Transition

After more than three years behind bars, José Ignacio Moreno Suárez said he walked out of El Rodeo I prison last Friday with nothing to his name. “I have no house. These are my clothes; this is what I have left after three years. They took everything from me, everything I have,” he told reporter Maryorin Méndez at the prison gates, gesturing at what he was wearing. Moreno Suárez, the legal representative in Venezuela for Canadian miner Gold Reserve, was arrested in June 2023 for defending the company’s international arbitration claim for over $1 billion in expropriated assets. He was freed in the first round of political prisoner releases since the beginning of the US-brokered talks between the Rodríguez government and the opposition. 

Although we know no further details about Moreno Suárez’s case, we do know that it is one of many cases of this kind of systematic punishment against political prisoners and dissident figures. While the Rodríguez-Figuera table gets to boast about the releases, the regime has yet to answer for the houses and personal property it raided or seized from dozens of political figures and their relatives. Among them is Dinorah Figuera herself, president of the Delegate Commission in the ongoing negotiations with chavismo. As they begin releasing prisoners and readmitting exiles to take part in the talks, the question remains about whether these negotiations will give any of the houses back.

Charity in a stolen home

In May, chavista officials gathered in Los Palos Grandes to inaugurate the Casa de los Abuelos y Abuelas Indio Chacao, a new branch of the Gran Misión Abuelas y Abuelos de la Patria program for the elderly. Footage of the opening (and backlash against it) spread quickly, as the building they chose was once the family home of Lilian Tintori and Leopoldo López, the exiled founder of Voluntad Popular and once-popular opposition leader.

Back in March, Tintori had reported that authorities took over the house, emptied it of their belongings and started demolishing parts of it. The raid happened after López said in an interview that he supported the US military operation that captured Maduro and Cilia Flores.

“They took my house from me for assuming the presidency of the 2015 National Assembly,” Dinorah Figuera said recently.

The day after the inauguration, López answered with a video walking through what was done to his house. “This is the house where my children grew up, where we hold the memory of our family, the photos, the sheets, the furniture, the toys. This is the house where I spent a year and a half under arrest,” he said. The video, originally posted on May 30 to Leopoldo López’s account in collaboration with Voluntad Popular, was deleted this week. Tintori had already reported, in March, that the home was looted and structurally damaged, with personal objects removed, interior walls knocked down, and even the family’s pets disappeared. 

López clarified that he was not against this kind of assistance program, as he inaugurated similar centers during his time as mayor of Chacao. He condemned, however, that Rodríguez’s administration is now presenting this action as an ‘act of justice’ when, in his view, it represents a message of intimidation. “Recovering democracy also means recovering every citizen’s right to live, work, and return home in freedom and safety”, López wrote in his post.

House by house

Magalli Meda, campaign chief for María Corina Machado, had her family home raided in May 2025, days after she escaped from the Argentine embassy where she sheltered for over a year. Agents returned in February 2026, tagging the property “secured” and “seized.” GNB agents had raided Meda’s mother’s apartment in May 2025, stealing her car in the process. Machado’s personal assistant, Laura Acosta, also saw her main residence taken by force in March 2025, and formally confiscated a year later.

Those close to Antonio Ledezma— the former Caracas metropolitan mayor— lost multiple properties. In 2023, the National Anti-Corruption Police of Venezuela (PNCC) raided the Santa Rosa de Lima apartment he shared with his wife Mitzy Capriles, where Ledezma had lived under house arrest from 2015 until 2017, when he escaped the country. Neighbors told Ledezma that hooded men with long guns forced the lock, entered, and carried off boxes of his belongings. They left a sign on the door that read clausurado, sealed. Ledezma’s father-in-law’s vacation home in Naiguatá had already been seized before then. His stepdaughter Isabel González Capriles and her husband, former Chávez minister Andrés Izarra, were forcibly removed from their Quinta Los Gnomos in Caraballeda in 2020 and given a 15-day notice to remove their belongings. Three years later, the head of the DGCIM, Iván Hernández Dala, celebrated his wedding at the confiscated property. 

Diego Arria, the former governor, minister and UN ambassador during the Carlos Andrés Pérez administrations, faced two expropriations back in 2010 under Chávez’s guerra al latifundio policies: his Hacienda La Carolina in Yaracuy and Finca Los Azahares in Carabobo. Julio Borges’s home was raided in 2018 over his alleged link to the drone attack on Maduro, which stripped him of parliamentary immunity. Bony Pertiñez, wife of the jailed police commissioner Iván Simonovis, lost her home in 2019 through a precautionary seizure issued by a terrorism court and executed by the SEBIN.

But confiscations and raids are not confined to the country’s household-name dissidents. 

Former presidential candidate Enrique Márquez described the same process: “The police arrested me leaving my house, took my keys, and went in. They took my computer and personal effects… They stole money, kitchen appliances, clothes, paintings. They left us bankrupt.” When approached for an update on the state of the stolen goods, Márquez told Caracas Chronicles those belongings were never returned. 

And then there’s Dinorah Figuera, the opposition’s co-chair at the current negotiating table. In January 2023, the DGCIM raided her home and that of Auristela Vásquez, second vice president of the 2015 National Assembly. “At this moment my home in Los Rosales, Caracas, is being raided. Regime security agents, continuing their strategy of State terrorism, are adding one more act to their long list of human rights violations”, she tweeted. In June, Figuera confirmed she returned to Venezuela “having been stripped of a home” in an interview with Luis Olavarrieta: “They took my house from me for assuming the presidency of the 2015 National Assembly,” she recalled when asked about those who consider her a divisive figure within the opposition.

