Donald Trump’s policies are once again causing alarm in Latin America: regional forces are criticizing Washington’s territorial and geopolitical ambitions, trade pressure, and tough measures against migrants. At the center of the debate are the defense of sovereignty, economic dependence, the continuing consequences of U.S. policy toward Cuba, and growing domestic opposition to this course. This material is based on posts published on Instagram (Venezuela) and Facebook (Venezuela).
Venezuelans Caught Between U.S. Promises and Distrust of Their Government
Donald Trump’s statements about the rapid economic impact of a new 25-year energy agreement between the United States and Venezuela have sparked not so much optimism as distrust in the country. At the same time, concern over Washington’s symbolic and political rhetoric is growing in Venezuela’s media environment, while domestic resentment toward the ruling camp persists, with critics reminding it of promises made long ago during the Chavista era.
As El Pitazo reports, Trump linked the slowdown in Venezuela’s monthly inflation rate to the oil agreement: according to him, the figure fell from 19.9% in July to 8.9% in August. The U.S. president said the agreement “is beginning to deliver tangible macroeconomic benefits to Venezuela” and is helping make basic goods and services more affordable.
The Central Bank of Venezuela attributed the decline in inflation to the restoration of trade channels and reduced pressure on the foreign-exchange market after the June earthquakes in the country’s north. For a substantial part of the population, however, these explanations have little connection to daily expenses. On social media, users asked: “Where is this happening? There’s nothing like that in this country,” “My salary and benefits aren’t enough to live on,” and “What country are they talking about? Because it isn’t ours.”
This reaction reflects the familiar gap between macroeconomic statistics and people’s sense of their actual purchasing power. Even if the rate of price growth is genuinely slowing, that does not mean food, transportation, medicine, and utilities have become affordable for low-income families. After years of crisis, devaluations, and eroding wages, Venezuelans judge improvement not by the regulator’s data but by whether their money lasts until the end of the month.
Against this backdrop, positive statements about closer oil ties with the United States are being met with caution. For many citizens, the promised benefits of a foreign-policy success are not yet visible in shops, pharmacies, or household budgets. Skepticism is also fueled by the fact that relations with Washington remain a source not only of potential economic opportunities but also of political uncertainty.
The region was also alarmed by a post Trump published on Truth Social, as reported by El Diario Nueva York. In the map he posted, the U.S. flag covers Mexico, Canada, the Caribbean, Greenland, and Iceland. Trump had earlier also spoken of renaming the Gulf of Mexico the “Gulf of America.”
Although Venezuela is not explicitly named on the map, the inclusion of the Caribbean carries particular significance for the country. In Caracas, such symbolism may be perceived as a signal of a return to viewing Latin America and the Caribbean as a zone of exclusive U.S. influence. Historical memories of interventions, economic dependence, and the struggle for sovereignty make such visual gestures politically sensitive.
For the government of Nicolás Maduro, U.S. policy has traditionally served as evidence of an external threat to Venezuelan sovereignty. Trump’s expansionist rhetoric could therefore reinforce Caracas’s official position, even if it remains merely an online post without concrete policy decisions. For a country dependent on oil exports and vulnerable to sanctions and financial restrictions, a shift in U.S. policy could have very practical consequences: complicating the issuance of licenses to foreign companies, oil exports, remittances from the diaspora, and diplomatic efforts to ease international isolation.
The Caribbean dimension also concerns maritime borders, energy projects, and regional security. Venezuela’s reaction to Trump’s map is therefore linked not only to political symbolism but also to fears that Washington’s hard-line protectionism and confrontational approach could once again become decisive factors for the entire region.
Distrust is also evident in the domestic political debate. In an emotional Instagram post, the author reminds government officials that “the internet does not forget.” The reference is to numerous archived videos of Hugo Chávez and other officials whose early statements, according to critics, sharply diverge from the current practices of the ruling camp.
The author calls an unnamed politician “insane” and “consumed by absurdity,” but the main point of the post is not personal mockery. It is an accusation that the authorities have abandoned their own principles. Memories of promises of social justice, protection for the people, and national sovereignty have become an important tool of criticism amid the economic crisis, mass migration, and the Chavista movement’s long-standing dominance.
Such posts rarely contain verifiable dates, complete quotations, or expert commentary, but they capture the mood of part of society. In Venezuela, social media are becoming a public archive: politicians’ old speeches and promises are used to challenge the official account of events and compare the revolutionary rhetoric of the past with everyday life today.
Ultimately, public reaction in Venezuela consists of several layers of distrust. Some people do not see the promised decline in the cost of living; others fear new pressure from the United States; still others remind the authorities of unfulfilled domestic promises. For many citizens, agreements, maps, and statements matter only when they are followed by a tangible improvement in living conditions—more affordable food, medicine, transportation, and incomes sufficient to get through the month without constant shortages.
