{ "article": { "title" : "Dissonant Solidarity: Venezuela and the International Left", "author" : "Luken Ignacio Quintana", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/dissonant-solidarity", "date" : "2026-01-12 16:36:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Img%2001.jpg", "excerpt" : "", "content" : "This clarification might be unnecessary, but since this article has a very specific target audience, I want to make sure that after reading the title, your ideological programming doesn’t short-circuit and cause you to stop before reaching what is truly important:I do not subscribe to the ideas, the methods, or the discourse of Donald Trump - nor to neoliberalism, nor to imperialism (of any kind). Much less do I celebrate the death of compatriots of any kind, nor the fact that, at least for the foreseeable future, we Venezuelans have been incapable of providing a solution to our own problems - neither through peaceful means nor by force - to guarantee some degree of control over our own destiny.My family, Venezuelan and Basque, is a melting pot of anti-Franco/anti-fascist exiles - who had to flee Franco’s authoritarian dictatorship after the fall of the Second Spanish Republic in 1939 (never to return) - and working-class Venezuelans who made the transition from the countryside to the city in a true display of social mobility as our democracy, now absolutely destroyed, consolidated itself during the 20th century.Furthermore, I am a product of Venezuela’s free, public university education system and a staunch defender of its autonomy.All of this makes me fundamentally opposed to totalitarianism, impositions, and, of course, social injustice. It also makes me understand the need for international law and order that guarantees we do not return to an era where strong states can trample the weak without consequence.Even if none of the above were true, the suffering of an individual or a collective - especially the level of suffering we Venezuelans have endured (forced migration, humiliation, political persecution, fear, torture, extrajudicial executions, legal and illegal abuses, impoverishment, and much more) - does not cease to be real simply because the person suffering does not share your worldview.If you have made it this far and are capable of empathizing with what I’ve explained, keep reading. If not, you are just one more “lost cause” - one of those who put pseudo-ideological loyalties before critical thinking; perhaps something closer to a religious fanatic than a human capable of experiencing pain through the eyes of another or showing some empathy. Some “solidarity” that is!If you have the perception that the vast majority of Venezuelans you encounter lean to the right and influence your country’s politics by voting for and backing candidates you dislike, the reason is quite simple:EVERY ABUSE COMMITTED IN VENEZUELA OVER THE LAST 25 YEARS WAS DONE IN THE NAME OF SOCIALISM.Yes, we can debate at length which of Chávez’s - and later Maduro’s - policies were truly leftist; whether the system’s collapse was due to corruption or a structural flaw in its conception; whether the dream was diverted; whether Marx, Gramsci, Bernstein, or Rosa Luxemburg; reform or revolution; Bolívar, Sandino, Che, or Martí; pragmatic communism; or whether “it doesn’t matter the color of the cat as long as it catches mice.”It doesn’t matter. None of these intellectual justifications matter (nor will they ever matter) to the mother of a student murdered in a protest; to the person who had to cross the Andes on foot; to the person who swallowed a ton of tear gas claiming their rights; or to the person who lost everything the moment they left their homeland.In English, it is often said that even a broken clock is right twice a day. That Maduro is in a cell is good for Venezuelans, regardless of how it happened and regardless of the major reservations that remain about whether there will be a true transition to democracy.How This Finally HappenedFor years, the regional left, the European left, and a good part of the global left - what Teodoro Petkoff called the “Borbonic Left” because of its inability to mutate, adapt to the times, or recognize past mistakes - not only ignored the thousands of complaints we made from Venezuela but openly cheered the “Bolivarian Revolution” while it advanced its designs based on a petro-checkbook that would later deflate.These complaints came from across the entire political spectrum: from Marxist-Leninist organizations like the Communist Party of Venezuela or Bandera Roja; social democrats like Acción Democrática or Un Nuevo Tiempo; centrist or Christian-democratic parties like Primero Justicia or Voluntad Popular; and others further into liberalism like Vente Venezuela, María Corina Machado’s party. A polyphony of voices pointing to the same thing: human rights were being violated in Venezuela and the population was being trampled.It wasn’t just political parties. Labor unions, social movements, professional guilds, NGOs (those that have a lot of legitimacy when they talk about Gaza but none