From Steering Wheel to Iron Grip: Nicolás Maduro, the Echo of Noriega, and the Cost of Power Without Accountability

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The story of Nicolás Maduro Moros was once sold as a triumph of the ordinary man. A bus driver, a high school dropout, a trade union activist who rose from the margins of society to become president of one of South America’s most resource-rich nations. For a time, his ascent symbolized possibility. But history will remember him differently: as a high-handed leader who hollowed out democratic institutions, weaponized sovereignty against his own people, and ultimately followed a path eerily reminiscent of an earlier Latin American strongman—Manuel Antonio Noriega of Panama—whose rule ended in U.S. capture decades before.

Today, with the Venezuelan leader now in U.S. custody, the arc of Maduro’s rise and fall has taken on the unmistakable shape of a political cautionary tale, one that links Panama in 1989 to Venezuela in the 21st century, and exposes a recurring pattern of authoritarian excess, legal manipulation, and the fatal belief that force can permanently substitute for legitimacy.

Humble Beginnings and the Illusion of Revolutionary Ascent

Born into a working-class family in Caracas, Nicolás Maduro did not follow a conventional path to power. He never completed high school and found early employment as a bus driver in the capital’s metro system. It was there, in the crucible of labour activism, that he developed a political identity rooted in grievance, class struggle, and confrontation.

Maduro’s fortunes changed when he encountered former President Hugo Chávez, whose Bolivarian revolution redefined Venezuelan politics after 1999. Chávez, like the current President of Nigeria, valued loyalty above all else, and Maduro proved unwavering. Over the years, he was elevated from union activism to the National Assembly, then to foreign minister, and eventually to vice president. When Chávez died in 2013, Maduro was presented as his chosen successor.

What Maduro inherited, however, was not just power but a system already skewed toward executive dominance—one in which institutions were weakened, dissent was stigmatized, and revolutionary rhetoric masked growing authoritarian tendencies.

A Fragile Mandate and the Turn to Force

Maduro’s initial election was narrow and deeply contested. Unlike Chávez, he lacked charisma, popular trust, and the unifying force of oil-fueled prosperity. As Venezuela’s economy collapsed under mismanagement, corruption, and declining oil prices, public frustration mounted.

Faced with crisis, Maduro did not reform. Instead, he ruled. Protests were met with brutality. Opposition leaders were jailed, barred from office, or forced into exile. Independent media was silenced through closures, intimidation, and economic strangulation. The judiciary, already compromised, became an extension of the executive.

The state’s security apparatus—police, intelligence services, and armed civilian groups—was increasingly deployed not to protect citizens but to control them. Fear replaced consent as the glue holding power together.

Changing the Rules to Stay in Power

Central to Maduro’s authoritarian consolidation was his systematic rewriting of the rules. When the opposition won control of the National Assembly in 2015, it was not allowed to govern. The Supreme Court, packed with loyalists, stripped the legislature of its powers.

In 2017, Maduro bypassed constitutional processes entirely by creating a Constituent Assembly designed to entrench his authority. This parallel structure assumed sweeping powers, effectively neutralizing democratic checks and balances. Electoral laws were altered, timelines manipulated, and institutions hollowed out to ensure one outcome: Maduro’s continued grip on power. By now, law ceased to be a restraint. It became a weapon.

Sovereignty as a Shield, Repression as Policy

Throughout his rule, Maduro invoked sovereignty as a talisman against criticism. International pressure was dismissed as imperialism. Domestic dissent was framed as treason. Economic collapse was blamed on foreign conspiracies rather than internal failure.

But sovereignty in a democracy belongs to the people, not the president. When leaders obstruct justice, manipulate constitutions, and deploy guns against citizens, they forfeit the moral authority to govern. Maduro’s Venezuela became a textbook example of how sovereignty can be distorted into a shield for abuse.

The Noriega Parallel: History Repeating Itself

Maduro’s downfall echoes a strikingly similar episode in Latin American history. Decades earlier, Panama was ruled by General Manuel Antonio Noriega, a military strongman who combined repression, corruption, and institutional manipulation to maintain power. Noriega crushed opposition, controlled the courts, muzzled the press, and used security forces to intimidate the population.

Like Maduro, Noriega wrapped himself in nationalist rhetoric, denounced foreign interference, and believed control of the security apparatus made him untouchable. Like Maduro, he underestimated the consequences of dismantling democratic norms and ruling through fear.

In 1989, under President George H. W. Bush, the United States launched an operation that deposed Noriega. The Panamanian strongman was captured, flown to the United States, and prosecuted. His fall marked the end of an era of unchecked military rule in Panama and became a defining example of how authoritarian leaders who abuse power often meet abrupt and ignominious ends.

Maduro’s capture decades later underscores how history, when ignored, has a way of repeating itself—sometimes with uncanny precision.

Decline, Isolation, and the Collapse of Legitimacy

As Venezuela descended into humanitarian catastrophe, Maduro’s international isolation deepened. Millions fled the country. Once-loyal allies grew uneasy. His authority rested increasingly on coercion rather than consent, surveillance rather than support.

By the time his rule ended, Maduro no longer resembled the union activist who once spoke of empowerment. He had become what he claimed to oppose: a ruler sustained by decrees, courts in name only, and the barrel of a gun.

The Global Lesson

The stories of Nicolás Maduro and Manuel Noriega converge on a single, enduring truth: sovereignty is not a license for tyranny. When the world looks away as leaders change laws, obstruct justice, and crush democratic norms under the guise of non-interference, it enables repression.

Democracy does not die only through coups; it dies through legal manipulation, institutional decay, and the normalization of fear. The capture of Maduro, like that of Noriega before him, is a reminder that power seized through force and preserved through repression is ultimately fragile.

In a democracy, sovereignty belongs to the people. When leaders forget this—when they mistake the state’s guns for public consent—their rise may be dramatic, but their fall is often inevitable.

Comrade James Ezema is a journalist, political strategist, and the National Coordinator of the Not Too Young To Perform (NTYTP) Leadership Development Advocacy and National President of the Association of Bloggers and Journalists Against Fake News (ABJFN). He writes from Abuja, Nigeria and can be reached via email: jamesezema@gmail.com or WhatsApp: +234 8035823617

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