Colette Capriles is a Venezuelan academic specializing in social psychology and philosophy. She has also engaged in political processes, including negotiations in the Dominican Republic (2017–2018). Photograph: Guacamaya / Luis Silvera.
Guacamaya, November 26, 2025. Colette Capriles is a well-respected Venezuelan intellectual, known for her work in political analysis, philosophy, and the sociology of power in Venezuela and Latin America. Trained as a social psychologist at the Central University of Venezuela (UCV) and holding a master’s degree in philosophy from Simón Bolívar University (USB), she has built a robust academic career as an associate professor in the Department of Social Sciences at USB. There, she teaches courses in Venezuelan political sociology, political philosophy, and the history of political theories at both undergraduate and graduate levels.
Outside the academic realm, Capriles has been actively involved in crucial Venezuelan public life. She was a member of the Strategic Group of the Democratic Unity Roundtable during the leadership of then-secretary general Ramón Guillermo Aveledo, and she took part in the civil society consultation group that supported the opposition delegation during negotiations with the representatives of Nicolás Maduro’s government in the Dominican Republic. Currently, she is a member of the Civic Forum, a diverse space dedicated to promoting peace, institutional stability, and civic dialogue in Venezuela.
Her work has earned her recognition from the Academy of Political and Social Sciences of Venezuela, where she holds seat 18 as a full member. She contributes to critical discussions on authoritarianism, democracy, and the potential for political reconstruction in the country. Regarded as one of the most influential and respected voices in contemporary Venezuelan political thought, Capriles blends academic rigor, civic commitment, and a unique ability to interpret social behaviors in crisis contexts.
Q: How and when did Colette Capriles’ engagement with politics and peacebuilding in Venezuela begin?
A: I’ve always been linked to politics. I come from a very politically active family that could have once been described as part of the progressive or left-wing intelligentsia. The key point is this: politics is something learned at home, in day-to-day life.
Actually, I’m not a political scientist; I started out as a social psychologist. I can’t pinpoint exactly what makes someone learn about politics or develop sensitivity toward it during formative years.
Many gain this sensitivity through university education or political education in high school, as was the norm in the past, which isn’t true anymore. Yet most individuals interested in politics have political narratives at home that provide a more sophisticated vision than others. I think this is fundamental to understanding politics since it is, at its core, a human activity. One of the toughest challenges for political scientists—though they might not like to hear it—is that theorizing about politics is incredibly complex.
This task is both essential and challenging—one of the greatest difficulties of thought, really. I would argue this is particularly true in Western thought. That sensitivity to political processes doesn’t come from theory alone. It’s tied to the field and ultimately connected to power dynamics. And the family acts as another space of power, practicing different forms of it. That plays a significant role.
This sensitivity exists and develops further in universities. When I attended Central University, I didn’t envision a career in politics nor did I have much involvement in it.
I originally leaned more towards philosophy, particularly philosophy of science, which seemed unrelated. But politics has a way of catching up with you, doesn’t it?
This reminds me of the origins of philosophy itself: it’s fundamentally about our relationship with the public, with human experience, and the central phenomenon of existence—coexistence, living together, and the organization of human relationships.
In essence, we have Socrates at the origin and also at the end—there’s a narrative arc focused on understanding what humans can collectively accomplish. This might sound odd because it seems like thought exists in isolation—yet that’s simply untrue.
Even Plato—who laid the groundwork for Western philosophy—couldn’t separate his reflections from the context of his life and the crucial question of how humans can exist together.
“One key change after 1998 was the decline of political pluralism. This decline was intentional.”
Q: The term “polarization” generates significant debate in our current public discourse. Is Venezuela in 2025 a polarized society?
A: Certainly… But it depends on how you interpret it: whether through the lens of experiencing polarization or as an objective phenomenon, so to speak. These are two different perspectives, and often they’re mixed up.
