Trump's Conquest of Venezuela

Discuss Diglett
2 days ago
10 min read

This article is co-authored by Lynn Lai and Luo Xuhong. Cover image by Nicole Lee

*This article is published in collaboration with Doomscroll Diplomacy, your next one-stop platform for all things foreign affairs. Check out Doomscroll Diplomacy's telegram channel here.

On the 3rd of January, the United States launched a military strike on Venezuela to capture President Nicolás Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores. Many Venezuelans took to the streets to celebrate. After all, Nicolás Maduro did not win Venezuela’s most recent election by democratic means. Venezuela was all but an authoritarian regime before this point.

On the surface, Maduro’s removal was easy to justify in moral and political terms. However, removing an illegitimate leader is not the same as repairing a broken state. While flashy, the American intervention in Venezuela merely addresses the most visible problem while leaving other deeper crises untouched. Unfortunately, this mistake is not new. Past American interventions have shown that regime decapitation leaves behind a power vacuum that remaining elites and patronage networks quickly fill, often with catastrophic results.

More concerningly, the rest of the world looks on in horror as a familiar brand of imperialism returns. With few precedents in history, the largest military power in the world invading another sovereign nation to seize its head of state is simply a slap in the face for the rules-based international order.

Distinct Illegality, Zero Accountability

Let’s first begin with a brief examination of the legality of Trump’s adventures, which most legal experts agree that they appear to be in clear violation of customary international law.

The circumstances in which the use of force can be justified under international law are largely undisputed: aside from a Chapter VII mandate under articles 39 and 42 of the UN Charter (i.e. a United Nations Security Council resolution specifically authorising the use of force against another sovereign state), self-defence is the sole exception. Unfortunately, neither option was met in this case.

Moreover, Trump’s attempted justification – responding to the threat of Venezuelan narco-terrorists importing drugs into the US – falls far short of the kinetic military action threshold that is required to invoke the option of self-defense under Article 51. For all the drug smuggling that Maduro might be directly or indirectly responsible for, there was no imminent threat of an armed attack upon the US. In fact, prior US military interventions in Grenada and Panama in the 1980s that similarly relied upon the doctrine of self-defense were promptly rejected and condemned by the international community.

Alternatively, legal experts have also theorised that Maduro’s seizure could be permissible if it was framed as a humanitarian intervention. However, the legitimate purpose of such an intervention is to safeguard the domestic population against the most severe of human rights violations such as circumstances tending towards genocide. Military intervention is only considered as a last resort. Even then, its application is only partially recognised today as many still consider this doctrine as an unacceptable assault on sovereignty.

Still others have suggested domestic US legal arguments (such as the Ker-Frisbie doctrine that permits federal courts in the US to exercise jurisdiction over a criminal defendant regardless of how unlawfully they were brought into the country and Maduro’s pending federal charges) as a viable defence to Trump’s actions.

However, international law is clear that a state must not invoke domestic legislation to justify its failure to comply with international obligations. Two wrongs don’t make a right: even if Maduro is eventually found guilty of the crimes he is accused of, that does not absolve Washington of responsibility over its illegal conduct in Venezuela.

As the holder of veto rights in the United Nations Security Council and also home to the largest military in the world, the US will likely never face any meaningful accountability over its actions. Yet, Trump’s justification for the use of force on flimsy grounds sends a strong message that international norms and the legal order can be brushed aside when inconvenient.

The Resource Curse

In a rather feeble attempt to justify his military operation, Trump has declared that he is after Venezuela’s oil reserves. However, Venezuela’s oil sector is not an untapped prize. Apart from Chevon, most Western firms pulled out long ago in the aftermath of Hugo C hávez’s decision to nationalise the oil industry, which saw Big Oil corporations forced into minority stakes alongside the state-controlled oil company PDVSA or face asset seizure. With very few players in the field, Venezuela’s infrastructure for extracting and refining oil has been deteriorating for decades.

To add more fuel to the fire, successive governments used the sector for political patronage. Chávez purged thousands of experienced engineers and managers for their involvement in the 2002-2003 strikes and replaced them with loyalists, military officers, and political appointees – gutting PDVSA of the crucial expertise and knowledge it needed to thrive.

Despite reserves, Venezuela produces little oil. Image credit: Statista — Image credit: Statista

In the decades since, decay has taken over Venezuela’s oil infrastructure. Production plunged from over 3 million barrels per day in the late 1990s to a fraction of that level by the 2010s. Estimates show that it would take billions in investments for oil production to recover to previous levels. Add in the prolonged political and legal turmoil and it is no wonder that oil executives have remained lukewarm to Trump’s invitations to invest (an outright rejection attracting Trump’s ire would not end well).

Therein begs the question: is Trump really after Venezuela’s oil or is this just another red herring?

A Closer Look At Caracas

Maduro’s removal is not a turning point. Venezuela’s crisis isn’t caused by a single authoritarian leader, but by prolonged state failure. What follows depends less on who claims moral legitimacy than on who controls institutions, can manage elite incentives, and can prevent the state from fracturing further. Delcy Rodríguez and María Corina Machado represent fundamentally different kinds of political authority.

Machado (left) and Rodríguez (right). Image credit: CNN

Rodríguez, Maduro’s long-time vice president and current acting president of Venezuela. Rodríguez has spent years at the helm of state power, managing portfolios including foreign affairs, economy, and oil. In the months leading up to Maduro’s capture, she quietly engaged with American and Qatari intermediaries to discuss how Venezuela might be governed after his departure, signalling her intent to work with Washington to ensure stability once he was gone.

These backchannel discussions began in the fall of 2025 and included promises to cooperate on transitional arrangements and American oil interests. This pre-existing arrangement may explain both her absence from Caracas during the operation and the relatively limited resistance that American forces encountered. Rodríguez’s value lies not in democratic credibility, but in her capacity to command compliance, manage elite interests, and deliver enforceable outcomes.