But confiscations and raids are not confined to the country’s household-name dissidents. 

José Breijo was a Uruguayan-Venezuelan former hotel manager held in Tocuyito Prison for two years on a terrorism charge. His alleged crime was taking a picture of a flag in an office where he believed Islamist groups met. The detention drew little attention until this May: after being granted house arrest, a photo of Breijo lying on a mattress at the entrance of his home started circulating on social media. One of the officers who arrested him had moved a family in. “It’s a very common police practice,” Breijo said. “They pick you up on the street, ask you a lot of questions, and if they realize you live alone, they send you to prison and take your house.” Unable to occupy the house the court ordered him to remain in, he risked being sent back to prison for failing to comply. He slept in the hallway for three days until, after several human rights organizations and activists denounced the situation, State authorities opened the doors to his house and handed José the keys. He passed away this month in that same apartment, at 71.

Even some chavistas were stripped of their property once their loyalties faded. Raúl Baduel was the general behind Chávez’s return to power after the 2002 coup, and then became his Minister of Defence in 2006. After breaking with Chávez the following year over proposed constitutional reforms, he was arrested in 2009, convicted on corruption charges and stripped of all his material goods. Baduel insisted the charges were pushed as a tool for political persecution. More recently, Tareck El Aissami, Simón Zerpa, and Samark López were deprived of their property because of their involvement in the PDVSA-crypto case of 2023.

The laws laundering the theft

Article 116 of the Venezuelan Constitution forbids confiscation, permitting it only by final judicial sentence and against those convicted of crimes against public property or enrichment through illicit trafficking. Still, the State built itself loopholes by declaring statutes to route around that protection.

Officers invoked one of three laws for the seizures (at least, whenever a legal basis was provided at all). The Organized Crime and Terrorism Financing Law, passed under Chávez in 2012, is used to target exiles: Article 58 allows a court to move from “preventive seizure” to permanent forfeiture after a year if the owner is deemed to have “abandoned” the property. On the other hand, the 2024 Libertator Law “against the imperial blockade” explicitly authorizes the confiscation of assets as a criminal penalty against anyone who supports or requests international sanctions against Venezuela.

The 2023 Asset Forfeiture Law (Ley de Extinción de Dominio) was born out of Maduro’s anti-corruption purge of El Aissami. The chavista National Assembly issued it to “establish mechanisms to identify, locate, and recover assets tied to illicit activity.” The law was first applied in February 2025 against an alleged corruption network within PDVSA, when a single court gave roughly 400 assets belonging to more than 100 people over to the State. The 462-page ruling never established when the alleged crimes took place, and inverted the presumption of innocence by forcing the accused to prove their assets were clean.

The US-sponsored negotiations are advanced by an opposition cohort of mostly exiles who have been permitted to return to take part in the talks, premised on “reconciliation” and on “verifiable” steps toward a restored democracy. While Figuera can now re-enter the country whose legitimate Assembly she once led, the properties seized from her circle have not been restored.

Restitution is a direct measure of whether “reconciliation” means anything concrete or is simply another buzzword to back transactions that leave the regime’s loot intact. A transition pushed by the US to partially restore investor confidence cannot leave the confiscations unaddressed. Doing so would ratify the theft and reward those behind the seizures with fresh capital. If the Trump administration intends to sell this process as a genuine opening, it must be prepared to say whether the property the regime took will be given back.

For the first time in years, Venezuela is discussing institutional change as something more concrete than an opposition demand. The talks between the two National Assemblies have embraced the problem of the Supreme Tribunal of Justice (TSJ), with the electoral authority next in line. New magistrates, new CNE rectors, new elections: after decades of institutional capture, replacing the people who run these bodies is obviously necessary.

The danger is believing it will be enough.

Venezuela has spent the last quarter of century demonstrating that its democratic decline cannot be reduced to bad people occupying important offices. Chavismo did not merely place loyalists inside the State. It gradually transformed the relationships between institutions so that political power could survive electoral setbacks.

The clearest example came after 2015. When the opposition won a two-thirds majority in the National Assembly, chavismo did not accept that voters had changed the institutional balance of the country. The TSJ then progressively neutralized the newly elected Assembly. When that was no longer enough, the government created a Constituent Assembly capable of bypassing it altogether.

This adaptability matters for the transition now being negotiated.

Chavismo’s institutional principle has never really been presidentialism. It has been simpler: power should remain wherever chavismo remains.

Venezuela is extraordinarily centralized, and there is good reason to believe that no political project can govern effectively without controlling the presidency. But it would be a mistake to assume that the presidency will remain as powerful after chavismo loses it as it was while chavismo controlled the rest of the State.

A democratic president facing a chavista supermajority in the National Assembly and a hostile Supreme Court could discover rather quickly that Venezuela’s supposedly omnipotent presidency is considerably less omnipotent than advertised.

Chavismo’s institutional principle has never really been presidentialism. It has been simpler: power should remain wherever chavismo remains. That is why replacing the people at the top of Venezuela’s institutions is only the beginning of reinstitutionalization.

We have tried this before

The CNE should make us particularly cautious.

In 2021, Roberto Picón and Enrique Márquez joined an electoral board that was widely regarded as the most balanced Venezuela had seen in years. Both pushed for meaningful improvements, and international observers recognized that the new composition produced a better electoral environment than the one that preceded it. The Carter Center described the board as “less unbalanced,” while still documenting structural problems surrounding electoral competition.

The episode demonstrated the limits of solving institutional problems through personnel alone. An election is not defined solely by what five CNE rectors do on election night. It also depends on who can register to vote, which candidates can run, whether parties can organize, how public resources are used, what media can report, what security forces do, and which court ultimately resolves a dispute.