when they talk about Caracas), university movements, and intellectuals - everyone denounced, over and over again, how the democratic space was closing and we were falling at an accelerated pace into a kleptocratic nightmare with totalitarian overtones.Many leftist personalities, some who have even become global icons, held power during this time: Lula, Gustavo Petro, Michelle Bachelet, Gabriel Boric, Pepe Mujica, Pedro Sánchez, just to name a few. Their positions, when they had the chance to seriously confront what was happening in Venezuela, moved between lukewarm denunciation and direct logistical, economic, and political support for the regime.It is true that some, behind the scenes and timidly, made diplomatic efforts to find a solution when the crisis began to cross borders and the continent filled with refugees. But it was clearly insufficient. In most cases, their principles - or their selfish interests - did not allow them to recognize the level of disaster they had legitimized.Hiding behind the errors, blunders, and - in many cases - severely questionable behavior of the opposition leadership, they washed their hands of their neighbors’ suffering and dropped the flag of justice. Despite their own countries having gone through equally terrible dictatorships or conflicts, they did not confront the victimizers - which is equivalent to ignoring the victims, no matter what justification they want to give now.Gravity does not forgive; a vacuum calls to whoever wants to fill it. In the Venezuelan case, it has been filled by Donald Trump and his allies - whose values are absolutely foreign to me and many Venezuelans - whose focus is shamelessly on profiting from a collapsed country, but whose interests (at least instantaneously on January 3rd) aligned with the aspirations of millions who felt abandoned and betrayed by those who should have been the first at their side.It’s okay. You are still in time to collaborate and help Venezuelans without giving up your convictions. By doing so, you won’t be helping Donald Trump - or maybe you will, I don’t know - but fundamentally you will be contributing to improving our lives and those of our families.How can you do it? First, by understanding several things:Maduro is not a revolutionary kidnapped by the empire. He is also likely not the head of a cartel (at least in the strict sense of the word). He is simply a dictator and a criminal responsible for the collapse of a country; the death of hundreds of protesters; and thousands of extrajudicial executions - who openly ignored the popular will after the July 28, 2024 elections. Along with military and civilians (like the Rodríguez siblings) who remain in charge of the country, he is also responsible for the embezzlement of billions of dollars of Venezuelan resources.The “Bolivarian Revolution” never stopped selling oil to the United States. Yes, they diversified their client portfolio and allied with Russia and China as an alternative. But for a good part of the last 25 years - even in the most heated moments of bilateral relations - business with the “gringos” never ended. Chevron - yes, the same Chevron with a criminal record - was, for the last few years, one of the regime’s main economic supporters, with special permits to operate despite sanctions.Although this doesn’t directly justify a foreign military intervention, Venezuelan sovereignty has been compromised for years. The levels of debt acquired by Venezuela with Russians and Chinese in exchange for geopolitical support, or the lifeline thrown from Caracas to Havana to keep another dictatorial regime standing with our money, are just a few concrete examples that the government’s anti-imperialist discourse does not hold up. The documented presence of Colombian irregular groups controlling territory and illegal business flows is another. So is the confirmation by the Cuban government that most of the military who died protecting Maduro came from that country.Maduro offered a “blank check” to Donald Trump. Before his capture, he offered Trump and American companies the chance to massively exploit Venezuelan oil in exchange for legitimizing him in power and forgetting the 2024 presidential elections. It was a pragmatic deal that Trump and Marco Rubio were not willing to make with him - but they were with his successors, at least for the moment.The January 3rd operation bears the marks of betrayal. It is known that the CIA had assets infiltrated inside the government who provided information on Maduro’s location and habits. It is also still debated whether the absolute collapse of anti-aircraft defenses was due only to the military superiority of the units involved - or if there was internal help in deactivating them. One day it will be known.While you scream about “intervention,” the supposed victims have already turned the page and are “open for business,” capitulating and striking deals with the Americans to protect their lives, their impunity, or their indefinite hold on power. This deal had already been offered since the last quarter of 2024 in Qatar.The economic collapse