Transition

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.

SACRAMENTO — Gov. Gavin Newsom told world leaders Friday that President Trump’s retreat from efforts to combat climate change would decimate the U.S. automobile industry and surrender the future economic viability to China and other nations embracing the transition to renewable energy.

Newsom, appearing at the Munich Security Conference in Germany, urged diplomats, business leaders and policy advocates to forcefully stand up to Trump’s global bullying and loyalty to the oil and coal industry. The California governor said the Trump administration’s massive rollbacks on environmental protection will be short-lived.

“Donald Trump is temporary. He’ll be gone in three years,” Newsom said during a Friday morning panel discussion on climate action. “California is a stable and reliable partner in this space.”

Newsom’s comments came in the wake of the Trump administration’s repeal of the endangerment finding and all federal vehicle emissions regulations. The endangerment finding is the U.S. government’s 2009 affirmation that planet-heating pollution poses a threat to human health and the environment.

Environmental Protection Agency administrator Lee Zeldin said the finding has been regulatory overreach, placing heavy burdens on auto manufacturers, restricting consumer choice and resulting in higher costs for Americans. Its repeal marked the “single largest act of deregulation in the history of the United States of America,” he said.

Scientists and experts were quick to condemn the action, saying it contradicts established science and will put more people in harm’s way. Independent researchers around the world have long concluded that greenhouse gases released by the burning of gasoline, diesel and other fossil fuels are warming the planet and worsening weather disasters.

The move will also threaten the U.S.’s position as a leader in the global clean energy transition, with nations such as China pulling ahead on electric vehicle production and investments in renewables such as solar, batteries and wind, experts said.

Newsom’s trip to Germany is just his latest international jaunt in recent months as he positions himself to lead the Democratic Party’s opposition to Trump and the Republican-led Congress, and to seed a possible run for the White House in 2028. Last month Newsom traveled to the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, and in November to the U.N. climate summit in Belém, Brazil — mocking and condemning Trump’s policies on Greenland, international trade and the environment.

When asked how he would restore the world’s confidence in the United States if he were to become president, Newsom sidestepped. Instead he offered a campaign-like soliloquy on California’s success on fostering Tesla and the nation’s other top electric vehicle manufactures as well as being a magnet for industries spending billions of dollars on research and development for the global transition away from carbon-based economies.

The purpose of the Munich conference was to open a dialogue among world leaders on global security, military, economic and environmental. Along with Friday’s discussion on climate action, Newsom is scheduled to appear at a livestreamed forum on transatlantic cooperation Saturday.

Andrew Forrest, executive chairman of the Australia-based mining company giant Fortescue, said during a panel Friday his company is proof that even the largest energy-consuming companies in the world can thrive without relying on the carbon-based fuels that have driven industries for more than a century. Fortescue, which buys diesel fuel from countries across the world, will transition to a “green grid” this decade, saving the company a billion dollars a year, he said.

“The science is absolutely clear, but so is the economics. I am, and my company Fortescue is, the industrial-grade proof that going renewable is great economics, great business, and if you desert it, then in the end, you’ll be sorted out by your shareholders or by your voters at the ballot box,” Forrest said.

Newsom said California has also shown the world what can be done with innovative government policies that embrace electric vehicles and the transition to a non-carbon-based economy, and continues to do so despite the attacks and regressive mandates being imposed by the Trump administration.

“This is about economic prosperity and competitiveness, and that’s why I’m so infuriated with what Donald Trump has done,” Newsom said. “Remember, Tesla exists for one reason — California’s regulatory market, which created the incentives and the structure and the certainty that allowed Elon Musk and others to invest and build that capacity. We are not walking away from that.”

California has led the nation in the push toward EVs. For more than 50 years, the state enjoyed unique authority from the EPA to set stricter tailpipe emission standards than the federal government, considered critical to the state’s efforts to address its notorious smog and air-quality issues. The authority, which the Trump administration has moved to rescind, was also the basis for California’s plan to ban the sale of new gasoline-powered cars by 2035.

The administration again targeted electric vehicles in its announcement on Thursday.

“The forced transition to electric vehicles is eliminated,” Zeldin said. “No longer will automakers be pressured to shift their fleets toward electric vehicles, vehicles that are still sitting unsold on dealer lots all across America.”

But the efforts to shut down the energy transition may be too little, too late, said Hannah Safford, former director of transportation and resilience at the White House Climate Policy Office under the Biden administration.

