Why is the USA attacking Venezuela?

Why is the USA attacking Venezuela? 

by Germanico Vaca

The economic structures of the United States are more vulnerable today than at any point in the post–World War II era. This vulnerability is not accidental, nor is it merely cyclical. It is the result of catastrophic, irresponsible, and often lawless policies pursued under Donald Trump and those who influence him. We are now entering what appears to be a cascading systemic failure driven primarily by a loss of confidence—both domestic and global—in the United States as a financial and legal anchor of the world order.

Several events already underway will accelerate this process. However, the decisive factor is not simply global realignment; it is the direct correlation between specific actions taken by the United States and the opposite outcomes those actions were presumably intended to achieve. What is unfolding is not a carefully designed strategy, but a sequence of reactive, short-sighted decisions made by an individual fundamentally unfit to grasp the complexity of global financial systems.

Long before the present crisis, Trump took actions that went formally unpunished but were certainly not unnoticed. Nations paid attention. Trust eroded. Alarm bells rang.

A pivotal moment occurred on December 21, 2017, when Trump issued an executive order effectively creating law by decree—an authority reserved exclusively for the legislative branch. Under the guise of targeting “human rights abuses and corruption,” this order granted the executive sweeping, unilateral powers to freeze assets and impose sanctions without due process or international legal consensus. Regardless of the stated justification, unilateral coercive measures of this kind are widely recognized as violations of international law.

Between 2017 and 2019, these powers were used extensively against Venezuela. Sanctions, embargoes, and asset freezes crippled the country’s ability to access its own financial resources. When the COVID-19 pandemic struck, Venezuela—its accounts frozen—was unable to meet payment obligations related to its CITGO refineries in the United States. Trump then exploited the very legal framework he had unilaterally imposed to seize those assets.

What followed was not justice; it was expropriation on a massive scale. Two refineries, pipelines, oil tankers, and over 9,000 CITGO gas stations—assets owned by the Venezuelan people—were effectively confiscated. This was justified on ideological grounds: the Venezuelan government was labeled “socialist,” as though ideology nullified property rights or international law. The historical irony is unmistakable, given the well-documented U.S. involvement in shaping Venezuela’s political trajectory in prior decades.

This act marked a decisive crossing of a line. For the first time in the modern era, the United States demonstrated that it was willing to seize the sovereign assets of another nation not as an act of war, but as a financial maneuver. That signal did not go unnoticed.

Worse still, Trump has shown a willingness to target allies as well as adversaries. Canada, Greenland, Panama, and Venezuela have all been placed on notice. The message is clear: alliances, treaties, and norms are disposable. Power alone decides outcomes.

Trump’s actions are not the product of strategic foresight. They are reactions—panic responses to a rapidly deteriorating financial reality.

By the end of 2025, the United States faced refinancing and rollover obligations approaching $9.2 trillion. Under the Bretton Woods–derived system that has governed global finance for decades, the United States must sell Treasury securities to sustain dollar issuance. Historically, this worked because global confidence in U.S. stability made Treasuries the world’s preferred reserve asset.

That confidence is now eroding.

China and Japan—the largest historical holders of U.S. debt—are no longer net buyers. In fact, they are reducing exposure. To avoid triggering a disorderly collapse, this liquidation has largely occurred through intermediaries. Still, central banks around the world have noticed. The unavoidable question emerged: if the largest buyers are exiting, who is absorbing U.S. debt—and how is the United States avoiding default?

The answer is deeply troubling. The system has increasingly relied on financial engineering, monetary expansion, and opaque mechanisms that resemble monetization by proxy. This creates systemic risk on a global scale. Confidence, once lost, cannot be legislated back into existence.

The emergence of BRICS as an alternative financial architecture fundamentally alters this equation. A future BRICS currency—even if imperfect—forces member states to reduce exposure to U.S. debt. Liquidation of dollar-denominated assets is no longer optional; it is structural.

In this context, U.S. aggression toward Venezuela is not ideological—it is desperate. It reflects a nation attempting to externalize the costs of its own financial decline. Asset seizures, sanctions, and coercion are no longer tools of policy; they are symptoms of collapse.

This behavior will accelerate precisely the outcome the United States seeks to avoid. South American nations now have a compelling incentive to form a regional bloc—not merely for economic cooperation, but for collective defense against financial predation. The United States has transformed itself, in the eyes of many, from partner to threat.

The pretexts offered—socialism, drugs, corruption—are distractions. The underlying reality is far simpler and far more dangerous: the unraveling of the U.S. dollar’s dominance and the willingness of its leadership to become a thief of nations rather than confront structural reform.

History will not interpret this period kindly. And the world is already moving on.