Many analysts, critics, and Trump himself, invoke the Monroe Doctrine, “Gunboat Diplomacy,” and the golden age of imperialism to explain or justify the new American policy. The parallels are unmistakable: arbitrary territorial claims, disregard for the law, use of force, and plundering of resources. But they becomes even more compelling when we examine the mechanics of this golden age, and such a perspective quickly reveals both the strengths and the limitations of the current adventure.
Some cite the attachment of peoples to sovereignty or Afghanistan and Iraq to suggest that the enterprise is doomed, but this misunderstands the political structures of empires when they are functioning properly. Because in marginal and fringe areas, such as Venezuela for the United States, it is by mistake or in their decline that Empires commit large numbers of troops and become directly involved, at great expense, and often without success. During its triumphant period, spanning almost two centuries, the British Empire relied on “indirect government” and “native administration” in such cases: an agreement was reached with a local potentate, leaving them free to choose the means to maintain order, which was then exploited to assert or protect a geostrategic position and grant our companies privileged access to resources. In short, what Sara Berry has called “hegemony on a shoestring.” In its post-colonial form, this method was similarly central to France's maintenance of strong influence in its African “pré carré.” But in the twentieth century, it was primarily Washington that favored this arrangement, scattering it across the globe, from Somoza's Nicaragua and Mobutu's Zaire to the Shah's Iran, with repressive and corrupt dictatorships whose "correct" alignment during the Cold War and openness to American investment were unwavering. A famous comment attributed to Truman, and regarding Dominican Republic’s Trujillo, aptly summarizes the logic of this arrangement: "He's a son of a bitch, but he's our son of a bitch."
This very much looks like the model the Trump administration hopes to implement in Venezuela. The kidnapping of Maduro and the disabling of the country's air defenses dramatically demonstrated the vulnerability of its leaders. But the grip on power of the regime Maduro used to lead remains intact. Clearly, it is Delcy Rodríguez that Washington wants to see in power, to maintain a modicum of order in the country, operate a geo-strategic realignment, and, as in the good old days, open the economy to American investment. Sending troops to bring Venezuelans to heel is certainly not ruled out, but the occupation or takeover of a chaotic and violent country whose infrastructure and economy are in ruins is clearly not part of Rubio and his associates' plans.
Less than three weeks have passed since the operation in Caracas, but the implementation of the arrangement seems to be progressing smoothly, and, as we have seen, the concept has proven effective. Now, are Trump's boasts about the success of the venture, and especially about its benefits for the United States and, incidentally, for Venezuela, justified?
Although incomplete, the available information about the regime, its operations, its control of the territory and its population, and the current state of its economy suggests that the venture seems destined, at best, to evolve toward a precarious stability: a mediocre status quo, but one nonetheless conducive to the sordid dealings that allow opportunists to enrich themselves and funnel a portion of their profits back to Trump and his family.
The first problem is that of the local potentate. What the Empire needs is someone flexible, fairly well established locally, since they don't want to invest too much to keep them in power, but who nevertheless remains vulnerable or dependent on its support. From this perspective, a popular leader like Maria Corina Machado, however obsequious she may be in the face of Trump, is far from ideal since, in the long run, she could win elections and, to do so, will also have to appeal to her electorate. Delcy Rodriguez, lacking popular legitimacy, shines by contrast with all her charms. The problem is that in post-Maduro Venezuela, there are two strongmen… and neither is in power. Vladimir Padrino López, commander-in-chief of the army and Minister of Defense since 2014, was under Maduro and without a doubt the most powerful political actor in the country. Without his support, stated from the outset, Delcy Rodriguez would not have lasted long in the presidency. The former military officer Diosdado Cabello, Minister of the Interior, former Vice President under Chavez, Maduro's rival for the latter’s succession, controlling the secret police and intelligence services (headed by his brother), but above all, leading the colectivos, the informal militias of the ruling party, represents a potentially immense threat to Rodriguez. Within the Chavista constellation, finally, and despite the presence of her brother Jorge as President of the National Assembly, Delcy enjoys little support. Banished from the highest echelons of power by Chavez himself, she owes her rehabilitation to Maduro and now to Trump her continued presence at the head of state. A deeply divided summit, in short, where trust has never prevailed, as evidenced by the massive presence of Cubans in Maduro's close protection detail, the arrest of the general responsible for his personal security and head of his counter-espionage services, the regular purges of the officer corps by Padrino López, and now the secrecy that apparently surrounds Diosdado Cabello's movements.
The second problem is that of the order that is supposedly being "maintained," a certain degree of which is necessary to revive the economy and rebuild the oil industry. The regime is stable, but the country is chaotic. Venezuela has one of the worst homicide rates in the hemisphere; its streets and countryside are dangerous; large swathes of the country and the outskirts of its major cities are not clearly under state control. The prisons themselves are mostly dominated by criminal groups. Above all, the stability of Padrino López and Cabello's military, police, and militia networks rests in part on the direct or indirect exploitation—through associations with criminal groups—of revenues from illegal activities, ranging from outright extortion to human and drug trafficking, including illegal gold mining and the mercury smuggling on which it depends, not to mention the embezzlement of oil revenues. This detail makes any offensive against "organized crime," and therefore any return to a minimum acceptable level of security for the public and… investors, unlikely.
The idea that, as Trump claims, the United States will now "lead" the country through its control of the highest levels of government must, in short, be significantly qualified. Given the credible threats from Washington, it is possible, but increasingly unlikely, that the regime will split and the country will be plunged into chaos. But the emerging arrangement bears little resemblance to a transmission belt that would ensure the White House's wishes are automatically fulfilled on the ground. On the other hand, Trump appears more credible when he says he will "control the money" from oil, since the mechanism he proposes—a monopoly on the import and sale of Venezuelan crude—while morally scandalous and probably illegal, seems relatively simple and easy to implement (the legal set up looks in fact quite clever).
Given the understandable reluctance of major oil companies to commit to a genuine revival of the Venezuelan oil industry, what seems to be emerging looks more like a minimal indirect government facilitating the exploitation, for the benefit of Trump associates, of readily accessible resources in the short or medium term. For Venezuelans, the lifting of the embargo and the revitalization of part of the oil industry could definitively halt the economic collapse, inject some money back into state coffers, and perhaps even facilitate a degree of recovery. But the country's return to prosperity in the near future seems illusory, and, above all, Venezuelans' dreams of the rule of law, democracy, and security appear to be nothing more than false hopes.
(An earlier and slightly different version was published, in French, on February 8)