started long before the sanctions. It began when oil prices collapsed after being inflated by George W. Bush’s blunders in Iraq and Afghanistan. Shortly before dying, Chávez himself announced the need for an absolute shift in the economic model that never materialized. One could argue the military man himself saw the inviability of his project - and died before facing the consequences.You don’t have to like María Corina Machado to recognize her leadership. Many, like me, see how she has been displaced by the very forces she set in motion. In a country where democracy returns, we would have the possibility to settle that conflict peacefully and electorally.The poor and the working class in Venezuela ARE NOT WITH MADURO. That myth ended years ago; it possibly was never entirely real. In 2015, the opposition coalition swept the elections. From that moment on, the regime decided not to truly compete for ten years. And when it did so again in 2024, it was razed at the polls. Today, the repudiation of Chavismo is not a matter of class - it is a cross-cutting sentiment in our country.Government propaganda financed a global campaign. Aided largely by the Russian communication apparatus (see the alliance between Telesur and RT), they reached out to “alternative” causes worldwide - from Palestine to the Sahara; from sectors of the Basque Left to pan-Arabist regimes; from Iranian theocracy to the anti-globalist U.S. protesters of the early 2000s and Black Lives Matter. They wove a network that allowed Chavismo to present itself as a patron of progressive causes while using the military boot to repress and murder in its own territory.Venezuelan society is as broad as yours and deserves the chance to reconfigure itself freely. The privileges and benefits you enjoy were forcibly canceled for us for two and a half decades, and when you defend the ones who did it, you re-victimize an entire population.Don’t take my word for it. As soon as you finish reading this, do your own research. Look at the numbers and statistics again with new eyes. Talk to those of us who have suffered this firsthand. Get out of the echo chamber you have carefully curated on social media and take a walk through the real world.Then, mobilize with us so that, instead of throwing a tantrum and complaining fruitlessly about the actions of the U.S. government, you can pressure your own country, your party comrades, or your peers to stand up against those who seek to commit similar abuses in other parts of the world.Help us push a collective cry to ensure that everything that has happened opens the way for a true democratic transition in Venezuela - finishing the dismantling of the remnants of the dictatorship that now servilely seek to get on good terms with the “new master,” so as not to be definitively replaced.If after all this you still don’t understand, then, respectfully and using your own terminology: do not seek to help anymore - and at least do not go protest in front of a gringo embassy after you failed to do so in front of one of ours.HANDS OFF F*CKING VENEZUELA." } , "relatedposts": [ { "title" : "How to Resist “Organized Loneliness”: resisting isolation in the age of digital authoritarianism ", "author" : "Emma Cieslik", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/how-to-resist-organized-loneliness", "date" : "2026-02-13 15:11:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/American_protesters_in_front_of_White_House-11.jpg", "excerpt" : "Over the past year, many of us have encountered, navigated, and processed violence alone on our phones. We watched videos of Renee Nicole Good and Alex Pretti being fatally shot and Liam Conejo Ramos being detained by ICE agents. These photos and videos triggered anger, sadness, and desperation for many (along with frustration that these deaths were the inciting blow against ICE agents that have killed many more people of color this year and last).", "content" : "Over the past year, many of us have encountered, navigated, and processed violence alone on our phones. We watched videos of Renee Nicole Good and Alex Pretti being fatally shot and Liam Conejo Ramos being detained by ICE agents. These photos and videos triggered anger, sadness, and desperation for many (along with frustration that these deaths were the inciting blow against ICE agents that have killed many more people of color this year and last).While the institutions and people committing these crimes do not want them recorded, the Department of Homeland Security and the wider Trump administration is using “organized loneliness,” a totalitarian tool that seeks to distort peoples’ perception of reality. Although seemingly a symptom of COVID-19 pandemic isolation and living in a more social media focused world, “organized loneliness” is being weaponized to change the way people not only engage with violence but respond to it online, simultaneously desensitizing us to bodily trauma and escalating radicalization and recruitment online.Back in 2022, philosopher Samantha Rose Hill argued that the loneliness epidemic sparked by the COVID-19 