There is a lie socialism always tells before it tells the truth.

The lie is that it is warm. That it is compassionate. That it cares more deeply, feels more tenderly, and governs more humanely than any system rooted in individual liberty. It promises cradle-to-grave security, shared sacrifice, and moral superiority—all in exchange for a little freedom here, a little property there, and eventually, your independence altogether. The truth comes later. It always does.

Today, that truth no longer governs from a palace in Caracas. It sits behind bars in the United States, wearing shackles instead of a sash.

Nicolás Maduro, the strongman who inherited Hugo Chávez’s socialist “revolution,” no longer presides over anything. He is rotting in U.S. custody, facing justice for narco-terrorism, corruption, and the wholesale destruction of a once-prosperous nation. The man who promised equality delivered starvation. The leader who vowed dignity enforced fear. The architect of collectivist “care” left millions desperate, displaced, and dead. This is not an anomaly. It is the inevitable end of the ideology itself.

Maduro did not consult Venezuelans when he expropriated their livelihoods. He did not politely debate protesters filling the streets. He deployed batons. He deployed bullets. He deployed terror. And now, fittingly, he is no longer the one issuing commands—he is the one awaiting judgment. 

Warm collectivism always ends cold.

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