Why the US must push for a speedy transition to democracy in Venezuela
In the amoral political universe inhabited by Stephen Miller and Donald Trump—where democracy is appealing only insofar as it produces favorable outcomes—the transition to democracy in Venezuela, which would otherwise be a self-evident U.S. priority, remains uncertain.
Yet even by the administration’s own logic, long-term collaboration with the remnants of the post-Maduro regime appears impractical. If the president had merely wanted an authoritarian puppet to govern Venezuela, Operation Absolute Resolve would have been unnecessary. Maduro could simply have been left in place. His regime was already accepting regular deportation flights to placate Washington and had demonstrated a willingness to negotiate on a range of issues, including Venezuela’s energy sector. The Trump administration could, in fact, have lifted energy sanctions in exchange for oil concessions from Maduro.
That, however, is not the path the administration chose. Following Operation Midnight Hammer—the successful strike on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure—Trump’s Venezuela policy shifted. In the first half of 2025, the administration was divided between two factions. One favored engagement with Maduro, seeking a transactional deal encompassing energy, hostages, migration, and counternarcotics cooperation. That effort was spearheaded by special envoy Rick Grenell. The opposing faction, led by Marco Rubio, argued for regime change through tighter sanctions. At one point, it appeared that highly publicized meetings between Grenell and Maduro, an openness to deportation flights, and the release of American hostages would suffice to satisfy Trump. The decision to extend a sanctions waiver to Chevron seemed to confirm that assessment.
However, the U.S. military’s performance over Iran and the broader reorientation of American foreign policy toward the Western Hemisphere appear to have altered the administration’s calculus. Removing Maduro and supporting the opposition became both the stated and actual objective. Had the administration lacked any interest in the eventual victory of Venezuela’s democratic opposition, the CIA operation to extract María Corina Machado—allowing her to accept the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo—would have been entirely redundant.
The claim that Maduro alone was the problem, and that with his removal nothing stands in the way of cooperation with the vestiges of his regime, is more than specious. Maduro is not the sole member of the Cartel de los Soles. He is not the only Venezuelan official under U.S. indictment, nor the only sanctioned human rights abuser, nor the only ally of Russia, China, Cuba, and Iran embedded in Caracas’s political and security establishment. Eight million Venezuelans did not flee their country because of one man, but because of a Marxist-Leninist Chavista system constructed over 27 years by Maduro, his predecessor, and their loyalists.
Even if history, morality, or intellectual coherence fail to persuade the president to place the full weight of the U.S. government behind Venezuela’s legitimate president and democratic opposition, his own cruder, more transactional motives still necessitate a democratic transition.
Venezuela’s oil industry is dilapidated. Rebuilding it requires foreign investment, which in turn demands a business-friendly, stable, and predictable environment capable of supporting risky, capital-intensive projects. A post-Maduro regime guided by the same bankrupt socialist doctrine cannot provide such conditions. Expecting the individuals who destroyed Venezuela’s economy for decades—through ideological dogmatism and kleptocracy—to suddenly embrace Adam Smith is a preposterous assumption. Combating endemic corruption and restoring the rule of law are prerequisites for foreign investment, and both are inconceivable without a democratic transition.
More broadly, Venezuela requires neoliberal reforms to recover and regain its former prosperity—reforms that an unqualified, corrupt, discredited, and illegitimate socialist regime cannot deliver. María Corina Machado, by contrast, is committed to implementing a neoliberal structural reform and adjustment program. In this respect, she is a natural ally of Trump, who supported Javier Milei’s reform agenda in Argentina partly due to ideological affinity with Milei’s libertarian impulses. A similar alignment can be forged between the administration and Machado.
If the status quo persists, another wave of migration is all but inevitable. That said, given that the U.S. has effectively closed its borders, the administration’s true immigration interest lies in facilitating the repatriation of the hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans already living in the United States. The only plausible way to encourage large-scale voluntary return is to enable the emergence of a free Venezuela—one grounded in a timely democratic transition.
Moreover, there are virtually no historical precedents for forging a productive and friendly relationship with a hostile regime after the removal of its leader. If the administration seeks a genuine ally in Caracas, it would be nothing short of schizophrenic to bet on a virulently anti-American regime rather than a proudly pro-American opposition. Who is more likely to expel the FARC, the ELN, and the drug-trafficking networks operating in Venezuela: the very regime that cultivated those ties, or an opposition eager to dismantle them and expel Colombian communist guerrillas?
To reliably rewire Venezuela’s foreign policy, reboot its economy, expel transnational criminal organizations, and eliminate foreign terrorist groups, a free, democratic, and pro-American government in Caracas is a sine qua non.
The administration must recognize that without a democratic transition, a confrontation between the Venezuelan people and the regime’s machinery of repression is only weeks away. Should the United States display indifference to such repression—despite its de facto control over the country—the political repercussions at home would be severe. Moreover, Washington’s closest Latin American allies are actively urging the administration to support the opposition.
