On the day Edmundo González was plucked from obscurity and chosen to face South America's longest-serving authoritarian leader, technicians were busy making sure his house wasn't bugged.
“This was not in our plans,” said his wife, Mercedes López de González, in an interview that April day in their apartment in Caracas, Venezuela's capital.
Not long ago, González, 74, was a retired diplomat and grandfather of four with no political aspirations. He was busy writing academic papers, speaking at conferences and taking his grandchildren to haircuts and music lessons. Few in his native Venezuela knew his name.
Now, many Venezuelans have pinned their hopes on him to end years of repressive rule as he challenges President Nicolás Maduro, in power since 2013, in elections due in late July.
Mr. González suddenly returned to having a full-time job.
“Twice a day I have to clean my phone,” he said in a brief interview. “I deleted almost 150 messages. I go to bed at 1am and by 4am I'm up and working again. I never would have imagined it.”
After years of rigged elections and political persecution, Venezuelans longing for a return to democracy have learned to expect disappointment.
A coalition of opposing parties, the Roundtable of Democratic Unity, had worked to unite behind a single candidate who could pose a viable challenge to Maduro, but his government posed a number of obstacles.
Ultimately, González emerged as a candidate that the government would not try to block and that the opposition would support.
He accepted the role, but friends and colleagues say it's a role he never prepared for.
“Edmundo is not a man who has ever had political ambitions,” said Phil Gunson, a Venezuela expert at the International Crisis Group in Caracas and a friend of González. “He's someone who does what he considers his duty.”
Some experts say his low profile could make it difficult for González to gain traction among voters, particularly outside Caracas, where information comes from government-controlled media unlikely to give his campaign much coverage.
Gonzalez, unlike other opposition leaders, has not been openly critical of the Maduro government and its human rights record, which has raised concerns among some analysts who say holding officials accountable for abuses is crucial to restore the rule of law in the country. .
At home on the day he arrived to vote, González refused to talk at length about the election.
The youngest of three brothers, Mr. González was born to a family of modest means in the small town of La Victoria, about 50 miles west of Caracas. His mother was a teacher and his father a shopkeeper, which dissuaded him from his childhood dream of being a diplomat, calling it “a profession for the rich,” according to the candidate's daughter, Carolina González.
Undeterred, he continued to study international relations at the Central University of Venezuela.
In college he was a dedicated student, his classmate and longtime friend Imelda Cisneros recalled. It was a politically tumultuous time when a far-left communist ideology was becoming popular on campus and tensions were high.
But Mr. González became a student leader “with a very calm reconciliation approach,” he said.
“He wanted to be a diplomat,” Ms. Cisneros added. “He was very clear about his goal from the beginning.”
He entered the foreign service not long after graduating in 1970, with assignments in Belgium, El Salvador and the United States, where he earned a master's degree in international affairs from the American University in Washington.
He was later appointed ambassador to Algeria, and then to Argentina, where he was sent when Hugo Chávez was elected president in 1999. Chávez would continue to consolidate power under the banner of a socialist-inspired revolution.
Mr. González returned to Venezuela in 2002 and soon retired from the foreign service.
In 2008, he became active in a coalition of opposition parties called the Democratic Unity Roundtable, providing behind-the-scenes advice on international relations issues.
He became president of the coalition's board of directors in 2021, said Ramón Guillermo Aveledo, the coalition's former executive secretary.
But most people, even in Venezuelan political circles, did not know he held that role until he announced his presidential candidacy, because opposition leaders often faced persecution.
This makes González's decision to step into the spotlight against an incumbent president intent on maintaining power risky.
“I'm nervous because we don't know if something could happen to us,” Ms. López de González said.
Those who know González say mounting a presidential campaign is not something he would take lightly.
“He is an extremely balanced man, calm, quite serious and above all sober,” said Ramón José Medina, who chaired the Roundtable of Democratic Unity until 2014 and has been a friend of González for decades.
Maduro signed a deal with the opposition in October to take steps toward free and fair elections, and the United States temporarily lifted some tough economic sanctions as a goodwill gesture.
Days later, a former national lawyer, María Corina Machado, won the primary election with more than 90% of the vote, making her a significant threat to Maduro in a head-to-head contest.
Since then, the Maduro government has erected obstacles to prevent a serious challenger from participating in the runoff.
First, the country's highest court disqualified Ms. Machado in January for what the judges said were financial irregularities that occurred when she was a national lawmaker — a common tactic used to keep viable contenders off the ballot.
Then last month, the government prevented an opposition coalition from presenting another preferred candidate using technical electoral maneuvers just before the registration deadline.
Only one politician, Manuel Rosales, seen by political analysts as Maduro's green light, was allowed to register. For a moment it seemed that the attempt to field a unified candidate had been defeated.
But, surprisingly, the coalition announced that the national electoral authority had granted it an extension, paving the way for González's official entry into the race. Mr. Rosales stepped aside and offered his support to Mr. González.
González's career as a “consensus seeker” helped him unite the opposition, Gunson said.
“He is an acceptable person to many different people,” he added. “And he doesn't offend anyone.”
Those qualities could also make it more likely that Maduro's government will cede power to him if he wins, said Tamara Taraciuk Broner, a Venezuela expert for the Inter-American Dialogue, a Washington research body.
Maduro, experts say, may be willing to admit defeat if he is granted amnesty for human rights abuses and if his party is granted a continued role in the country's political system.
On this front, González was more conciliatory than the other candidates. Ms. Machado said Maduro and members of her administration should be held criminally responsible for corruption and human rights abuses.
Mr. González does said in interviews which is available to dialogue with the Maduro government to ensure a smooth transfer of power.
“His main challenge will be to maintain the balance between keeping the opposition in line behind a unified candidacy and ensuring that his candidacy does not pose an unbearable threat to the regime,” Taraciuk Broner said. “And that's a very fine line.”
A survey already shows that he defeated Maduro, although the poll also shows that about a third of respondents said they were unsure who they would vote for and that about 20% said they would not vote for any candidate in the race.
Aveledo said he hopes González can win over the Venezuelans in the coming weeks.
“Finally someone who speaks with serenity, with moderation, who thinks about problems and solutions, who speaks without shouting, without insulting,” he said. “Because the country is very tired of the conflict.”