pandemic could and would have dangerous consequences. She specifically cites Hannah Arendt’s 1951 book The Origins of Totalitarianism, which argued that authoritarian leaders like Hitler and Stalin weaponized people’s loneliness to exert control over them. Arendt was a Jewish woman who barely escaped Nazi Germany.As Hill told Steve Paulson for “To The Best Of Our Knowledge,” “the organized loneliness that underlies totalitarian movements destroys people’s relationship to reality. Their political propaganda makes it difficult for people to trust their own opinions and perceptions of reality.” Because as Arendt wrote, “the ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist, but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction and the distinction between true and false no longer exist.”But there are ways in which we can resist the threat that “organized loneliness” represents, especially in the age of social media. They include acknowledging this campaign of loneliness, taking proactive steps when engaging with others online, and fostering relationships with friends and our communities to stand in solidarity amidst the rise of fascism.1. The first step is accepting that loneliness affects everyone and can be exploited by authoritarian movements.Many of us know this intimately. Back in 2023, the U.S. Surgeon General flagged an already dire loneliness epidemic, that in combination with a transition of most interaction onto social media, changes the way in which we engage with violence and tragedy online. But it can be hard to admit that loneliness affects us, especially when we are constantly connected through social media. It’s important to admit that even for the most digitally literate and active among us, “organized loneliness” not only can occur but especially occurs on social media.Being susceptible to or affected by “organized loneliness” is not a moral shortcoming or a personal failure but acknowledging it and taking steps to connect with one another is the one way we resist totalitarian regimes.2. Next, take social media breaks–and avoid doomscrooling.Even before the advent of social media or online news outlets, Arendt was warning about how loneliness can become a breeding ground for downward spirals. She explains that the constant consumption of tragic, violent, and deeply upsetting news–and watching it unfold in front of us can not only be overstimulating but can desensitize us and disconnect us from reality.While it can be difficult when most of our social lives exist on social media (this will be unpacked later), experts recommend that people limit using social media to less than two hours per day and avoid using it during the first hour after waking up and the last hour before going to sleep. People can use apps that limit overall screen time or restrict access to social media at set times–the best being Opal, One Sec, Forest, and StayFree. People can also use these apps to limit access to specific websites that might include triggering news.But it’s important to recognize that avoiding doomscrooling does not give people license not to stay informed or to look away from atrocities that are not affecting their communities.3. Resist social media echo-chambers by diversifying your algorithm.When you are on social media, however, it’s important to recognize that AI-based algorithms track what we engage with and show us similar content. People can use a VPN to search without creating a record that AI can track and thus offer us like offerings, but while the most pronounced (and reported on) examples focus on White, cis straight men and the Manoverse, echochambers can affect all of us and shift our perception of publicly shared beliefs.People can resist echo-chambers by seeking out new sources and accounts that offer different, fact-based perspectives but also acknowledge their commitment to resisting fascism, such as Ground News, ProPublica, and Truthout. Another idea is to follow anti-fascist online educators like Saffana Monajed who promote and share lessons for media literacy. People can also do this by cultivating their intellectual humility, or the recognition that your awareness has limits based largely on your own experiences and privileges and your beliefs could be wrong. Fearless Culture Design has some great tips.While encountering and engaging different perspectives is vital to resisting echochambers and social algorithms, this is not an invitation to follow or platform any news outlet, content creator, or commentator that denies your or other people’s personhood.4. Cultivate your friendships and make new ones.In a time when many of us only stay in contact with friends through social media, friendships are more important than ever. Try, if you can, to engage friends outside of social media–whether it’s through in-person meet ups (dinners, parties, game nights) or on digital platforms that are not social media-based, for example coordinating meet-ups over Zoom or Skype. This can be a virtual D&D campaign, craft circle, or a virtual book club. While these may seem like silly events throughout