Regime change and oil: A recurring Western dilemma

Illustration: TBS

The world woke up to a startling news—the president of a sovereign country, Venezuela, Nicolás Maduro, has been arrested by the United States. In a questionable extraction, the president of Venezuela has been toppled. 

Venezuela is the home to the world's largest proven crude oil reserves — an estimated 303.2 billion barrels. At current Brent crude oil price of roughly $60.7 per barrel, Venezuela's oil reserves are valued at approximately $18.4 trillion. Even if sold at half the prevailing market rate, the reserves would still be worth nearly $9.2 trillion — a figure larger than the entire GDP of every country in the world except the US and China.

The recent US-led operation to remove Nicolás Maduro, followed by statements from US President Donald Trump about American oil companies 'moving in' to rehabilitate Venezuela's dilapidated energy infrastructure and 'run the country' have reignited an old debate: are regime changes still being pursued, directly or indirectly, for oil? 

History suggests this question is neither conspiratorial nor new. 

The legality question: Regime change versus international law

The first question that came to everyone's mind was: Was the extraction legal? 

Even when a leader is deeply unpopular or authoritarian, forcible removal by an external power remains incompatible with the UN Charter, which prohibits the use of force against the political independence of a sovereign state except in cases of self-defence or explicit Security Council authorisation.

This legal principle was upheld rhetorically even during the so-called liberal interventionist era. Yet, in practice, Western powers—particularly the US, UK, and France—have repeatedly stretched or bypassed international law when strategic resources were at stake.

The Venezuela operation would fit uneasily within this tradition: morally defended as liberation, legally contested as aggression, and economically justified through post-facto reconstruction narratives. However, this has been perceived as an example of the famous quote by Thucydides, "The strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must". 

The awarding of international accolades to opposition figures, combined with early recognition of rival governments, reflected a familiar Western strategy: delegitimise first, isolate next, intervene last—politically or otherwise.

Oil is rarely mentioned explicitly at the outset. It usually appears at the end, disguised as "reconstruction", "investment", or "stabilisation".

The Middle East after World War I

The roots of this strategy lie in the early 20th century. After World War I, Britain and France dismantled the Ottoman Empire and divided the Middle East under the Sykes–Picot framework. Borders were drawn not along ethnic or historical lines, but according to imperial convenience and oil geography.

Iraq, in particular, was shaped around British oil interests. The Anglo-Persian Oil Company (later BP) became central to British strategic planning. Local sovereignty was nominal; energy security was paramount.

Iran 1953: When nationalism threatened oil

Perhaps the most cited example of regime change for oil remains Iran in 1953. Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh's decision to nationalise the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company challenged British economic dominance and inspired anti-colonial movements globally.

As a response, CIA and MI6 orchestrated a coup that removed Mossadegh and restored the Shah's authority. The justification was anti-communism; the consequence was the reassertion of Western oil access.

The long-term fallout—authoritarian rule, popular resentment, and eventually the 1979 Iranian Revolution—demonstrated how short-term energy security often produces long-term instability.

Iraq 2003: The oil question that never disappeared

If Venezuela today evokes older anxieties about regime change driven by resource interests, post-2003 Iraq offers the most instructive and documented precedent. Unlike earlier covert interventions, Iraq marked a moment when military overthrow, prolonged occupation, and the reordering of an energy economy became inseparable.

After the removal of Saddam Hussein, US officials repeatedly signalled that withdrawal was not imminent. In 2007, President George W Bush authorised a "surge" of 30,000 additional troops, bringing total US forces to around 160,000, while senior officials openly discussed a "long and enduring presence" in Iraq. Defence Secretary Robert Gates compared Iraq to post-war Korea and Japan—countries where US military bases became permanent features rather than transitional arrangements 

Post-invasion, Iraq's oil sector was opened to Western energy firms under new legal frameworks. While the US did not formally "seize" oil, the restructuring of contracts and market access benefitted multinational companies disproportionately.

