Year LXVII, 2025, Single Issue, Page 56
VENEZUELA AND TRUMP: DARK OMENS
Writing to a friend on 5 August, 1829, Simon Bolívar, a key figure in Venezuelan independence, lamented that: “the United States seems destined by Providence to plague America with misery in the name of liberty”.1 The recent US military operation that resulted in the capture of President Nicolás Maduro—accused by Washington of narcoterrorism—followed by Trump’s warnings of possible interventions in Mexico and Colombia to defend US interests brings back into focus the “not in my backyard” mindset that has long shaped US policy towards its Latin American neighbours.
We have always been taught to regard the United States as the world’s leading example of democracy. However, if we look at its foreign policy management from a more detached perspective, some doubts emerge. While the extraordinary—and crucial—political and military support provided by the United States in the fight for freedom during the First World War and against fascism in the Second World War is a historically established fact, appraisals of its foreign policy throughout the rest of the twentieth century, in both Latin American and broader international opinion, have tended to be considerably less positive. Freedom has consistently been invoked to justify instances of US interference in Latin America—an interventionism at times implemented through the use of armed force, as in Cuba (1898 and 1961), Grenada (1983) and Panama (1989), and at times by lending support to coups or to some of modern history’s most violent and repressive military juntas.2 The fact that this interventionism has characterised both Republican and Democrat administrations bears witness to a continuity in the US approach to internal Latin American affairs. Some interventions have been framed as efforts to counter governments perceived as pro-communist or socialist, while others have sought to rid a country of a dictator, as in the recent case of the capture of Maduro in Venezuela, and all have been justified by the argument that they were necessary to safeguard vital US interests. The question that has to be asked, however, is how far the United States can legitimately go to safeguard its strategic interests, especially considering that it maintains over 600 military bases worldwide (with some observers estimating the number to be as high as 800).3
A separate, in-depth analysis of the evolution of American society under Trump and the transformation of US foreign policy since the collapse of the Soviet Union would undoubtedly raise numerous significant points for consideration; here, however, we will confine ourselves to several observations in view of the recent events in Venezuela.
It is widely accepted that Venezuela has not functioned as a democracy ever since Chávez assumed the presidency of the country,4 and the succession of Maduro following Chávez’s death in 2013 marked the beginning of the Venezuelan government’s definitive descent into authoritarian rule, as this publication has noted on several occasions.5 Maduro has won all the subsequent presidential elections, each of which was widely condemned as illegitimate by the whole of the international community—with the significant exceptions of Russia, China, Iran, Cuba and Nicaragua—on the basis of electoral irregularities and suppression of the opposition forces, many of whose exponents were silenced, imprisoned or forced into exile.
Venezuela was therefore not part of the community of democratic states at the time of Maduro’s capture by US special forces. The problem—following his subsequent deportation to face trial in New York on charges of leading drug trafficking organisations—is that Venezuela today remains under the control of his supporters, heightening the risk of civil unrest.
Indeed, contrary to Trump’s declarations, the United States is not running Venezuela, either politically or militarily, having sent no troops to occupy the country. This may be because the real reason for capturing Maduro was an entirely different one: to take control of Venezuela’s oil reserves, which are believed to be the largest in the world. The US certainly has no intention of exporting democracy to the country, as that is not where its interest lies. Unsurprisingly, amid contradictory statements at his January 3 press briefing, Trump spoke of the imminent return to Venezuela of the American oil companies whose facilities had been nationalised under Chávez—companies whose owners have yet to receive the promised 100 billion dollars in compensation. This interest in oil and in gaining control of the related infrastructure is part of a deliberate strategy: to halt Venezuelan crude oil exports at discounted prices to China and Russia, and in particular to Cuba, which relies completely on the supplies that Caracas previously guaranteed in exchange for medical assistance. It is no coincidence that Trump, in his press conference, warned of consequences for Cuba, and also did not neglect to threaten the governments of Colombia and Mexico, accusing them of colluding with drug cartels. The US Department of State has repeatedly stated that 90 per cent of the cocaine circulating in the United States, despite entering via Mexico, is in fact produced in Colombia. Clearly then, if Trump were genuinely intent on stopping drug trafficking, Venezuela and its president would certainly not be his primary target. The capture of Maduro is an example of the performative and dramatic politics that Trump favours, and notwithstanding his bullish declarations, the operation targeted a country that is, in reality, very weak. A similar military intervention in Mexico or Colombia would have devasting repercussions within the United States: the Venezuelan community in the US is largely made up of exiles opposed to Chávez, whereas the Mexican and Colombian ones generally remain attached to their roots and do not politically oppose the governments of their countries of origin. For this reason, military intervention in either of those two countries would certainly trigger a serious backlash from Latino communities within the United States.