One significant shift after 1998 was the intentional decline of political pluralism, which became evident through institutional changes. The new Constitution introduced in 1999 laid the groundwork for majoritarian electoral systems that incentivized polarization. In these systems, one vote can secure a seat, resulting in a loss of proportionality and threatening pluralism. To win a position, you must unite with others—effectively stifling diversity and transforming political struggle into a conflict between blocs.
This institutional and political polarization has been ongoing, not just a recent phenomenon. The terminology is often misused. What is the issue with the term?
“April 11 marks the real emergence of chavismo as a movement resistant to what it perceives as destabilizing forces.”
Q: Some view this as a false equivalence, suggesting there aren’t two distinct poles.
A: There are indeed two poles, but they can differ in scale. That’s key; size doesn’t negate their existence. Now, do both poles exist? I’m not sure, as it again depends on what we’re discussing.
In Venezuela, there’s a significant majority wishing for political change; that’s indisputable. However, based on last year’s presidential election, a minority also seems to have a strong presence. One can say there are two poles of unequal size. They exist but don’t hold the same weight. I fail to see the problem with this understanding. What do we gain by labeling the situation polarized or not? What often lurks beneath this terminology?
This issue of equivalence isn’t trivial. We need to recognize each side of the conflict—a term that has also been vilified. “There’s no political conflict here.” Personally, I argue we are witnessing an escalation of political conflict in Venezuela.
We’ve experienced this for over 20 years, yet the conflict remains unresolved. If Venezuelans don’t share a cohesive national project—which is true—there’s a clear conflict among us. Part of this conflict involves how we engage in discussions—often reduced to nominal debates and ideological discourse, which misses the essence of recognizing each other.
The tendency to not acknowledge the other emerged initially with Hugo Chávez, and we cannot overlook that. However, it dovetailed with the non-recognition exhibited by non-chavista forces, which were significant during Chávez’s early governance. They too failed to recognize the political project at play, which inherently faced another political project.
Therefore, one must consider how to articulate a new political narrative in opposition to Chávez’s effectively. The whole narrative of chavismo—and Hugo Chávez’s role in it—plays into my critique of his non-democratic perspective on what an opposition could look like.
But it’s crucial to note that there were episodes throughout the years where the opposition’s core argument revolved around a lack of recognition, such as during the 2004 referendum when accusations of electoral fraud arose: the very refusal to acknowledge existing institutions.
Ultimately, the failure to recognize that chavismo was a popular force—a political project deserving examination, understanding, and analysis—has shaped the Venezuelan political landscape. There were diminished conditions for democracy amidst these developments, impacting our democratic practices profoundly.
For me, several aspects of the 1999 Constitution were designed to dismantle our previous democratic traditions.
With laws on reelection and the capacity—akin to that in the United States—to utilize power to impede alternation, it’s clear that democratic practices suffered, birthing a distinct political arena governed by new rules. Are those the actual rules in play now? Not exactly. Chavismo has reacted strongly against, and resents, that a significant portion of the populace—what we often term the opposition—has resisted accepting these new political norms.
Indeed, they resisted. What happened on April 11 indicates that the game must shift, involving an extra-political dimension—this is how some of the opposition perceived it—which inadvertently contributed to the birth of chavismo. Following April 11, chavismo emerged as a movement in resistance against the forces they viewed as dissenting.
“Starting July 28, a crucial political principle was violated: popular sovereignty.”
For me, chavismo’s identity truly materialized in 2004. A close look at Hugo Chávez’s narratives over the years reveals a complex web of ideas. Yet, ultimately, the Constitution emerged as a liberal document—much more so than one might have expected based on Chávez’s own discourse.
Those initial years of Chávez’s administration were marked by institution-building and defining the political field. The April 11 incident incited a crisis, marking a distinct decision by Chávez to heighten the revolutionary aspect of his agenda. Tolerance for negotiation and consensus dwindled from that point on. I identify this shift as a transition towards conflictivism, in contrast to the consensualism that had characterized Venezuelan democracy stemming from the Punto Fijo pact. This period offered a rare glimpse into a negotiated democracy.