Barinas provided the almost perfect illustration. After the 2021 gubernatorial election, the TSJ intervened while the vote was still being resolved, invoked a political disqualification against the opposition candidate and ordered the election repeated. Picón and Márquez publicly dissented. The independent rectors were there. The larger machinery around them remained capable of overruling the political meaning of the vote.

A good rector can behave honorably inside a bad system. The same is true of judges.

“Non-repetition” cannot mean guaranteeing that chavismo disappears from Venezuelan politics.

Replacing the current Supreme Court with independent jurists would be an enormous democratic achievement. Even so, courts lack enforcement mechanisms for a reason, meaning that the armed forces or the police could ignore their rulings, or that, as chavismo has already done, the president du jour could resort to the military court system. But Venezuela should also be asking whether a future court should retain all the powers that chavismo accumulated and exploited through it.

Otherwise, the transition risks producing institutions that are safe only for as long as good people control them.

That is not institutional reform. It is institutional trust.

And democracies are supposed to require less of it.

Political scientist Guillermo O’Donnell made this distinction precisely when he wrote about the weakness of “horizontal accountability” in Latin American democracies. Elections determine who governs, but democracy also requires institutions capable of restraining those winners once they do. A president who receives millions of votes is still bound by courts, legislatures, and rules that do not derive their legitimacy from his personal mandate.

Venezuela inverted that principle. Institutions increasingly became instruments for preserving whoever already controlled them. Changing their occupants without changing that logic would leave the central vulnerability untouched.

What non-repetition actually means

This is where the transition needs a more demanding definition of success. “Non-repetition” cannot mean guaranteeing that chavismo disappears from Venezuelan politics.

A democratic Venezuela should permit a chavista party to reorganize, contest elections and, if voters choose it again someday, return to government. Democracy cannot mean competitive elections until the people we dislike win one.

Nor does democratic consolidation require Venezuela to eliminate every trace of authoritarian nostalgia. Spain still contains defenders of Franco. Chile still contains defenders of Pinochet. Their democratic success is not that those political traditions vanished, but that political competition became overwhelmingly organized around institutions that survived changes of government.

Nicaragua, on the other hand, demonstrates what happens when that consolidation remains incomplete.

The Sandinistas lost the 1990 election and surrendered the presidency. Daniel Ortega remained in politics, competed repeatedly, and eventually returned through elections in 2006. This democratic failure was certainly exacerbated when Nicaragua’s institutions proved unable to stop Ortega from progressively dismantling the democratic constraints that had made his return possible in the first place. Research on Nicaragua’s backsliding traces how electoral rules, courts and other institutions were gradually eroded on the road back to authoritarianism.

If judicial independence depends on always selecting virtuous magistrates, the judiciary has not been fixed.

That is the warning Venezuela should take seriously.

Non-repetition does not mean ensuring that Venezuelans never again elect someone with authoritarian instincts. It means building institutions capable of surviving when they do. And that standard has an uncomfortable implication for whoever eventually replaces chavismo.

The next democratic government should not ask only which powers it needs in order to govern. It should ask whether it would be comfortable leaving those same powers to its worst political adversary. That is the test that should apply to the new TSJ, the new CNE and eventually every institution rebuilt during the transition.

If electoral integrity depends on always appointing five excellent rectors, the electoral system has not been fixed. If judicial independence depends on always selecting virtuous magistrates, the judiciary has not been fixed. If the survival of democracy depends on trusting whoever occupies Miraflores, Venezuela has learned very little from the last twenty-five years.

The current negotiations can replace officials. They can make credible elections possible again. They can remove some of the people who converted public institutions into instruments of political control. All of that is necessary. But Venezuela’s democratic challenge will not be solved by transferring those instruments to new hands. 

The institutions being negotiated today should be designed not merely to produce the next democratic government, but to survive the next authoritarian one. Otherwise, Venezuela may succeed in changing who holds power without changing what power allows them to do.

For years, the day in Kulak ended when the generator powered down. Like thousands of villages across Iraq, this small farming community in the semi-autonomous Kurdistan region lived to the faltering rhythm of an erratic power supply: a few hours of electricity, then the water pumps stopped, refrigerators warmed and children put down their books.

Today, Kulak runs on the sun. Solar panels harness its energy, batteries store the excess and residents have power 24/7. The change is visible beyond the homes: water pumps keep running, and cold storage gives farmers more control over when they sell their harvest.

This is the part of the energy transition the global climate conversation too often overlooks. Solar hardware is cheap; the world has learned how to install it. What matters is what comes after the panels go up: building the local capacity to keep the systems running and using reliable power to support farms, livelihoods and communities.

The energy transition will not be won in conference halls. It will be won, or lost, in places like Kulak.

Iraq’s rural energy crisis

Iraq’s energy story is usually told as a paradox. It is one of the world’s great oil producers, yet rural communities still endure daily power cuts. Summers now regularly push past 50 degrees, and the United Nations ranks Iraq among the nations most vulnerable to climate change. Drought has emptied farmland. Heat has made whole regions harder to live in. Rural families face a quiet, grinding choice between staying on land that can no longer sustain them or joining the drift towards overcrowded cities.

These pressures do not respect provincial boundaries. They are shared across Iraq, from the marshes of the south to the mountains of the north. They demand responses that work for the whole country.

For remote communities, decentralised power should not simply be treated as a stopgap while they wait for the grid. It can be part of the long-term answer.

Beyond electrification

Kulak is one of five villages in the Kurdistan region electrified through a solar initiative that pairs new infrastructure with local training and agricultural development. Residents are trained to operate and maintain their own systems, while research is under way into how reliable power can support local production.

