After months of speculation, threats, and periodic bombings of Trinidadian fishermen, the Trump administration finally took direct military action against Venezuela, culminating in the kidnapping of the country’s sitting president Nicolas Maduro. The justifications for this action were eerily familiar. This extraordinary operation had nothing to do with seizing the assets of a country that, coincidentally, sits on the largest proven reserves of oil in the world. Instead, the White House Claims, this was an effort carried out with strict deference to American national security imperatives, for Maduro and his “illegitimate” regime presided over one of the biggest drug-trafficking networks of any country on Earth, shipping industrial quantities of illegal narcotics to U.S. soil each year. Washington therefore maintains it was left with no choice but to remove this threat, which had the added bonus of liberating the Venezuelan people from brutal dictatorial rule.
Observers of Latin America may recognise this familiar tale. Much of American regional policy in the post-Cold War period has been justified in these precise terms, after the long-dependable anti-communist pretext had lost its utility. In fact, one may be forgiven for mistaking the Venezuela operation as a carbon copy of the U.S. invasion of Panama and kidnapping of its leader, Manuel Noriega, three decades ago. Then, as now, the proffered rationale discarded any notion of self-serving ulterior interest and focused solely on restoring democracy to the Central American nation and protecting Americans from a notorious “narco-terrorist”. But also in keeping with the spirit of today, this justification was a complete fraud.
Atop the charge sheet was that Noriega had stolen the 1989 presidential elections in favour of his hand-picked candidate, depriving the people of Panama of their democratic expression. As then-President Bush lamented, the election was marred by “irregularities and fraud”. When announcing his invasion, Bush maintained this was to “defend democracy in Panama”, not unlike Washington today protesting the result of the 2024 Venezuelan elections, which so offended their democratic sensibilities to the point that they too felt compelled to undertake military action.
As for the merits of the charge, there can be little doubt that Noriega rigged and stole the ‘89 election, as is customary for military rulers. We can be equally sure that Washington did not care in the slightest. Putting to one side the fact that materially supporting leaders who steal elections on the regular or don’t go to the trouble of holding them at all is a proud American foreign policy tradition, the 1989 election was far from the sole instance of electoral fraud in Panama. In fact, the preceding election in 1984 was not only equally as rigged but came with a much more considerable, violent cost. In all, two people were killed and a further 40 injured en route to the true victor, Arnulfo Arias, being deprived of the presidency in favour of Noriega’s man, Nicolas Barletta. Far from denouncing the obvious theft, Washington fully embraced and celebrated it. Secretary of State George Shultz heralded Barletta’s victory as “initiating the process of democracy” in Panama, with Reagan sending a message of congratulations to Barletta as official American recognition of the fraud.
The counter-narcotics justification for the intervention is similarly suspect. Despite a long and unquestioned history of involvement in drug-trafficking, towards the end of his tenure, Noriega had gone to considerable lengths to atone for these past sins – a fact readily acknowledged by Washington. In a May 1986 letter addressed to the Panamanian leader, DEA administrator John Lawn spoke of his “deep appreciation” for Noriega’s “vigorous anti-drug trafficking policy”, a sentiment Attorney General Edwin Meese concurred with the following year. It is for this reason that in the eventual indictment issued against Noriega, there was just a single drug-trafficking charge dated after 1984. In other words, Noriega was being charged and apprehended by Washington for crimes he committed while on the CIA’s and U.S. Army’s highly lucrative payroll. Drug production actually increased following Noriega’s ousting under the purview of the U.S.-installed government, without eliciting a single word of protest from Washington.
A close examination of U.S. regional policy reveals, far from fighting drug-trafficking, Washington is perfectly willing to ally itself with some of Latin America’s worst offenders. Across multiple presidential administrations, the U.S. invested heavily in its “drug war” effort in Colombia. The target was the Marxist guerrillas FARC, a group Washington described as “narco-terrorists” and among the world’s leading drug-traffickers. To counter this threat, the U.S. invested billions in financing, arming, and training the Colombian military to wage its war against the FARC. The problem, however, was that if counter-narcotics were the true American objective, they had the complete wrong target.