In contrast, Machado derives her legitimacy on popular support and international recognition. Widely-recognised as the rightful winner of Venezuela’s 2024 election, she represents a clean break from the Chavista order. Yet, that legitimacy does not translate into control over the military, the bureaucracy, or PDVSA. While Machado’s nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize did elevate her moral standing abroad, it did little to alter the balance of power within Caracas, where real authority remains tied to institutions she does not command.

For Trump, the coexistence of Rodríguez and Machado was an asset. Machado provided democratic legitimacy without threatening control, while Rodríguez supplied administrative continuity. Publicly elevating Machado through praise, symbolic endorsements, and even talks of a Nobel Peace Prize gave America the moral justification for such an intervention, reassuring domestic and international observers. Quietly relying on Rodríguez ensured that the Venezuelan state remained governable. The transition America is facilitating is not driven by popular sovereignty, but a dual-track arrangement in which legitimacy and power were deliberately kept separate.

Foreign Entanglements

We are going to run the country until such time as we can do a safe, proper and judicious transition. - Trump, 2026

In the immediate aftermath, Trump has repeatedly hinted at the possibility of further military incursions into Venezuela. Trump’s brand of coercive diplomacy has instead revealed a clear misalignment with his stated aims of “restoring democracy”. Apart from appointing Rodríguez as the leader of an interim government beholden to himself, no plans for elections or a more permanent transfer of power have been otherwise concretised.

Rather than drawing up plans for an eventual democratic transition, Trump has instead acted swiftly to secure and sell Venezuela’s oil supplies to the tune of at least US$500mn in recent weeks. Apart from an executive order containing sweeping language that authorises Rubio to spend on anything for “public, governmental, or diplomatic purposes” on behalf of Venezuela, other basic details of how the fund will operate remain unknown.

Oil aside, let’s return to examining Trump’s ambitions of running a sovereign state.

Scenes of chaos at Kabul airport as US forces withdrew from Afghanistan in August 2021. Image credit: CBC

The US would do well to relook at some lessons that it (should have) learnt in its past entanglements overseas. One particular example should remain fresh in Trump’s mind: America’s adventures in Afghanistan. Spanning nearly 2 decades and over US$2 trillion, a lack of understanding of Afghanistan’s political realities shaped a series of lacklustre, ill-informed policies that directly contributed to the swift collapse of the local government once American forces fully withdrew.

Yet, the closest parallel to the chaos of this month can be drawn from the US invasion of Panama 6 years later. In circumstances oddly similar to Venezuela, troops were sent into Panama to capture its leader Manuel Noriega after he annulled the results of a recent election and refused to concede defeat. Noriega was eventually found guilty of drug trafficking and money laundering, serving 17 years in a US jail.

Following the intervention, the outbreak of widespread looting and multiple civilian casualties meant that the US was caught in a stickier situation than Venezuela (even though American forces departed after installing the rightful victor of the annulled 1989 election). In particular, the political party that Noriega led remains a dominant player in local politics today, defying expectations that it would fade into obscurity after the departure of its strongman leader.

If Trump wishes to look beyond the US for case studies, the UN’s bungled involvement in Cambodia holds an equally valuable lesson. Armed with a weak mandate, the UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia sought to do many things too quickly – disarm rebel factions and hold an election within a year – in a nation still fresh from the horrors of the Vietnam-Cambodia War.

While the UN-run election itself achieved a high voter turnout and paved the way for a new constitution to be written, the UN administration’s inability to reconcile deep-seated political divisions resulted in the formation of a fragile coalition government that promptly collapsed a mere 4 years later in July 1997.

The list can go on - Iraq, Vietnam and Libya just to name a few. In each country, the US intervened without a clear exit strategy. Despite headline military victories, American forces were soon bogged down as the complexities of administration and eventually managing the post-regime transition set in.

But Trump doesn’t really learn from history. While we cannot conclusively determine whether Trump has indeed shelved plans for further military incursions into Venezuela, recent Republican successes in quashing bids to restrain Trump’s war powers across both chambers mean that Trump remains free to pursue his agenda for Venezuela, whatever that may entail.

What’s next?

A Cloudy Outlook Ahead

The most likely outcome is authoritarian continuity with cosmetic changes. Maduro’s shock capture is precisely the type of headline success that Trump relishes in. Nearly a month on, only the vaguest of details over the future of Rodríguez’s interim government have emerged. Opposition leader Machado’s offer of her Nobel Peace Prize to Trump got her little more than Trump-branded merchandise in return. Instead, developments have mainly focused on Venezuela’s oil resources – perhaps the greatest hint that Trump has already turned his attention to elsewhere. Acquire Greenland next?

A second, less likely path involves sustained American engagement aimed at restructuring Venezuelan governance from the bottom up. While popular support for Maduro’s regime may have dwindled over the years, his henchmen still retain control over state machinery – alongside the well-oiled patronage networks and entrenched corruption. Further complicating matters, erasing what Maduro left behind would require the systemic dismantling or co-optation of colectivos (armed paramilitary gangs fiercely loyal to Maduro) that routinely engage in violent clashes with anti-government demonstrators.

Finally, the least likely outcome is a genuine democratic transition - at least in the short term. Machado may possess moral legitimacy among much of Venezuela’s population but she lacks control over the patronage networks dating from the Maduro era that remain very much intact. Trump’s willingness to work with Rodríguez reflects an implicit recognition that a pliant Caracas is his true goal. After all, Rodríguez could find herself following in her compatriot’s footsteps and booking into the Metropolitan Detention Center should she prove too much trouble for Trump.