Arrested once again in Venezuela under opaque circumstances, Alex Saab has returned to the center of a story that mirrors the trajectory of the Bolivarian Revolution itself: improvisation elevated to doctrine, secrecy mistaken for loyalty, and survival turned into a political art form. Once portrayed as a heroic victim of U.S. persecution and a loyal servant of the state, the Colombian businessman now finds himself abandoned by the very system he helped sustain, with the prospect of extradition to the United States looming once more.
Saab, born in Barranquilla 54 years ago to a family of Lebanese textile merchants, was never meant to be a public figure. For years he operated quietly, almost anonymously, accumulating debts, dabbling in small ventures, and cultivating relationships rather than ideology. Yet, as recounted in an extensive investigation originally published by El Pais, his ascent was as rapid as it was improbable. Within a few years, he would become the most trusted financial operator of Nicolás Maduro’s government, a man summoned whenever Venezuela ran out of milk, fuel, cash, or options.
Journalist Gerardo Reyes, director of Univision’s investigative unit and author of a book on Saab’s life, describes him as a “super minister” without a title. Saab did not simply execute contracts; he designed solutions. When sanctions choked Venezuela’s access to foreign currency, he devised mechanisms to sell gold abroad, often flying personally to Turkey or chartering planes to keep the system running. When food shortages threatened social stability, he managed imports through opaque networks of shell companies. His power lay in being indispensable and invisible at the same time.
That invisibility began to erode in November 2011, when Saab appeared at Miraflores Palace signing a housing agreement in front of Hugo Chávez, then visibly weakened by cancer, alongside Foreign Minister Nicolás Maduro and Colombian President Juan Manuel Santos. At the time, Saab was so unknown that Santos later admitted he whispered to his foreign minister, asking who the man was. The moment marked the beginning of Saab’s formal integration into the Venezuelan state, even if he never truly belonged to it.
Key figures facilitated his rise. Former Colombian senator Piedad Córdoba, who enjoyed privileged access to Chávez, opened the doors of the presidential palace. Lawyer Abelardo de la Espriella, now a far-right political figure in Colombia, acted as his advisor and confidant. With their backing, Saab navigated the murky waters of Chavismo, expanding from construction into food imports, medicine, gold trading, and eventually oil. Washington estimates his profits exceeded one billion dollars.
For the United States Treasury, Saab was never merely a contractor. He was identified as Maduro’s principal front man, a conclusion echoed by Luisa Ortega Díaz, Venezuela’s former attorney general, who fled the country in 2017 after denouncing corruption at the highest levels. Saab’s defenders insisted he was only a housing contractor, but investigative journalists from Armando Info traced him to the Hong Kong-based companies supplying CLAP food boxes, many of which contained expired or substandard products.
When Armando Info published its findings, Saab struck back. Lawsuits followed, journalists were forced into exile, and Venezuela’s telecommunications regulator blocked the outlet. His power was no longer just financial; it was coercive. As Roberto Deniz of Armando Info has argued, Saab became a central piece in the judicial puzzle linking corruption, sanctions evasion, and the Maduro family itself.
His arrest in June 2020 in Cape Verde transformed him into a symbol. Detained during a refueling stop while traveling from Tehran to Caracas, Saab was accused of money laundering and sanctioned by multiple countries. Caracas responded by declaring him a diplomat, granting him Venezuelan citizenship, and launching a national campaign for his release. Graffiti filled the streets, foundations were created in his name, and he was recast as a hostage of imperial aggression.
After his extradition to Miami in 2021, Saab spent less than two years in U.S. custody before being released in late 2023 as part of a prisoner exchange negotiated under the Barbados Agreements, which also eased oil sanctions. Returning to Caracas, he addressed the nation in a subdued voice, expressing pride in serving Venezuela and its government. He was rewarded with a cabinet post, first overseeing imports and exports, then heading the Ministry of National Industry and Production.
But the triumph was brief. Following the arrest of oil minister Tareck El Aissami in a corruption scandal tied to crude sales, Saab’s circle began to collapse. El Aissami and Saab’s closest associate, Álvaro Pulido, were detained. In January, Saab himself was dismissed by interim president Delcy Rodríguez, who vaguely suggested he would assume new responsibilities. Days later, he was arrested.
Unlike before, there was no campaign, no murals, no hashtags. The silence was telling. As El Pais notes, the new leadership showed little interest in defending a man who had become more liability than asset. Saab, once indispensable, now seemed expendable.
Yet his story resists closure. As Reyes observes, Saab is a professional survivor. Each time his downfall appears inevitable, he resurfaces, adapting to new circumstances. Whether this arrest marks the definitive end of his influence or merely another chapter in his improbable saga remains uncertain. What is clear is that his rise and fall offer a rare, intimate portrait of how power truly functions in Venezuela: through improvisation, loyalty bought with necessity, and men who operate best in the shadows until the light becomes unavoidable.