“Electric cars make more economic sense for people, more models are becoming available, and the administration can’t necessarily stop that from happening,” said Safford, who is now associate director for climate and environment at the Federation of American Scientists.

Still, some automakers and trade groups supported the EPA’s decision, as did fossil fuel industry groups and those geared toward free markets and regulatory reform. Among them were the Independent Petroleum Assn. of America, which praised the administration for its “efforts to reform and streamline regulations governing greenhouse gas emissions.”

Ford, which has invested in electric vehicles and recently completed a prototype of a $30,000 electric truck, said in a statement to The Times that it appreciated EPA’s move “to address the imbalance between current emissions standards and consumer choice.”

Toyota, meanwhile, deferred to a statement from Alliance for Automotive Innovation president John Bozzella, who said similarly that “automotive emissions regulations finalized in the previous administration are extremely challenging for automakers to achieve given the current marketplace demand for EVs.”

These days, almost every cultural or news event seems fleeting. But there’s one thing that feels nearly as momentous as it did 20 years ago: the Super Bowl.

From a personal point of view, I can say that despite basically divesting myself from football (I haven’t watched a non-Super Bowl NFL game in well over a decade, and haven’t played fantasy football for just as long), I still participate in what has become, essentially, a national holiday. Maybe that’s just it: In the ideologically fractured world of 2026, there’s something to be said for having at least one relatively universal experience.

In any case, such a uniquely shared media event inevitably reflects the cultural milieu of the moment. That’s why, for a while now, I’ve been tracking how many of the commercials that air during each year’s Super Bowl have some relation to the environmental issues that I’ve been covering for most of my career as a journalist. I started this project when I was an editor at Time magazine, and thought it merited revisiting this year. Here’s what I found.

During Super Bowl LX on Sunday, there were just two commercials that focused in a meaningful way on products that would advance a transition to a fossil-fuel-free economy. One was for the 2026 Jeep Cherokee Hybrid. The other was for a Chinese supercar made by a vacuum-cleaner company.

It wasn’t long ago that domestic manufacturers were marketing a future based on electric vehicles of all shapes and sizes. During the 2022 Super Bowl, the second year of Joe Biden’s presidency, seven different ads focused specifically on existing and new EV models. Those were in some ways the halcyon days of American EV manufacturing, following the passage of the Biden administration’s Inflation Reduction Act, which, in part, offered a $7,500 tax credit to anyone who bought a new electric car.

The second Trump administration quickly put an end to that; the credit was nixed as of Sept. 30 last year. That was just one of many moves Trump has made since retaking office to anesthetize the United States’ nascent green economy. Over the last year, the Trump administration has tried to shut down offshore wind energy projects while demanding the growth of the coal industry; reversed key policies that previously established legal precedent for the public health impact of greenhouse gases; and generally tried to undermine efforts by many states, California especially, to establish and regulate policies meant to make their infrastructure less dependent on fossil fuels.

So it’s no surprise that in 2026, the second year of Trump’s second presidency, there was just one Super Bowl ad for a domestically produced green product — and it wasn’t even entirely green. Indeed, it reflects a recent trend across the U.S.: Since the federal clean-vehicle tax credits expired in September, sales of purely electric vehicles have plummeted, while those of hybrids have continued to grow, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration.

Tellingly, four different companies — Cadillac, Toyota, Volkswagen and Chevrolet — had ads that showed an EV but didn’t mention it. It’s become more something to hide than to promote.

Then there’s the one other green-energy ad this year, which, honestly, you could quibble with categorizing it as “green.” It’s a reportedly $10-million spot for an electric sports car, theoretically to be made by the Chinese company Dreame, which to date has primarily produced robotic vacuum cleaners. I say theoretical because it seems somewhat unlikely that an outfit that made its nut building knockoff Roombas will be selling an electric super car anytime soon. (As of writing, Dreame has not responded to emailed questions.)

Nevertheless, it is indicative of another trend: Tesla is down; BYD is up. U.S. car companies like Ford can’t seem to figure out how to transition to a gas-less (or, at least, less gas-forward) future, while many Chinese firms, some without any automotive heritage, such as the consumer-tech company Xiomai, are already driving laps around U.S. and European competitors in what is clearly the race for the future of global car-manufacturing dominance.

In 2025, more than half the cars made in China were EVs. And China is working to power those electric cars with renewable energy, while the U.S. is largely swimming against the tide. In 2025, China installed an estimated 315 gigawatts of solar and 119 gigawatts of wind capacity; the U.S. added an estimated 60 gigawatts of solar and 7 gigawatts of wind capacity in the same time.