Energy is treated not as a gift to be received but as an asset to be managed. That means looking beyond electricity itself to what it can enable: cold storage that allows farmers to hold their harvest for better prices, irrigation that no longer depends on diesel and processing that adds value before crops ever leave the village.

That distinction matters, because the graveyard of development is full of well-intentioned infrastructure. Anyone who has worked in this field has seen the solar array gathering dust because no one was trained to fix an inverter, or the water project abandoned when the foreign NGO moved on.

Sustainability is not a slogan; it is a design choice. Building local capability into a project from day one is the difference between a photo opportunity and a future.

Building the transition from the ground up

There is a broader argument here for the climate movement.

The energy transition is overwhelmingly narrated from the top down: through COP plenaries, G7 communiques and the financing pledges of wealthy nations, many of them unmet. Yet for hundreds of millions of people in the Global South, the transition will arrive, if it arrives at all, through decentralised solutions built close to the ground.

Rural Iraq will not wait decades for grid expansion to reach every valley. It does not have to. Distributed solar suits these communities better than centralised generation ever did, while local institutions can move at a speed that multilateral programmes rarely match.

There is also a quieter point about who gets to act on climate.

The prevailing image of climate action in the Middle East is the megaproject: vast desert solar farms, futuristic cities and sovereign wealth funds. Those have their place. But electrifying farming villages one by one represents a different kind of ambition, one rooted in the belief that Iraqis themselves, in all their diversity, can build the country’s energy future rather than wait for it to be delivered.

Local involvement matters particularly in places where reliable electricity is tied not only to household comfort but to whether farms can irrigate crops, preserve produce and remain economically viable.

Iraq has thousands of rural communities, and scaling this model will require partners, patient financing and supportive policy at every level of government. The agricultural research is promising but young.

On my last visit to Kulak, I was struck less by the panels than by what surrounded them: the cold store, the working pumps, the sense of a community planning for next season rather than next month.

The lights staying on is the least of it. What has really been switched on is the future tense.

If Iraq’s energy transformation is built like this across the whole country, village by village and from the ground up, it will be more durable than anything imposed from above. That means investing not only in the systems themselves, but in the people who will maintain them and the farms, businesses and livelihoods that reliable power can support.

The world’s climate diplomats could do worse than pay attention.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

El Chigüire Bipolar, our award-winning equivalent of The Onion, recently ran a headline that nicely captures the domestic fatigue surrounding the months-old rhetoric of the secretary of state: Marco Rubio anuncia que ya ahora sí, de pana, de panita, pronto viene la transición. That translates roughly to: “Rubio announces that now it’s time for the transition to happen soon, this time for sure, for real, I swear.”

It was four days after a military intervention toppled Maduro that Marco Rubio first spoke of the famous three-phase that US diplomats and officials love to quote. He later laid out his expectations for the process currently unfolding. We summarized his comments from the January 28 Senate hearing:

Rubio was reluctant to provide a precise timeline for the current arrangement between Venezuelan authorities and the US. The Trump administration wants to see rapid progress, he suggested. And in five months, the situation must be different (…) In the long term, the US wants Venezuela to have a democratically elected government (…)  Rubio said he wants María Corina to be part of the transition and to be able to run for election eventually.

Fast forward to July, and the messaging from out from the White House has become increasingly unnerving to many. We’ve published plenty of stuff that describes the Rodríguez regime’s response to the disaster (ultimately sluggish and dwarfed by the efforts of ordinary people and foreign rescuers) and Delcy’s inability to deploy the Venezuelan military in a meaningful way.

One must not overestimate the influence of the Secretary of State. Rubio is part of the Trump administration, and he cannot break with the president’s overarching goals.

The gringos, however, are adamant that the chavista elite has been fully compliant with aid efforts. Chief of Mission John Barrett expressed strong confidence in local authorities soon after the quakes. A picture of him amicably grabbing the arm of Diosdado Cabello before a team of US rescuers drew social media outage. So did another of Cabello sharing a laugh with a US general, garnering headlines about the Americans’ willingness to work closely with an alleged narco-terrorist.

Rubio’s priorities in the Venezuela portfolio

In the Trump government, one can identify three figures or groups that have stood out for their distinct talking points and approaches to the country.

There is Donald Trump himself, who seems exhilarated whenever he mentions Delcy Rodríguez and the oil riches the US is extracting there without transparency or accountability. The US president is still eager to use Venezuela to advance his domestic agenda; he recently invoked a CIA report on potential electronic fraud in Venezuelan voting machines, a move perhaps meant to cast doubt on election integrity in US states using that technology.

Then you have a network of whisperers and operatives around Trump, which includes both administration officials and external figures, that intend to covertly influence the Venezuela portfolio behind the scenes, sometimes attempting to lobby through journalists and social media. From the outside, the likes of Laura Loomer and Harry Sargeant featured in 2025. In the White House, one figure that doesn’t talk much but is definitely part of the “Venezuela core” is political advisor Stephen Miller, as he reluctantly admitted last week. JD Vance, a likely candidate in the next presidential race, represents the isolationist faction of the administration. And there’s Rubio, who many Venezuelans and the Machado-led opposition perceive as their ally.

Rubio remains the only relevant US official who consistently discusses the purported goals of democratization and institutional reconstruction. He is also the leading figure in the Venezuela dossier, and we believe he genuinely wants to put an end to chavista rule once and for all. His record as an anti-chavista (and anti-Castro) hawk is widely known but, as this Substack post points out, he’s had to seek a middle ground between a regime-change strategy and the Ric Grenell-backed normalization agenda revealed in 2025. A week ago, Rubio welcomed the “reconciliation and transition talks” that a Rodríguez-led delegation and a Machado-less opposition group agreed to begin on August 1. He said the US will be “very engaged” in this process, while suggesting it will operate independently. It clearly won’t. The talks are happening because the State Department is sponsoring them. Which, as it happens, is not bad news at all.