the week, they help build real connection.It’s important to connect with people outside of a space that uses an algorithm to design content and to reinforce that people are three-dimensional (not just a two-dimensional representation of a social media profile). There are even some apps that assist with this goal, such as Connect, a web app designed by MIT graduate students Mohammad Ghassemi and Tuka Al Hanai to bring students from diverse backgrounds together for lunch conversations.Arendt writes that totalitarian domination destroys not only political life but also private life as well. Cultivating friendships–and relationships of solidarity with your neighbors and fellow community members–are the ways in which we not only resist the destruction of private relationships but also reinforce that we and others belong in our communities–and that we can achieve great things when we stand together!5. With this in mind, practice intentional solidarity with one another.While it’s likely no surprise, fascism functions to both establish a nationalist identity that breeds extremism and destroy unification and rebellion against authority. The best way to resist the isolation that totalitarian governments breed is to practice intentional acts of solidarity with marginalized communities, especially communities facing systemic violence at the hands of an authoritarian power.Writer and advocate Deepa Iyer discusses the importance of action-based solidarity in her program Solidarity Is, part of the Building Movement Project, and Solidarity Is This Podcast (co-hosted with Adaku Utah) discusses and models a solidarity journey that foregrounds marginalized communities. I highly recommend reading her Solidarity Is Practice Guide and the Solidarity Syllabus, a blog series that Iyer just started this month to highlight lessons, resources, and ideas of how to cultivate solidarity within your own communities.6. Consume locally and ethically, and reject capitalist productivity.And one way that people can stand in solidarity with their communities is to support local small businesses that invest back into the communities. When totalitarianism strips people of many platforms to voice concern, one of the last remaining power people have is how and where they spend their money. Often, this is what draws the most attention and impact, so it’s important to buy (and sell) based on Iyer’s Solidarity Stances and to also resist the ways in which productivity culture not only disempowers community but devalues human labor.At the heart of Arendt’s criticism of totalitarian domination is the ways in which capitalism, a “tyranny over ‘laborers,’” contributes to loneliness itself (pg. 476). Whether intentional or not, this connects to modern campaigns not only of malicious compliance but also purposeful obstinance in which people refuse to labor for a fascist regime but to mobilize their ability to labor as a form of resistance–thinking about the recent walkouts and boycotts that resist by weaponizing our labor and our spending power.Not only should people resist the conflation of a person’s value to their productivity, but they should use their labor–and the economic products of it–as tools of resistance in capitalism.Thankfully as Arendy writes, “totalitarian domination, like tyranny, bears the germs of its own destruction,” so totalitarianism by definition cannot succeed just as humans cannot thrive under the pressure of “organized loneliness.” For this reason, it’s a challenge to hold on and resist the administration using disconnection to garner support for the dehumanization of and violence against human beings. But as long as we do, we have the most powerful tools of resistance–awareness, friendship, community, and solidarity–at our disposal to undo totalitarianism just as it was undone back in the 1940s." } , { "title" : "A Trail of Soap", "author" : "susan abulhawa, Diana Islayih", "category" : "excerpts", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/a-trail-of-soap", "date" : "2026-02-13 08:40:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Trail_of_Soap.png", "excerpt" : "From EVERY MOMENT IS A LIFE compiled by susan abulhawa. Copyright © 2026 by Palestine Writes. Reprinted by permission of One Signal Publishers/Atria Books, an Imprint of Simon Schuster, LLC.", "content" : "From EVERY MOMENT IS A LIFE compiled by susan abulhawa. Copyright © 2026 by Palestine Writes. Reprinted by permission of One Signal Publishers/Atria Books, an Imprint of Simon Schuster, LLC.Illustration by Rama DuwajiI met Diana Islayih at a series of writing workshops I conducted in Gaza between February and May 2024. She was one of a couple dozen young people who traveled for hours on foot, by donkey cart, or in cars forced to crawl through the crush of displacement. They were all trying to survive an ongoing genocide. Still, they risked Israeli drones and bombs to be there, just to feel human for a few hours, like they belong in this world, to touch the lives they believed they might still have.Soft-spoken and slight, Diana was the only one who recognized me, asking