Venezuela and the United States: 60 Years of Oil, Power, and a President Taken in the Night

If geopolitics had a single rulebook, it would be thin.
If it had a single obsession, it would be oil.

From the 1960s to Trump’s second presidency, Venezuela–US relations have followed one brutal logic: whoever controls the oil controls the conversation. Democracy, narcotics, human rights, socialism, capitalism—these words come later. Oil comes first.

Venezuela is not just another oil-rich country. It has sat on one of the largest proven crude oil reserves on the planet for decades. This oil is special not because it is “clean” or “easy,” but because it is strategically irreplaceable—heavy crude that can be refined into both petrol and diesel, especially valuable to refineries designed for it. That made Venezuela unavoidable. And eventually, unmanageable.

The early years: friends with benefits (1960s–1970s)

In the Kennedy era and before, Venezuela was a “reliable partner.” Oil flowed. Dollars flowed back. Everyone smiled.

Then came OPEC in 1960, co-founded by Venezuela. That single act told oil-consuming nations one thing clearly:
the producers were done being silent.

In 1976, Venezuela nationalized its oil industry. PDVSA became the state’s crown jewel. From that moment, Venezuela stopped being a supplier and started behaving like an owner.

That was the first fracture.

The slow burn: inequality, anger, and collapse of trust (1980s–1990s)

By the late 1980s, oil money no longer translated into public welfare. Corruption, IMF-style austerity, and rising inequality exploded into the streets during the Caracazo riots of 1989. The state responded with bullets.

That moment killed faith in the old political class.

When people lose faith, they look for fire.

Chávez era: oil becomes ideology (1999–2013)

Hugo Chávez arrived as that fire.

He didn’t just nationalize harder. He politicized oil. Venezuela was no longer selling crude; it was selling defiance. The US was no longer a customer; it was an enemy symbol.

The 2002 coup attempt—short-lived but unforgettable—cemented Chávez’s worldview: Washington could never be trusted. From then on, oil revenues funded social programs, alliances, and loud anti-American messaging.

The relationship was no longer commercial. It was personal.

Maduro era: sanctions, isolation, and decay (2013–2024)

After Chávez’s death, Nicolás Maduro inherited power—but not Chávez’s control, charisma, or timing.

Oil prices crashed. Production collapsed. Corruption deepened. Millions left the country. Sanctions tightened. The US framed the crisis as authoritarian failure; Venezuela framed it as economic warfare.

By 2019, the US openly recognized an alternative president. Diplomatic ties broke. Venezuela became a sanctioned state, economically strangled but politically defiant.

Then the tone changed again.

The narcotics narrative: cartel or convenient weapon?

In 2020, the US formally accused Maduro of narco-terrorism, alleging cooperation with drug trafficking groups and a conspiracy to push cocaine into the United States.

This accusation matters because it relabels a geopolitical enemy as a criminal, not a head of state.

Two things are simultaneously true:

• Drug trafficking routes do pass through Venezuela.
• Allegations against a sitting president are also a powerful political tool.

Whether Maduro personally directed narcotics exports is not a matter of speeches. It is a matter of evidence—witnesses, money trails, communications. That line has never been tested in a neutral court until now.

And then came 2026.

2026: a president taken in the night

In January 2026, Nicolás Maduro was captured inside Venezuela and transferred to the United States to face narcotics-related charges.

Venezuela called it kidnapping.
The US called it law enforcement.

The symbolism is impossible to ignore:

• A sitting president removed without war
• Oil assets swiftly placed under external control
• Legal language replacing military language

This was not just about drugs. It was about resetting ownership of power.

Oil moved faster than diplomats ever could.

The pattern that refuses to hide

Across six decades, the cycle repeats:

When Venezuela aligns → partnership.
When it asserts control → pressure.
When ideology hardens → isolation.
When leverage appears → intervention dressed as legality.

Oil is never the headline.
Oil is always the reason.

The uncomfortable future question

If capturing a head of state, prosecuting him abroad, and managing national oil flows can be justified as “law enforcement,” then the rules of sovereignty have quietly changed.

This is not about Venezuela alone anymore.

It is about a world where resources matter more than borders, and legality follows power—not the other way around.

Countries rich in oil, lithium, rare earths, or strategic geography should read this story carefully.

History doesn’t repeat itself.
It upgrades its tactics.

And Venezuela has just become the beta test.

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