By Ignacio Ramonet on February 5, 2026
President Maduro in an interview with Ramonet. Photo: Venezuelan Presidential Press
It was a month ago. On the night of January 2-3, 2026. It was a few minutes before two in the morning on that sinister Saturday… We were shocked by the brutality of the attack in the full light of the full moon. The violence of the successive explosions. The columns of dark smoke. The intensity of the flames lighting up here and there a Caracas that was shocked, sleepless, and silent. And then, like a punch in the gut, the news of the kidnapping…
It all seemed unbelievable to me. Less than two days earlier, I had been with President Nicolás Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores. For the tenth consecutive time, the president had agreed to grant me the “New Year’s interview.” We had recorded it in the late afternoon of December 31, as night began to fall over the beautiful capital of Venezuela and the year 2025 was coming to an end. This time, the president had suggested that we do something like a “traveling interview.” In other words, we would have our conversation in his private vehicle, which he himself was driving, as we drove through the lively streets of a city ready to celebrate the arrival of the new year. We were accompanied by Cilia Flores and Freddy Ñáñez, the Minister of Communication. There were no visible bodyguards or armed personnel.
I had landed in Caracas a few days earlier. In a context of intense pressure and dangerous threats. Because the president of the United States had not stopped issuing intimidation against Venezuela’s sovereignty. And it was feared that the country could be attacked at any moment. For months, Washington had been amassing a colossal military force on the edge of Venezuelan territorial waters in the largest military deployment since the first Persian Gulf War in 1990. And on September 2, 2025, it had launched a series of deadly attacks against boats that it had labeled, without evidence, as “drug boats.” These illegal actions had been described by international organizations such as the United Nations as “extrajudicial executions” and “violations of international law.” From the point of view of U.S. domestic law, Congress had not authorized any armed conflict against Venezuela and had not even confirmed that a gang of drug traffickers could be classified as “terrorists.”
Despite these dangers, I found Caracas to be a calm city. To my surprise, from Altamira Square to the popular markets, everything was quiet, serene, normal. The capital was clean, beautiful as ever, landscaped, illuminated, decorated for the holidays. I visited some shopping malls and appreciated a festive atmosphere of consumption, with café terraces overflowing. I did not see any “precautionary shopping” frenzy. Nor did I observe any anxiety or fear among the crowds. I drove through the tangle of urban highways and did not perceive an atmosphere of a city under siege awaiting a bombardment… There were no fortifications, barriers, checkpoints, or visible soldiers on the roads… I saw no tanks, armored vehicles, or combat vehicles. Traffic flowed normally throughout the capital.
I spoke with several friends, including businesspeople and foreign diplomats. They all agreed that it was a time of tension and concern, but that citizens were continuing to go about their normal lives. They also emphasized that the authorities were making an effort to instill calm and not alarm the population.
That afternoon on December 31, I was told that President Nicolás Maduro was going to receive me and that we were going to record the interview. I left immediately for the Miraflores Palace. It was a sunny and hot afternoon. It was about thirty degrees in the shade. When I arrived, I was surprised by the calm atmosphere. Security around the government building was minimal, at least in appearance. I entered the palace and was led to the presidential office. A short time later, the president and his wife arrived. They did not seem at all worried or anxious. Nicolás Maduro was in spectacular physical shape. He appeared agile, dynamic, and active.
During the long weeks of this overwhelming crisis, the president had courageously strived to continue fulfilling his presidential agenda. It was like a challenge thrown down to his powerful enemies. This was despite the new and strict security precautions he had to take because a bounty of fifty million dollars had been placed on his head for anyone who could facilitate his capture or assassination. That is why I contemplated with even greater admiration the fortitude of Nicolás Maduro, who now conversed with me undaunted, exchanging views with the utmost naturalness on various aspects of the interview, which he told me should not last more than an hour. He wanted to insist on the need for dialogue with the United States, for negotiation, for agreement, for settlement… “Except for military confrontation,” he insisted, “everything is possible. We must begin to talk seriously, with data in hand. The US government knows this, because we have told many of its spokespersons: if they want to talk seriously about an agreement to fight drug trafficking, we are ready. If they want oil, Venezuela is ready for US investments, as with Chevron. Whenever they want, wherever they want, and however they want. And if they want comprehensive economic development agreements, here in Venezuela too, we are ready.“
We left the palace courtyard and began filming what he called a ”podcar,” that is, a podcast but recorded in a car. The president invited me to get into his vehicle, which was parked a few meters away. I sat next to him. As I said, there were no bodyguards with us. The president started the car, and for an hour and four minutes we were able to talk calmly about the crucial moment Venezuela was experiencing: “The American public must understand that our peoples in the South have the right to exist, to live… That you cannot try to impose, with the Monroe Doctrine or any other doctrine, a new colonial model, a new hegemonic model, a new interventionist model, a model according to which the countries of the South would have to resign ourselves to being colonies of a power and slaves to new masters… That is unfeasible.”
I had known Nicolás Maduro for about twenty years, since he was the brilliant foreign minister of President Hugo Chávez. I have always appreciated his modesty, his astonishing intelligence, his great political culture, his commitment to dialogue and negotiation, his firm loyalty to progressive values and principles, his fine sense of humor, his austere conception of life rooted in his popular origins, and his unwavering fidelity to the legacy of Commander Chávez.
We were driving around Caracas, a chaotic but endearing capital city. Weaving through traffic jams. Any other driver would have lost his temper. But not the president, who seemed to be in his natural element. Hadn’t he been a bus driver for so many years, stuck in the usual apocalyptic traffic jams of this city? Driving relaxed him. He drove calmly, phlegmatically, while clearly explaining his analysis of the relationship with the United States: “If one day there were rationality and diplomacy, all the issues they want could perfectly well be discussed. We have the maturity and the stature. We are also people of our word, serious people. And one day everything could be discussed with the current US government or whoever comes after it.”
At the end of our conversation, we turned onto Paseo de los Próceres, in the heart of Fuerte Tiuna. We approached the main monument. We got out of the car. We walked a few steps while he showed me and commented on the different statues of the heroes and heroines of the liberation of Venezuela and Latin America. We said goodbye, but not before asking him to take some photos of us. He agreed, as always, with kindness and smiles. I walked away with a twinge in my heart. Seeing, on the beautiful and peaceful Caracas night, my friend Nicolás Maduro, serious and focused, standing there with Cilia, alone, loving and confident. Little did they know that, just two nights later, fate would strike them with the ferocity of a rabid beast. But happily, they are alive… and they will return!
Source: Cubadebate, translation Resumen Latinoamericano – English