Key to that agreement was the participation of all political entities that could potentially threaten the system—of course excluding the aftermath of armed insurrections, primarily influenced by external factors like the Cuban Revolution.
We know the Cuban Revolution significantly impacted Latin America, prompting the official Venezuelan position under Rómulo Betancourt’s government, the Betancourt Doctrine, committed to defending democracy and pushing for free elections in Cuba—efforts that ultimately failed, leading to Venezuela’s proposal to exclude Cuba from the OAS.
This generated internal rifts in AD—Acción Democrática—feeding into the enduring revolutionary sentiment present from the resistance against Pérez Jiménez.
Consensus-building—linked to forming a democracy—relies not just on recognizing the rules of democratic engagement but transforming consensus into decision rules guiding all public policies and national strategies. This isn’t just my idea; Diego Bautista Urbaneja elaborated this in several works. While I emphasize conflictivism as a main point, consensual politics remains crucial in navigating complex political environments.
Chavismo’s primary achievement—or what I consider Chávez’s key personal objective—has been dismantling consensualism. This form of democracy emphasized that no significant actor should be marginalized by public policies, a path supported by rent-seeking and other dynamics. However, that’s the reality Chávez confronted, asserting, “We’re not cultivating consensus; we’re fostering conflict,” a viewpoint aligned with a Marxist interpretation of history as driven by conflict.
Chávez operated from this perspective, rooted in his military training. Ultimately, if we differentiate these two moments, the shift towards conflict as a decision-making framework is striking.
“In Venezuela, the narratives of criminality or morality dominate. This is profoundly destructive. Not because we can ignore the impact of illicit economies—an undeniable reality—but because prioritizing penal narratives over politics obstructs viable solutions.”
Colette Capriles was a member of the Strategic Group of the Democratic Unity Roundtable and participated in the civil society consultation group that accompanied the opposition delegation in the negotiations in the Dominican Republic. Photograph: Guacamaya / Luis Silvera.
Q: Over the past few decades, U.S. military interventions have resulted in a complex aftermath across various global contexts. In Iraq, the 2003 invasion dismantled state structures, leading to years of ongoing sectarian violence; in Libya, the 2011 intervention precipitated institutional failure and prolonged civil unrest; while Haiti has experienced a series of international missions and military operations that often exacerbated its political and social instability.
Within this framework, some Venezuelan political figures argue that a similar intervention “would not yield the same repercussions in Venezuela,” citing the country’s “institutional and democratic history” as a buffer against chaos. This reasoning has been used to justify contemplating foreign military action for regime change.
Given your expertise in conflict resolution and international politics, what’s your perspective on this argument? Do you think the potential collateral damage and long-term impacts of such an intervention—regarding political stability, social cohesion, and institutional legitimacy—are being overlooked?
A: When you oppose this notion, many suggest you’re defending the government, or they assume no one will stand by the government in a potential conflict. The reality is more nuanced. The structures the current government has established aren’t designed for its defense; the narrative encourages individuals to fend for themselves. In Venezuela, there are over 6 million civilian-owned firearms.
This means people are unlikely to rally to defend Maduro. In reality, it’s every person for themselves. This scenario doesn’t present a division of loyal forces against opposition; it paints a chaotic picture instead. That leads me to question: no matter what hypotheses people present, what are these assumptions based on?
In my view, these notions stem from a glaring ignorance about how the Armed Forces are configured, their institutional capabilities, and how they’ve developed what political scientists call coup-proofing—essentially, safeguarding against military coups since April 11.
This has restructured command within the Armed Forces. Networks known as ZODI have been created so that communication isn’t horizontal. Instead, any uprising must navigate a different and complicated communication structure, which ensures isolation from the broader forces.
There’s effectively a long-established system of protections against military coups, coupled with an internal culture formed over many years. I recently read a communication from Nicolás Maduro’s pilot to a CIA operative who supposedly attempted to bribe him. The pilot stated, “Look, we may be flawed, but we are never traitors.” He declined a bribe of 50 million dollars.
