Venezuela's United Socialist ruling party (PSUV) claimed an overwhelming victory in the May 25 parliamentary and regional elections, securing 23 out of 24 governorships and more than 80% of National Assembly seats. Yet the triumph feels pyrrhic, played out in largely empty polling stations as the majority of Venezuelans heeded opposition calls for a boycott.

The hollow nature of President Nicolás Maduro's latest electoral success marks yet another chapter of Venezuela's accelerating move away from democratic governance – a process started in the 2000s under former president Hugo Chavez and turbocharged by Maduro since his ascent to power in 2013. This firmly places Venezuela alongside authoritarian states such as Belarus and Russia, both close Maduro allies, where elections serve purely as theatrical exercises rather than genuine contests for power.

According to official figures from the government-controlled National Electoral Council (CNE), turnout reached a meagre 42.6% of Venezuela's 21mn registered voters, though opposition leaders claimed actual participation was even lower, with abstention rates exceeding 85% in some areas. Independent journalists reported deserted polling centres across the country, a stark contrast to the July 2024 presidential election, which many saw as the last chance of reinstating democracy, when queues stretched for hours despite the ultimately disputed outcome.

The mass abstention reflects profound disillusionment with Venezuela's electoral system following last year's presidential contest, which Maduro claims to have won despite credible evidence supporting opposition candidate Edmundo González. The government's refusal to publish detailed voting tallies, combined with a subsequent crackdown that left 28 dead and thousands detained, shattered remaining faith in democratic processes.

"Citizens didn't see the point in participating; they don't believe in the election because they feel the results have already been predetermined," political scientist Santiago Rodríguez told Efecto Cocuyo, capturing the prevailing mood amongst Venezuela's 30mn population. Nearly 8mn of them have fled the country in the past decade due to deteriorating economic and security conditions under Maduro’s rule.

The opposition's decision to boycott represents a calculated gamble. Led by María Corina Machado, the anti-Chavista firebrand who was barred from running last year on spurious charges, critics argued that participation would merely legitimise an inherently flawed process. "There are no conditions. There are no guarantees. There is no referee. That's why there is no election," Machado declared.

This strategy differs markedly from previous electoral cycles, when opposition parties contested seats despite systemic disadvantages. The shift reflects a growing consensus that Venezuela's institutions have been so thoroughly captured by the ruling party that conventional political engagement has become futile.

Still, a smaller opposition faction, led by twice-failed presidential candidate Henrique Capriles and Zulia state governor Manuel Rosales, rejected the boycott calls, arguing that abstention merely ceded more ground to the government. Capriles won a parliamentary seat, though his participation was widely viewed as providing democratic cover for an essentially undemocratic exercise.

“After July 28, Maduro and those around him went into war mode. After this election, I’m going to try to open channels to think about the possibility of negotiation processes in the future,” Capriles told El Pais, hinting at possible talks with the regime. He now risks being labelled as a leader of the “systemic opposition” which, just like in Russia, does not truly wish to unseat authoritarian rulers and only helps to legitimise the dictatorship in the eyes of the world.

The election's most provocative element involved the Essequibo region, claimed by Venezuela but administered by Guyana for decades. Caracas created a new electoral district and opened polling stations in the neighbouring region of Bolivar to choose representatives for the disputed oil-rich territory, effectively treating it as Venezuelan soil despite ongoing proceedings at the International Court of Justice, which seek to end the century-old territorial standoff. The move, widely seen as an attempt to rally nationalist support given that Essequibo's annexation enjoys cross-party backing, prompted warnings from Georgetown that participation could constitute treason.

Over the past decade the government has systematically undermined opposition parties through disqualifications, arrests and legal harassment. The May 25 election was preceded by the detention of more than 70 people, including prominent opposition leader Juan Pablo Guanipa, on charges of plotting electoral sabotage.

The ruling party's control now extends across virtually all Venezuelan institutions. Beyond dominating elected offices, the government appoints Supreme Court justices, the attorney general and electoral authorities through the National Assembly. Regional officials, regardless of party affiliation, wield minimal influence given Venezuela's highly centralised system of governance.

Since last year's disputed presidential election, international responses have been swift and condemnatory. Ending months of speculation last week, the United States, which recognises González as Venezuela's legitimate president, revoked oil giant Chevron's licence to operate in the country, dealing a blow to a key economic lifeline for Maduro. The European Union and several Latin American governments have similarly refused to recognise the electoral results.

Yet Maduro appears increasingly indifferent to international isolation and sanctions, confident that support from allies such as Russia, China and Iran provides sufficient economic and diplomatic cover. The election results will further entrench this calculation, demonstrating that domestic opposition has been effectively neutralised through a combination of repression and demoralisation.

Much like his fellow authoritarian leaders, Maduro has discovered that maintaining electoral facades whilst gutting democratic substance can provide useful legitimacy both domestically and internationally. The latest exercise in democratic theatre may have fooled a few observers, hand-picked from far-left and anti-Western fringe organisations worldwide, but it achieved its primary objective: buying the regime some more time by consolidating power whilst maintaining plausible deniability about its authoritarian nature.

Whether the Global South will buy Maduro’s narrative this time, though, is anything but sure. Many countries in the region, including the leftist governments of Brazil and Colombia, never recognised him as the legitimate winner of last year’s election due to the sheer scale of fraud allegations. Brazil went as far as vetoing Caracas’ accession to BRICS during last year’s Kazan summit, much to the disappointment of Russian President Vladimir Putin, a staunch supporter of Maduro. Only the hard-line dictatorships of Cuba and Nicaragua continue to support the Bolivarian regime unwaveringly.

Meanwhile, for Venezuela's beleaguered population the path forward remains unclear. With conventional political channels effectively no longer an option and security forces pledging loyalty to the regime despite repeated opposition calls to “join the side of the people,” prospects for democratic change appear increasingly elusive.

As one Caracas resident interviewed by AP observed whilst avoiding the polling stations: "I don't believe in the electoral authority. Nobody forgets what happened in the presidential elections. It's sad, but it's true."

That cynical sentiment, multiplied across millions of Venezuelans, represents the most significant outcome of the latest election: the final burial of democratic legitimacy in the ultimate land of contradictions, a cash-strapped country hosting the world’s largest proven oil reserves, once regarded as the “jewel of Latin America.” With the last veneer of political pluralism crumbling, Venezuela's transformation into a fully authoritarian state now appears complete, leaving its citizens with few options beyond emigration. Or, perhaps, a misguided hope for external intervention – though Washington's appetite for such ventures has waned – or eventual change from within the regime itself.