To understand Venezuela, one must look beyond the present moment and ask why such events keep repeating themselves. The country is once again in the global spotlight following Donald Trump’s unlawful capture of President Nicolás Maduro. But this is not a sudden crisis. It is the latest chapter in a long, familiar story.

Venezuela’s real misfortune is not mismanagement alone; it is abundance. Situated in northern South America, the country is home to vast oil reserves that have long whetted imperial appetites. In the modern world order, wealth is less a blessing than an invitation to intervention, destabilisation, and control.

Venezuela was among the first Spanish colonies to declare independence. In 1811, under the leadership of Simón Bolívar, it entered a struggle that was not just territorial but also moral—a fight for dignity and sovereignty. Formal independence came in 1830, yet colonialism did not vanish; it simply evolved. The land was freed, but decision-making, resources, and influence remained exposed to external powers.

By the twentieth century, Venezuela possessed one of the world’s largest oil reserves. Yet this wealth benefited only a narrow elite. Hugo Chávez rose to power by confronting this imbalance, placing oil revenues at the centre of a redistributive state project. Under the Bolivarian Revolution, access to healthcare, education, and social welfare expanded dramatically. For the first time, Venezuela’s oil wealth touched ordinary lives.

But centralising the system entirely around the state carried long-term costs. When Chávez died, he left behind not only social gains but also structural vulnerabilities.

Nicolás Maduro inherited this fragile legacy amid relentless external pressure. Sanctions, embargoes, hyperinflation, and internal unrest combined to suffocate the economy. Then came January 2026.

What unfolded was not a “legal operation” but a naked seizure of power. Trump’s public announcement—boastful and theatrical—made clear that this was not about law or democracy. Power spoke, and law was silenced.

The playbook was familiar. First come accusations of drugs and “narco-terrorism,” followed by appeals to human rights, and finally the promise of democracy. This script has been used before—against Noriega in Panama, Saddam Hussein in Iraq, Muammar Gaddafi in Libya. Only the setting and actors change; the method remains the same.

Reuters’ claim that the operation occurred “by mutual agreement” exposes the reality: no such intervention succeeds without collaborators from within. The United States has learned this lesson the hard way. In Somalia in 1993, Delta Force helicopters were shot down, and soldiers were killed. In a country like Venezuela, with a robust military and political apparatus, intervention is impossible without internal betrayal.

Sudan. Libya. Iraq. Afghanistan.  Different histories, identical outcomes.

And where is the so-called “international community”? Silent. At least, this does not show again that the United Nations does not deliver justice; it only manages power balances. And NATO serves as the military arm of imperial interests. Yesterday it was Iraq. Today, it is Venezuela. Tomorrow, Iran.

This is no coincidence. The move against Maduro aligns with rising unrest in Iran and renewed Israeli and American posturing. Securing Venezuelan oil is part of a strategy to stabilise global supply in preparation for future conflict.

If oil flows, there is war. If oil stops, there is a crisis.

Washington does not fear war. It fears losing control.

Is there a way out? Yes, but it will not be found in UN corridors or gold vaults. It lies in building alliances rooted in justice rather than power, distributing resources equitably, and dismantling internal networks that invite foreign intervention.

Otherwise, the pattern will repeat itself. Yesterday Palestine. Today Venezuela. Tomorrow, another nation.

And one day, inevitably, it will be ours.