Venezuela’s generals did not immediately announce where they stood when Juan Guaidó, a young parliamentarian, was sworn in as “interim president” in front of a huge crowd in the streets of Caracas.

It was a largely symbolic assumption of office, since Guaidó has no power to enforce any decisions. But the new champion of the opposition was recognised as “legitimate president” by the administration of Donald Trump and other American and European powers, including the UK.

And when the chiefs of the armed forces initially stayed silent, rumours spread of serious splits. A division of military loyalties could trigger violence and civil unrest, but could also potentially be a harbinger of real change in a country hungry for any kind of renewal.

In Venezuela today, children and adults die, not from illness, but from lack of medicine or medical attention. The majority of the poor and former middle classes go hungry; there is one of the highest murder rates in the world; and every day thousands flee abroad to join an ever-growing diaspora.

It was once one of the richest countries in the region, but a recent survey by leading academic institutions shows that 87% of Venezuela’s 30 million citizens now live in poverty.

Despite all the hope, and the celebrations of Guaidó’s bold declarations, it became clear just a day later that things were likely to remain more or less as they were. The leadership does not plan to loosen its tight grip on Venezuela’s impoverished society.

On Thursday, the commanders of all branches of the armed forces, and all the regional military chiefs, pledged public support to President Nicolás Maduro on state television. In a speech soon afterwards, Maduro told the ruling core of Chavista loyalists: “Military power talks.” That phrase is key to understanding his continued rule, and his country’s unchanged future.

Guaidó has the support of the vast majority of people, who suffer daily because of severe shortages of medicine, electricity, water and gas – even though they are living in a country with the largest energy reserves in the world. Polls show that over 80% want change. Nonetheless, Maduro was recently re-elected to a six-year term in power, in an election condemned for widespread irregularities.

Military support is no small thing in a country where men in uniform control everything from the state oil firm, PDVSA, to the business of importing medicines and subsidised food; from the ports and airports to the country’s deposits of gold, diamonds, coltan, iron and aluminium.

The military also control the financial system, tax collection, and obviously the arms deals. They maintain close ties with the main weapons suppliers, such as Russia, China and Iran.

They also control domestic dissent: breaking up street protests, detaining dissidents and trying opponents – including parliamentarians – under martial law, bringing charges against them of treason and terrorism.

Is it possible, then, that a young legislator – just 35 years old, and a member of a persecuted opposition party – could defeat an ideology and an elite that has become deeply entrenched in Venezuela, without military support?

Guaidó reappeared in public this Friday in eastern Caracas, answering media questions and repeating his message for a small crowd: “Stop Maduro’s usurpation of the presidency, bring in a transitional government, and hold free elections”.

He asked people to stay on the streets, and announced that he was planning new, large-scale demonstrations. And Guaidó also asked his supporters to download on their computers an amnesty law, approved last week by the opposition-controlled parliament, print it out and hand a copy to the soldiers on the corner of every street.

The men and women in uniform were the target of his speech, because they sustain Maduro – along, of course, with Moscow, Tehran, Istanbul and Beijing.

But after his speech, delivered calmly despite the threat of detention, Guaidó and his team sped away on powerful motorbikes through the streets of Caracas. People started to disperse. It was noon. A few metres away, office workers stood in doorways and passersby queued at cash dispensers, or waited outside bakeries and supermarkets.

Life seemed unchanging – and unchangeable.

Omar Lugo is director of the Venezuelan news website El Estímulo