The relationship between Venezuela and Donald Trump has always been less about Venezuela itself and more about how power, pressure, and spectacle are used in American foreign policy. When Trump returned to the political centre of gravity, the question was never whether Venezuela would matter again, but how it would be used — as a moral cause, a strategic lever, or a domestic political signal.
During Trump’s first presidency, Venezuela became the stage for one of the most aggressive U.S. pressure campaigns in the Western Hemisphere. Sanctions were tightened, oil exports were choked, and Washington openly recognised Juan Guaidó as Venezuela’s legitimate president, betting that economic collapse and international isolation would trigger the fall of Nicolás Maduro. It did not. Maduro survived, consolidated control over the military and state institutions, and outlasted an opposition that proved divided and externally dependent.
That failure is central to understanding the Trump–Venezuela equation today. Trump’s approach was maximalist in rhetoric and punitive in policy, but ultimately transactional in intent. The goal was not nation-building or democratic reconstruction; it was regime change through pressure, delivered quickly and visibly. When that did not materialise, Venezuela quietly slipped down the list of U.S. priorities, even as sanctions remained.
What has changed since then is not Venezuela’s internal structure, but America’s strategic environment. Energy markets are tighter, geopolitical competition has intensified, and U.S. attention is divided between China, Russia, and domestic polarisation. In this context, Venezuela is no longer just a “socialist dictatorship” in campaign speeches; it is also home to the world’s largest proven oil reserves, sitting under a sanctions regime that increasingly looks blunt rather than effective.
Trump’s instinctive worldview — sceptical of multilateralism, impatient with prolonged stalemates, and driven by deals — makes Venezuela less a moral crusade than a bargaining chip. Pressure, in this framework, is not an end in itself but a way to extract concessions: on oil production, migration cooperation, or political theatre that can be sold as a win to domestic audiences. Ideology matters less than leverage.
This is where the contrast with liberal internationalism becomes clear. The Trump approach never rested on building institutions or empowering Venezuelan civil society. It relied on the assumption that economic pain would translate into political collapse. Instead, sanctions hardened the regime, weakened the opposition, and accelerated Venezuela’s turn toward alternative partners like Russia, China, and Iran. The state shrank, but power concentrated.
For Maduro, Trump was paradoxically useful. External hostility allowed the regime to frame economic failure as siege rather than mismanagement, to justify repression in the name of sovereignty, and to delegitimise opposition figures as foreign proxies. The survival of the regime was not despite Trump’s pressure, but partly shaped by it.
Looking ahead, a Trump-era Venezuela policy would likely be neither a return to full-scale confrontation nor a genuine reset. It would be conditional, unpredictable, and transactional — sanctions eased or tightened based on immediate returns rather than long-term democratic outcomes. Migration, oil prices, and optics would matter more than institutional reform.
This does not mean Maduro is secure in a deeper sense. Venezuela remains economically fragile, socially exhausted, and dependent on external accommodation. But it does mean that regime change is no longer the default assumption of U.S. policy, regardless of rhetoric. Washington has learned, reluctantly, that pressure without pathways produces stalemate, not transformation.
In that sense, Venezuela under Trump is less a test of American power than a mirror of its limits. Loud threats did not topple Maduro. Recognition without control did not transfer authority. Sanctions without strategy did not deliver democracy. What remains is a relationship defined by fatigue on one side and survival on the other.
Venezuela will continue to feature in American politics — as symbol, warning, or talking point. But the era in which Washington believed it could decide Caracas’s future from afar is over. Whether Trump acknowledges that reality openly or continues to perform otherwise may matter less than the fact that Venezuela, like many sanctioned states, has already adapted to life beyond American expectations.
