Trump’s Venezuela Gamble Ignites Global Backlash—and Exposes a Crisis of Credibility

As Washington celebrates a lightning operation in Caracas, allies, critics, and even supporters question whether the U.S. president is pursuing democracy—or simply oil and domination.

WASHINGTON / MIAMI / CARACAS — By Sunday morning, the images were everywhere: explosions over Caracas, U.S. aircraft roaring low over the city, and Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro taken into American custody alongside his wife. The White House framed the operation as decisive justice against a “narco-terrorist regime.” But within hours, a very different narrative began to dominate—one of global alarm, fractured alliances, and mounting accusations that Donald Trump was pursuing control of Venezuela’s oil, not democracy.

What unfolded next revealed less about Venezuela’s future than about America’s place in the world—and the growing skepticism surrounding Trump’s unilateral use of force.

Celebration turns to disbelief

In Venezuelan-American neighborhoods across South Florida, the initial reaction was shock rather than celebration. Many had long opposed Maduro’s rule and believed Washington would back a democratic transition led by the opposition. Instead, Trump appeared to dismiss that path entirely.

During a press conference, the president openly questioned the legitimacy of opposition leader María Corina Machado, saying she “doesn’t have the respect” of Venezuelans and would be “very tough” to install as leader. The remarks stunned supporters who had assumed the U.S. intervention would clear the way for her coalition, which many international observers believe won roughly 70 percent of the vote in Venezuela’s disputed 2024 election.

“He said he wants their oil—over and over,” one Venezuelan-American organizer in Miami said. “That wasn’t a slip. That was the point.”

An oil-first strategy

Trump’s repeated emphasis on Venezuela’s oil reserves quickly fueled accusations that the operation was less about democracy than extraction. Analysts noted that the president spoke far more about resources and control than about elections or human rights.

Administration officials privately suggested that Washington viewed Delcy Rodríguez, a longtime Maduro loyalist, as a more “practical” figure to stabilize the country during a transition. Rodríguez swiftly rejected the notion, declaring Maduro the only legitimate president and denouncing U.S. interference. Her defiance underscored how far Trump’s plans diverged from realities on the ground.

International headlines were unforgiving. One widely circulated European tabloid banner read: “America on the War Path.” The message was clear: the world was not convinced this was a liberation.

Legal justifications—and contradictions

U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi confirmed that Maduro and his wife had been indicted in New York on charges including narcotics conspiracy and weapons offenses, describing their fate as “the wrath of American justice.” Secretary of State Marco Rubio echoed that framing, insisting the operation was a precise law-enforcement action, not a war.

“This was not an invasion,” Rubio said. “It was a very delicate operation… arresting a fugitive.”

But critics were quick to note the inconsistency. The same administration had previously pardoned foreign leaders convicted of large-scale drug trafficking, raising questions about whether justice—or political convenience—was guiding policy. When asked about the contradiction, Republican lawmakers largely deferred, saying they trusted Trump’s judgment.

Escalation beyond Venezuela

The controversy deepened when Rubio, pressed on television, hinted broadly that Cuba could be next, citing its role in supporting Maduro’s security apparatus. For many observers, the comments confirmed fears that Venezuela was not an isolated case but part of a broader assertion of U.S. dominance in the region.

Trump himself amplified those fears by reposting imagery invoking a so-called “Donroe Doctrine,” depicting the president looming over Latin America and even Canada. The symbolism—domination rather than partnership—was not lost on allies.

Even the Vatican weighed in. Pope Leo, speaking indirectly but pointedly, called for respect for national independence and warned against occupations, language widely interpreted as a rebuke of Washington’s actions.

Allies break ranks

Perhaps most striking was the reaction from America’s closest partners. Canada, long aligned with U.S. policy on Venezuela, refused to endorse the invasion. Prime Minister Mark Carney reiterated opposition to Maduro but emphasized international law, peaceful transition, and Venezuelan self-determination—carefully avoiding any support for American military action.

At the United Nations, the response was sharper. Secretary-General António Guterres said he was “deeply alarmed,” warning that the operation set a dangerous precedent. Diplomats confirmed that Venezuela and Colombia, backed by Russia and China, had requested an emergency Security Council meeting—an extraordinary escalation that underscored how isolated Washington suddenly appeared.

Domestic politics and blind loyalty

Inside the United States, the political divide hardened instantly. Trump allies praised the operation as a show of strength. Critics called it reckless and illegal. On Sunday talk shows, Republican leaders offered few specifics about what comes next, repeatedly saying they trusted the president.

Asked whether Congress should authorize further action, Rubio dismissed the idea outright. “Why would we need approval?” he said.

For opponents, that answer crystallized their fear: a presidency unconstrained by law, precedent, or oversight. “This is the language of power, not democracy,” one former U.S. diplomat warned.

A presidency under scrutiny

By Sunday afternoon, Trump’s gambit had achieved something unexpected. Instead of rallying allies, it unified critics across borders. Venezuelan opposition supporters felt betrayed. Allies questioned America’s reliability. And even sympathetic lawmakers struggled to reconcile the administration’s rhetoric with its actions.

The deeper issue, analysts said, was not just Venezuela but credibility. “When a president talks about oil more than elections, about control more than consent, people listen,” said one Latin America expert. “And they draw conclusions.”

Trump insists the operation was necessary, legal, and successful. But as protests spread, markets wavered, and diplomats scrambled, one reality became clear: the United States had acted alone—and the world noticed.

What happens next in Venezuela remains uncertain. What is already clear is that Trump’s intervention has reopened an old question with new urgency: when America uses force, is it enforcing law—or rewriting it?