U.S. Intervention Should Never Be the Answer to Venezuela

THE DAY A massive electrical blackout plunged Venezuela into darkness, my neighbor Juan Carlos was finally heading back to seventh grade.

It had been four months since he had entered a classroom. His teachers had been missing since November, their $8 a month salary not covering even the commute. Doing the math, I realized that my two hens earned more with their daily eggs.

Leaving his darkened school, Juan Carlos headed straight to the potato field. I watched from the porch as he dropped to his knees to rastrojear—rake the field with his hands to uncover spuds missed in the harvest. The field’s owner turns a blind eye to kids searching for food this way.

Before long, Juan Carlos called me to the fence, depositing several large potatoes into my hands. Daily, food passes back and forth over this fence.

Darkness has been seeping over Venezuela not for five days, but for five years. In my 34 years in Venezuela, I have never witnessed such a plunge from light to darkness.

I live in the village of Palo Verde. My neighbors are among the millions whose lives were uplifted by Hugo Chávez’s social programs, in his Bolivarian revolution of the 2000s. Back then, new homes sprang up around me, schools functioned day and night, Cuban doctors made home visits. My young neighbors graduated as doctors, lawyers, and agronomists.

Now, in these days of severe economic crisis, most don’t make it past sixth grade. Food, health care, electricity, transportation—all missing. Many head for Colombia in search of these basics.

A burning desire for change is in the hearts of most Venezuelans today. When Juan Guaidó arose from the National Assembly to declare himself interim president, the mood was electric. My neighbors, and much of Venezuela, embraced this fresh face and the promise it represented. Venezuelans took to the streets with the hope that peaceful change was possible.

But in January, when the United States stepped in, it became clear that behind this fresh face lurked a dark agenda. The attempt to force a few million dollars of U.S.-sponsored humanitarian aid into Venezuela made little sense, given the billions of dollars taken away through more than a decade of U.S.-led sanctions.

Threats by Donald Trump and Florida Sen. Marco Rubio of a U.S.-led military invasion make clear the objective. Oil, not the well-being of the Venezuelan people, is the U.S. goal.

ON SATURDAY DURING the blackout, Juan Carlos and others gathered for their weekly farming day at my home. The kids expressed greater concern for the lack of rainfall than for the lack of electricity. Our lives depend on the food we grow.

Rather than lament, they decided to dig a large pond to collect the rainwater soon to come. I watched as they threw themselves into the task—hearts, muscles, shovels, and pickaxes. They refused to stop until it was done.

The untold story of Venezuela today is the tenacity and solidarity with which the Venezuelan people have faced this unprecedented crisis. Juan Carlos’ potatoes, the rainwater catchment pond, and a million more examples: These are Venezuela’s light. Perhaps it can only be seen from here, like the stars on a black, black night.

My plea as a U.S. citizen is to say no to all forms of U.S. intervention. My plea as a 34-year Venezuelan resident is to say no to this untenable status quo.

This long, dark night will not lift through more corruption, more mismanagement, or more militarization from within. Nor will it lift by force, by gun, or by sanctions from without.

We, the people who live in Venezuela, need to do the long, hard work of rebuilding the country. You can cheer us on—but do it from the sidelines, please.