Venezuela on the brink of the unknown: Psychological warfare, isolation and a tense standoff with the US

The sudden suspension on Saturday of most international flights to Caracas, after the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) warned of the risks of flying over Venezuelan airspace, has heightened fears about a crisis of still unknown dimensions. The alert, which led airlines such as Iberia, Avianca and TAP to cancel routes, leaves Venezuela more isolated and vulnerable — another element in the U.S. strategy to oust Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro. No one dares to guess what Donald Trump’s plan is, but whatever it may be, its outcome is unlikely to be straightforward.

Tensions between the two countries are running high. The United States contines its unprecedented naval deployment in the Caribbean, while Maduro has responded by digging in, mobilizing the Bolivarian National Armed Forces and armed civilian groups. Although there are no visible signs of divisions within the military, experts warn that internal discontent could surface if the situation escalates.

Outside Venezuela — particularly among the diaspora — voices continue to insist that U.S. action could open the door to a democratic transition. Many continue to assert opposition leader Edmundo González Urrutia’s electoral victory and believe all internal avenues for removing the Maduro government have been exhausted. They place their hopes in the “peaceful transition” referenced by María Corina Machado, who is convinced that there is little popular support for the regime and that the population is too exhausted to endure a prolonged conflict.

Inside Venezuela, caution and fear prevail. The desire for change is widespread, but so is concern — especially among the elites — that violent chaos could erupt at any moment if the Armed Forces do not support a transition. At the same time, another warning is constantly repeated: do not underestimate Chavismo, a political structure spread throughout the country, with cadres trained for years in the civil–military model and capable of territorial control. People speak about the issue in hushed tones, as though naming it might precipitate further unrest. Politics, increasingly pushed out of public life, has left a vacuum filled with speculation, fear and silence.

The chicken game

The growing U.S. military presence — 20% of its naval force is deployed in the Caribbean — fuels the perception that the conflict could escalate. If he wished, Trump could strike Venezuela directly from the ships or carry out surgical missions inside the country. For now, Washington has conducted operations against vessels allegedly linked to drug trafficking, leaving more than 80 people dead in actions described as extrajudicial. For some, these are warnings; for others, simply a form of pressure.

Historian and political analyst Pedro Benítez notes that the United States has never carried out a military intervention in South America. Venezuela, he says, bears no resemblance to the places where Washington has acted in the past. “This country is not Libya or Somalia,” he says. And he highlights a particular weakness for Chavismo: it is no longer backed by the working class. “The poor are no longer with the government. In reality, Chavismo led Venezuela down this dead end,” he argues.

Political scientist Benigno Alarcón, director of the Center for Political and Government Studies at Andrés Bello Catholic University, uses the metaphor of the “chicken game” to describe this impasse: two vehicles race toward each other at full speed, waiting for the other to swerve. The car that swerves is the “chicken.” “The point of equilibrium in that game is that the one who ends up turning the steering wheel is the smaller car,” says Alarcón. In this case, he says, the pressure bearing down on Maduro’s government is “tremendous.”

But this equilibrium doesn’t necessarily have to lead to a collision. Factors such as U.S. public opinion, Venezuela’s internal situation, and the regional response will play a decisive role. Still, tensions are nearly at their highest point since 2019, when more than 50 countries recognized Juan Guaidó as interim president of Venezuela — the most significant sustained challenge to Maduro by the international community to date.

Psychological warfare and targeted strikes

For Mariano de Alba, a lawyer specializing in international law and diplomacy, the U.S. military deployment — while sustainable for a time — cannot continue indefinitely. It is a warning to the Venezuelan regime, but also a message to the world that Washington will have to consider. “Eventually, it will likely have to be scaled back to some degree,” he notes.

María Puerta Riera, a researcher at the Latin American Studies Association, agrees with this assessment. She believes that U.S. domestic politics is a key factor: “Polls are beginning to show discontent because the president is paying more attention to what is happening abroad than to what is happening at home. There is neither appetite nor justification for supporting Donald Trump in a military operation.” But she cautions that Trump’s own volatility makes any prediction difficult: “The strategy is to have no strategy. To keep the Maduro regime from knowing if there will be a clear signal. It’s psychological warfare.”

Venezuelan writer and academic Moisés Naím also thinks that a U.S. invasion of Venezuela is unlikely. But that doesn’t mean the situation would be stable: “I see targeted, surgical attacks on specific objectives as more probable, while negotiations for [the Maduro government’s] departure continue.” Within the country, he warns, the immediate risk lies with the Chavista militias: “There are many ways to advance a military intervention without actually entering [the country]. The regime doesn’t need a large number of armed individuals to cause significant damage.”

The impossible negotiation

For Mariano de Alba, a political transition in Venezuela could only open if a U.S. military operation triggered deep fractures within the various factions that keep the regime in place. A broad wave of defections — more than a sustained military offensive — would be the key to any negotiation process. But that path, he warns, is uncertain and depends largely on political developments in Washington.