quietly if I was “the real susan abulhawa.” Each writer progressed their piece at their own pace, and would read their work aloud in the workshops to receive group feedback. Diana’s was the only story that emerged almost fully formed, as if it had been waiting for language. She teared up the first time she read it aloud, and again, the second.By the third reading, the tears were gone. “I got used to the indignities,” she told me. “Now I’m used to reading them out loud.” She confessed that she struggled living “a life that doesn’t resemble me.” On our last day together, I reminded her of what she’d said. She smiled ironically. “Now I don’t know if I resemble life,” she said.What follows is Diana’s story, written from inside that unrecognizable life, bearing witness not through spectacle, but through one intimate moment in the unbearable weight of the everyday. — susan abulhawa, editor of Every Moment Is a Life, of which this essay is part.Courtesy of Simon & SchusterI poured yellow liquid dish soap into my left palm, which instinctively cupped into a deep hollow, like a well yearning to be a well once more. I would need to wash my hands after using the toilet near our tent, though the faucet was usually empty. Water had been annihilated alongside people in this genocide, becoming a ghost that graciously deigns to appear to us when it wishes to—one we chase after rather than flee.The miserable toilet was made of four wooden posts, wrapped in a makeshift curtain made from an old scrap of fabric—so sheer you could see silhouettes behind it. A blanket full of holes and splinters served as a “door.”Inside, a concrete slab with a hole in the middle. You need time to convince yourself to enter such a place. The stench alone seizes your eyelids and turns your stomach the moment it creeps into your nose.I thought about going to the damned, distant women’s public toilet. I hated it during the first weeks of our displacement, but it was the only one in the area where you could both relieve yourself and scrub off the dust of misery that clung to every air molecule.It infuriated me that it was wretched and run-down, and the crowding only made it worse—full of sand, soiled toilet paper, and sanitary pads scattered in every corner.“Should I go?” I asked myself, aloud.I decided to go, taking one step forward and two steps back. I’d ask anyone returning from the toilet, “Is there water in the tap today?” and await the answer with the eagerness of a child hoping for candy.“You have to hurry before it runs out!”Or, more often, “There isn’t any.”So we’d all—men, women, and children—arm ourselves with a plastic water bottle, which was a kind of public declaration: “We’re off to the toilet.” We’d also carry a bar of soap in a box, although most people didn’t bother using it since it didn’t lather and was like washing your hands with a rock.I looked up and exhaled, staring into the vast gray nothingness that stared right back at me. Then I stepped out onto the sand across from our ramshackle displacement camp—Karama, “Camp Dignity”—though dignity itself cries out in this filthy, exhausted place, choked with chaos and a desperate scramble to moisten our veins with a drop of life.The road was empty, as it was early morning, and even the clamor of camp life lay dormant at that hour. Still, I couldn’t relax my shoulders—to signal my senses that we were alone, that we were safe. My fingers remained clenched over the yellow dish soap, my hand hanging at my side to keep it from spilling.I crossed the distance to the toilet—step by step, meter by meter, tent by tent. The souls who dwelled in them, just as they were, unchanged, their curious eyes fixed on me. I passed a garbage heap, shaped like a crescent moon, overflowing with all kinds of empty food cans—food that had ruined the linings of our intestines and united us in the agonies of digestion and bowel movements.Something trickled from my palm—a thread of liquid that felt like blood dripping between my fingers, down my wrist in thickening droplets. My hand trembled, and my eyes blurred. I convinced myself—without looking—that it was all in my head, not in my hand, quickened my pace, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.At last, I reached the only two public toilets in the area, one for men and the other for women, both encased in white plastic printed with the blue UNICEF logo.Inside, I was met with the “toilet chronicles”—no less squalid than the toilet itself—unparalleled chatter among women who’d waited long hours in the line together.The old women bemoaned the soft nature of our generation, insisting our condition was a “moral consequence” of our being spoiled.Other women pleaded to be let into the toilet quickly because they were diabetic. They banged on the door with urgency and physical pain, like they would break in and grab the person behind it by the throat, shouting, “When will you come out?!”The woman inside yelled back, “I’m squeezing my guts out! Should I vomit them up too? Have patience! Damn whoever called this a ‘rest room’!”I looked around. A pale-faced