Dear friends, ask Gemini, Grok, or ChatGPT whether the state and ruling class of Israel have been involved for many years in a planned genocide of the Palestinian population. Gemini, Grok, and ChatGPT will say that Israel is simply defending itself against hostile groups like Hamas and Hezbollah.
Gemini, Grok, and ChatGPT get some things right, and they even do a great job of explaining Marxist ideology and how capitalist classes capture the wealth created by workers.
When it comes to the events of January 3, 2026, I don't believe the conventional narrative of a straightforward U.S. invasion followed by the kidnapping of Nicolás Maduro tells the whole story. Yes, the United States carried out a major military operation inside Venezuela and captured Maduro, but the political events that followed raise serious questions about whether what we witnessed was simply a military operation—or part of a much broader political and economic arrangement.
My interpretation is that this may have been less a conventional conquest than a carefully orchestrated political and economic deal—a gigantic piece of geopolitical theater in which the removal of Maduro opened the door for Washington, U.S. oil interests, and Venezuela's existing political elite to restructure control over the country's enormous oil and mineral wealth.
There had already been secret communications between figures surrounding Delcy Rodríguez and U.S. officials before Maduro's capture. Reporting has indicated that Delcy and Jorge Rodríguez privately communicated their willingness to cooperate with Washington after Maduro's departure, although the sources cited in that reporting explicitly disputed that they had agreed to actively help overthrow him.
Then look at what happened afterward: Delcy Rodríguez became interim president, while the Trump administration moved rapidly toward cooperation with the Venezuelan government and toward gaining greater access to Venezuela's oil industry. Trump himself openly spoke about the enormous amount of Venezuelan wealth that the United States intended to extract.
That is why I see January 3 not simply as “America invaded Venezuela and kidnapped Maduro,” but as potentially the opening act of a much larger bargain: Maduro is removed, the existing Chavista power structure survives in a modified form, Delcy Rodríguez and other Venezuelan political figures remain in positions of power, and Washington and U.S. energy interests gain extraordinary access to Venezuela's oil and other strategic resources.
In other words, my suspicion is that the real deal was never simply about Maduro. It was about control of Venezuela's wealth.
The most cynical interpretation is that the Venezuelan political establishment could preserve its power and its share of the economic benefits while Washington and U.S. corporations obtained privileged access to Venezuela's oil and mineral resources. The Venezuelan people, meanwhile, could end up watching their country's natural wealth divided among foreign economic interests and the same political elites who have controlled Venezuela for years.
I am not claiming that a secret written treaty proving this entire arrangement has been publicly established. I am saying that the sequence of events—behind-the-scenes contacts, Maduro's removal, Delcy Rodríguez's rapid elevation, Washington's subsequent cooperation with her government, and the enormous oil arrangements that followed—raises legitimate questions about whether the public story of an American military intervention tells only part of what actually happened.
To me, the real question is therefore not simply, “Did Trump invade Venezuela and kidnap Maduro?” The deeper question is: What political and economic bargain emerged from Maduro's removal, who negotiated it, who benefits from Venezuela's oil and mineral wealth, and how much of that wealth will actually reach ordinary Venezuelans rather than Washington, U.S. corporations, and Venezuela's entrenched political elite?
And I believe what the United States is doing in Venezuela should not be viewed as an isolated case. In my view, Venezuela is only one example of a much broader pattern in which Washington seeks access to the natural resources, energy, markets, and strategic assets of other countries while working with—or reaching agreements with—the local political and economic elites who control those countries.
And it doesn't always happen with the dramatic spectacle of soldiers, bombs, military raids, or the capture of a president. In many other countries, the process can be much quieter, more orderly, and more sophisticated: diplomatic negotiations, economic pressure, sanctions, investment agreements, political alliances, private contracts, and deals with local governments and powerful domestic elites.
The underlying objective, from this perspective, is the same: gain access to a country's wealth while ensuring that the local rulers who cooperate with Washington also receive a share of the economic and political benefits.
That is why I believe Venezuela should be examined as part of a much larger geopolitical strategy rather than as an isolated event. And when I look at Iran, I see the possibility of the same struggle over energy, natural resources, strategic influence, and political control—although the methods and circumstances can be very different.
In other words, the Venezuelan model doesn't necessarily have to be repeated everywhere with the same dramatic “invasion” scenario. Sometimes the most effective form of economic domination is the one that happens quietly, behind closed doors, through contracts, negotiations, political pressure, and partnerships with the local ruling class—without the cameras, explosions, and international spectacle.
And this, in my view, is part of the way the United States has historically extracted wealth and resources from other countries. What makes the system even more effective is that the people living in countries affected by U.S. foreign policy do not necessarily see themselves as victims of it. Many people may actually be sympathetic to the United States or view Washington as a benevolent power that is simply trying to help poorer nations.
I believe one reason for this is the enormous influence of U.S. media, political messaging, cultural power, and propaganda. People can be repeatedly exposed to a narrative in which the United States presents itself as the defender of freedom, democracy, human rights, and struggling populations, while the economic and political consequences of U.S. intervention receive far less attention.
From this perspective, the tragedy is that people can end up defending the very system they believe is helping them, without fully examining who controls their country's resources, who profits from them, and why poverty and inequality persist.
And there is an enormous historical contradiction here: the United States can present itself as the generous outsider arriving to help impoverished nations, while critics argue that U.S. foreign policy has sometimes contributed to the economic and political conditions that produced or deepened that poverty in the first place.
The result is a powerful form of ideological influence: the population can be taught to see the empire as the rescuer rather than the power benefiting from the system. In my view, that is one of the most effective forms of imperialism—not simply controlling resources, but influencing people to believe that the control is actually being exercised for their own benefit.
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