Trump himself has again hinted, in his characteristically ambiguous style, at the possibility of reopening talks with Maduro, even after insisting that all channels for dialogue were closed. That latest twist — typical of his rhetoric — only adds to the confusion over what exactly the White House wants, and whether the Chavista leader would truly be willing to give up power, something his inner circle considers unlikely.

Political scientist Carmen Beatriz Fernández, speaking from Spain, highlights a point echoed by several analysts: “Maduro is willing to engage in dialogue, but not to concede anything. For Maduro, dialogue is a charade; a photo op. He is willing to talk, but not to negotiate.”

Similarly, Naím notes that all the rounds of talks in the last decade have had one clear net effect: strengthening Maduro. “Throughout these years, the political dialogue sessions have served to buy him time and stabilize his power, without him fulfilling the agreements he signs.”

Another risk, De Alba points out, lies in María Corina Machado’s strategy, which depends heavily on Trump’s decisions. Riera calls this dependency “the outsourcing of the transition,” comparing it to the period of maximum international pressure during Guaidó’s leadership, when many believed external forces would trigger an internal split.

De Alba warns that if Maduro manages to offer Washington concessions that fit U.S. interests — mass deportations, progress on counter-narcotics operations, preferential access to natural resources — it cannot be ruled out that the United States might accept a deal allowing Chavismo to stay in power in the short or medium term. In effect, it would be a transition on hold. But even that more modest scenario would require an international commitment he does not think is likely: “Building a peaceful and stable transition requires complex and far-reaching negotiations, and I don’t see the United States having the willingness or the capacity to focus on moving in that direction.”

Resist or de-escalate: Maduro’s dilemma

The extensive military deployment with which Maduro has responded masks a central dilemma. Alarcón summarizes it this way: “If Venezuela responds to an attack on U.S. soil, there is an escalation. If it doesn’t, it sends a signal of immense weakness.” Either option carries risks.

The social response promoted by Chavismo — civilian groups trained for a potential armed defense — also has its limits. “Eighty percent of the country rejects the government, compared to 20% that supports it and controls the institutions,” says Fernández. After the presidential elections of July 28, 2024, “all escape valves were closed,” and the situation shifted to a new level. A violent outcome is an implicit possibility.

Alarcón points out that Maduro’s hardcore of support stands at around 14%, and Chavismo as a whole at 25%. One extreme card would be taking action against Machado, who has been in hiding for more than a year. Over 100 members of her party are imprisoned, and others have fled. “If she disappears, hope disappears,” he says. That vacuum could unleash major political chaos.

How the conflict develops will depend largely on Venzuela’s Armed Forces. If they support a transition, the process could stabilize; if not, the situation will become even more unstable. For De Alba, the regime’s most likely reaction would not be to enter into an open conflict with the United States, but to intensify internal repression — a strategy that has allowed it to stay in power for years. “The rampant repression has generated widespread fear among the population, limiting internal coordination among those who want to restore democracy.”

Added to this is Venezuela’s deepening economic crisis, which could fuel a resistance movement with broader scope for action.

The region as spectator

The possibility of a U.S. military intervention in Venezuela is of great concern to countries in the region. Any intervention in Venezuela could destabilize several neighboring nations. For historian Pedro Benítez, it would be a particularly hard blow for Brazil and Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, whose government has spent years trying to manage a workable relationship with Chavismo. “A Trump military intervention would be a failure for Latin America,” Benítez reflects. “It is the consequence of spending so much time turning a blind eye to Chavismo, letting its excesses slide.”

Among Latin American leaders, a mix of concern and caution prevails. According to De Alba, most governments avoid speaking out forcefully for fear of provoking reprisals from Washington at a time marked by Trump’s volatility on the world stage. At the same time, there is near-universal regional consensus that Maduro’s regime committed electoral fraud in 2024, and the biggest worry is that deeper destabilization could trigger yet another migration wave in a continent that has already absorbed millions of Venezuelans over the past decade. This is one of Colombia’s main concerns: it already hosts three million Venezuelans and fears a humanitarian crisis along its borders. Colombian President Gustavo Petro — who did not recognize Maduro’s reelection — voiced support last week for a “shared transitional government without undue pressure.”

Despite this widespread rejection of a U.S. military operation — from Mexico to Argentina — no country seems willing to lead a more forceful regional position. Latin American capitals prefer to focus on their domestic agendas rather than take on a diplomatic cost with unclear repercussions. Thus, although most view any armed intervention with suspicion, both for its humanitarian risks and the precedent it would set, the response has been limited to cautious statements and sporadic mediation efforts.

The attempts by Petro and Lula last year faded almost as quickly as they emerged, as the Venezuelan crisis again showed it can derail any external efforts. Today, the continent is watching from afar, caught between the fear of a surge in migration and the discomfort of confronting Chavismo openly in one of the most delicate and unpredictable moments in recent regional politics.

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