Venezuelan media and commentators describe Donald Trump's rhetoric toward Iran as overtly aggressive and destabilizing, emphasizing his threats to "arrasar" — completely annihilate — and the risk of a prolonged conflict. Reports highlight concerns about the use of unconventional weapons, possible economic consequences for oil prices, and rising tensions within NATO. The tone of pieces is often critical and alarmed: Trump is portrayed as an unpredictable leader using militarization for political gain rather than as a guarantor of stability. This piece is based on publications from www.facebook.com (Venezuela).
The Venezuelan view of Trump: war, sanctions, migrants and the "dizziness strategy"
In the Venezuelan media space, the figure of Donald Trump long ago transcended the image of "one of the U.S. presidents" and turned into a concentrated symbol of all American pressure policy: from war with Iran and sanctions to the migration agenda and debates about birthright citizenship. Two different storylines — analysis of the Iran direction and discussion of U.S. citizenship — merge in Venezuela into a single picture in which Washington acts through manipulation, legal aggression and informational "noise," and Latin Americans, especially Venezuelans, become both the object and unwitting participants in that game.
This outlook is well illustrated by video materials circulating on social networks. One of them is the program El Tablero with Laura Arroyo, accompanied by commentary from analyst Nahia Sanzo and actively shared via this Facebook post. Another is a Mexican video with Javier Tello's analysis of birthright citizenship in the U.S. and the Supreme Court’s position, published at https://www.facebook.com/nmas.com.mx/videos/ciudadan%C3%ADa-por-nacimiento-en-eua-el-an%C3%A1lisis-de-javier-tello/1648224430165795/. Despite differing topics, in Venezuelan interpretation they are arranged into a common narrative: Trump as the continuation of the U.S. "imperial" line, and his words and actions as part of a "mareo" strategy — that is, deliberate bewilderment and destabilization.
Laura Arroyo's phrase "No le creas a Donald Trump, porque su estrategia es marearte. Escúchalo sabiendo que esa es su intención" sounds particularly familiar to Venezuelan viewers. "Marearte" — "to make you dizzy," "to rock you," "to disorient you" — in Caracas is read not as a metaphor but as a day‑to‑day political experience: years of sanctions, constant statements that "all options are on the table," threats to change the regime, alternation of "humanitarian aid" and financial blockade. In official and pro‑government discourse, the U.S. has long been described as a power that talks about democracy and humanitarianism but in practice applies forceful pressure and economic strangulation. The public message is a show under which real, destructive goals are hidden.
Against this background, Nahia Sanzo's comment about war with Iran is perceived in Venezuela as an almost literal confirmation of their own experience. The analyst emphasizes: "Esta guerra lo que está consiguiendo es dar más poder, más presencia, a la Guardia Revolucionaria de Irán, que en teoría era el enemigo a batir." In the Iranian context this means that U.S. actions, conceived as a way to weaken the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, actually strengthen its position within the country and the region. In Venezuelan reading this appears as a mirror reflection: sanctions and external pressure on Caracas, local commentators argue, did not destroy the Bolivarian system but consolidated power, increased the role of the military and security services, and made reliance on force structures even more central.
This logic of a "backfire effect" is a key argument of anti‑mainstream, anti‑American analysis. According to this view, the U.S. not only acts immorally but also miscalculates strategically: the harder it squeezes, the stronger the very "enemy apparatus" it tried to break becomes. The story of the strengthening of Iran's Revolutionary Guard as a result of war, mentioned by Sanzo, becomes an illustration of a general "law": Washington's pressure produces a "besieged fortress" effect — in Iran, in Venezuela, and in other countries declared "rogue regimes."
The Venezuelan context makes this analysis especially multi‑layered. Iran and Venezuela, both under sanctions, are also oil powers. Any escalation in the Middle East, for Caracas, is read through the prism of the oil market: higher per‑barrel prices, increased U.S. control over transport corridors, tightening of sanctions regimes against "disobedient" exporters. Venezuelan media presents this as confirmation that oil is a weapon in Washington's hands, and wars in oil-bearing territories are inseparable from the political‑media campaigns in which Trump, with his flashy but contradictory rhetoric, plays a central role.
An additional layer is the so‑called "axis of the sanctioned." Caracas has built close ties with Iran, Russia, Turkey, China and other countries that have fallen under various forms of Western pressure. The strengthening of Iran's Revolutionary Guard in Venezuelan discussions is often interpreted as the bolstering of an important partner that helped Venezuela evade sanctions in fuel, technology and finance. Thus, every U.S. strike against Tehran or step toward escalation is seen not only as a geopolitical episode but as an event changing the configuration of alliances on which the survival of the Bolivarian project directly depends.
Equally important is the politico‑cultural parallelism. For the Venezuelan audience, Iran is not simply a distant theocracy but a kind of "ideological mirror." On the rhetorical level, official and semi‑official commentators readily draw analogies: Iran's Revolutionary Guard — Venezuela's armed forces and security structures; Iran's model of mobilization under the slogan of resistance to the West — the Bolivarian discourse on protecting sovereignty and revolution. In this context Sanzo's thesis that war strengthens the "enemy apparatus" is conveniently transferred to Venezuelan reality: sanctions, intervention and informational attacks, by this logic, ultimately strengthen the internal cohesion of the ruling camp.
That is why the phrase "No le creas a Donald Trump…" sounds like a political warning rather than an abstract media‑criticism recommendation. Laura Arroyo addresses the viewer in a conversational, almost street tone, stylistically close to Venezuelan political culture: Trump is not a source of information to be listened to but an actor in a play designed to "marearte" — to tire you out, confuse you, make you lose bearings. "Escúchalo sabiendo que esa es su intención" — listen to him knowing that this is his intention. In Caracas such a formula coincides with years of propaganda about the need to "read between the lines" of any statement from Washington.
