The United States is leading the political transition in Venezuela, marking an end to the socialist regime ushered in by Hugo Chávez in 1999. Under Chávez and his successor Nicolás Maduro, Venezuela’s economy collapsed, reducing one of the wealthiest countries in the world to one of the poorest in South America. Maduro’s capture is an important step toward freedom, but restoring Venezuela will require more than his ousting. My family lived in Caracas before socialism, in the poorest communities that later fell for the promises of dictators. Returning to the pre-socialist Venezuela we knew is not enough to bring the freedom and economic prosperity the people deserve after decades of hardship.
Faith-based institutions must be protected to stem the ill effects of violence and poverty, which have worsened under dictatorship. As the United States helps to rebuild the country’s economy, it must also prioritize the churches that—although suppressed by Chávez and Maduro—once provided for the social welfare of Venezuela’s most vulnerable groups.
When global oil prices fell in the 1980s, Venezuela experienced high inflation and could not keep up with its foreign debt. As a result, the country faced sharp economic decline and political instability, which enabled Chávez to rise in popularity and, later, power. Many experts view the period before the oil crisis as a time of widespread wealth in Venezuela. While it is true that, by the mid-twentieth century, the country had the fourth-richest GDP per capita, Venezuela was riven by inequality, with a Gini coefficient of 55.6 by 1981.
My grandparents immigrated to Caracas after fleeing China during the Communist Revolution. Venezuela was a dangerous place for immigrants, and my family had the double misfortune of being a racial minority and extremely poor. Violence was widespread, and my father was repeatedly assaulted because of his skin color. They lived in an abandoned garage without a roof, making them easy targets for thieves and assailants. On one occasion, a would-be thief saw their desolate living conditions, left, and returned with spare food.
The Church provided a safe haven from the brutality of poverty and discrimination. When my grandmother could not afford to send her children to school, the Catholic Church educated them. At their parochial school they had friends who accepted them and teachers who sympathized with their plight. Their experience was shared by many Venezuelans: The Church was instrumental in providing free education to low-income students, contributing greatly to the decentralized education system that achieved 100 percent primary enrollment rates by the late 1970s.
The Church cared deeply for my family, naming my father and all my aunts and uncles born in Venezuela after biblical figures, foreshadowing brighter days ahead. Although the Church made life more manageable, the social and economic conditions proved too severe for my family. Like so many others, they were forced to flee the country to escape starvation and death.
The Church that helped my family embodies the true spirit of Venezuela, a country that remains over 80 percent Christian. Under the Chávez and Maduro regimes, however, many religious communities were threatened and harassed, and their ability to serve vital social functions was drastically diminished. For example, Chávez reduced subsidies for Catholic social programs and diverted funding to government-approved and state-operated organizations, which he perceived as less hostile to the regime. What had been a successful collaboration between state and Church became adversarial.
Although Chávez described himself as Catholic and commonly appealed to Christian motifs and rhetoric, particularly later in life as he battled cancer, religious freedom deteriorated under his presidency. According to the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom, religious groups were legally required to register with the Venezuelan government, obtain approval for their school curricula, and stand aside as the government confiscated their property. Chávez openly criticized clergymen who spoke out about humanitarian concerns, and anti-Semitism was rampant in both society and the government. In 2009, armed vandals, including eight police officers, desecrated one of Venezuela’s most prominent synagogues, Tiferet Israel. This drew global attention to the religious persecution.
Religious freedom worsened under Maduro. According to the U.S. Department of State, government officers and aligned groups intimidated and detained Catholic clergymen, disrupted church services, and attacked attendees. Extending Chávez’s intolerance for political disagreement, Maduro used an anti-hate law to persecute dissenting clergy. The U.N. Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights found that high-level authorities threatened to apply the law against churches based on the content of their sermons. And in 2019, Maduro prevented foreign aid shipments, including those organized by the Catholic Church, thereby exacerbating the suffering of Venezuelans, 90 percent of whom were living in poverty by 2018.
The government felt threatened by religious communities because they wielded significant influence in society and believed that God was more powerful than the tyrants. But it was the needy and marginalized who ultimately suffered when the regime went after churches.
While it is unclear what role the United States will assume in this political transition, we must take concrete steps to ensure houses of worship are safe from lingering religious discrimination. The U.S. must prioritize religious freedom—both for its own sake and to revive the stabilizing effect the Church once had in the country. Protecting religious freedom simultaneously supports vulnerable groups and will inhibit the socialists from regaining a political foothold.
