Pax Americana: the empire without a mask

"Let's reclaim our backyard"— Peter Hegseth, US Secretary of War

There is little new information behind the facts: rarely does the historical process manifest itself in such a coherent, clear, and revealing way as in the recent events that have befallen, are befalling, and will continue to befall Venezuela and South America (including Brazil, let no one be mistaken), prolonging the tragedy of the neighboring country, driven to misery by its naturally rich nature.

A sovereign country—at least in the archaic formalism of international law, lacking effective force and therefore useless, as is the UN today, reduced to a mere forum for inconsequential debates—the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela is returning to the colonial framework of the bad times of Spain. It pays the price of harboring the largest stockpile of crude oil reserves in the world, no less than 303 billion barrels (about 1/5 of the world's reserves), surpassing Saudi Arabia and Iran. And far surpassing the USA (which holds something between 45 and 55 billion barrels), which begins to explain a great deal.

Its immediate destiny, as announced by the invaders, however, is that of a protectorate on the path to recolonization. More precisely, a new Puerto Rico: a territory "claimed" but not incorporated into the map of the USA; lacking sovereignty of any kind, including self-governance, something like a "modern colony"—let's not be naive enough. It resembles Guam, American Samoa, or the Virgin Islands. Or French Guiana.

The current Venezuelan leaders, with their consent, headed by the new president, Delcy Rodríguez (announced as interim), will only remain in office as long as Caracas fulfills the demands presented by the White House. It is known that these demands include ceasing support for Cuba, expelling Iranians and other actors undesirable to the US from its territory, cutting off oil supplies to Washington's adversaries, and opening the oil market to US companies. All of this is already underway.

Indeed, the front page of O Globo on January 8th read: “US takes control of oil and forces Venezuela to import American products. Trump administration announces it will manage resources obtained from oil sales and unveils a plan culminating in a transition of power in the country.”

Offshore, the months-long air and sea blockade, the Marines' piracy, and the sabotage by the CIA and countless "intelligence services" are echoing the predatory role of the British galleons, where American history begins. Nothing, however, that isn't old, well-known history. There is a new element to note, although its source goes back to Theodore Roosevelt: the absolute lack of disguise or scruples in the discourse. In this Republican administration, the discourse breaks with the ambiguity and even the hypocrisy that has always marked the governments of the Democratic Party (see Obama's history), and which was also present in Republican administrations. With Trump, the preservation of the empire becomes the only objective to be pursued, and the country enters a collision course with everything that can be identified as progress: it is the prevalence of what Marina Basso Lacerda calls "paleoconservatism." Perhaps, also, a change in posture: Biden's near sobriety is disguised as Trump's narcissistic delirium. On a symbolic level, it's worth noting a name change: the Department of Defense was renamed the Department of War, bringing the semantics closer to the real politics of the Empire.

But, in the end, nothing substantial.

This new order imposed from the outside in should not be reduced to a threat confined to our neighboring country; it will certainly contaminate the subcontinent, it will affect one country or another. It could even reach us. In what form?

So, how will we respond?

The analytical starting point rules out, in the American invasion and its present and predictable unfolding events, any suggestion of an unusual fact, floating in the air and in time, gratuitous, without history and, in those terms, justifying surprises.

Once again, “nothing new on the Western Front,” because there is nothing unexpected about the invasion of Venezuelan territory, the destruction of its sovereignty, which has long been on borrowed time, nor the kidnapping of Maduro (a kidnapping that the Brazilian representative to the OAS did well to call by its name, rejecting the farce of “capture,” imposed by the mainstream press, and which our government assimilated in its first official pronouncements), nor much less the piracy of its resources.

Without any comparison to the deposed and kidnapped president—whose resounding disaster is not the central issue, but a pretext—let us recall, as a political fact, the kidnapping and assassination of the Congolese Patrice Lumumba, among other martyrs of anti-colonialism; the deposition of President Juan Bosch of the Dominican Republic (1965), this time with the unspeakable participation of the Brazilian armed forces, then as always united with the doctrine emanating from the Pentagon and reproduced in the ESG (Superior War College) and in the barracks—and which, notwithstanding the disconnect with the reality and interests of the country, still shapes the hearts and minds of the uniformed: authoritarianism domestically, subservience in relations with the USA.

One way or another, the survival of the lethal "mongrel complex," one of our many "original sins," to recall Manoel Bomfim's expression.

Ultimately, what could surprise us? And why reduce today's crimes in the US to the responsibility of a character who differs from his predecessors only in his loudmouthedness and the extravagance of his gestures and rudeness? Trump, like his predecessors, was constructed by the historical process of American national formation; like them, he reflects—and this is certainly the central issue—what can be called "the American soul." There is no madness, but a great deal of calculation.

I insist on this point: the detestable Trump is not an outlier in the history of the White House, he is not a madman; he is at the service of the establishment, which is rightly frightened by the crisis of capitalism, the threats of Chinese development and its expansion into markets around the world, an expansion that dangerously reaches Latin America and South America, the "backyard" of the great empire of the North, its area of ​​"strategic security".

As the main backdrop, the basis for trade wars that foreshadow armed conflicts—many already underway and occupying every continent—is the specter of a renewed struggle for world hegemony, won from the USSR in the Cold War and now threatened by the global emergence of China-Eurasia. It is this, it is all of this, but it is also more than this, because it is, essentially, a projection of American society and its Yankee soul.