Time alone will us tell whether—and how—the United States can provide stable political leadership in Venezuela, which is still effectively governed by allies of Maduro. What is now clear is that the US raid, months in the planning and made possible only by the collaboration of figures close to the Venezuelan president, was aimed mainly at taking control of the country’s vast oil resources. Furthermore, it seems highly unlikely that Putin and Xi Jinping were not informed in advance of this armed intervention when meeting with Trump last year. Both Russia and China, allies of Venezuela since the Chávez era, have strategic cooperation agreements—signed in October 2025 and May 2024 respectively—that commit them to industrial and commercial activities in the country. China, through the China Concord Resources Corporation in the Lake Maracaibo region, already has an extensive presence in Venezuela’s oil sector. It is thus clear that the United States and China will need to find some common ground on how to manage and exploit the country’s oil assets—which currently guarantee Beijing 60,000 barrels a day—in ways that serve their mutual interests. Russia, too, over a period of eleven years, transferred around 17 billion dollars in loans and investments to the Chávez and Maduro governments, allowing them to avoid a sovereign default. In return, the Kremlin received Venezuelan oil. At current prices, the value of the Venezuelan crude that goes to Rosneft, the Russian state oil company, amounts to around 3.6 billion dollars per year.6 But how long can these commercial and financial agreements hold? Trump’s declaration that the sale of Venezuelan oil will be controlled by the United States puts a different slant on the American intervention in Venezuela. What appears to be taking shape is a new ‘Yalta’ arrangement, in which these major powers, by common accord, are dividing the world into spheres of influence. Remarks by Trump on 3 January appear to confirm this: underlining the intention to assert US dominance in the Western Hemisphere, he insisted, “Under our new national strategy, American dominance in the Western Hemisphere will never be questioned again”. This language is no different from that used by Putin at the Munich Security Conference of February 2007, where he declared Russia’s intention to reassert control over international affairs to prevent this domain from remaining a sole prerogative of the West. Similarly, it echoes that used by Xi Jinping when he speaks about Taiwan or the disputes with neighbouring countries over control of the islands in the South China Sea.7
Trump’s manner of speaking borders on arrogance, but his philosophy is clear: even military actions are acceptable provided they offer his country a concrete financial and economic return. This is the position—clearly far from isolationist—of the MAGA faction that supports the president: anything is permissible anywhere in the world if it aligns with the United States’ primary interests. But if a new map of global spheres of influence has indeed been drawn, it remains to be seen where Europe fits into it—and, above all, whether today’s Union has the capacity to play an autonomous role. The stakes are enormous, because the second election of Trump marked a definitive shift in the global balance of power, prompting the United States to now regard Europe as marginal to its interests, even to the point of sharing with Russia the idea that it is now time to push for the dismantling of the European Union.
Closing remark.
The intervention in Venezuela cannot therefore be interpreted in isolation; instead, it forms part of a broader framework of developments involving the United States, from the conflicts in the Middle East and Ukraine to its expansionist claims on Greenland and aggressive stance towards Panama, Mexico and, some months ago, also Canada. Added to this is Trump’s contradictory application of his tariff policies and blocking of ships in international waters, developments that carry significant implications and could easily lead to confrontation—and potentially open conflict—with Russia and China, an outcome whose effects could be dramatic. The world is watching this standoff between superpowers with dismay. The United States should seriously reflect on its choices, because however strong it may feel under Trump, it is alienating much of the world—including those regions with which it shares deep historical and political ties.
Everything has now been called into question, while NATO itself, following Trump’s repeated pronouncements, is losing its role as an alliance. If the major powers indeed now share an imperial vision that overrides respect for international law, the Europeans—if they are to retain any influence—have no choice but to pursue a new model of EU governance built around a core group of countries willing to advance European sovereignty in strategic sectors. The reports by Letta, Draghi and Niinistö could not have been clearer in showing the path forward.
Stefano Spoltore
1 Cartas del Libertador, Vol VII, Caracas, Banco de Venezuela, Fundación Vincente Lecuna, 1969, p. 260. The letter was addressed to English diplomat Patricio Campbell and written after the failure of the Panama Congress in 1826, when the United States successfully conspired to sabotage Bolívar’s project to create a Latin American parliament as a step towards the formation of a federation among the young nations that had recently broken free of Spanish colonial rule.
2 There is a long list of examples that could be cited, but here we will limit ourselves to recalling the succession of military dictatorships in Brazil, Chile and Argentina, as well as in Bolivia and Guatemala, the latter effectively governed by the US multinational United Fruits from 1954 until the early 1970s.
3 See, for example: www.geopop.it (19 April 2023).
4 In 2016, Venezuela was suspended from Mercosur, of which it had been a member since 2012, precisely because it failed to respect the democratic rules set out in the South American common market’s founding treaty.
5 See for example: S. Spoltore, Venezuela e Mercosur: la difficile via verso la democrazia, Il Federalista, 59 n. 3 (2017), p. 169, https://www.thefederalist.eu/site/index.php/it/note/1518-venezuela-e-mercosur-la-difficile-via-verso-la-demo-crazia.
6 See two articles, both published on 8 January, 2026: La transizione passa da BigOil, in Avvenire, and A. Simoni, La guerra sporca del petrolio, in La Stampa.
7 See: S. Spoltore, L’oceano della discordia, Il Federalista, 57 n. 3 (2015), p. 204, https://www.thefederalist.eu/site/index.php/it/note/1476-loceano-della-discordia.
