U.S. warships steam toward the southern Caribbean. The Trump administration denounces embattled "narco-president" Nicolás Maduro and doubles a bounty on his head to $50 million. Rumors of an invasion, coup or other form of U.S. intervention flood social media. For the beleaguered people of Venezuela, mired in more than a decade of crisis — hyperinflation, food shortages, authoritarian rule and rigged elections — a new phase of anxiety is once again rattling nerves. Even so, Venezuelans are trying to soldier on. "We try to keep up our activities, our schedules despite the uncertainty," said Leisy Torcatt, 44, a mother of three who heads a baseball school in a nation where a passion for sports helps fend off despair. "Our daily problems continue, but we cannot become paralyzed. ... We keep on going forward trying to work out our differences," she said. There is an inescapable sense here that matters are largely out of people's control. The massive anti-Maduro street protests of past years did little to dislodge, or undermine, Maduro, and the opposition has long been deeply divided. Authorities have jailed dissenters and broken up coup attempts. And now, once again, Venezuela appears to be in Washington's crosshairs. "We have already seen it all," said Mauricio Castillo, 28, a journalist. "It's not that we have lost faith in the possibility of real change. But we are fed up. We cannot just stop our lives, put them on hold waiting for 'something' to happen." Here in the capital, Venezuelans are accustomed to the enhanced martial ritual: more blockaded avenues, more troops on the streets, more barricades shielding the presidential palace of Miraflores, where Maduro launches diatribes against the "imperialist" would-be invaders. Yet, despite the current naval buildup in the Caribbean, the Trump administration has given very mixed signals on Venezuela. During Trump's first presidency, his administration recognized a shadow opposition president, indicted Maduro on drug-trafficking charges and imposed draconian sanctions on the oil and financial sectors. The sanctions effectively collapsed an already shaky economy in what was once South America's wealthiest nation. The economic meltdown led to an exodus of some 8 million Venezuelans, almost a third of the population. Most ended up elsewhere in South America, but hundreds of thousands made it to the United States. Trump has signaled emphatically that they are not welcome, ending Biden administration-era protections and stepping up deportations. During the presidential campaign — and since returning to the White House — Trump has repeatedly said, without evidence, that Venezuela had emptied its prisons and sent the worst offenders to the U.S. But shortly after taking office for his current term, Trump dispatched a special envoy, Richard Grenell, to meet with Maduro, generating hopes of improved relations. Washington later granted Chevron, the U.S. oil giant, a license to continue operating in Venezuela — home to the globe's largest oil reserves — in a move that provided much-needed hard cash for Caracas, and oil for the U.S. market. Then, in July, the Trump administrationhailed the releaseof 10 U.S. citizens and permanent residents being held in Venezuela in exchange for the return of hundreds of Venezuelan nationals who had beendeported to El Salvador. Meantime, the United States has regularly been sending other deportees back to Venezuela in another sign of bilateral cooperation. "So far we've seen President Trump very clearly endorse a policy of engagement with Venezuela," said Geoff Ramsey, senior fellow with the Atlantic Council, a Washington-based research group. "The U.S. is not going to invade Venezuela anytime soon." Others say they're not so sure, despite Trump's stated aversion to getting involved in more wars — and the likely negative blowback in much of Latin America, where the prospect of U.S. intervention inevitably revives memories of past invasions, land grabs and support for right-wing dictators. In the view of U.S. officials, Maduro and drug trafficking are inextricably entwined. The White House labels Maduro the head of the "Cartel of the Suns," a smuggling network allegedly tied to the Venezuelan government and military. And Trump has reportedlydirected the Pentagonto plan possible military action against Latin America cartels. (Maduro denies the drug charges, dismissing them as a U.S. disinformation campaign.) The massive scope of the U.S. naval employment seems to reflect the policy viewpoint of hawks such as Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who has long championed a hard-line stance against Venezuela. The buildup reportedly includes more than ahalf-dozen warships, including at least one submarine, and thousands of Marines and sailors. The White House says it's meant to deter maritime narcotics trafficking, not topple Maduro. "This is a lot of effort to put into something that's performance, no?" said Laura Cristina Dib, who heads Venezuelan research at the Washington Office on Latin America, a research group. In response, Maduro has bolstered militia sign-ups, deployed 15,000 troops to the border with Colombia and insisted there's "no way" U.S. forces can enter Venezuela. He scoffs at the U.S. contention that the naval buildup is an anti-smuggling effort, noting — correctly — that most cocaine is produced in neighboring Colombia and enters the United States via Mexico. "It's ridiculous to say they are fighting drug trafficking with nuclear submarines," Samuel Moncada, Venezuela's U.N. ambassador, told reporters Thursday. By most independent accounts, Maduro likely lost last year's election — monitors disputed his claimed victory — but his many backers are making a high-profile show of support given the U.S. saber-rattling. The government has orchestrated public sign-ups of militia members demonstrating their eagerness to fight for the socialist legacy of the late Hugo Chávez, Maduro's mentor and predecessor in Miraflores Palace. "None of us will be afraid when the moment comes to defend our country from foreign aggression," said Orlando López, 54, a grandfather and proud militiaman. "It's not justified that the president of some other country wants to impose his will." He rejected the notion of a pervasive sense of nervousness. "The climate in the city is one of tranquility, of peace," said López, who is part of a more-than-1-million civilian militia force backing Maduro. On a recent Sunday at Santo Domingo de Guzmán Roman Catholic Church in the capital's Baruta district, Father Leonardo Marius urged parishioners to ignore the drumbeat of war pounding the airwaves and internet. Venezuelans, he said, should focus on more basic concerns. "In Venezuela, a half a million children don't have enough to eat — no one talks about that," Marius told parishioners in his sermon. "But we love the Hollywood stories of boats and aircraft carriers, the show. ... 'They are coming! They are are disembarking!' Please! Hollywood has done a lot of damage. Let the stories be." Across town, at an upscale sports club, Javier Martín, a businessman, said the noise was hard to ignore. "The atmosphere across the country, but especially here in Caracas, is one of fear, distress, uncertainty," said Martín. "You see hooded officials on the streets and it makes you feel fear, like you are in a war." Venezuelans, he explained, live a kind of "surreal" existence, struggling to maintain their lives and families while always anticipating improvements, and changes, that never seem to come. "We live cornered every day," he said. "It's not sustainable." What's next? "Everyone expects something to happen," Martín said. "I just hope it's positive." Special correspondent Mogollón reported from Caracas and Times staff writer McDonnell from Mexico City. Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared inLos Angeles Times.