Reports from the Council on Hemispheric Affairs found little to no evidence of FARC involvement in the drug trade, a finding seconded by former DEA head Donnie Marshall, who testified “there is no evidence that any FARC… units have established international transportation, wholesale distribution, or drug money-laundering networks in the United States or Europe”. To the extent that the FARC was involved in the drug trade at all, it was in taxing the revenue of narcotics activity that happened to take place in the territories under their control, as DEA administrator James Millford acknowledged in congressional testimony. It was for this reason that Colombia’s own intelligence estimates put the FARC’s involvement in the state’s narcotics industry at a mere 2.5%. The greater culprits were the right-wing paramilitaries that were allied to the U.S.-backed military, whose involvement in the drug trade was estimated to be at least 40%. In fact, Colombia’s own political leaders had a history of direct involvement in the drug trade. President Uribe, the Bush administration’s supposed ally in the war on drugs, had in a past life been deemed one of the “more important Colombian narco-traffickers” in a declassified DIA report.
If not drugs, what do Noriega, the FARC, and Maduro all share that provoked the military ire of Washington? They interfered with U.S. economic interests and undermined corporate profit margins. The invasion of Panama was timed just weeks before administration of the Panama Canal was to return largely under Panama’s control, significantly reducing the American role. Panama, it should be remembered, only exists as an independent state largely because of Washington’s desire to control this vital shipping lane. Washington, then, didn’t exactly try to disguise its displeasure. On his way out the door in 1989, President Reagan openly declared that the U.S. must reconsider its treaty obligations to return administration of the canal over to Panama should Noriega remain in power. A few months later, Congress passed a resolution formally calling on the U.S. to withdraw from the Panama Canal treaties, allowing Washington to maintain full control over this vital piece of economic infrastructure.
In the end, the U.S. never formally withdrew, instead opting for the simpler option of invading and installing a client government who would not challenge Washington’s abrogation of its commitments. As an added bonus, Panama’s post-war Vice President Guillermo Ford later boasted that the country’s “labor code would be revised to allow easier dismissal of workers and tax-free export factories would be set up to lure foreign capital”, demonstrating perfectly that this new administration understood what their legislative priorities ought to be.
This was an understanding the FARC in Colombia most definitely did not share. The group earned their popular legitimacy through direct challenge to the systemic wealth inequality and foreign exploitation that had plagued the lives of Colombia’s rural peasantry for generations. The FARC demanded substantial agrarian reform and wealth redistribution, insisting the natural resources and wealth of Colombia should benefit its inhabitants rather than massive transnationals. As part of this effort, they took direct action against the economic assets of many of the corporations operating in the areas of Colombia under their control, most notably the pipelines of some of the U.S.’ biggest oil giants. Naturally, this was a gesture not particularly appreciated in the corridors of power in Washington.
In moments of candour, many American officials conceded that preventing the FARC’s attempted economic and societal revolution was the true objective of their Colombia policy. The State Department’s Marc Grossman bemoaned that the FARC represented “a danger to the $4.3 billion in direct US investments in Colombia”. Former Commander-in-Chief of SOUTHCOM General Peter Pace reiterated this message, admitting the true objective of U.S. Colombia policy was to maintain the “continued stability required for access to markets in the SOUTHCOM AOR (area of responsibility) which is critical to the expansion and prosperity of the United States”. Former Energy Secretary Bill Richardson similarly acknowledged that Washington was “tripling military aid to Colombia” to help secure vital investments in the country’s energy sector. Accordingly, as former U.S. special forces operative Stan Goff revealed, “the subject of every tactical discussion… was how to fight the guerrillas, not drugs”.
In invading Venezuela, Trump is certainly not waging a war on drugs, but he’s also not doing anything new. When confronted with non-compliant regimes, it has long been American policy to use any means necessary to eliminate these threats to corporate bottom lines. One of President Carter’s Latin American specialists, Robert Pastor, euphemistically captured this attitude when describing policy towards Nicaragua: “we wanted Nicaraguans to act independently except when doing so would affect US interests adversely”. Venezuela under Maduro made the mistake of acting too “independently” through its failure to open its country’s resources up to American exploitation and structure its economy to satisfy U.S. desires. Washington has, accordingly, put Maduro’s successors on notice that they too will meet a similar fate should they not heed this renewed warning. As with so many cases before it, Venezuela is simply a continuation of an enduring pattern that Washington’s real war is not against drugs or dictatorships, but against any independent challenge to U.S. economic hegemony.
Blair Graham is a PhD student at the University of The West of Scotland studying international relations. He received his undergraduate and Master’s degrees from the University of Glasgow in politics and international relations. He can be found on X @BlairGraham97.
