A week after the attack, silence and uncertainty reign in the streets of Venezuela.

CaracasA week after Nicolás Maduro's fall, Venezuelans are witnessing the dismantling, now complete, of the so-called Bolivarian Revolution. Although his former vice president, Delcy Eloína Rodríguez Gómez, was chosen by Donald Trump to succeed Hugo Chávez's deposed successor, the country is watching in astonishment the radical shift in the discourse and actions of the new US-backed government. the unprecedented military operation that bombed Caracas and four other states in the country and captured the former president and his wife, Cilia Flores.

The anti-imperialist slogans and insults against the "Yankees" repeated during two decades of Chavismo are now a distant memory. The continuity administration now accepts all energy and trade cooperation agreements between two nations that were adversaries until the early hours of Saturday, January 3, 2026.

In a matter of seven days, the interim president went from demanding proof of life for Maduro and the first lady (now imprisoned and on trial for narcoterrorism in the United States) and condemning the "brutal attack" ordered by President Trump, to confirming that her government will indeed cooperate with Washington. fulfilling plans that until recently seemed outlandish, not to say impossibleThe United States will govern Venezuela indefinitely until the country stabilizes; Caracas will supply 30 to 50 million barrels of oil to Washington; Venezuela will only be able to import products from the U.S.; the marketing of crude oil will be controlled by the U.S., and part of the profits will be allocated to the country's reconstruction, among other measures of the new order that Trump is imposing on Venezuela.

Faced with compliance with the new rules, the contradictions are evident. The interim president wavers between denying that external agents are governing the country and stating that its destiny "is decided by no one but God," and the threat from Trump that she "will pay a higher price than Maduro" if she does not accede to Washington's demands. These maneuvers have even led him to claim that the possible reopening of the US embassy in Caracas (closed since 2019 due to the severing of diplomatic relations) is actually intended to "denounce the aggression of January 3rd that affected the Venezuelan people."

However, the official discourse no longer appeals to the defense of sovereignty nor denounces the violation of international law following the US military attack against Venezuela.

Collective silence in the streets

Meanwhile, Venezuelans, exhausted by so many political upheavals in recent history, have once again had to cling tightly to the emotional rollercoaster unleashed during the first week of 2026 at a speed difficult to process.

In the whirlwind of those hours, Venezuela went from euphoria at the confirmation of the dictator's capture (or grief in the case of Maduro's supporters), to bewilderment and concern when Trump announced that it would no longer be María Corina Machado but Vice President Delcy Rodríguez. Fear returned on Monday, January 5, coinciding with the installation of the National Assembly and the swearing-in of the interim president, when the so-called colectivos, the feared paramilitary groups backed by Chavismo, began stopping pedestrians and checking them for messages celebrating the attack. Two days later, joy erupted again at the announcement of the supposed mass release of political prisoners. (around 800, according to the count by the organization Foro Penal) before deflating and turning into anger and frustration upon realizing that the releases had been halted and were only happening in dribs and drabs.

The Venezuelan diaspora (more than 8.7 million people in exile according to the United Nations) did have room to celebrate the capture of Maduro and Flores in the early hours of January 3. But not within the country itself, where no one is commenting on the latest events and people are trying to resume their daily lives in an atmosphere of "tranquility" in contrast to the virtual cauldron of social media.

The collective silence speaks for itself. On the very day of the US military bombing, a decree declaring a state of external commotion with the force of law was published, which, among other limitations, suspended the right to assembly and public demonstration, ordered the militarization of public services and the oil industry, and mandated the arrest by police forces of anyone who promoted or supported the "armed attack."

The truth is that, as the first days of January passed, all the predictions about the chaos that would be unleashed in Venezuela if Maduro were deposed, repeated so many times by Chavista spokespeople and some political analysts, were dismissed. Violence, for the moment, had been averted. But, for that, a price is also paid.

However, signs of continued authoritarianism persist. Upon assuming the interim presidency, Rodríguez immediately appointed General Gustavo González López, the current director of the Directorate General of Military Counterintelligence (DGCIM), as the new commander of the Presidential Honor Guard. González López is sanctioned by the United States for human rights violations. On the same day as the interim presidency's swearing-in ceremony, fourteen journalists were detained for several hours simply for covering the official event held at the Palau Legislatiu, following the repressive practices established by the Maduro regime. Meanwhile, on the border with Colombia, Dozens of foreign journalists gathered, but the National Guard and immigration authorities prevented them from entering the country.

Control, censorship and 'snitches'

Censorship remains intact. Seven days after the US military operation, there is still no official statement regarding the victims of the bombings. The number and identities of the dead have come to light thanks to the work of journalistic teams.

Amid so much uncertainty, some Venezuelans cling to hope. "We have to be patient; we'll wait and see how this ends. It's likely that María Corina and Edmundo wouldn't have been able to govern at this stage. We trust that the United States will help straighten out the country and that we can soon see signs of a true transition to democracy," says LN (who prefers not to share her full name for privacy reasons) from a middle-class neighborhood in eastern Caracas.

But for other Caracas residents, the doubt lingers. María Pérez (a pseudonym to protect her identity), a resident of the populous Petare neighborhood, continues to have her cell phone checked at the ministry where she works. Her superiors, "more abusive than usual," demand that she disseminate pro-government content while forbidding her from discussing politics and forcing her to attend the marches recently called by the interim government. To survive, in addition to her job in the public administration, this single mother of a 20-year-old daughter and an 8-year-old son cleans houses two or three days a week, including Saturdays and Sundays. In her community, no one speaks at all about what happened on January 3rd for fear of repercussions. toads (as the figure of the informer is colloquially known). "Will we get out?" she wonders while anxiously reviewing the brutal rise in the official dollar price at the very beginning of 2026.