Venezuelan commentary on a possible oil-sector agreement with the United States has largely focused on criticizing geopolitical interference. Authors question Washington’s right to lay claim to Venezuela’s resources and argue that the Trump administration places access to oil above democratic principles. The potential deal is also viewed in the context of US–Chinese rivalry for influence in Latin America. This material is based on posts published on Instagram and by IPS Noticias (Venezuela).
Venezuelan Oil and Latin America’s Sovereignty Debate
The presumed oil agreement between Venezuela and the United States has prompted discussion not only about the price of a barrel and supply terms, but also about a much broader dispute over national dignity, external pressure, and Latin America’s future. In a critical Instagram post, the deal is described not as a pragmatic commercial measure, but as evidence that the country with the world’s largest proven oil reserves has found itself in the weaker position.
The author calls the possible compensation “esmola, não pagamento”—“alms, not payment.” This assessment reflects the belief that Venezuelan resources may be transferred under unfair and humiliating conditions, while oil—the key symbol of national sovereignty—becomes subordinate to external demands. Potential discounts, opaque settlements, and arrangements under which the country, according to critics, fails to receive fair value for its strategic raw material are a particular source of outrage.
The main responsibility, in this interpretation, lies with the Chavista leadership. “A humilhação da Venezuela é obra dos chavistas”—“Venezuela’s humiliation is the work of the Chavistas,” the author writes. He accuses the authorities associated with Hugo Chávez’s political legacy of placing their own survival and, allegedly, illicitly acquired wealth above the interests of the country and its workers. The phrase “Chávez revira na tumba”—“Chávez is turning in his grave”—serves as a rebuke to the current course: critics believe it contradicts promises of national control over oil, social justice, and independence from external centers of power.
The economic dimension of this discontent is linked to the high cost of Venezuelan production. The post cites Brazil as an example of a country where producing a barrel can cost approximately $5–10, whereas extracting Venezuela’s heavy oil, according to the author, costs at least $20 per barrel. Oil from the Orinoco Basin requires diluents, specialized infrastructure, investment, and continuous technological maintenance. Under such conditions, preferential supplies or large discounts are seen not as an ordinary market compromise, but as direct losses for the state budget.
The quote attributed to Plutarch, “Os bens dos vencidos pertencem ao vencedor”—“The property of the defeated belongs to the victor”—reinforces the image of a country weakened by crisis, sanctions, international isolation, and the decline of its oil industry. For some Venezuelans with opposition views, this explains why foreign players, as they see it, are able to impose terms on Caracas for access to its resources. In this interpretation, oil policy is inseparable from accusations of corruption, the deterioration of PDVSA, the loss of production capacity, and the gap between revolutionary rhetoric and economic reality.
However, Venezuela’s oil debate is unfolding within a broader regional context. As IPS Noticias notes, increased US pressure on Latin America could fail to restore Washington’s former influence and instead push countries in the region to deepen their ties with China. In this analytical framework, Venezuela is the clearest example of how the struggle for energy and natural resources is intertwined with geopolitics.
The article’s author links the overthrow of Nicolás Maduro in January to the country’s enormous oil reserves and sees it as a signal to the rest of the region: in his assessment, the United States is once again claiming a special role in the Western Hemisphere. The US State Department presented the 1823 Monroe Doctrine as one of the boldest diplomatic declarations in American history, but in Latin America its possible return is often perceived as a reminder of intervention, pressure, and the struggle for control over strategic assets.
US Ambassador to Panama Kevin Marino Cabrera stated that “the Monroe Doctrine has found its last defender in Donald Trump.” For many countries in the region, such rhetoric is particularly sensitive because of the historical experience of US intervention in Central America, the Caribbean, and South America. In Venezuela, where sovereignty has become one of the central elements of official political language, any US action involving the oil sector is inevitably viewed through the lens of sanctions, pressure, and a state’s right to control its own resources.
China, for its part, offers the region a different set of opportunities: demand for raw materials, financing, infrastructure projects, and production chains for the energy transition. Chinese Ambassador to Chile Niu Qingbao accused Washington of “coercive diplomacy” and a “lack of respect for sovereignty.” These words resonate in Venezuelan discourse, although analysts do not regard China’s presence in the region as altruistic either.
E3G analyst Gustavo Pinheiro calls the energy transition a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity” for Latin America’s development. “The transition is taking place in China; that is where the technology is being produced,” he emphasizes. In his assessment, the United States continues to focus on fossil fuels, including Venezuelan oil, while Beijing is capable of offering the markets and technologies needed to develop lithium, copper, nickel, and cobalt.
Alice Hill, a researcher at the Council on Foreign Relations, points to the problem of American unpredictability: “We have not proven that we are a reliable partner. We have cut aid and neglected allies.” Pinheiro formulates the criticism even more sharply, stating that the United States has a “200-year terrible history as an ally” and has “shown again and again how unreliable it is.” These judgments do not represent Venezuela’s official position, but they convey an important part of the region’s perception of US policy.
At the same time, Latin America is not necessarily seeking to choose between Washington and Beijing. Argentina, despite President Javier Milei’s ideological proximity to Donald Trump, extended a major currency swap with China. El Salvador maintains relations with the United States but has not rejected Chinese investment. Ecuador is also expanding its contacts with Beijing. For these countries, access to financing, markets, infrastructure, and technology remains decisive—not merely political sympathies.
For Venezuela, this situation has a double significance. Oil remains the foundation of export revenues, the budget, and the country’s national self-image, so any decisions about its sale raise an acute question: is the country receiving a fair price and retaining control over its resources? At the same time, the regional race for critical minerals is gradually reducing oil’s exclusive importance. Lithium, copper, nickel, and cobalt are becoming new sources of economic influence, while China is seeking a central role in the emerging supply chains.
Thus, criticism of the oil deal with the United States extends far beyond its specific commercial terms. For its authors, the question is whether Venezuela is capable of managing its greatest wealth as an equal state, rather than as a country weakened by crisis and forced to accept other people’s rules. In regional terms, the dispute becomes part of Latin America’s broader struggle for the right to choose its partners independently, determine its resource policies, and avoid turning its natural wealth into the price of geopolitical dependence.