Neither Edmundo González nor Dinorah Figuera possessed significant political capital until a major player backed them. Both, too, are likely easy to guide and control.

Still, one must not overestimate the influence of the Secretary of State. Rubio is part of the Trump administration, and he cannot break with the president’s overarching goals.

One of Rubio’s main goals here is to keep the situation stable. If the recent off-the-record skirmishes with María Corina Machado were to escalate into open conflict between the opposition leader and Trump, framing the Venezuela portfolio as a foreign policy success would become far more difficult. As a Secretary of State, Rubio has become accustomed to defending Trump’s rhetoric and actions in a professional and composed tone while reassuring allied figures and governments in private (including some whom the president has publicly humiliated). This same dynamic likely governs his approach to Machado, whom Rubio insists can play a role in the transition even as Trump continues to shun her.

Machado, who has recently challenged Washington, cannot afford to break with her sole reliable, long-time ally in the US government, Rubio, if she wants to avoid a damaging fallout. Rubio, meanwhile, can’t break with Trump either if he hopes to run for president in 2028, given Trump’s grip on the Republican Party and the MAGA voter base. Rubio would probably like to engineer elections in Venezuela in a way that maximizes his political credit. With the Republican presidential primaries scheduled for the first half of 2028, showing off Venezuelan elections as a personal triumph while the GOP selects its nominee would require those elections to take place in late 2027 or early 2028.

Washington’s proxy

Rubio wants to control this process through Dinorah Figuera and a group of former opposition lawmakers from Primero Justicia and Voluntad Popular, the parties who backed the creation of the Comisión Delegada Figuera presides. To Washington, Figuera represents what Edmundo González was to Machado in the 2024 election: a figure with enough legitimacy who was admitted as a competitor by the chavista-controlled institutions. Just as the opposition leader needed an opposition proxy to stand in for her when she was banned from running, Rubio needs a Venezuelan politician coming from the 2015 National Assembly to claim that negotiations for democracy and reconciliation are Venezuelan-led. Neither González nor Figuera possessed significant political capital until a major player backed them. Both, too, are likely easy to guide and control.

Much like the president-elect, Figuera has shown little political ambition beyond serving as a viable, cooperative figure under these circumstances (much as González did after the Maduro regime disqualified dozens of potential opposition candidates). Figuera has described herself as “an instrument” of the reinstitutionalization and democratization process. She hopes to guarantee the participation of political parties and Machado, whom she acknowledges as the opposition’s leader but notes that she holds “a different vision.”

We expect the Rodríguez-Figuera talks to make progress before the end of 2026.

The upcoming talks will be like nothing we have ever seen, in terms of the US operating as an all-powerful actor wielding immense coercive capacity and veto power. The members of the opposition delegation, whose full roster is not yet public, are expected to serve more as liaisons in constant communication with the Department of State and Trump administration personnel, than as fully-empowered negotiators over the major issues at stake.

Figuera claims this process should lead to a trustworthy CNE and a reformed Supreme Court with new magistrates across its entire structure—not just the chamber overseeing elections. Repressive statutes passed in the Maduro era, used to seize the assets of the regime’s opponents or to punish citizens under the chavista definition of hate speech, are expected to be revoked too. 

With the Delcy regime unable to make progress on multiple fronts and definitely after the government’s lame emergency response, her position before the United States seems weaker as we approach the end of the year. Our latest Political Risk Report quotes Rodríguez government sources suggesting the Trump administration wants to accelerate political developments in Venezuela ahead of the November midterms, so its ventures in Caracas can be framed as a clearer success.

We expect the Rodríguez-Figuera talks to make progress before the end of 2026. Whether that progress will translate into preparations for a new presidential election, as Machado and most Venezuelans would hope, remains to be seen

We know from statements issued by the 2015 National Assembly Delegated Commission, the 2026 National Assembly, and the State Department that August 1 was set as the launching date of a roadmap leading to a political transition in Venezuela.

The incentives for the various actors to accelerate or delay this political negotiation process are clear. The Venezuelan interim government (as the State Department statement refers to it) will have an interest in delaying the process as much as possible to prolong its time in power and preserve the current state of affairs. For the 2015 National Assembly Delegated Commission, it offers a window of opportunity to gain relevance and demonstrate its ability to accelerate the agenda that Dinorah Figuera announced before any other actor. The Trump administration will want this process to proceed at a pace that does not jeopardize its control of the country until the elections (and perhaps even after). It is in María Corina Machado’s best interest for the situation to develop in a way that allows her to gain control and create the conditions for her to be the opposition candidate in the upcoming presidential elections.

Other, less prominent actors will try to influence the process. We have already seen AD leader Henry Ramos Allup trying to position himself, for example, to defend Machado’s participation, as did Henrique Capriles, and other voices will surely emerge along those lines in the coming days. Those aspiring to a new National Assembly and new elections for governorships and mayoralties will certainly also try to influence the process.

But let’s turn to the most relevant conversation, with just under two weeks until August 1: what could be the institutional path to achieving this political transition through free elections?

A new National Electoral Council (CNE)

Since the elections are administered by the National Electoral Council, it would seem that the first step should be, precisely, to elect a new CNE board.