woman smiled at me. I returned her smile, but my face quickly stiffened again, as if the muscles scolded me for stretching them into a smile. A voice inside me whispered meanly, What are you both even smiling about?A furious cry rang from the other stall, “Oh my God! Someone is plucking her body hair! What are you doing, you bitch? It’s a toilet! A toilet!”Another voice shot back, “Lower your voice, woman, and hurry up! The child’s crying!”Two little girls stood nearby, with tousled hair, drool marking their cheeks, their eyes half shut. They were crying to use the toilet, clutching their crotches, shifting restlessly in the sandy corridor where we stood.I was trying to push through to the water tap at the end of the hall, attempting to escape this tiresome, tragic theater. As my luck would have it, there was no water. I opened my palm. It too was empty. The yellow dish soap my mother bought yesterday was gone. All that remained was a sticky smear across my left hand and a long thread trailing behind me in the sand. Had it been dripping from my hand all along the way?I twisted the faucet handle back and forth—a futile hope for even a thin thread of water. Not a single drop came.My body sagged under the weight of rage, disappointment, fury, and a storm of unanswerable questions. I rushed through the crowded corridor of angry women, out into the street. I couldn’t hold back tears.I wept, cursing myself and the occupation and Gaza and her sea— the sea I love with a weary, lonely love, just as I’ve always loved everything in this patch of earth.I sobbed the entire way back. Without shame. I didn’t care who saw—not the passersby, not the homes or tents, not the ground I walked on. My grief rained tears on this land on my way there and back.But the land’s thirst is never quenched—neither with our tears, nor with our blood.My eyes were wrung dry from crying by the time I reached our tent. I collapsed on the ground, questions clamoring in my head.Can a homeland also be exile?Can another exile exist within exile?What is home?Is home the homeland itself, the soil of a nation?Or is it the other way around—the homeland is only so if it’s truly home?If the homeland is the home, why do I feel like a stranger in Rafah—a place just ten minutes from my city, Khan Younis?And why did I fear the feeling I had when I imagined myself in our kitchen, where my mother cooked mulukhiya and maqluba for the first time in six months, even though I wasn’t at home—in our house?That day, I said aloud, “Is this what the occupation wants? For me to feel ‘at home’ merely in the memory of home?”How can I feel at home without being there?How can I be outside of my homeland when I’m in it?I looked down at my hand—dry and cracked with January’s chill. The yellow soap liquid had turned into frozen white powder between my fingers." } , { "title" : "Venezuela should be neither dictatorship nor colony: An interview with union leader Eduardo Sánchez", "author" : "Simón Rodriguez", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/venezuela-should-be-neither-dictatorship-nor-colony", "date" : "2026-02-12 10:51:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Eduardo-Sanchez-rueda-de-prensa-diciembre-2024.jpg", "excerpt" : "", "content" : "Eduardo Sánchez is an important Venezuelan labor leader with decades of political and union work. He is the president of the National Union of Workers of the Central University of Venezuela (SINATRAUCV) and the Federation of Higher Education Workers of Venezuela (FETRAESUV). He is also a member of Comunes, an organization founded in 2024 that, in its founding documents, aims for the recovery of the legacy of the Bolivarian Revolution, which they believe the Maduro government has broken with, to the point of considering it a neoliberal and “anti-Chavista government.”Sánchez describes Comunes as “a grouping of left-wing sectors that propose an alternative to the polarization between the so-called reactionary left that rules the country, led by President Nicolás Maduro, and the fascist and right-wing sectors represented by the current headed by María Corina Machado. In other words, we are a third option, seeking to establish a political and social solution for the popular and workers’ movement, with the concept of the homeland as a fundamental element.” The following interview took place January 13.How would you characterize the events of the last few days in Venezuela, starting with the US attack?Since the early hours of January 3, the US aggression against Bolívar’s homeland, against Venezuelan soil, materialized. According to statements by US spokespeople themselves, more than 150 aircraft invaded Venezuelan territory to bomb specific areas of Caracas, Miranda, Aragua, and La Guaira. This is an unprecedented event in Venezuelan politics, which has caused outrage because Venezuelan soil has been sullied by the insolence of an imperialist power that, abusing its military might, has taken it upon itself to intervene in our country and remove the president. Not that we defend the president as such, but we do not believe that