Venezuela This Time Is Different

Reaching July 28 was a titanic task. I confess that, after having lived through many of the cycles of these more than two decades of struggle against chavismo on the front lines, my expectations were very low a few months ago.

WHAT CHANGED MY MOOD?

During the electoral campaign, we witnessed a growing civil and popular movement. Despite repression, arrests, abuse through raids, business closures, and confiscation of work equipment, humble Venezuelans steadfastly supported Venezuela's democratic leader, María Corina Machado, and filled the atmosphere with hope—something unimaginable in a society that had already fallen into a certain political apathy.

I emphasize humble people because, unlike previous movements led by organized civil society, students, parties, or federations, this time the reality of the country pushed the most dispossessed to take the lead in this libertarian cause. That signal, that fear had disappeared, opened up an interesting scenario.

It was the empanada vendors, the breakfast sellers, the fishermen steering canoes, the motorcycle couriers, the truck drivers, the sound technicians; they were the victims of dictator Maduro for daring to support the alternative, the change, the hope of reuniting with their families.

A DIFFERENT DAY

Chavistas and opposition members, despite years of changes, had the habit in these electoral events of following certain repetitive patterns. On this occasion, those observing tried, mistakenly, to interpret what was happening based on past statistics, and they were nervous. I'm referring to analysts from democratic sectors.

Lines to vote began the night before July 28, and no, it wasn't just to vote first; they knew that if the poll workers didn't show up, those first in line would take that position and, with it, the opportunity to ensure the voting process was properly monitored and the count facilitated. Chavismo tried to react, but how do you do that when you have no people? That's why they desperately delayed the opening of polling stations, disqualified witness credentials, or, in more severe cases, resorted to violence.

But Venezuela didn't back down on any front. At the police academy, students rejected being forced to vote for Maduro and demanded respect for the secrecy of the vote. In the designated voting centers, soldiers cast their ballots in a 3 to 1 ratio in favor of Edmundo González. And generally, regardless of class, state, or municipality, exit polls showed an overwhelming lead for Edmundo over Maduro, even in the polling stations that were once Chavismo strongholds.

That advantage in votes effectively nullified the electoral bias, the previous persecution, the impossibility of registering new voters, the relocation of voting centers, the establishment of single-table polling stations in inaccessible areas; all of that paled in comparison to an inevitable truth: the majority demanded change, as represented by Edmundo González and María Corina Machado.

Maduro and his tentacles within the electoral system knew what was happening, confident that the order not to provide copies of the tally sheets to witnesses would cover their contingency plan to steal the will of the people by force. María Corina hadn't yet shown her cards, allowing rumors to spread that she had access to only 30% of the tally sheets, to avoid a crackdown on polling centers. But the reality was that a powerful network of witnesses, and even the collaboration of some soldiers in the voting centers, ensured that thousands of tally sheets proving the decision Venezuela made on July 28 were delivered.

THE THEFT

It's not the first time the dictatorship has stolen an electoral process, but this time, nothing they had prepared could justify such a blatant theft. The few observers they allowed in, the soldiers stationed at the polling centers, the people who accompanied the closing of the voting tables—they all knew the result: Maduro was defeated.

Without any shame, and in a predictable move (that's what he was placed there for), Elvis Amoroso announced results that were far, very far from the reality experienced that day. Their numbers are a detail with impossible calculations that summed up to 130% in total, and they declared Maduro the winner. "My word against theirs," I thought, and thus Venezuela felt and lived a certain grief in the early morning hours.

THE AWAKENING

At dawn, the cities were engulfed in deep silence, deserted streets, devoid of celebration; it was a gesture in the form of a question: who celebrates you, Nicolás? By mid-morning, the banging of pots and pans echoed thunderously; many people said, "Is it the same thing all over again?" But no, it wasn't about reliving the past; it was an authentic reaction that this time emerged from the deepest parts of Caracas, and from there, where the sound rumbled, human rivers overflowed streets and alleys: in Petare, La Vega, El Valle, 23 de Enero, Catia, the hills came down. The humble people, those who long to see their children return, those who yearn to live in united families.

And then Maduro issued his first order: repress. But the police and soldiers deployed are sons, brothers, fathers, and those people out there are their neighbors, their families. So Maduro resorted to using his groups of thugs with the DGCIM at the helm, and to protect Miraflores with his mercenaries who serve as his guards, bullets against the people. To bathe in innocent blood once again.

But amid the repression and violence unleashed by Maduro, fulfilling his promise of a bloodbath, María Corina presented herself to the country and showed the tally sheets. "We have the results, Venezuela. We won."

WHAT COMES NEXT?

Maduro continues to impose an agenda of terror, attempting to subdue, through violence, the Venezuela that voted against him and in favor of change. The military elite tries to make it seem as if Maduro has enough support to remain in power, but this is a web of lies. The deep base of society no longer supports Maduro, and in the same proportion, neither does the military base. Perhaps generals and colonels, used as armed prostitutes, pretend to impose their agenda. But what about the captain, the lieutenant, the sergeant, who sees how his family is tortured, how they are separated from their loved ones, how their country is destroyed?

Their strategy is based on intimidation and exercising horror to instill fear. But what happens when the struggle is existential? The pain of sacrifice is not a strong enough reason to stop fighting, and that is becoming evident.

A civil war in Venezuela is unlikely; Maduro doesn't have civilians as a base of support. A social explosion, however, is possible, and the "tun tun" with which they intend to subdue the people is already turning into a "tic tac." If Maduro doesn't seek a negotiated exit, when the pressure cooker reaches its limit, it will explode, and with it, any chance of a peaceful resolution will evaporate, sealing his fate to popular justice, which, when it decides, gives no second chances.

Free Venezuela

Julio César Rivas