Choosing a reliable one could be the first challenge. What has been offered previously is insufficient: a majority of three or four people close to or allied with the government and one or two “independents” or those close to the opposition. A board is needed that complies with Article 296 of the Constitution, composed of “five people not affiliated with political organizations.”

This CNE must begin with an essential task: the purging and updating of the Permanent Electoral Registry. It is crucial that Venezuelans abroad be allowed to vote and that the necessary logistical and diplomatic conditions be established to make this possible.

A new Supreme Court

Under the Venezuelan constitutional system, the decisions of the CNE can be subject to judicial review by the Supreme Court of Justice (TSJ). Directly by the Electoral Chamber. Indirectly by the Constitutional Chamber.

Therefore, the appointment of new justices to both the Electoral Chamber and the Constitutional Chamber is necessary at the outset of this process. Article 263 of the Constitution clearly outlines the requirements for becoming a Supreme Court Justice. In May of this year, the Supreme Court Law was amended to increase the number of justices from 20 to 32. The Constitutional Chamber (the most important chamber) is composed of seven justices. This increase means that 12 new justices must be elected. Furthermore, a significant number of the current 20 justices are of retirement age.

This, as with the CNE, is debated and decided in the National Assembly, whose majority is controlled by Jorge Rodríguez. It would have to be a decision by chavismo, or the result of a political rupture, for the political rights of the non-government-controlled population to be considered both when electing CNE board members and when appointing Supreme Court justices. This relates to the next point.

Restoring civil and political rights

For several years, Venezuela’s main political parties and actors were subjected to confiscation and persecution through various administrative measures, such as those issued by the Comptroller General of the Republic to disqualify candidates, and even judicial measures to replace the boards of directors of opposition parties like COPEI, Primero Justicia, and Acción Democrática. It is essential to compile a report detailing all these measures and establish an action plan to reverse them, allowing political parties and leaders to operate and return to Venezuela.

Then, reforms must be made to those laws and administrative regulations that, long before January 3rd, restricted freedom of expression and the conditions for holding elections, such as the Constitutional Law Against Hatred, the Simón Bolívar Law, and the Law of the Comptroller General of the Republic. The same must be done with respect to the resolutions of the CNE that have restricted political and civic participation in the electoral processes. Furthermore, cases where it has been argued that the 2026 Amnesty Law is inapplicable, such as that of María Corina Machado, must be reviewed.

Given that the incentives of the actors in this process are not and will not be aligned, as shown above, it is crucial to immediately establish timelines for the phases of the process, beginning August 1. This will allow us to gauge the level of commitment among the parties to move forward with the transition.

There are certainly conditions attached to this process that are not public, and that will shape its phases and pace. However, we must begin a public conversation about ideas for addressing this crucial phase of political life starting August 1.

European vacation rentals have entered a bizarre era where there’s more municipal red tape than luxury.

The romantic idea of escaping to a restored Tuscan farmhouse or a modernist villa overlooking the French Riviera, perhaps with a glass of local wine in hand while watching the sunset over olive groves that have stood for centuries, has run straight into the cold reality of the European Union’s fight against carbon.

How does that reconcile with holidayers who expect 3m pools heated to an exact temperature? Whole-house air conditioning? Double-door refrigerators? Massive panoramic windows?

We don’t know, but we do know that local councils are staring down energy grids that are already stressed to their absolute limits. Sustainability isn’t just a case of putting a small wooden sign in the bathroom asking guests to reuse their towels anymore.

WTTC Initiatives and the Corporate Push for Greener Stays

The World Travel & Tourism Council has spent the last few years trying to bring about that reconciliation. A massive partnership with the United Nations Environment Programme is pushing circular economy guidelines down the throats of major hospitality operators, hoping that global standards will somehow trick independent luxury property managers into compliance. It sounds great on paper. The industry wants independent certification schemes to look uniform across borders, because global corporations hate dealing with twenty different regional rules when they could just tick a single corporate checkbox instead.

For property managers, it’s trickle-down bureaucracy at its finest. You can’t just call a rental “eco-friendly” anymore because you bought organic cotton sheets, left a bottle of locally sourced olive oil on the kitchen counter, installed a Nest thermostat, and planted some lavender in the garden. The standards are tightening.

The WTTC is pushing for genuine data transparency, which means tracking actual water stewardship metrics, managing real-time grid feedback loops, auditing supply chains, and proving carbon offsets. It’s an administrative headache for anyone who just wanted to rent out a luxury apartment while drinking espresso on a private terrace.

With sustainability metrics becoming a core driver of soft power and local tourism compliance across European markets, consumer-facing tech platforms are reacting by categorizing eco-certified accommodations. Advanced search ecosystems such as Villa Picker are facilitating this transition, allowing travelers to filter properties by energy efficiency standards and regional sustainability benchmarks without sacrificing premium amenities.

Balancing High-End Amenities with Low-Impact Operations

This leaves high-end property operators in a tricky bind. Holidayers don’t want a lecture on carbon footprints when they’re paying thousands of euro a night and retrofitting a centuries-old villa with triple glazing, thick cavity wall insulation, solar roof tiles, and ground-source heat pumps is an architectural nightmare that costs a fortune.

Operators are forced to play a complicated game of smoke and mirrors with smart home technology. They’re installing automated sensors that kill the climate control the second a guest steps outside, investing in invisible greywater recycling systems, choosing low-flow rainfall showerheads that disguise water conservation as a spa experience, and buying electric vehicle charging stations that look sleek next to a rented sports car. It’s a delicate compromise. If Europe’s green transition succeeds, it’ll be because the luxury rental market figured out how to hide the machinery of sustainability behind a velvet curtain of premium comfort.