White House policy is as old as the Cathedral of Braga; what stands out is its unwavering, consistent, and straightforward application. And always relentless. It comes from earlier times. “MAGA” is a blatant pastiche of the Monroe Doctrine (1823) — “America for the Americans,” or, in non-cynical terms, “America for the USA.” It beats the big stick of the Roosevelt Corollary (1904) to the beat, but the facts precede all of this.

The history of Mexico has much to teach, much to warn against. The United Mexican States of today, fractured and fragmented, experienced in the 19th century the unsustainable weight of its neighbor's insatiable hunger. In 1846, the US declared war on it and, in 1848, proclaimed itself master of no less than 55% of its territory. And now, in 2025, they threaten even the Gulf of Mexico.

The list of aggressions in Latin America is extensive and seems endless: Cuba — military occupation after 1898, occupation of Guantanamo Bay (naval base since 1898), further occupations, more threats of invasion, more economic, political, financial, military and sanitary blockades, and everything possible to mistreat the island's people, punishing them for their desire for autonomy. Puerto Rico — incorporated into the US at the end of the Spanish-American War (1898). Panama (1903), occupation of the Canal. Direct interventions in Haiti (1915–1934), Nicaragua (1909–1933), Guatemala (1954), Dominican Republic (1916–1924 and 1965), Grenada (1983) and Panama (1989).

The account would become tedious if it were still necessary to recall the sabotage of the region's democratic governments. Perhaps it suffices to remember the coup against Allende (1973) and the deposition of João Goulart and, as a consequence, the establishment of the military dictatorship, under the auspices of the State Department, with its warships patrolling our coastline.

The international press is already talking about a “Trump Corollary.” However, this “corollary” doesn't exist, because US interventionist policy is always in progress. How can we forget the “corollary” of Truman and his nuclear bombs on the civilian populations of Hiroshima and Nagasaki? And Korea? And Vietnam? Today's history goes back to all of that, but it also goes back, like a reflection in a mirror, to the country's own history: the formation of its people, the emergence of the nation, the process of independence, and the construction of an empire with Roman pretensions, in the name of the “freedom of peoples”—the “manifest destiny,” a self-proclaimed civilizing duty, the mission to impose its values—a euphemism for objective interests—as the Crusades imposed faith: by fire and sword, because it was necessary to punish the wicked in order to save them.

Trump is not an accident, but an actor in a script he wasn't given to write, although he plays the role entrusted to him by circumstances with the efficiency of a ham actor, as did Ronald Reagan, one of his inspirations. The tycoon, whose election campaign openly announced what his government would be—and is being—represents the interests of the establishment, which is no small thing, but represents much more than that. His election should be seen as a referendum on the candidate's discourse. The silence of Congress, the silence of the university, of so-called "organized society," is telling. Trump, like his predecessors from the post-World War II era—from Truman to Biden—is a servant of the interests of imperialism, shaken by the crisis of capitalism and frightened by the threats emanating from China's extraordinary technological and economic development and the globalization of its trade and interests. These threats even reach Brazil.

Venezuela will soon be a stage overcome in this new, more aggressive phase of imperialism. South America is—militarily and politically—under siege reminiscent of the garrote: Venezuela, Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia, Chile, Paraguay (a candidate for a military base), and Argentina, which recalls the sordid times of the "carnal relations" with imperialism, proclaimed by the Peronist Carlos Menem (1989–1999).

The quasi-social democracies of Uruguay, Colombia (at least until June), and Brazil, for whom this year's elections are a serious unknown, are resisting. Amidst the control of the "backyard," the target demanding the most attention from imperialism is, evidently, our country. For all that is obvious: its territory, its population, its natural resources, its extensive borders with ten countries, its long Atlantic coastline opening a route to the Pacific towards the East. And, notwithstanding the difficulties present in Lula's government, its economic and political influence in the region.

We must consider two alternatives. The first is political-electoral-diplomatic-economic intervention (following ideological predominance), which has already produced significant effects in the region and which are now visible. Should this fail, let us not be deluded about what could befall a poor country lacking popular and nationalist leadership, without a minimally equipped intelligence service or trustworthy armed forces—ill-equipped for national defense and ideologically dependent on the catechism of the State Department. In short, without any deterrent power in the face of potential threats of attack. Just as Venezuela has proven to be.

In this ominous scenario, it is urgently necessary that geopolitics, and especially security and defense issues, traditionally ignored in our field, enter the agenda of debates on the left: we cannot continue to believe that we live on an island isolated from the world – a world, in any case, benevolent and friendly, that will never interfere with us. Dreams of Candide, an exemplary character from Voltaire.

The violence against Venezuela should be seen as a shocking, blatant, barbaric demonstration of the Empire's power, sending a clear message to Latin America. And to anyone else with any sense who wants to listen.

Sovereignty is not a feeling, a desire, or an aspiration. It is not discourse, nor is it established in treaties. It is sustained by an objective order: its capacity for defense. And if we do not reflect on security and defense, others will.

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Beards in sauce – Yesterday (January 8th), at the ceremony commemorating the three-year anniversary of the Bolsonaro coup attempt that sought to forcibly overthrow the incumbent government, assassinating the president and his vice-president, as well as the head of the Supreme Federal Court, President Lula announced a complete veto of the infamous "Dosimetry Bill," which Congress approved to save the coup plotters. And he warned: democracy is not an unshakeable achievement.

Integration in sight – On Thursday (January 9th), a qualified majority of European Union countries finally approved (after a quarter of a century) the EU-Mercosur free trade agreement. Is this a sign that the Old World is beginning to realize that the US no longer rewards subservience as it once did?

*With the collaboration of Pedro Amaral