There is a specific, rather delicious irony in the collapse of authoritarian regimes that never ceases to amuse the cynical observer. We are told, usually by breathless American news anchors or wide-eyed activists, that dictatorships fall due to the irresistible tide of democracy, the righteous anger of the people, or the strategic brilliance of foreign intervention. But as the dust settles over Caracas and Nicolás Maduro finds himself forcibly retired by the American military, the truth reveals itself to be far more pedestrian and infinitely more sordid. The revolution was not defeated by ideals; it was simply restructured by middle management.

It appears that while Maduro was busy practicing his rhetoric on the balcony, posturing against the imperialist yankees, his own lieutenants were busy negotiating the severance package. The revelation that Delcy Rodríguez—Maduro’s Vice President and now the “acting president”—along with her brother Jorge, had been secretly back-channeling with the United States and Qatar to facilitate Maduro’s removal is the sort of Machiavellian twist that would be tragic if it weren’t so utterly predictable. It is the classic maneuver of the survivalist bureaucrat: ensuring that when the ship goes down, one is not merely on a lifeboat, but captaining the rescue vessel.

One must almost admire the cold, reptile-brained efficiency of the Rodríguez siblings. For years, they stood by Maduro’s side, the loyal architects of a crumbling state, nodding along to the incoherent ramblings of a bus driver turned caudillo. Yet, precisely when the geopolitical temperature reached its boiling point, they demonstrated that their loyalty was not to the man, nor even to the ideology of Chavismo, but to the continuity of their own relevance. They assured Washington and Doha—an odd couple of confidants, if ever there was one—that they would be “cooperative.” In the lexicon of international diplomacy, “cooperative” is simply a polite synonym for “complicit in the decapitation of my boss.”

Consider the absurdity of the American position in this farce. The Trump administration, in its infinite chaotic wisdom, executes a military snatch-and-grab operation, ostensibly to liberate Venezuela from tyranny. And who do they find waiting in the presidential palace to shake their hands? The very same apparatus that sustained the tyranny, now wearing a slightly different shade of lipstick. Delcy Rodríguez, sworn in on January 5th, represents not a fresh start, but the ultimate triumph of the deep state over the cult of personality. The Americans have not removed the regime; they have simply assisted in a hostile corporate takeover.

The involvement of Qatar as an intermediary adds a layer of surrealism that only the modern global economy could provide. Why were officials from a gas-rich absolute monarchy in the Persian Gulf brokering the fate of a socialist South American republic with the United States? Because ideology is dead, buried under mountains of debt and pragmatism. The Qataris, much like the Rodríguez siblings, understand that stability is better for business than the unpredictable theatrics of a desperate dictator. Everyone, it seems, was tired of Maduro’s performance. He had become bad for business, a liability to his enemies and, more fatally, an inconvenience to his friends.

This entire episode serves as a scathing indictment of the “Great Man” theory of history. Maduro likely believed himself to be the protagonist of this drama, the indispensable heir to Bolívar. In reality, he was merely the hood ornament on a vehicle driven by people like Delcy and Jorge. When the car needed to be sold to new owners in Washington, the hood ornament was the first thing to be scrapped. It is a lesson in the fragility of power that relies on the loyalty of ambitious subordinates. The moment the cost of loyalty exceeds the price of betrayal, the coup is already complete; the military operation is just the paperwork.

Now, we watch the theater of transition. Delcy Rodríguez will undoubtedly speak of stability, of a new era, while the United States congratulates itself on a job well done. But let us not be naive. The structure that allowed Venezuela to descend into chaos remains intact; it has merely shed its most visible skin. The Rodríguez clan has successfully navigated the most dangerous waters in politics—the transition from trusted advisor to successor via the trapdoor. It is a move that requires a total lack of sentimentality and a surgical precision in backstabbing. Europe has seen this before, of course, from the Praetorian Guard to the Politburo. The names change, but the mechanics of betrayal remain reassuringly, depressingly the same.