Needlessly resisting both political and diplomatic pressure to pursue the morally correct course of action—one that also aligns squarely with U.S. interests—would be nothing short of absurd.
Yet even by the administration’s own logic, long-term collaboration with the remnants of the post-Maduro regime appears impractical. If the president had merely wanted an authoritarian puppet to govern Venezuela, Operation Absolute Resolve would have been unnecessary. Maduro could simply have been left in place. His regime was already accepting regular deportation flights to placate Washington and had demonstrated a willingness to negotiate on a range of issues, including Venezuela’s energy sector. The Trump administration could, in fact, have lifted energy sanctions in exchange for oil concessions from Maduro.
That, however, is not the path the administration chose. Following Operation Midnight Hammer—the successful strike on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure—Trump’s Venezuela policy shifted. In the first half of 2025, the administration was divided between two factions. One favored engagement with Maduro, seeking a transactional deal encompassing energy, hostages, migration, and counternarcotics cooperation. That effort was spearheaded by special envoy Rick Grenell. The opposing faction, led by Marco Rubio, argued for regime change through tighter sanctions. At one point, it appeared that highly publicized meetings between Grenell and Maduro, an openness to deportation flights, and the release of American hostages would suffice to satisfy Trump. The decision to extend a sanctions waiver to Chevron seemed to confirm that assessment.
However, the U.S. military’s performance over Iran and the broader reorientation of American foreign policy toward the Western Hemisphere appear to have altered the administration’s calculus. Removing Maduro and supporting the opposition became both the stated and actual objective. Had the administration lacked any interest in the eventual victory of Venezuela’s democratic opposition, the CIA operation to extract María Corina Machado—allowing her to accept the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo—would have been entirely redundant.
The claim that Maduro alone was the problem, and that with his removal nothing stands in the way of cooperation with the vestiges of his regime, is more than specious. Maduro is not the sole member of the Cartel de los Soles. He is not the only Venezuelan official under U.S. indictment, nor the only sanctioned human rights abuser, nor the only ally of Russia, China, Cuba, and Iran embedded in Caracas’s political and security establishment. Eight million Venezuelans did not flee their country because of one man, but because of a Marxist-Leninist Chavista system constructed over 27 years by Maduro, his predecessor, and their loyalists.
Even if history, morality, or intellectual coherence fail to persuade the president to place the full weight of the U.S. government behind Venezuela’s legitimate president and democratic opposition, his own cruder, more transactional motives still necessitate a democratic transition.
Venezuela’s oil industry is dilapidated. Rebuilding it requires foreign investment, which in turn demands a business-friendly, stable, and predictable environment capable of supporting risky, capital-intensive projects. A post-Maduro regime guided by the same bankrupt socialist doctrine cannot provide such conditions. Expecting the individuals who destroyed Venezuela’s economy for decades—through ideological dogmatism and kleptocracy—to suddenly embrace Adam Smith is a preposterous assumption. Combating endemic corruption and restoring the rule of law are prerequisites for foreign investment, and both are inconceivable without a democratic transition.
More broadly, Venezuela requires neoliberal reforms to recover and regain its former prosperity—reforms that an unqualified, corrupt, discredited, and illegitimate socialist regime cannot deliver. María Corina Machado, by contrast, is committed to implementing a neoliberal structural reform and adjustment program. In this respect, she is a natural ally of Trump, who supported Javier Milei’s reform agenda in Argentina partly due to ideological affinity with Milei’s libertarian impulses. A similar alignment can be forged between the administration and Machado.
If the status quo persists, another wave of migration is all but inevitable. That said, given that the U.S. has effectively closed its borders, the administration’s true immigration interest lies in facilitating the repatriation of the hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans already living in the United States. The only plausible way to encourage large-scale voluntary return is to enable the emergence of a free Venezuela—one grounded in a timely democratic transition.
Moreover, there are virtually no historical precedents for forging a productive and friendly relationship with a hostile regime after the removal of its leader. If the administration seeks a genuine ally in Caracas, it would be nothing short of schizophrenic to bet on a virulently anti-American regime rather than a proudly pro-American opposition. Who is more likely to expel the FARC, the ELN, and the drug-trafficking networks operating in Venezuela: the very regime that cultivated those ties, or an opposition eager to dismantle them and expel Colombian communist guerrillas?
To reliably rewire Venezuela’s foreign policy, reboot its economy, expel transnational criminal organizations, and eliminate foreign terrorist groups, a free, democratic, and pro-American government in Caracas is a sine qua non.
The administration must recognize that without a democratic transition, a confrontation between the Venezuelan people and the regime’s machinery of repression is only weeks away. Should the United States display indifference to such repression—despite its de facto control over the country—the political repercussions at home would be severe. Moreover, Washington’s closest Latin American allies are actively urging the administration to support the opposition.
Needlessly resisting both political and diplomatic pressure to pursue the morally correct course of action—one that also aligns squarely with U.S. interests—would be nothing short of absurd.
