Eye-opening return home to a different Venezuela

I have seen this movie before. As a journalist, I have covered numerous presidential elections in Venezuela that were denounced as “shams” by opposition members and international observers alike. I have reported on allegations that the government manipulated elections to keep Nicolas Maduro in power, allegations that the government denies. I have documented the protests in 2014, 2016, and 2019 from a distance. But this time, it feels different — not just as a journalist, but as a Venezuelan.
Observers inside and outside of Venezuela agree that the country’s democracy has eroded over the past 25 years, ever since Hugo Chavez rose to power in 1999. Since his death, violence and allegations of electoral irregularities have become the norm. We have grown accustomed to hearing about candidates being barred from running — Leopoldo Lopez, Henrique Capriles, and now Maria Corina Machado. We have normalized the idea that politics in Venezuela is a theatrical display where social media and politicians accuse each other of illegal or unethical actions. We have normalized the existence of “colectivos,” armed groups that operate like street gangs, but are aligned with the socialist government, often accused of doing its bidding. And we have normalized the tragic loss of life during protests calling for transparency; just this month, according to the independent organization Foro Penal, there have been at least 11 deaths and more than 700 people detained during protests.
However, this time feels different because the world is paying closer attention. As Venezuela prepared for another presidential election, the international community wondered if Maduro would allow the opposition to field a genuine candidate. Then, the government barred Machado from running. They questioned whether the election would be free, fair, and transparent, while Venezuelans feared the armed groups would once again intimidate voters. While the Carter Center, the UN, and several Latin American countries demanded transparency in the election results, reports emerged of “colectivos” patrolling the streets of Caracas during the vote counts. To date, no government audit has confirmed Maduro’s claimed victory of 51.2 percent, while the opposition claims a landslide win of 67 percent to the government’s 30 percent.
This presidential election feels different for me because, for the first time, I covered it from within my home country. Previously, I reported from the comfort of a news anchor desk in the US, thinking I understood Venezuela because I was born there. I left Venezuela at age 12 and have lived in the US for 24 years. My childhood memories of Venezuela are vastly different from the current reality. I left just a year after Chavez took power, so my understanding of the country’s evolving culture and daily life has been shaped from afar.

As a foreign journalist in my own country, I faced a new reality. 

Alejandra Oraa

Despite my years in the US, my career has been entirely in Spanish-language media, which kept me connected to my roots. Then, in 2017, the Venezuelan government banned our channel due to a special investigation into irregularities in the issuing of Venezuelan passports and visas, baselessly accusing us of inciting hatred and violence. Since then, we have only been able to broadcast via YouTube to audiences in Venezuela. Returning to Venezuela for 11 days to cover the elections gave me a firsthand look at what it means to be a Venezuelan journalist in Venezuela.
In Venezuela, accessing information freely requires a VPN. For five days, every attempt to read local online news outlets like El Nacional, El Pitazo, and RunRunes was thwarted by Internet censorship. Even visiting a newspaper stand yielded only sports papers. To stay informed, I had to rely on social media and VPNs. As a journalist, the limitation was frustrating at best. I could only imagine the effort it takes Venezuelans to stay informed. Covering the complexities of simply shopping for food or basic necessities in Venezuela, with its rampant inflation and currency devaluation, was equally frustrating. Despite being Venezuelan and accompanied by an economist, I struggled to understand the local currency’s functioning due to multiple denomination bills and exchange rates, which only deepened my sense of helplessness.
As a foreign journalist in my own country, I faced a new reality. Reporting accurately and truthfully on this story, while safeguarding our ability to continue to do so was a delicate balance. I was often aware of the possibility of misinterpretation and its consequences.
Being an immigrant is challenging, and explaining a country’s intricacies in different languages is even more so. I often felt too “American” to fully grasp my country’s politics. But I leave Venezuela with a clearer, more seasoned understanding of what drives its people. From a distance, it is hard to comprehend why someone would risk their life for election transparency or a better country. But hearing firsthand the grievances and experiences of Venezuelans, I understand why they do it. And in bearing witness to their struggle, I believe this time the world is listening in a different way.
Returning to Venezuela also made me reflect on the importance of press freedom and the perils faced by journalists in repressive regimes. In a country where Internet censorship is rampant, and independent media is stifled, the role of social media and VPNs in disseminating information becomes crucial. Yet, this digital workaround comes with its own risks, as the government can monitor and retaliate against those who seek to bypass its controls.
As I walked through the streets of Caracas, speaking with locals and witnessing their resilience, I was struck by their unwavering determination. Despite the economic hardships and political repression, the spirit of the majority of Venezuelan people remains unbroken, even those who were true believers of Chavez’s original revolution. They continue to fight for a future where their voices are heard, their votes count with transparency, and their freedoms are restored. This indomitable spirit, coupled with the growing international scrutiny, offers a glimmer of hope amid the pervasive darkness.
My time in Venezuela has reinforced my belief in the power of journalism to shine a light on injustices and hold those in power accountable. It has also deepened my appreciation for the freedoms I often take for granted in the US. As I return to my anchor desk, I carry with me the stories of those who cannot speak freely, the courage of those who protest despite the dangers, and the hope that one day, Venezuelans once again feel that they live in a fully functioning democracy. This experience has not only shaped me as a journalist, but also reaffirmed my commitment to telling the stories that matter, no matter the risks.

• Alejandra Oraa is an anchor and correspondent at CNN and CNN en Espanol.