In Doral, Florida, the city nicknamed "Doralzuela" for its dense Venezuelan population, a storm of anxious debate and hope swirls around the fate of Venezuela and the role the United States might play in shaping it. As reported by NPR on November 25, 2025, and echoed in The New York Times and other outlets, Venezuelan exiles and immigrants—many of whom fled political persecution and economic collapse—find themselves at the heart of a growing conversation about U.S. intervention, regime change, and the uncertain future that looms over their homeland.
For many in Doral, the past two and a half decades have been defined by loss and upheaval. Stories abound of imprisonment, death threats, beatings, and the chilling "disappearance" of friends and relatives—accounts that stretch back to the days of Hugo Chávez and continue under Nicolás Maduro's socialist government. As Scott Tong of NPR's Here and Now reported, these exiles are watching every move made by the Trump administration with bated breath, having experienced firsthand the consequences of authoritarian rule. "They spoke of being in the political opposition, being imprisoned, receiving death threats and being beaten, their friends and relatives being disappeared in verb form, as they put it," Tong recounted.
With the Trump administration ramping up pressure on Maduro—through everything from deadly boat strikes, denounced by legal experts as illegal, to a significant buildup of U.S. Naval forces in the Caribbean—the stakes feel higher than ever. In Doral, ordinary conversations at the grocery store or discount chains like Ross Dress for Less have shifted from the mundane to the existential. "What’s going to happen? We don’t know what the outcome is going to be or what the strategy is," said Liz Rebecca Alarcón, a local resident, to The New York Times.
Amid this uncertainty, one thing is clear: the Venezuelan community in South Florida is not monolithic. While the loudest voices in Doral seem to favor robust American intervention—some even calling for military action—others urge caution, worried about the risks of chaos and civilian casualties. "In theory, we should be united by the same thing, which is liberty for Venezuela," said Esteban Hernández Ramos, a 30-year-old who left Venezuela at 16 and now works for a right-wing Spanish-language media outlet. "In practice, there’s this division." Hernández Ramos supports a sustained U.S. military occupation, not just to remove Maduro, but to "dismantle the military leadership that has kept him in power," citing the widely held belief among exiles that Maduro stole the 2024 presidential election.
Supporters of intervention have found powerful allies in American politics. Marco Rubio, the Florida senator and staunch anticommunist, has long championed the cause of Venezuelan exiles. The Secretary of State and President Trump's national security adviser have also lent their voices to the pressure campaign. Perhaps most poignantly, Maria Corina Machado—the Nobel Peace Prize-winning opposition leader who now lives in hiding in Caracas—continues to call for regime change, often communicating with supporters in Doral from afar.
Jorge Jaen, a leading voice with the Venezuelan American Republican Club of Miami-Dade, put the case for forceful intervention bluntly. "There has to be a heavy hand. Could be taking care of the drug laboratories that you have in Venezuela," he told NPR. When pressed about the possibility of surgical strikes, Jaen replied, "Yeah. It could be surgical strikes." He went further, stating, "Anything that brings freedom to the individuals that are being oppressed in Venezuela, I think, should be on the table." For Jaen and many like him, the urgency is palpable—every day under Maduro feels like another day lost to fear and repression.
Yet, not everyone in Doral is so certain that military action is the answer. Concerns abound about the unintended consequences of intervention. Some worry that, should the U.S. invade, it would be nearly impossible to distinguish "the good guys from the bad guys." Others fear that a sudden power vacuum could plunge Venezuela into even deeper chaos, making day-to-day life worse for ordinary citizens. "If the Americans invade, could they differentiate between the good guys and the bad guys? Will innocent Venezuelans die? If Maduro does go, could it bring chaos and a power vacuum, making lives—regular people—even worse?" Tong summarized the community's doubts.
Adding another layer of complexity are the claims made by some exile groups about Maduro's regime. Proponents of regime change allege that Maduro heads a drug cartel and has ties to terrorist organizations like Hamas and Hezbollah. However, independent analysts urge skepticism. David Smilde, a Venezuela scholar at Tulane University, told NPR, "The lesson here is that exiled and marginalized opposition leaders from other countries are not good sources of information. They have, obviously, understandable political interests in generating U.S. intervention. I mean, listen to them. Great. But they should not be taken as solid analysis." Smilde also cautioned that evidence for these dramatic claims is "rather thin," and he reminded listeners of the long, checkered history of exile groups encouraging U.S. military action—often with disastrous results.
Indeed, the specter of past American interventions looms large in Doral's collective memory. Smilde referenced Iraq in 2003 and the Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961 as cautionary tales of what can happen when the U.S. is drawn into foreign conflicts by exile communities with their own agendas. "In some cases, this American action has not ended well," he noted.
Meanwhile, the Trump administration's own signals have been anything but consistent. In recent days, as reported by The New York Times, the sense of imminent military intervention has alternated with moments when President Trump appeared open to dialogue with Maduro. This diplomatic whiplash has only added to the uncertainty felt by Venezuelan Americans in Doral and beyond.
Beneath all the political maneuvering, the human cost remains front and center for those who have fled Venezuela. For many, the memories of persecution are still fresh. The hope for a free and democratic Venezuela is undiminished, but the fear of further violence—whether from Maduro's regime or as an unintended result of foreign intervention—hangs heavy in the air.
As the debate rages on, one thing is certain: the fate of Venezuela is not just a foreign policy issue for the residents of Doral. It is personal, urgent, and deeply divisive. The voices calling for action are loud, but so too are the warnings to proceed with caution, lest history repeat itself in tragic fashion. The community continues to watch, wait, and hope—caught between the scars of the past and the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring.
