Venezuelan media, in their opinions, analyses and responses, portray the administration of Donald Trump as an aggressive, crisis-driven force whose hardline measures against Iran and in the Middle East are perceived as risky and potentially doomed to fail. Commentators particularly emphasize strikes on U.S. bases, threats to attack Iran’s infrastructure, effects on oil markets and the role of Washington’s allies, while also highlighting domestic instability in the United States and mass protests. The pieces forecast a backlash and a rise in influence of regional actors, fitting into a broader narrative about American overreach and decline of U.S. hegemony. This material was prepared based on publications on YouTube (Venezuela) and Facebook (Venezuela).
Trump’s strategy, oil and sanctions: Israeli and Venezuelan‑Caribbean angles
Two seemingly disparate threads — an analysis of Donald Trump’s plan for Iran on a Spanish‑language Israeli channel and an emotional Cuban Facebook comment about deliveries of Russian oil — in fact nicely demonstrate how the same geopolitical reality is interpreted differently in Jerusalem and in the Bolivarian space of Havana–Caracas. The common background is U.S. sanctions, oil as a resource for survival and an instrument of pressure, and the place of Iran, Russia and the Gulf states in this complex game.
The program Kan en Español, the Spanish‑language service of the Israeli public broadcaster, is devoted to Donald Trump’s plan for Iran and its possible consequences. It is important that this is not a Venezuelan column nor a view from Caracas, but an analytical program aimed at a Spanish‑speaking audience interested in Israel and the Middle East. This determines the whole set of emphases and blind spots: Venezuelan politicians are not heard on air, Venezuela’s economy, its sanctions regime, the PDVSA crisis or Caracas–Tehran/Washington relations are not discussed. Instead, the entire framework of the conversation is built around an Israeli and Middle Eastern perspective.
At the center of the discussion is Trump’s proposed 15‑point package of demands to Iran, which in the logic of the program is viewed not as an abstract diplomatic platform but as an instrument of pressure on Tehran to redraw the regional balance of power. Kan en Español’s analysts dissect in detail how these conditions relate to Iran’s missile program, its presence in Syria, Lebanon, Iraq and Yemen, and threats to shipping in the Strait of Hormuz. Special attention is paid to how Washington, by controlling this strategic “chokepoint,” can affect the global energy market while simultaneously containing Iranian influence.
An important line of analysis is pressure from the Arab monarchies of the Persian Gulf, primarily Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, on Tehran and on the course of negotiations. The program emphasizes that Riyadh and Abu Dhabi are interested in a U.S.–Iran deal that would limit Tehran’s military and political options but still leave room for maneuver in oil policy, including their ability to quickly ramp up production to offset potential disruptions in supplies through the Strait of Hormuz. From the authors’ perspective, it is precisely the Gulf states’ readiness to support the oil market that enables Washington to take a hard line against Iran without fearing a collapse in prices or shortages.
Throughout the discussion, Israel’s security serves as the criterion for evaluating any of Trump’s initiatives. This concerns direct threats from Iranian structures and allies on Israel’s borders, the presence of Iranian forces in Syria, Hezbollah’s missile potential, and the risks of escalation if pressure on Iran leads to a military response. Here a personal factor comes into play: the program underscores Benjamin Netanyahu’s role in coordinating with the White House and his influence on forming a hardline approach to Iran in Washington. Attention is paid to debates in the Knesset, statements by Israeli leaders and how Iran’s nuclear program and U.S. strategy are assessed within Israel.
Guest analyst Luis Fleishman, known for his pro‑Western and sharply critical stance toward Iran, interprets Trump’s line through the prism of Israeli security and American hegemony in the Middle East. His argument rests on the idea that pressure on Iran is an attempt not merely to change the behavior of one regime but to “rewrite” the strategic layout in the region, reduce the room for maneuver for Iran and its allies, and consolidate U.S. dominance together with Gulf partners and Israel. In this narrative Iran appears as the main destabilizing factor, and sanctions and threats to block financial and oil channels are seen as legitimate tools to contain it.
Notably, oil in this Israel‑oriented program is considered exclusively through the prism of the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz. The discussion covers the ability of Saudi Arabia and the Emirates to compensate for Iranian oil, risks to global prices, potential attacks on tankers — but there is not a word about the Faja de Orinoco, the role of PDVSA, or how Venezuela’s position changes under U.S. sanctions. For the program’s authors, the key routes and flows are those passing through the Gulf, the interests of suppliers in that region and the impact on global consumers, not alternative sources in Latin America.
This absence of a Latin American, let alone Venezuelan, context highlights that the program does not present “Venezuela’s perspective” on Trump’s policy. Kan en Español does not discuss how a possible U.S.–Iran deal might affect sanctions on Caracas, the position of Bolivarian allies in the region, or oil flows in the Caribbean basin. Positions of Maduro and the opposition on Iran are not reviewed; there is none of the usual Venezuelan media rhetoric about “anti‑imperialism” or, conversely, about support for Washington’s hard line. The political language and cultural code are Israeli and diasporic, not Caracas‑based.