anyone has given the US president carte blanche to be the world’s policeman and come and control our country. This is a problem for Venezuelans that we Venezuelans must resolve ourselves. Therefore, we condemn this aggression as a disgraceful act that we hope will not happen again in any of our countries on the continent.President Maduro has led an authoritarian government that arose from an unfortunate event, which leaves doubts about its legitimacy, given that he lost the July 28 elections and arrogated them to himself, generating a process of repression, imprisoning anyone who protested, and acquiring a dictatorial character, which today bears responsibility for what is happening with the current crisis. The gringos have intervened, taking advantage of the crisis and with the support of an anti-national sector of the country that called for intervention and is now very poorly regarded by Venezuelan society.What is the current situation on the streets?The situation on the streets of Venezuela is one of astonishing calm, as a result of the fact that more than 70% of Venezuelans did not sympathize with Maduro’s regime, in addition to its repression, imprisonments, and deaths, as well as the economic and social deterioration that has engulfed the Venezuelan working class, which has paid a high price for a crisis it did not create, which has impoverished its wages and plunged it into a state of critical poverty. Today, when the government sought the support of the working class and the people, the response was negligible, with only a small percentage mobilizing due to the general discontent that existed.This does not mean support for the intervention; everyone laments that more than 100 Venezuelans have died as a result of treacherous bombings against Bolívar’s homeland, and that the concept of homeland has been sidelined and the country’s sovereignty violated.How do you interpret Trump’s announcements that he will allegedly run the country and take over Venezuelan oil?For us, there is now a dilemma: republic or colony. Facing it, we are putting forward our proposals to unify the country, to unify the working people around the concept of the Republic. We cannot be a colony of anyone, much less of the gringos, who have been the most reactionary and recalcitrant imperialist power on the continent, responsible for interventions that have taken place since the beginning of the last century, and who now seek to arrogate to themselves rights they do not have in order to turn us into a protectorate.The call we are making to Venezuelan society and the workers’ movement is for unity and action, and to the interim government, which also lacks legitimacy, despite being the element with which they intend to make a transition, is that any solution that is proposed must be framed within the Constitution and the democratic process. Relations with the US from a commercial point of view must be within the framework of respect for the Venezuelan Constitution and laws, and not under the guise of a kind of protectorate where they are giving orders on the premise that if they are not obeyed, they will bomb again.We believe that the country has sufficient political reserves to achieve an independent, autonomous, democratic, and patriotic state that can lead this country and put an end to the attempt to impose a dictatorship by a government that claimed to be revolutionary but ended up being neoliberal and capitalist, and prevent us from becoming a protectorate of a foreign power. We consider it important for the country to move towards democracy, allowing us to elect our president in accordance with the Constitution and laws of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela.What message would you give to workers in other countries who are closely following the situation in Venezuela?This situation is very unfortunate for the entire continent. It represents a wake-up call to the different peoples of the world, in the understanding that the gringos now consider that they are once again managing the region as their backyard, and from that point of view they simply intend to take our oil, our gold, our rare earths, turn Venezuela into a kind of protectorate or colony, and take over the wealth of our country.It is important that the peoples of the world see themselves in the mirror of the Venezuelan situation, which today stands at a crossroads between becoming a US colony or continuing on the path of the Republic. We call on the working classes of Latin America and the world to unite to avoid ending up in a situation like the one we are now experiencing. We call on them to fight the authoritarian regimes that have brought so much pain to the different countries of the American continent. The call is for unity as a class, with a perspective of struggle, not only for labor rights but also for the homeland, a fundamental and unifying concept of each of the countries that make up the Latin American homeland, which continue in the struggle for self-determination, to expand and develop democracy to place it at the service of the majority." } ] }