This July 14th appears to be one of the key days in the political process that Venezuela has been experiencing since January 3rd. Early in the morning, the 2015 National Assembly announced a joint work agenda starting August 1st “as a roadmap to promote stability, democracy, and national recovery.”

When Gabriela Jaquez checked into Friday’s game against the Sparks, it was so familiar. The aura of the arena, the cheers from her friends and family.

But it was actually Jaquez’s first time playing on that court. Growing up in Camarillo, she spent her childhood watching Lakers and Sparks games, as she said, “back when it was Staples Center.”

At Crypto.com Arena, though, she was a professional. Months after winning a national title with UCLA, Jaquez was facing her hometown WNBA squad as a member of the Chicago Sky.

“All the legends that have played here, all the games that I have attended here,” she said ahead of Friday’s game. “I’m just like, I walked out there, I told Jacy [Sheldon,] my teammate, that I was like, ‘This is so crazy.’ Like I’m just playing in here. I’ve watched so many games.”

In her first WNBA season, Jaquez has averaged 23 minutes, 8.7 points, 3.9 rebounds and 1.2 assists per game. She has started 15 games, but came off the bench Friday when she scored a team-leading 15 points with five rebounds and shot six for 12 in front of what she said was two suites full of friends and family.

Jaquez was the Sky’s first-round selection at fifth overall a week after she helped the Bruins to their national title. She was one of six UCLA players taken in that draft and five in the first round, setting a WNBA record for a single program.

“It’s a very quick transition,” Jaquez said. “I don’t think you can fully prepare for that transition just because I don’t think there’s anything like it. But I did know that it was going to be quick and it was going to be fast, but I just try to stay grateful through it all.”

Sparks coach Lynne Roberts faced Jaquez in the Pac-12 while Roberts was at Utah and nearly recruited Jaquez to join the Utes many years ago.

The Chicago Sky’s Gabriela Jaquez drives to the basket under pressure from the Wings’ Azzi Fudd on Sunday in Dallas.

(Sam Hodde / Getty Images)

“[UCLA coach] Cori [Close] and I were joking the other day,” Roberts said. “I was close [with Jaquez] and she just kept saying, ‘Well, I’m just waiting to see what UCLA does.’ So I was texting Cori, like, ‘Would you please cut her loose or offer her?’ I’ve always been a big fan of hers. But I think all those guys, they learned how to play with other stars. I think that’s a key in being a WNBA player. You’ve got to learn you’re not the one anymore. And I think at UCLA with that roster they had, they all had to learn how to, you know, sacrifice something to get the ultimate goal. So they’re coming in as team players.”

Close did not cut Jaquez loose and she went on to become a hometown hero with the Bruins. After three solid seasons, Jaquez became a much stronger scoring threat as a senior, shooting a career-high 53.9% with 13.5 points per game during the NCAA title-winning season.

Already established as a strong rebounder and defender, adding that offensive element raised her draft stock year-over-year higher than any other prospect.

“There’s so much to learn coming into this league,” Jaquez said. “I don’t know if I could really name one [thing], but it’s just a lot of games. That’s kind of like the main one that comes to my mind is just the amount of games that you’re playing.”

UCLA Bruins Angela Dugalic, Kiki Rice, Gianna Kneepkens, Lauren Betts and Gabriela Jaquez pose at the WNBA draft. All five were selected in the first round of the draft.

(Angelina Katsanis / Getty Images)

The seniors and graduate students on the 2025-26 UCLA national championship team remain close. Jaquez has faced off against former teammates Charlisse Leger-Walker, Gianna Kneepkens and Kiki Rice.

“We still keep that senior group chat alive, just kind of updating each other,” Jaquez said. “Obviously, when we play each other I’ll text, ‘I’m coming into town,’ or they’ll text me and we always can get dinner the night before, and so that’s always super special. Especially me being in a new state [and] a new city, as I’ve been in Southern California my whole life until now, it’s great to see familiar faces and I’m really grateful that I could catch up with my [former] teammates.”

Roch Cholowsky headlines Bruins in MLB draft

No. 1 MLB draft pick Roch Cholowsky throws a ceremonial first pitch before the White Sox played the Athletics in Chicago on Sunday.

(Nam Y. Huh / Ap Photo/nam Y. Huh)

After an elite UCLA career, Roch Cholowsky was drafted by the Chicago White Sox with the No. 1 overall pick Saturday.

He became the third Bruin to be selected No. 1, joining Gerrit Cole (2011) and Chris Chambliss (1970).

On Monday, MLB.com reported Cholowsky passed his physical and is set to receive a record-setting signing bonus of $10.35 million. The White Sox have not yet announced the deal.

Cholowsky’s bonus tops the $9.3 million bonuses the Reds gave Chase Burns and the Rockies gave Charlie Condon in 2024, according to MLB.com.

Cholowsky said he was thrilled to be drafted by Chicago, where he enjoyed pre-draft meetings with team officials and mingled in the clubhouse of a team that entered the All-Star break leading the AL Central.

“It really felt like to me like a college clubhouse,” Cholowsky told the Associated Press. “It’s just a different feel in there.”

Cholowsky was one of 10 Bruins selected in the MLB draft.

Logan Reddemann (No. 38, Colorado Rockies), Mulivai Levu (No. 70, Cincinnati Reds) and Roman Martin (No. 111, Athletics) joined Cholowsky getting selected on the first day of the draft.

Bruins Cal Randall (No. 146, St. Louis Cardinals), Will Gasparino (No. 161, Philadelphia Phillies), Dean West (No. 222, Toronto Blue Jays), Cashel Dugger (No. 256, Washington Nationals), Michael Barnett (No. 587, Minnesota Twins) and Justin Lee (No. 609, Philadelphia Phillies) were drafted on the second day.