I wouldn’t interpret that as a sign of impending rupture. While it could be an exception—where perhaps someone else might choose differently—it conveys a strong message. This illustrates the potential drawbacks of such strategies and reveals a general lack of understanding.
It’s vital to comprehend what I describe—the values, internal dynamics, and behaviors of the Armed Forces in relation to civilian authority and their stance toward the opposition. Absent this foundational knowledge, justifying any military intervention seems unfounded. My stance isn’t a moral judgment.
“Our primary political objective should be to achieve political alternation.”
People might argue that an intervention may be necessary due to exhausted political avenues, for instance. While I personally disagree on principle, I’m open to discussing strategies based on informed foundations. On what basis is that strategy formulated? What metrics would establish its success, and where would that lead us?
Philosophically, one can always critique foundations, principles, and outcomes. One could adopt a consequentialist view: not judging the proposed actions’ morality or politics but assessing the potential results.
This reflects a shift in U.S. public opinion alongside strategic calculations. They seem to say, “Let’s shift from motivations and reasons to consequences.”
If one assumes a militaristic approach to the Venezuelan situation, does it not imply a permanent U.S. presence there? What scale are we discussing, and what consequences would this have for the populace? These key questions reshape the discourse. Conversation matters.
Much of what is expressed—especially in social media—often manifests as slogans that avoid deeper reasoning: we hear the premises without addressing the consequences, which reflects irresponsibility.
It’s politically irresponsible to advocate for a strategy—military or otherwise—without considering its repercussions. The discussions are complicated because we hear assertions like “anything is better than the present,” yet history teaches us there’s always a greater danger awaiting.
We’ve seen trends where it was said, “Nothing could be worse than Chávez,” and here we are. Thus, we recognize that this isn’t a sound argument; it’s a fundamental fallacy, one of the first discussed in philosophy.
We are now confronted with the dilemma of how to navigate a way out. I attempt to articulate my confusion about why these strategies are proposed as solutions to restore democracy—a common goal for most, undeniable.
The statements regarding the implications of military strategies or maximum-pressure tactics must highlight the consequences of such actions.
We must consider the impacts of these political decisions: pressures must be exerted for Maduro’s government to rebuild its institutional foundation—ceasing to violate institutions and the Constitution. The crux of the matter is political alternation.
What are the consequences? Time. There are no instantaneous outcomes, and success is not guaranteed. Tactical approaches should be developed, primarily focusing on the economic sphere.
Restoring a democratic environment in Venezuela necessitates renewing the state’s economic capabilities, crucial in this juncture. This rebuilding must accompany political reforms and liberalization, including acknowledgment of the opposition and adherence to constitutional provisions. This government has successfully evaded the consequences of the current vicious economic crisis.
The government lacks the economic abilities to ensure governability. Therein lies a potential entry point, like rejoining the international financial system.
Access to IMF or regional fund resources could be a key opportunity. Such funds come with conditions, as no IMF loan is made without macroeconomic stability and financial transparency. This would allow insight into the government’s economic plans and the current economic landscape, resembling the proposals from the Barbados and Oslo negotiations over a social fund.
This would need to expand on a larger scale, conditioning the political and institutional behavior of Maduro’s government based on financial pressures. The historical precedent suggests that the government might reject such arrangements, akin to Cuba’s stance on humanitarian aid.
Maduro’s administration could state, “No, we will not entertain anything.” And become another Cuba or Nicaragua. Nonetheless, I believe there’s a path forward, involving consideration of the political responsibilities involved.
We need to recognize this as a process that could either succeed or fail—requiring patience and perseverance.
We may need to temporarily set politics aside to focus on reconstructing economic institutions, aiming for minimum stability prior to embarking on political liberalization, as failing to do so could exacerbate ongoing crises. I believe this approach is viable.