Green tech doesn’t seem to have much cultural currency right now in the U.S., at least based on the Super Bowl ad lineup. What does, though, is artificial intelligence. There were at least eight different Super Bowl commercials for AI products, and many more that obviously used AI in their production.

Even setting aside the many intellectual-property and ethical issues they raise, there’s the reality that these AI tools rely on data centers that, in turn, require a huge amount of energy to operate — energy that should, ideally, be coming more and more from renewable sources.

Maybe it’s not all that sexy to advertise solar panels or wind turbines — but it also wasn’t that long ago that a pitch about talking to your hand-held computer to help with your scheduling would have seemed pretty lame.

More in climate and culture

One more thing about the Super Bowl: In this pretty cool video, Pearl Marvell, an editor at Yale Climate Connections, broke down the climate change references in Bad Bunny’s halftime performance.

In other sports+climate news, my colleague Kevin Baxter, reporting from Italy, wrote about the impact climate change is having on this — and future — Winter Olympics. The bottom line: Athletes are going to have to expect less fresh powder, and deal with more dangerous, icy conditions.

Last sports-related story of the week: My former colleague Sammy Roth recently wrote a nice profile of Jacquie Pierri, who plays for the Italian women’s hockey team and moonlights as a sustainable-energy engineer and climate activist. Italy plays the U.S. in the quarterfinals on Friday.

On a different note, on the podcast Zero, Akshat Rathi this week interviewed composer Julia Wolfe about how she uses classical music to work through, and communicate, her feelings about the climate crisis.

A couple of last things in climate news this week

California created a program meant to encourage the development of electric semi-trucks. But, as my colleague Tony Briscoe reported a few days ago, Tesla took advantage of it, claiming most of the money while failing to deliver and essentially bullying smaller manufacturers out of the space.

The Trump administration has indicated that it plans this week to rescind the so-called endangerment finding, a policy establishing the fact that greenhouse gases endanger public health, and that essentially acts as the legal underpinning for many climate regulations passed in recent years. Stay tuned — our reporters will have more on this as the story develops.

This is the latest edition of Boiling Point, a newsletter about climate change and the environment in the American West. Sign up here to get it in your inbox. And listen to our Boiling Point podcast here.

February’s first weekend produced a flurry of gestures that were quickly read as progress. A deeply flawed amnesty law was approved in the first round without even being seen, high-profile prisoners were released after months of disappearance, and the tone of official politics softened, at least on the surface. What emerged, however, was not a clearer transition but a clearer struggle over authorship, over who gets to define what this process is, and what it is allowed to become.

What the weekend revealed is that Venezuela’s transition is not being negotiated in a single place or under a single logic. It is being contested simultaneously across different arenas, each operating on its own incentives, timelines, and definitions of success.

The least visible of these battles is unfolding inside the governing coalition itself. Here, the question is not democracy versus repression but something more technical, and more cynical, how much openness can be performed without relinquishing control over coercion, adjudication, and resources.

Seen from this angle, the weekend’s choreography makes sense. Political prisoners were not simply released, their freedom was folded into a legislative ritual authored by the same political actors responsible for their detention, complete with announced deadlines, speeches heavy with the language of forgiveness, and even calls for applause. This was not the state binding itself, but an attempt to convert discretion into legitimacy.

Political prisoners in Venezuela could have been freed at any moment by executive decision. By embedding their release in a process the government controls, the regime preserved its core advantage, the ability to decide not just when to give, but what the giving means. The Guanipa episode made that logic explicit. A release could function as a signal, and its reversal or legal redefinition could function as discipline. Freedom, in this model, is not a right restored but a condition granted. Arbitrariness is not eliminated, it is rebranded.

If political prisoners are released into silence, surveillance, or renewed legal jeopardy, as we have already seen, then the transition exists largely on paper.

The later revelation that the families Jorge Rodríguez met outside Zona 7 were staged only reinforces the point. Real families introduce uncertainty, anger, memory, demands that do not respect sequencing. Staged ones deliver predictability and allow reconciliation to be performed rather than negotiated. That choice suggests a lack of confidence. A government secure in its legitimacy would not need to simulate social consent at the moment consent matters most.

A second battle is unfolding far from Caracas, inside Washington. It is not a fight over tactics so much as over objectives.

