In Latin American capitals there is a growing sense that the United States is returning to a policy of intervention and sanctions personified by Donald Trump, and this is provoking an active reaction from regional leaders. Cuba and Mexico loudly condemn "interventionism" and economic restrictions, Brazil and other countries try to defend strategic autonomy on security and trade issues, and public debates reveal a split between desires for national sovereignty and the inevitable influence of the United States. Some governments bargain and seek new foreign-policy allies, others conspicuously distance themselves, strengthening regional solidarity and their own institutions. This piece was prepared based on publications from www.elperiodicoextremadura.com (Venezuela) and www.france24.com (Venezuela).
Venezuela between blockade and oil: how Caracas reads sanctions against Cuba and bets on India
In the news flow about Latin America two, at first glance separate, stories — new US sanctions against Cuba and Delcy Rodríguez's visit to India — combine into a single Venezuelan narrative about "siege" and the struggle to survive through oil. From Caracas's perspective these are not isolated episodes but parts of one regional strategy of Washington's pressure and a parallel counterstrategy of the Bolivarian project, which relies on allies and energy.
In live coverage of the crisis in Venezuela and US geopolitical moves, the piece "EEUU captura a Maduro, en directo | Crisis en Venezuela y los planes de Trump en Groenlandia, Cuba, México o Colombia" describes a chain of Washington's actions on various fronts — from Caracas to Havana. Against this backdrop, the US Treasury sanctions against Cuban president Miguel Díaz‑Canel, Raúl Castro, some of their family members and five Cuban organizations in Caracas are perceived not as an isolated step but as a stage of the same line of pressure long aimed at Venezuela as well.
That is why in Venezuela such measures are interpreted as confirmation that the US is using "financial weapons" against governments allied with Caracas. Cuba is a key partner in security, healthcare and political advising; a strike against Díaz‑Canel and Raúl Castro in official rhetoric is equated with an attack on the entire bloc of allies of the Bolivarian revolution. Constant mentions in the news about the "blockade of the Caribbean country" directly rhyme with the term "blockade" used by Nicolás Maduro's authorities to describe their own sanction-related restrictions. This forms the idea of a shared "fateful space": what is being done to Cuba today is a continuation of what has long been done to Venezuela.
Inside the country this is read through the prism of a long-established narrative of "hybrid war," where economic blockade, asset hunts and diplomatic pressure become elements of a single strategy. For government circles and pro-government analysts the sanctions from the Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) are part of a "regional ring" designed to provoke regime change in Havana and Caracas, and the inclusion of family members on blacklists (the wife, son, stepson of Díaz‑Canel, Raúl Castro's son) reminds Venezuelans of a familiar pattern: the same personal and family sanctions have long been applied to senior officials in Caracas, including Maduro himself.
The Venezuelan opposition views this differently, but still through a national lens. For its representatives, sanctions against the Cuban leadership are a legitimate tool of pressure on authoritarian governments and simultaneously a signal: the cost of alliance with Caracas is rising, and Havana's and Caracas's political and economic isolation is intensifying. From this perspective, US moves against Cuba demonstrate what mechanisms the international community can continue to use to pressure Venezuelan authorities.
However divergent the assessments, public perception converges on one point: the language of "blockade" and "sanctions" is already fully normalized in Venezuela. A population that has lived for years under headlines about new restrictions immediately draws a parallel: "what they do to Cuba, they do to us." For government supporters this confirms an "imperialist siege," for opponents it is evidence that neighboring regimes are subject to the same set of external levers as Maduro.
The consequences of Cuban sanctions for Venezuela extend far beyond solidarity. There has long been interdependence between the two countries: Havana relied heavily on preferential oil from Venezuela while sending doctors, specialists and security advisers to Caracas in return. Financial and personal pressure on the Cuban elite and related structures undermines the operational capabilities of an ally involved in Venezuelan medical programs and the security apparatus. At the same time, Cuba's role as an intermediary financial-logistics platform for transactions of interest to Caracas becomes more complicated, fitting into the larger picture: from sanctions against PDVSA to restrictions on Venezuela's financial system.