The question remains: who will take responsibility for conveying this to the Venezuelan public? This understanding may be the least popular stance. It’s easier to suggest that an outside force will resolve a complicated situation like Venezuela’s.
Once again—political responsibility is imperative. This isn’t solely an issue of political actors; Venezuelans at large must regard our political beliefs responsibly.
People often find it easy to switch their preferences. Consider the enthusiasm during Juan Guaidó’s time. There was a certain confidence that change was imminent. Yet, those who criticized Guaidó now do not express disappointment when presented with similar narratives.
Many seem overly focused on day-to-day survival, posing another challenge.
“Even from a political self-preservation perspective, any democratic transition project should not endorse the indefinite extension of sanctions.”
Q: May I inquire further along those lines? In various political transition instances—like Spain’s democratic transition (1975–1982), South Africa post-apartheid (1990–1994), or Poland’s Solidarity movement in the 1980s—the middle class played a pivotal role in mediating between political powers, social actors, and the citizenry. Their educational, professional, and organizational capital provided a channel for demands and facilitated dialogue, helping to avert deep social fractures.
In Iran, after the 2009 elections and the emergence of the Green Movement, the urban middle class—comprised of professionals, students, and entrepreneurs—manifested aspirations for civic and institutional rejuvenation, paralleling what Lipset described as a consensus-driven reformist mobilization. More recently, after the tragic events surrounding Mahsa Amini in 2022, the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement has become significant in Iran’s ongoing narrative. However, a study by Iranian scholars Mohammad Reza Farzanegan (Philipps-Universität Marburg) and Nader Habibi (Brandeis University), published in the European Journal of Political Economy, indicates that since 2012, international sanctions have not weakened the regime but instead devastated its middle class, which shrank on average by 17 percentage points between 2012 and 2019, culminating in an accumulated loss of 28 points by that year.
In light of these examples and considering Venezuela’s deep oil dependence, do you think international sanctions have similarly weakened the Venezuelan middle class—a traditionally critical actor in political organization? How has this weakened any chances for autonomous dialogue, mediation, and social engagement?
A: Unlike the examples you mentioned, Venezuela hasn’t yet experienced a collapse comparable to times of war, as Francisco Rodríguez has thoroughly documented. The discourse here tends to be too focused on semantics, diverting us from the core issues. Discussing whether the Venezuelan dilemma stems from sanctions or the Revolution is unproductive; both factors are present and both bear significance. If the sanctions truly had no impact, they wouldn’t exist.
To those who refuse to acknowledge how oil and secondary sanctions imposed from 2019 forward significantly disrupt Venezuela’s economic structure and society—including the widespread ramifications of the diaspora—I pose this challenge: “If sanctions are so inconsequential, then why keep them?”
Then they’d have to admit sanctions do exert pressure. This leads to the next question I must pose: “Then these pressures have tangible impacts on the population, right?” When a nation’s fiscal resources dwindle, it undoubtedly affects a society heavily reliant on oil.
It surprises me how this situation has become yet another instance of false binary choices, draining our energy and exacerbating entrenched narratives. This contributes to continuing polarization without nuanced discussions.
What we witness is a real dilemma in present-day Venezuela: a state that’s symbolically omnipresent, hyper-repressive, yet tangibly absent in essential services like healthcare, transport, or pensions. To the populace, the state feels non-existent.
People yearn for a functioning state—a reality this situation denies them. This is what the common citizen truly desires.
Thus, it’s crucial to return to active listening, re-establishing dialogue spaces, and avoiding the unproductive polemical atmosphere saturating public discussion—a space that has become fragmented and, symbolically, violent. These restrictions and risks aren’t mere symbols—they represent real threats.
Nonetheless, we must seek exits. We can’t remain ensnared in this exhausting cycle of debate about potential invasions or changes. The government remains in a state of hesitant consolidation, never fully stabilizing nor falling. It exists amid ongoing economic struggles.
That’s the reality, and with that, I finish—somewhat optimistically, I hope.