Libya after Gaddafi: Intervention without a plan

Libya offers another cautionary tale. Muammar Gaddafi's removal in 2011 was framed as a humanitarian intervention. NATO airpower played a decisive role. Yet once the regime fell, Western engagement waned.

Libya's oil infrastructure became fragmented, contested by militias, and vulnerable to foreign influence. Production fluctuated wildly, and political authority collapsed. Once again, regime change delivered access without stability.

36 years ago, Noriega faced the same fate

On 3 January 1990, US invasion of Panama under the name 'Operation Just Cause' led to the extraction of General Manuel Noriega, the dictator of Panama. Noriega was indicted in 1988 on 12 counts of racketeering, drug trafficking, and money laundering. Like Maduro, he was accused of turning Panama into a 'narco-state' and protecting the Medellín Cartel. 

Following his extraction, Noriega was flown to Miami, convicted of drug trafficking, and spent the remainder of his life in US, French, and Panamanian prisons until his death in 2017. 

Venezuela and Trump: Transactional geopolitics

Early in 2025, the Trump administration reframed the conflict as a law enforcement and counter-terrorism mission, reclassifying Venezuelan-linked gangs as foreign terrorist organisations. This legal maneuver provided the justification for the use of military force under Article II of the Constitution, allowing the U.S. to bypass a formal declaration of war from Congress while treating the Venezuelan government as a 'narco-terrorist' entity.

The first question that came to everyone's mind was: Was the extraction legal? Even when a leader is deeply unpopular or authoritarian, forcible removal by an external power remains incompatible with the UN Charter, which prohibits the use of force against the political independence of a sovereign state except in cases of self-defence or explicit Security Council authorisation.

Donald Trump's approach differs fundamentally from his predecessors by treating cartels not as criminals, but as 'foreign terrorist organisations' equivalent to ISIS. By designating groups like the Venezuelan-linked Tren de Aragua as terrorists, the administration expanded its legal ability to prosecute and sanction. However, Trump went further by using Article II of the Constitution to justify lethal military force without a declaration of war from Congress. Legal experts argue this is a dangerous stretch of executive power, noting that unlike Al-Qaeda, drug traffickers are motivated by profit rather than a mission to kill Americans, making the "enemy combatant" label legally dubious.

By late 2025, the US policy had shifted toward a maritime and aerial blockade known as "gunboat diplomacy." The situation is further complicated by Trump's insistence that the Tren de Aragua gang is controlled by Nicolás Maduro. While US spy agencies suggest Maduro merely tolerates the group, linking the two provides a pretext for military action against the Venezuelan government. Some analysts suggest Trump's motivations are personal, following a failed coup attempt in 2019, while others point to the influence of officials like Marco Rubio, who view the ousting of Maduro as a step toward regime change in Cuba and Nicaragua. 

The culmination of this tension was Operation Absolute Resolve in January 2026, which saw elite Delta Force units breach Maduro's compound after CIA intelligence located him. Following the capture, President Trump announced the "Donroe Doctrine," a rebranding of the Monroe Doctrine that asserts absolute American dominance in the Western Hemisphere.

US attorney General Pam Bondi said Maduro and his wife were indicted in the Southern District of New York. They have been charged with conspiracy to commit narco-terrorism and import cocaine, possession of machine guns and destructive devices, and conspiracy to possess machine guns and destructive devices against the US.

The enduring dilemma

The Venezuela debate—real or hypothetical—exposes an enduring dilemma. Authoritarian regimes can be brutal, incompetent, and deeply unpopular. Yet external military removal, especially when followed by economic reordering favouring foreign corporations, undermines the very norms the West professes to defend.

Ultimately, this strategy risks creating a "forever war" with no clear exit. Despite campaigning on a platform of ending foreign interventions, Trump's current path involves claiming the unilateral power to kill suspected criminals anywhere in the world. Without intervention or limits from Congress, this expansion of presidential war powers could set a global precedent, allowing other nations to use "armed conflict" as a justification for bypassing the rule of law to deal with internal criminal problems.