Washington’s announcement hit like a thunderclap. In a single sentence, the United States crossed a line many believed unthinkable. Crowds cheered. Crowds cursed. Markets panicked. In Caracas, people stared at flickering TVs, trying to understand who ruled them now—if anyone did. Behind closed doors, generals, oil executives, and presidents made choices that could not be unm
The capture of Nicolás Maduro and the abrupt declaration of US interim control have turned Venezuela into a brutal mirror for the twenty-first century. Washington calls it law enforcement on a grand scale, a necessary move to dismantle a criminal regime and stabilize a collapsing state. But each drone strike, each televised raid on secret police compounds, and each new decree from Washington deepens the unease: where does emergency protection end and open-ended occupation begin? The language of liberation now shares a border with the imagery of conquest.
Inside Venezuela, streets once silenced by fear now echo with competing chants. Some Venezuelans dare to hope this is the end of hunger, blackout nights, and whispered disappearances. Others see only a foreign power rearranging the furniture of their misery. Regional governments, torn between legal norms and energy dependence, issue cautious statements and covert deals. When the dust settles, history will ask a single, unforgiving question: did this intervention build a sovereign democracy—or just repaint the walls of someone else’s empire?