Walt Hazzard to be inducted into Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame

UCLA’s Walt Hazzard carries the NCAA national championship trophy as the team arrives at LAX in 1964.

(Harold Matosian / Associated Press)

Former UCLA player and coach Walt Hazzard will be inducted into the National Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame, a selection committee announced Monday.

Hazzard, who died in 2011 at the age of 69, was a senior co-captain on the 1963-64 UCLA basketball team that won the first national title in the program’s history and posted a 30-0 record. He averaged a career-best 18.6 points for the title-winning team, earning most outstanding playerhonors at the Final Four. He also won national player of the year honors.

The 6-foot-2 point guard who grew up in Philadelphia won an Olympic gold medal in 1964 and was a two-time All-American under the direction of Bruins coach John Wooden.

Hazzard went on to coach at Compton College, Chapman and UCLA, leading the Bruins to an NIT title and Pac-10 regular season tournament titles during his four seasons leading the program. His Hall of Fame induction, however, is solely based on his performance as a player.

The 2026 induction class was selected by a committee comprised of college basketball leaders from around the country. The National Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame is administered by the National Assn. of Basketball Coaches Foundation.

In case you missed it

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‘I want to have fun with it.’ Katelyn Ohashi chasing joyful L.A. Olympic dream at 29

UCLA basketball lands highly touted Serbian small forward Nikola Kusturica

UCLA Unlocked: Former Bruin Jordin Canada is enjoying a Dream season

Have something Bruin?

Do you have a comment or something you’d like to see in a future UCLA newsletter? Email newsletters editor Houston Mitchell at houston.mitchell@latimes.com. To get this newsletter in your inbox, click here.

Six months after Nicolás Maduro’s military removal by US forces, the political situation in Venezuela can be summarized very schematically.

Under the 1999 Constitution, on July 3, Maduro’s absence became absolute. Under this assumption, Article 233 of the Constitution states that presidential elections must be held within 30 consecutive days following July 3. Meanwhile, Delcy Rodríguez remains as acting president, filling Maduro’s absolute absence.

The elections would be the final part of the third phase of the plan that Trump administration officials and Marco Rubio in particular often mention.

However, we know that elections will not be held in the short term, as there is a consensus that a new National Electoral Council (CNE) and conditions of electoral integrity are necessary. That is because, in theory, the first two phases outlined by the US government—stabilization and recovery—should first be completed.

So, how can the Venezuelan opposition push for free elections someday?

To do so, Venezuelans must first determine who within the Venezuelan opposition should lead the charge.

Naturally, it would be María Corina Machado. However, there is evidence that the Trump administration does not want her to be that lead person. I am not saying the White House does not want Machado to be a presidential candidate, but that everything seems to suggest that the Trump administration does not want her to lead the process toward those elections. Which is a different matter.

No political actor can achieve anything significant without the support, or at least the acquiescence, of the US.

Therefore, if the US government does not want Machado to lead the political process that will lead us to free elections, who is the US government backing? It has only given two indications so far.

One, somewhat farcical even in terms of US foreign policy, was that Trump invited Enrique Márquez, a satellite political leader, to the State of the Union address. It was a message to say that the US president does not want Machado leading the process that would lead to free elections.

The other was the return of Dinorah Figuera, president of the 2015 National Assembly Delegated Commission, to Venezuela, at the invitation of the US, where she was received at the airport by US embassy personnel. Upon arrival, Figuera met with Chargé d’Affaires John Barrett and National Assembly president Jorge Rodríguez. In this way, the Trump administration emphasized its vision of who would be the opposition’s interlocutor.

Finally, after the earthquakes, there was a third, even clearer message: to disavow Machado’s trip to Venezuela.

At this point, it is worth remembering that at this moment in Venezuelan political history, no political actor can achieve anything significant without the support, or at least the acquiescence, of the US. Like it or not, the result of the January 3rd operation is that we find ourselves under a tutelage of both the regime and the opposition.

Given this reality, where should we push for the Venezuelan transition?

The 2015 National Assembly, with US support, could dedicate itself to building the electoral roadmap together with the 2026 National Assembly.

If the Trump administration doesn’t want Machado to lead the process toward free elections, and the last clear signal it sent was to involve the 2015 National Assembly, perhaps that’s the path we should follow.

From what we understand, the idea of ​​involving the 2015 National Assembly, through 6 or 12 of its members, is to work with the 2026 National Assembly to build an institutional roadmap leading to elections, specifically the appointment of a new board for the CNE, and perhaps the formation of a new Supreme Court of Justice (TSJ).

It is known that this option generates deep distrust in Machado, who attempted to thwart it, apparently unsuccessfully, with the Panama Manifesto, in which she declared, among other things, that she should lead the negotiations with the interim regime. However, it seems that if a definitive break with the Trump administration is not desired, Machado and the 2015 National Assembly should reach agreements.

The first could be that the 2015 National Assembly, with the support of the US government, dedicates itself to building the electoral roadmap together with the 2026 National Assembly. Naturally, Machado’s opinion would be taken into account at all times. This should lead to the appointment of a new CNE board and a new TSJ. Then, the electoral legislation and administrative regulations would have to be reformed to create conditions that allow for truly free elections. Machado’s opinion would also be taken into account at all times.

Finally, a primary election could be held within the opposition, allowing opposition voters to express their views. It is likely that Machado will be re-elected as the opposition candidate. This way would open an acceptable option for those who control this process: an electoral path around the 2015 and 2026 National Assembly elections, and then presidential elections in which, predictably, María Corina Machado will win.