A sharp contrast to this rational‑geopolitical, albeit ideologized, frame is provided by another text — a short, emotional comment under a news item about deliveries of Russian oil to Cuba, published on the Facebook page CiberCuba Noticias. It contains the phrase: “Cada día que pasa y cada gota de petróleo que llega a Cuba, es una Victoria…” — “Every day that passes and every drop of oil that reaches Cuba is a Victory…”. For a Venezuelan reader that tone is immediately familiar: it almost copies Caracas’s official rhetoric about “every ship that breaks the blockade.”
This comment gives no data about volumes, routes or contract terms; instead it turns oil into a symbolic banner of resistance to U.S. sanctions. In the author’s logic, each ton of Russian crude reaching Cuban ports is not merely a commercial transaction but a geopolitical success in the “battle” against Washington. This approach resonates strongly with the Venezuelan “anti‑blockade” narrative, where the arrival of Iranian tankers or Russian companies’ participation in evading restrictions is interpreted primarily as a political victory rather than as a pragmatic element of a complex and often loss‑making scheme.
Parallels with Venezuela are especially clear in the phrasing: “…a los que han inspirado la esperanza de derrocar la Revolución, los días les están contados…” — “…for those who inspired the hope of overthrowing the Revolution, their days are numbered…”. This almost mirrors the vocabulary of Chavista leadership: the opposition and its foreign allies are described as those who “nurture the illusion of overthrowing the Revolution,” and any success in bypassing sanctions is presented as a signal of the imminent collapse of their hopes. Similar expressions have been heard in Caracas when discussing Iranian tankers with gasoline, announcements of Russian investments, and reports on gold and oil deals involving third countries.
For a Venezuelan audience such Cuban statements resonate on several lines at once. First, oil is perceived not only as an economic resource but as a weapon in political struggle. Venezuela itself for many years supplied subsidized oil to Cuba under Petrocaribe, and Havana’s joy over Russian oil is easily compared with Caracas’s enthusiasm over any circumvention of its own restrictions. Second, the matter concerns U.S. sanctions under President Trump: even if his name is not explicitly mentioned in the comment, the context of discussion about a “relaxation of the Trump administration or strategy” in the original CiberCuba Noticias post is obvious. For a Venezuelan reader this is another confirmation of the authorities’ thesis: sanctions pressure does not break the regime but strengthens solidarity within the “anti‑imperialist” bloc.
Third, in both cases external patrons play a central role. Cuba in the comment thanks Russia for the oil; Venezuela traditionally relies on Russia, Iran and, at times, China. In this logic energy deliveries become not merely shipments but demonstrations of the resilience of the informal Havana–Caracas–Moscow–Tehran alliance against Washington. Phrases asserting that “the economy will be restored again” and that the opponents of the revolution “will be left with their suitcases” echo Venezuelan promises of “economic recovery” after the “economic war” and the propagandistic image of the opposition as people who already hold suitcases, dreaming of leaving for Miami or Madrid.
If the Israeli program Kan en Español turns oil and the Strait of Hormuz into elements of a complex strategic calculation — who controls transit, who can compensate shortages, how this reflects on the military balance and Israel’s security — the Cuban comment, read through the Venezuelan experience, makes oil a pure symbol of “resistance.” Where the Israeli studio analyzes “balance of power” and “redrawing the regional order,” on Facebook oil becomes proof that sanctions can be “outlasted,” and that opponents’ hopes are doomed.
Thus the same global context — Trump’s hard line toward “problematic” states, play in the oil market, reliance on sanctions and control of key routes — produces two qualitatively different types of discourse. The Israel‑diasporic one, represented in the Kan en Español program, relies on the language of security, geopolitics and strategic planning, focusing on Iran, the Gulf states, the Strait of Hormuz and the role of the U.S. as guarantor of regional order, while practically ignoring Latin America and, in particular, Venezuela. The Venezuelan‑Caribbean one, embodied in the comment on the news about Russian oil for Cuba, interprets the same sanctions and oil deals as a moral‑ideological battle where each tanker is a “Victory” and every circumvention is a sign of the inevitable defeat of those betting on regime change.
That is why it is incorrect to substitute one for the other: Kan en Español does not express the “Venezuelan perspective” on Trump and Iran because it is fully embedded in the Israeli political and cultural context, while the emotional Cuban text, conversely, fits almost perfectly into pro‑government Venezuelan rhetoric, where oil, sanctions and external allies are viewed primarily through the prism of the revolution’s survival and symbolic victories over U.S. pressure. Together the two pieces show how differently the global oil and sanctions architecture is experienced in Jerusalem and in the Bolivarian axis, and how the same processes — from Trump’s plans for Iran to deliveries of Russian oil to the Caribbean — acquire completely different political meanings depending on the point of observation.