This architecture of pressure closely resembles what Venezuela itself has experienced for many years. In Caracas they see direct parallels: like Díaz‑Canel and Raúl Castro, Venezuelan leaders have appeared on OFAC lists alongside relatives; sanctions are presented not only as legal measures for specific actions but as an attempt to discredit and weaken an entire political project. In the collective memory of Bolivarian supporters this continues a long-standing line of conflict with the US — from Cold War times and support for Cuba to oil sanctions against PDVSA. Any new wave of restrictions against Havana, Managua or La Paz is used within Venezuela to reinforce the thesis of an "imperialist ring," which justifies internal mobilization and prioritizes "resistance" over reforms.
Against this background it is particularly telling that in the same news cycle another story appears — Delcy Rodríguez's visit to India, covered in a France 24 piece. Formally it is an economic note about strengthening energy ties, but read from Caracas it becomes a kind of implicit editorial about the regime's priorities: by any means secure the flow of oil dollars and diversify partners in the face of geopolitical vulnerability.
The authors emphasize that India is "the world's most populous country" and "the second-largest buyer of Venezuelan oil, right after the US," especially against the backdrop of a "global supply affected by a crisis in the Middle East." For a Venezuelan audience two important messages are immediately readable here. First, despite sanctions and internal collapse, the country remains a significant energy player. Second, Global South allies, in this case India, become indispensable precisely when the oil market is shaken by conflicts dominated by Western powers.
The chosen phrasing adds a particular nuance: in the photograph Delcy Rodríguez is presented as "acting president of Venezuela," shaking hands with Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi. For the domestic audience this is more than a ceremonial gesture: the regime's second-in-command is portrayed as a figure at the level of head of state, which fits the trend of power concentration within Maduro's close circle and constructs an image of continuity and resilience. She thus appears not merely as a vice president on an economic mission but as a representative of the "country's leadership" building global alliances in a difficult moment.
Economically the central idea is clear: when a "crisis in the Middle East" limits global oil supply, securing India as the second buyer after the US is a lifeline for Venezuela suffering from a severe shortage of external financing. Domestically such tours are interpreted as part of a threefold strategy: to ensure a minimal level of foreign currency inflows for subsidies, critical imports and relative exchange-rate stability; to show the base that the country is not "isolated" and can circumvent sanctions through alliances with rising powers; and to send a signal to Washington and Europe that Caracas can redirect flows to alternative markets if full normalization of energy ties with the West stalls.
Historically Chávez's and Maduro's foreign policy was built around "oil diplomacy" — from strategic agreements with China and Russia to the Petrocaribe initiative. In this context Rodríguez's visit to New Delhi, described by France 24, looks like a logical continuation of the same line: internal crisis does not eliminate the possibility of external maneuver if you have oil. If the axis once formed as "Caracas–Beijing–Moscow," now a triangle "Caracas–Washington–New Delhi" is increasingly visible, with India playing the role of an insurance partner in case relations with the US again deteriorate.
Culturally this whole picture fits into a persistent Venezuelan sensitivity: "they remember us when there is a global oil crisis." Mention of a "crisis in the Middle East" activates the memory of how each world conflict that pushes oil prices up has been perceived in Caracas as a window of geopolitical and economic opportunity — even amid deep domestic decline. The fact that it is Delcy Rodríguez, not the foreign minister, who becomes the face of this diplomacy underscores that foreign policy is viewed primarily as an instrument of economic and political survival for the narrow ruling core.
Juxtaposing these two stories — sanctions against Cuba and the strengthening of energy partnership with India — reveals how a cohesive perception is formed in Venezuela. On one hand, the flow of news about sanctions, "siege" and "blockade" — concentrated in live reports like the coverage of the Venezuelan crisis and Washington's plans — feeds the narrative of a constant US attack on the Caracas–Havana allied axis. On the other, pieces about economic missions to New Delhi, such as the France 24 publication, shape the image of a government that, despite the "siege," finds new supports in the Global South and can turn global shocks into an opportunity to shore up its rear.
Thus foreign-policy news about Cuba and India, read through the Venezuelan lens, merge into one narrative: the US is tightening a sanctions noose around the Bolivarian camp, and Caracas, in response, seeks to compensate losses by expanding oil ties with major powers outside the Western bloc. It is precisely in this space — between blockade and oil — that Venezuelan politics lives today.
