Oil and the Lingering Shadow

Some questions don't arise by chance. They emerge amid current events that revive old collective fears. The rumor of a potential U.S. attack on Venezuela over its oil is no longer mere abstract speculation as of late December 2025. With the massive deployment of U.S. naval forces in the Caribbean, the seizures of oil tankers, and direct statements from Donald Trump demanding the return of "stolen assets," this question has become a burning echo of geopolitical reality.

Venezuela remains a land saturated with oil, holding the world's largest proven reserves—over 300 billion barrels. This subsurface wealth has spawned dreams of prosperity and depths of crisis, embodying the "resource curse": extreme dependence on a single commodity in a merciless market. Oil permeates everything—political speeches, public budgets, memories of a more prosperous era—yet it is absent from daily life, hospitals, and gas pumps.

Under Nicolás Maduro, the country has fortified itself like a besieged stronghold, viewing every sanction or criticism as imperialist aggression. This distrust is not unfounded: Latin America's history is rife with interventions disguised as moral principles, driven by economic interests. Suspicion is an inherited legacy.

Yet suspicion alone does not forge truth.

Trump's return to the White House has brought a brutal frankness, often performative. He does not always mask his intentions as his predecessors did. His recent statements—claiming Venezuela "stole" American oil rights and demanding their restitution—have dispelled many ambiguities. In December 2025, the United States has seized multiple oil tankers carrying Venezuelan crude, imposed a blockade on sanctioned vessels, and deployed an impressive armada. Trump has even indicated that seized cargoes could be retained or sold, potentially to replenish U.S. strategic reserves.

Saying Trump "wants Venezuela's oil" is no longer a reductive simplification; it is a direct reading of his own words and actions. But reality adds nuance: a massive ground invasion seems improbable, with experts deeming the deployed forces insufficient for full conquest. Oil is not a portable treasure; it requires infrastructure, investment, stability—all eroded by Venezuela's crisis.

Modern warfare is more insidious: it operates through sanctions, maritime interceptions, financial blockades, and asset seizures. Strikes on vessels allegedly tied to drug trafficking, tanker blockades, and pressure on buyers (such as China) form a progressive strangulation. Justified by the fight against drug trafficking or corruption, this strategy places oil at the center: without it, Venezuela would not be a priority target.

Denying this central role would be disconnected from the facts. Oil is the strategic cornerstone. But it does not necessarily involve direct plunder in the old style. The aim appears to be indirect control: neutralizing a hostile regime, recovering concessions for American companies, securing favorable flows.

A rational observer might ask: why not negotiate a return of U.S. investments and partially lift sanctions? The answer lies in political precedent: accommodating Maduro without regime change would validate his legitimacy, which Washington rejects.

The real danger is not a spectacular invasion but this gradual escalation: interceptions, seizures, veiled threats. One incident too many—a tanker escorted by the Venezuelan navy, a miscalibrated response—could ignite the region.

This rumor of a "war for oil" is both outdated and prophetic. Outdated, because it ignores the subtlety of modern coercions. Prophetic, because it reveals our era: powers advance masked, in stages, until confrontation becomes inevitable.

Venezuela is neither pure villain nor immaculate victim: trapped by its wealth, its internal errors, and a global order intolerant of resource-rich dissidence.

Trump embodies an unapologetic cynicism where force, even veiled, dictates the language. Oil is no longer just energy; it is a lever of power, a pretext, sometimes an alibi.

The ultimate question is no longer: will there be open war for oil?

It is: how far will this game of permanent pressures go before tipping into declared conflict? And this question extends beyond Venezuela: it challenges global stability in a world where strategic resources dictate the rules.

JLP