海角大神

When Mar铆a de los 脕ngeles Le贸n N煤帽ez thinks back to Venezuela鈥檚 opposition primary election last fall, organized to select a candidate to challenge iron-fisted President Nicol谩s Maduro, she remembers it as a party for democracy. Participants were singing, waving the Venezuelan flag, and digging into plates of food, she says, describing the October day as 鈥渄ivine.鈥�

She helped organize the vote聽鈥� not in Venezuela, but over 2,000 miles north in Mexico. More than 100,000 Venezuelans have sought refuge from their crises-hit nation in Mexico in recent years.

On July 28, Venezuelans are set to choose their next leader. It鈥檚 inspiring whispers of hope following more than two decades of聽chavismo, a political project that has become increasingly repressive under Mr. Maduro鈥檚 11 years in office and as the economy tailspins.

To be sure, few expect the vote to be free and fair. But the election presents the biggest challenge to chavismo since Hugo Ch谩vez took office in 1999. Some 80% of Venezuelans say they want Mr. Maduro out of office.

For Venezuelans abroad, who have access to more information than those back home and who can enjoy the freedom to politically organize and express themselves, this election has become a moment for action. From organizing opposition primary votes and debates, to encouraging loved ones back home to cast a ballot later this month, the diaspora is playing a key role in the democratic battle for the future of their homeland.

鈥淭he government has tried to curtail the diaspora vote,鈥� says Eduardo Repilloza Fern谩ndez, director of Transparencia Electoral, a nongovernmental organization that promotes free and fair elections in the Americas. 鈥淪o, what has become important is making the elections visible.鈥�

Fighting from afar

Mr. Maduro has few incentives to give up power, and his government has taken steps to keep opponents from casting ballots. The government blocked from the race the initial candidate posed by the opposition last fall, and although there are nearly 8 million Venezuelans living abroad, less than 0.01% successfully registered to vote this year. That was in large part due to the myriad hoops the government made the diaspora jump through to register.聽聽

The streets of Caracas brim with posters showcasing the faces of Mr. Maduro and Mr. Ch谩vez, who died in 2013. But it鈥檚 nearly impossible to find campaign posters for any opposition leader, including the last-minute candidate, Edmundo Gonz谩lez Urrutia, a little-known diplomat in his 70s polling well over 25 points ahead of Mr. Maduro.

On social media, on the other hand, the opposition is everywhere. On WhatsApp, Facebook, and X, posts about the opposition easily go viral.

鈥淚t is not that there is less information inside Venezuela than outside. The format is different,鈥� says Jos茅 Morales-Arilla, research professor at Tecnologico de Monterrey鈥檚 Graduate School of Government and Public Transformation. Inside Venezuela, propaganda and fake news to discredit the opposition overwhelm traditional media, Dr. Morales-Arilla says.

Even though Ms. Le贸n can鈥檛 cast a ballot in next weekend鈥檚 election, she鈥檚 bending over backward to ensure family and friends inside Venezuela do.

That鈥檚 come down to information sharing. Ms. Le贸n says her parents are susceptible to fake news, like many older adults in Venezuela. The media is almost entirely state controlled and the few independent sites here are frequently blocked from posting anything deemed critical of the government. Most independent sources of information require access to a virtual private network or money for cable news subscriptions.

Ms. Le贸n has taken to passing on information about important news events or voting instructions to her father back home, 鈥渢hen he shares the information with his community in Guatire,鈥� outside of Caracas, she says.

To Ms. Le贸n, every vote counts. Over a decade ago, when she was studying history at the Central University of Venezuela, she narrowly won a seat as an opposition candidate on the pro-chavismo student council by 131 votes. She fled Venezuela in 2017 after watching her peers imprisoned for the same kind of student organizing work she was doing at the time.

Jos茅 Coelho, who left Venezuela for Washington, D.C., via Bogot谩, in 2022, is also trying to stay politically active from afar.

The government 鈥渞obbed our primary means of participating鈥� in the election by blocking the ability to vote abroad, says the project manager in his late 20s. He鈥檚 decided he can be of most use by 鈥渁ccompanying鈥� people still in Venezuela, he says聽鈥撀爁rom training and supporting activists online to raising awareness about voting rights.

He co-organized聽a debate聽in Caracas for the opposition鈥檚 primary elections from afar, and works at the Mercedes Pulido School of Government, a mostly online program to train and support Venezuelan activists, politicians, and civil society leaders. Mr. Coelho says this work is necessary because activists in Venezuela can get tired and depressed, and lose motivation.

Migration over the past decade 鈥� especially by young people 鈥� has dramatically changed Venezuela鈥檚 demographics and drained it of human capital. The Inter-American Development Bank estimates that between 2015 and 2021, the share of working-age people with college degrees more than halved from 17.9% to 8.4%.

Bridging old divides

Last fall, Mar铆a Corina Machado won the opposition鈥檚 primary elections by an overwhelming 92.5% 鈥� and was barred by the government from running. Although her disqualification was a blow to the opposition, the move has had the unintended consequence of uniting the party coalition.

For decades, political tensions between Venezuela鈥檚 diaspora and those back home have been a point of contention. Venezuelans inside the country would say the diaspora abandoned them or was out of touch, while the diaspora accused those inside the country of normalizing the status quo, quietly submitting to a repressive government. All the while, the opposition struggled to get enough backing to unequivocally challenge the ruling party.

鈥淚 think that divide has diminished鈥� since Ms. Machado won the primaries, says Mr. Coelho in Washington.

Surrounded by photos and paintings of family members, N.S., who asked to use only her initials for fear of government reprisals, is one of the few members of her family left in Venezuela. She鈥檚 taken responsibility for caring for relatives鈥� empty homes, and now walks dogs to supplement her modest income as a university professor. Her extended family is spread across Chile, Argentina, Spain, and the U.S.

鈥淚nformation goes both ways in the family,鈥� she says from her humble apartment in the heart of Chacao, a Caracas neighborhood flanked by the iconic 脕vila mountain range. Those abroad crave insight into the atmosphere in Venezuela leading up to the vote. She looks to them for family connection and information that鈥檚 not readily available here. And in recent months, she feels that despite the distance, everyone seems to be getting on the same page.

鈥淲hat matters is achieving change,鈥� she says.

Lessons for the region?

Other regional diasporas are taking note. Yunova Acosta Vargas, president of the Latin American Youth Network for Democracy, describes how members of her network learn from each other鈥檚 experiences with repressive governments from Nicaragua to Venezuela to Cuba. What is happening in Venezuela 鈥渋s like a dictator鈥檚 handbook,鈥� she says.聽

But Venezuelan migrants may have a bigger impact influencing their host governments than trying to sway votes or encourage suffrage back home, adds Dr. Morales-Arilla, the researcher.

Take Colombia and Chile, two of the countries hosting large numbers of Venezuelan migrants. In Colombia, some of the nearly 3 million Venezuelan migrants living there are urging the left-wing leader, who has otherwise been friendly with Mr. Maduro, to advocate for free and fair elections. And in Chile, where over half a million Venezuelans have sought refuge, the left-leaning government, influenced by its own history of dictatorship, has taken a critical stance against Mr. Maduro at the urging of the diaspora.

鈥淚nternational pressure for free and fair elections, and compliance with the results鈥� will be key next weekend, he says.

The diaspora offers 鈥渢ools for the ones who are [still] inside,鈥� says Ms. Acosta, who fled political repression in Nicaragua in 2022. At the end of the day, 鈥渃hange needs to happen from within.鈥