Recent reporting and congressional testimony suggest growing tension over what the Venezuela file is supposed to deliver. Is the goal stabilization, the appearance of calm streets, predictable governance, reduced migration pressure, reopened markets, or is it a democratic transition, with all the uncertainty and volatility that implies.

Those two goals are often rhetorically conflated. In practice, they can diverge.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s testimony is revealing here. By emphasizing that the United States will pay attention not only to the release of political prisoners but to how they are treated after, whether they return to political life, whether they speak freely, whether they are harassed or re-detained, Rubio shifted the metric from gestures to behavior over time. That distinction matters. Releasing prisoners is a signal, allowing them to act politically afterwards is a concession.

The regime’s strategy appears aimed at satisfying the former while containing the latter. Speed becomes an asset. If the appearance of a transition advances quickly enough, attention fades, diplomatic costs accumulate, and renewed pressure begins to look disruptive rather than principled.

But stabilization without a genuine transfer of political authority is a fragile equilibrium. It depends on discretionary power remaining benevolent, conditional freedoms remaining honored, and social legitimacy remaining dormant. The events of this weekend, reversible releases, staged consent, selective recognition, suggest none of those conditions can be safely assumed.

This is where the US debate becomes consequential. A Venezuela that is calmer but still politically closed begins to resemble not a democratic transition but a familiar Pinochet-style authoritarian compromise, technocratic opening, crony capitalism, and political repression wrapped in legal form. Whether that outcome is treated as acceptable stabilization or failed transition remains an open question in Washington.

A transition conducted under regime terms prioritizes closure over accountability and order over pluralism. One conducted under society’s terms is slower, messier, and harder to manage, but it is also the only path to durable stability.

The third battle is the most visible and the most familiar. It is the struggle inside Venezuela itself over whether this moment produces a real political opening or merely a rearrangement of control.

Here, the opposition’s internal divide matters. One faction, already seated in the National Assembly, is pursuing legitimacy from the top down. Its wager is that institutional participation, procedural wins, and international recognition will eventually cascade downward to society.

Another current rests on the opposite theory, that legitimacy flows from society upward, and that institutions rebuilt without social consent remain hollow. It is no accident that this current is not attacked head-on but bracketed out of the official narrative. It is easier to exclude than to incorporate.

The treatment of released prisoners will be the clearest test of which logic prevails. If those freed are able to speak, organize, and contest power without fear, then something real is shifting. If they are released into silence, surveillance, or renewed legal jeopardy, as we have already seen, then the transition exists largely on paper.

What the February weekend demonstrated is not that Venezuela is transitioning, but that the fight over who gets to define that transition has intensified.

Inside chavismo, the battle is over how much can be conceded without surrender. In Washington, it is over whether stability is an acceptable substitute for democracy. Inside Venezuela, it is over whether political life will be genuinely reopened or carefully contained.

These battles are related, but they are not the same. They may not even resolve on the same timeline.

A transition conducted under regime terms prioritizes closure over accountability and order over pluralism. One conducted under society’s terms is slower, messier, and harder to manage, but it is also the only path to durable stability. The events of this weekend, far from settling that question, have made it unavoidable.

Feb. 4 (UPI) — The United States has sent a warship to Port Au Prince, Haiti, ahead of the Haitian government’s transition to new leadership on Saturday.

The USS Stockdale arrived off the coast of Haiti on Tuesday, U.S. Southern Command said on X. It joins two U.S. Coast Guard ships already in place: the USCGC Stone and USCGC Diligence.

“Their presence reflects the United States’ unwavering commitment to Haiti’s security, stability and brighter future,” U.S. Southern Command said in a post.

On Saturday, Haiti’s Transitional Presidential Council’s mandate is scheduled to end, giving way to the installation of new elected leaders. However, it remains unclear who the country’s new leaders will be as a president has not been elected.

Discussions continue over what is next for Haiti after the council voted to oust Prime Minister Alix Didier Fils-Aime last week. Three of the five council members were then sanctioned by the United States over attempting to remove Fils-Aime.

Antoine Rodon Bien-Aimé, former member of Haiti’s Lower House of Deputies, said in an interview that all members of the council must step down. The council has agreed with some members explicitly saying they will step down, though other members have continued to be involved in discussions about the government transition.

The council has been in place since 2024 to lead the country until a new president is elected. Haiti is set to hold elections in the summer but gang violence threatens the process.

“Their time is up. They did not give results,” Bien-Aimé said. “They did not respect their accord, what they signed. They have to leave. This is why we were present and will be present to continue to ask for their departure.”