“Before, I was afraid of the Sebin, and now I don’t know whether I have to be afraid of the CIA.” The remark, made by an opposition lawmaker in Caracas, captures the central paradox described by EL PAÍS in its reporting on Venezuela’s new political reality. After years in which fear of the Venezuelan state shaped public speech, a different form of caution is emerging around the power of Washington.
The phrase is deliberately exaggerated, the newspaper notes, but it reflects a concern that is being expressed by people across Venezuela’s political, journalistic, business and human-rights circles. According to EL PAÍS, the influence of the United States and its backing for the government of Delcy Rodríguez have left many people uncertain about how far they can challenge policies associated with Washington.
The concerns extend beyond political disagreement. Those interviewed by the newspaper describe fears involving visas, project funding and professional exclusion. A Venezuelan human-rights defender living in exile told EL PAÍS that there was “panic” about publishing anything critical of the United States, while claiming that the fear of speaking openly had spread even into private meetings. The source also alleged that the US embassy was compiling files on people who had criticised what they regarded as American tutelage and had sought to discourage protests at its premises.
These allegations form part of a dramatic political transformation. According to the account published by EL PAÍS, Venezuela has been under what it describes as the forced tutelage of Washington since 3 January, when US forces captured Nicolás Maduro. Delcy Rodríguez, previously Maduro’s vice-president, subsequently assumed power with the backing of Donald Trump.
The new political arrangement has brought changes that some Venezuelans had hoped for, including greater freedom, some progress towards redemocratisation, major oil agreements and greater international opening. Yet the political outcome has also defied expectations. Rather than accelerating the end of Chavism, Trump chose to maintain Rodríguez in power and strengthen her position.
That has created a difficult calculation for those who oppose the Venezuelan government. According to EL PAÍS, criticism of a decision taken by Rodríguez can increasingly be interpreted as criticism of Washington itself. Criticism of the US role, meanwhile, may carry its own consequences, including what sources described as discreet interventions by the US embassy or direct warnings to influential critics.
The political opposition has therefore been forced to reconsider its language. The newspaper cites María Corina Machado as one example. When addressing the controversial oil agreement between the United States and Venezuela, Machado questioned who had the authority to negotiate the country’s resources and raised questions about the agreement’s scope, financing, guarantees and benefits for Venezuelans. Her criticism, however, was directed at the legitimacy of Rodríguez’s government rather than at Washington.
The dilemma is not confined to the opposition. A lawmaker quoted by EL PAÍS asked whether the relationship between Venezuela and the United States should be described as “tutelage” or a “partnership”. He argued that opponents of Chavism needed to reconsider how they framed their political message, suggesting that an anti-Trump left had little electoral space and that criticism would instead have to be articulated through a social-left framework.
Business leaders are also described as increasingly cautious. After years in which economic actors were reluctant to speak publicly, the events of 3 January initially appeared to create a new sense of freedom. Yet, according to EL PAÍS, many business figures remain unwilling to criticise the United States openly.
The concerns are practical. One business source told the newspaper that people feared being excluded from decision-making, losing opportunities or encountering problems with visas. A source from the oil sector questioned why Venezuelans remained subject to restrictive visa arrangements despite the growing economic relationship between the two countries, describing Venezuela as an “appendage” of the United States with many obligations and few rights.
The same tension has appeared within the human-rights movement. According to EL PAÍS, when relatives of political prisoners planned a vigil outside the US embassy, diplomatic officials contacted several committees and asked them not to participate. The episode reportedly divided the movement, with some of the best-known activists from previous years withdrawing while others assumed leadership of subsequent demonstrations.
The US government disputes the broader allegations. A spokesperson for the State Department told EL PAÍS that the newspaper’s anonymous sources were wrong and said the department, including the US embassy in Caracas, was focused exclusively on advancing a three-phase plan for Venezuela involving stabilisation, economic recovery, reconciliation and democratic transition. The spokesperson pointed to the return of Venezuelans previously in exile, releases of political prisoners, commercial agreements expected to inject billions of dollars into the Venezuelan economy and recently announced measures to expand press freedom.
Yet the human-rights activists interviewed by EL PAÍS describe a different calculation. One said the movement was “absolutely self-censored” for three reasons: maintaining communication channels with US authorities, protecting access to visas and avoiding the loss of financial support. The activist summarised the change with an ironic phrase, saying Venezuela had replaced the “bozal de arepa” — the metaphorical muzzle associated with Chavista censorship — with the “bozal de hamburguesa”.
Journalists face a similar dilemma. Venezuela’s media environment carries the legacy of years of exile, media closures, imprisonment and censorship. EL PAÍS reports that almost 200 internet domains, most belonging to media organisations, remain blocked in the country, although the number had only recently begun to decline amid the opening associated with Rodríguez’s government. One Venezuelan journalist in exile told the newspaper that she had not seen such strong levels of self-censorship for a long time.
The contradictions extend to Venezuelans outside the country. Trump has spoken of Venezuela as the 51st state, while the country remains subject to US economic sanctions and partial entry restrictions. Venezuelans who fled the country have also faced deportation from the United States, including a group sent to Liberia in August.
Henrique Capriles was identified by EL PAÍS as the only politician to have publicly criticised the treatment of Venezuelans in the United States. He described the situation affecting Venezuelans in Doral, Florida, as unacceptable and argued that opposition figures should speak when necessary rather than simply avoid confrontation with Washington.
The tensions are also affecting the image of the United States itself. EL PAÍS reported that an internal media-reaction message from the US embassy was mistakenly sent to a WhatsApp group containing journalists. The message analysed criticism surrounding an interview with Marco Rubio and Venezuelan presenter Sergio Novelli, whose audience includes both the Venezuelan diaspora and people inside the country.
Rubio had sought to defend the controversial oil agreement, stressing that it was with the private company NABEP, associated with Alejandro Betancourt, rather than with the “regime”, while also promising free elections without specifying a date. Rubio subsequently became a trending topic, but EL PAÍS reported that between 70 and 75 percent of comments on social media were critical. Many characterised his message as “damage control” and suspected that the agreement benefited those close to power more than Venezuela itself.
For a country emerging from years of repression, the resulting contradiction is stark. The political environment described by EL PAÍS contains greater openness in some areas, but that opening has not eliminated fear. Instead, the sources interviewed by the newspaper describe a recalculation of what can safely be said, criticised or challenged.
The fear once centred overwhelmingly on the Venezuelan state. Now, according to EL PAÍS, some Venezuelans are asking whether the new political reality requires them to calculate their words around the power of the United States as well.
The question posed by the opposition lawmaker — “Now I don’t know whether I have to fear the CIA” — may be exaggerated. But in the account published by EL PAÍS, it has become a striking shorthand for a country where the old fear has not entirely disappeared and a new one is beginning to take its place.