However, Trump’s image in Venezuelan discussions is not exhausted by war with Iran and sanctions. Through a similar lens his migration agenda is considered, including debates about birthright citizenship in the U.S. and Supreme Court decisions, reflected in the piece featuring Javier Tello. Although the text associated with that video structurally looks like a "mismatched" layout and partially pertains to another crime chronicle in Mexico, such stories nevertheless get incorporated into the overall picture in social networks. A Venezuelan viewer clicking on a clip about "ciudadanía por nacimiento en EUA y la Corte Suprema" is unlikely to read into the technical legal details; instead, the content is automatically completed through the already established image of Trump as architect of sanctions and a hardline stance against migrants.
The migration factor makes this storyline particularly painful. Venezuela has experienced one of the largest population outflows in the world over the past decade. For millions of families in the country the U.S. is either a concrete objective (the dream to "get there and stay") or a reality for relatives already abroad trying to legalize their status. In such conditions any discussion about revising jus soli — birthright citizenship — is perceived not as an abstract debate about constitutional interpretation but as a potential threat to children of Venezuelan migrants born on U.S. soil.
If Trump and circles close to him raise the question of birthright citizenship, the Venezuelan audience hears in this the echo of past rhetoric: the same that accompanied sanctions, threats of military intervention and tightened border regimes. In mass consciousness a link is formed: those who did not spare sanctioning a country will not spare migrants' children either if it fits internal politics and "border protection" agendas. Hence a growing sense of legal insecurity: the status even of children born in the U.S. could become a bargaining chip and part of political games.
Pro‑government media in Caracas actively use such stories to reinforce their own arguments. First, it is a convenient reason to again speak of U.S. "hypocrisy": a country that teaches the world about democracy and human rights simultaneously restricts the rights of the most vulnerable — migrants and their children. Second, it fuels the narrative of systemic discrimination against Latin Americans: in this logic the U.S. appears not as a "land of opportunity" but as a segregation machine that cuts off unwanted "outsiders" under legal and bureaucratic pretexts. Third, Venezuelan authorities can use the topic to shift responsibility for the mass exodus onto "economic warfare" and external pressure rather than domestic economic policy: people leave not because of internal crisis but because the "empire" destroys the economy with sanctions — and at the same time offers migrants no real guarantees.
From an economic perspective, U.S. migration policy and the topics raised in Javier Tello's video have direct consequences for Venezuela. A substantial share of families in the country survive thanks to remittances from relatives working abroad, including in the U.S. If the legal status of these people and their children is put into question, the risk of deportations, reduced employment opportunities and increased labor market vulnerability rises. For the Venezuelan economy this means a potential reduction in foreign currency inflows through remittances, making the country even more dependent on political arrangements with the same Iran, Russia and China already mentioned in discussions of war and sanctions.
In this nexus of topics, the U.S. Supreme Court and its decisions are perceived in Venezuela as far from a neutral arbiter. In pro‑government narratives it is often depicted as a politicized instrument through which the U.S. elite can legitimize harsh measures against migrants. The dispute over birthright citizenship discussed in the Mexican video easily becomes, in Caracas, proof that the American legal system itself adapts to the political moment and can become part of a broader strategy of pressure on Latin Americans.
The cultural aspect is important too. Latin American solidarity in perceiving such stories plays a noticeable role: even if the case concerns the Mexican‑American border or children of Central American migrants, the Venezuelan public automatically includes "us too" in that multitude. The shared experience of historical U.S. intervention in the region — from coups and support for dictatorships to the blockade of Cuba and sanctions against Caracas — fuels persistent distrust of any "reforms" in American migration and civil policy. If the same elites built foreign policy without regard for neighbors' sovereignty, why trust them suddenly when it comes to the fate of migrants and their children?
Against this backdrop it becomes clear how the Venezuelan reaction to Trump's actions — whether strikes on Iran or debates about citizenship — differs from dry international reporting. Instead of listing facts, there are normative assessments; instead of chronologies, analyses of motives and long‑term effects; instead of distance, constant cross‑referencing with national experience. Thus, in the El Tablero piece circulated via Facebook video, the central figure is not the war itself but the "mareo" strategy — the idea that Trump deliberately creates informational noise to hide real goals and confuse both foreign and domestic audiences.
Similarly, even when the Venezuelan social feed accidentally "mixes" a headline about U.S. citizenship with a completely different local crime story, as happens with links to Mexican materials, perception remains politicized. A technical confusion in layout or platform algorithms only amplifies the sense of chaos and opacity in which Trump and the U.S. allegedly feel at home: the harder it is to orient oneself, the easier it is to push unpopular decisions and conceal true interests.
Taken together, this creates a coherent Venezuelan narrative about Trump and American policy: a president who threatened Venezuela and bombed allies simultaneously destroys guarantees for migrants and their children; his words cannot be taken literally because behind them is a "dizziness" strategy; his wars against "enemies" strengthen the very forces Washington declared targets; and his domestic agenda on citizenship and migration is a continuation of the same pressure line familiar to Caracas from sanctions and isolation.
In this sense both Iran and the question of U.S. citizenship are for Venezuela not simply external topics but two sides of the same coin. On one side — geopolitical confrontation, sanctions, the oil chessboard and the figure of Trump as the exponent of a hard line. On the other — the fates of millions of Latin Americans, including Venezuelans, whose lives depend on American legal decisions and the political climate. Between them is the media field, where formulas like "No le creas a Donald Trump…" become not just headlines but a kind of collective survival manual in a world perceived as controlled by an "empire" and its changing but essentially similar leaders.
