed them in jail. That was exactly the outcome in the last domestic football final.

Waiting for the opportunity

Venezuela is still not a democracy. But the differences remain significant: a regime slowly, reluctantly slipping out of its authoritarian fortress, coming to terms with the fact that it will eventually have to face a reckoning at the ballot box. That’s what happened to Orbán. He controlled the courts, the media, the electoral geometry, and still got swept out because of the accumulated weight of economic failure, corruption, and sheer exhaustion that eventually overwhelmed the machinery he had built.

The lesson is not that rigged systems are beatable through optimism. It is that rigged systems have structural limits, and that opposition alliances which survive long enough, and build broad enough coalitions, tend to be standing when those limits are reached. In our case, we’ve seen all possible iterations of what an opposition can be. In 2024, the Maria Corina-led movement became the most formidable electoral force the country has seen in a while. That should have been our Orbán down moment. Nonetheless, the inertia we have seen since the beginning of the year is too good to let it slip away.

Political scientist Yascha Mounk, writing about Magyar’s victory, made an interesting observation that some might believe applies to Venezuelan democratic forces: the Hungarian opposition ousted Orbán on its fourth try, after years of humiliation, internal divisions and strategic errors. Patience, he argues, is its own form of political discipline.

This is Mounk’s post-populist dilemma, live, and a miniature preview of what a potential democratic government in Caracas would have in front of itself.

Again, the Venezuelan opposition doesn’t need that lesson. It already learned it, the hard way, and on a harder playing field. In 2015, it won a supermajority in the Asamblea and watched its powers get neutered one by one. In July 2024, it beat Maduro overwhelmingly and proved its victory with the official tally sheets. Edmundo González Urrutia did not become president because the movement backing him lacked organization, or coalition-building, or the kind of credible leadership that Magyar built from scratch since leaving Orban’s party two years ago. González Urrutia failed to take power because the regime decided that electoral results were optional.

The question was never whether the Venezuelan opposition could win an election. They already did in a way that should clarify the terrain for future opportunities. The actas and the popular support are powerful symbols that should endure. The question is whether they can repeat that performance, seizing the minimal opening they have in front of them whatever the broader circumstances. Then yes, the patience Mounk mentions is relevant.

The post-autocracy trap

Mounk is right to poop the party a little bit with a warning he calls the “post-populist dilemma.” Even with his supermajority, Magyar inherits a State that Orbán hollowed out and refilled with loyalists. He has two options: either fire them and bring about an anti-Fidesz purge; or leave them in place and be sabotaged from within. In his first week in power, Magyar is showing he wants to go for the first option. He has already called for the resignation of several key ministers of the Orban regime.

Venezuela would face this dilemma on steroids. Chavismo has had 27 years to embed itself across nearly everything. Rodríguez herself operates within a questionable agency on security forces (a certain someone remains interior minister and vice president for security). Any future Venezuelan government elected under competitive conditions would inherit an institutional landscape far more captured and complex than anything Magyar faces in Budapest.

This is not a reason for despair, but it does require confronting an uncomfortable asymmetry. When Magyar navigated Hungary’s post-populist transition, he did so with the EU at his back, a bloc that had spent years dangling billions in frozen funds as an incentive for democratic reform, and whose membership gave Hungarian voters a concrete, tangible alternative to Orbán’s model. Venezuela’s external anchor is the Trump administration, which has been explicit about its priorities: oil first, stability second, elections somewhere further down the list. Rubio’s three-phase roadmap (stabilization, economic recovery, reconciliation and transition) is not an explicit democratic transition plan. It is a business plan with democracy on the side.

Preparation, then, means the opposition must be the one holding the democratic line demanding verifiable electoral conditions, refusing to let institutional reform become a performance to please DC, and cementing a coalition broad enough that can translate the popular inertia and mood towards a margin so big it can’t be tweaked. The EU didn’t save Hungary. Hungarians did. The lesson travels.

Magyar won because Hungarians were organized, patient and ready when the moment arrived. Venezuelans have already proven they can do the same.

Magyar isn’t waiting. Within 72 hours of his victory, he demanded that Hungary’s president resign immediately, and sent the same message to the heads of the Supreme Court, the Constitutional Court, the State Audit Office and the media authority calling them “puppets who have been in power for the past 16 years.” On Wednesday morning, in his first radio interview in over a year and a half, he told the State broadcaster its news operation would be shut down and relaunched as a true public service. Some are already calling it a witch hunt. Others call it the bare minimum required to transform the country.

This is Mounk’s post-populist dilemma, live, and a miniature preview of what a potential democratic government in Caracas would have in front of itself. If Magyar, armed with a two-thirds supermajority and the EU at his back, is already navigating accusations of overreach on day three, imagine what a Venezuelan opposition government would face trying to dismantle 27 years of institutional occupation in the police, intelligence agencies, the military, the public media, the judiciary. The task ahead is massive, and solving the dilemma probably requires an orderly phase-out agreed before the next presidential vote.

The scene on the Danube on Sunday night was a piece of great news in a political era that doesn’t offer many of them. The scenes in Budapest matter to us. But it shouldn’t be mistaken for a mirror.

Venezuela is not Hungary. Delcy is not Orbán, she is arguably more pragmatic, but also more constrained. Orbán was a standalone autocrat who built his system around his own political survival. Rodríguez governs by a permanent balancing act: between Washington’s demands, the military high command, the hardline faction and other peripheral actors. The competitive opening, if it comes, will be narrower, more fragile and more dangerous than anything Magyar navigated.

These are reasons to take the Hungarian lesson seriously without taking it literally. Magyar won because Hungarians were organized, patient and ready when the moment arrived. Venezuelans have already proven they can do the same. The question now is simpler, and harder: when the moment comes again, can the popular will (and not just the results) be allowed to stand?