The Donroe Doctrine and the Mechanics of Modern Imperialism in Venezuela
The geopolitical landscape of the 21st century is being reshaped by a return to great power politics, but its methods have evolved. The recent U.S. intervention in Venezuela and its chaotic, contradictory aftermath present a stark case study in a new form of imperial pragmatism—one that prioritizes economic subjugation and “regime management” over the ideological nation-building projects of the recent past. This evolving strategy, which might be termed the “Donroe Doctrine” (a portmanteau of “Donald Trump” and the “Monroe Doctrine”), represents a profound shift in how the United States exercises its hegemony, particularly in what it considers its own hemisphere. The situation in Venezuela, with its complex interplay of military intervention, economic strangulation, and fragile domestic political negotiation, offers a chilling blueprint for 21st-century neo-colonialism and a sobering lesson on the limits of resistance in an asymmetrical world.
I. From Regime Change to Regime Management: The Anatomy of the “Donroe Doctrine”
The spectacle following the U.S. abduction of President Nicolás Maduro is surreal but instructive. Within days, opposition leader María Corina Machado—lauded by the West and awarded a Nobel Peace Prize for her anti-“autocracy” activism—was fêted at the White House. Simultaneously, CIA Director John Ratcliffe was in Caracas meeting with Delcy Rodríguez, Maduro’s former Vice-President and the new interim leader of a nation whose sovereignty had just been violently breached. President Trump himself praised Rodríguez as a “terrific person.”
This duality is not confusion; it is the core of the new doctrine. Unlike the neoconservative interventions in Iraq and Afghanistan, which sought to dismantle existing state structures and rebuild them in a liberal-democratic image (a costly and often disastrous endeavor), the Venezuela operation is stripped of ideological pretension. Its goal is not to install a pliant opposition figurehead like Machado, whose obsequious support has earned her little domestic credibility or administrative capacity. Instead, the goal is “regime management.”
As reported by The New York Times, U.S. policymakers explicitly calculated that removing the entire Bolivarian government would create a power vacuum, risking the catastrophic collapse of the army and bureaucracy seen in Iraq. For Trump and his “America First” base, weary of foreign quagmires, this was an unacceptable outcome. The strategic choice, therefore, was to surgically remove the symbolic head of the regime (Maduro) while co-opting its administrative body. The target is control, not conversion. The aim is to secure imperial dominance to maximize resource extraction—primarily Venezuela’s vast oil wealth—while leaving in place a local governing apparatus that can maintain order, manage the population, and implement the terms of its own subordination. This is a colder, more transactional imperialism.
Ghana’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah, defined this arrangement with prescient clarity in 1965: “The essence of neo-colonialism is that the [s]tate which is subject to it is, in theory, independent and has all the outward trappings of international sovereignty. In reality its economic system and thus its political policy is directed from outside.” Venezuela today is a textbook manifestation of this. Rodríguez delivers defiant, sovereignty-affirming rhetoric in her State of the Union address, even as she negotiates the terms of her nation’s economic surrender with the CIA director. The façade of independence is maintained, but the levers of economic life are pulled from Washington.
II. The Bolivarian Dilemma: Capitulation or Calculated Pragmatism?
The relative ease of the U.S. operation and the subsequent behavior of the Bolivarian leadership have sparked intense debate. Why was there so little military resistance? Why has Rodríguez’s response seemed, in the words of leftist intellectual Tariq Ali, like a “complete” capitulation? To view this solely as ideological betrayal is to misunderstand the brutal geopolitical and economic realities constraining Caracas.
For years, Venezuela has been subjected to a devastating regime of U.S. sanctions, meticulously designed to cripple its oil-dependent economy. These measures triggered hyperinflation, collapsed public services, and caused widespread humanitarian suffering, creating the very crisis used to justify further intervention. In response, the Chavista state developed survival mechanisms: redirecting oil exports to China and Russia via a “shadow fleet” and deepening alliances with these alternative powers.
The U.S. intervention fundamentally altered this calculus. A naval blockade was imposed, allowing American forces to seize tankers bound for Cuba and China and deny access to Venezuelan waters. Crucially, neither Beijing nor Moscow demonstrated a willingness to militarily confront the United States in its “backyard.” This exposed the limits of multipolarity: while China and Russia are happy to provide economic and diplomatic counterweights, they are not, in this theater, prepared to be security guarantors against direct U.S. military action.
Faced with this stark reality—total economic isolation, no viable military defense, and abandoned by its putative great-power partners—the Bolivarian leadership made a grimly pragmatic calculation. Their choice was not between sovereignty and surrender, but between total collapse and managed subordination. The consensus within the regime, as reports suggest, was to negotiate from a position of extreme weakness to secure economic breathing room. The goal is to ease sanctions, resume some oil revenue flow, preserve the remnants of the social welfare state, and wait for a more favorable shift in the global balance of power. This is not ideological surrender to neoliberalism, but a tactical retreat for survival.
III. The Mechanics of Subordination: Rewriting the Social Contract at Gunpoint
The negotiations between Rodríguez and Washington are not about political principles; they are about rewriting the fundamental economic rules of the Venezuelan state under duress. The core of the Bolivarian project, as established by Hugo Chávez’s 2001 Hydrocarbons Law, was sovereign control over oil resources. The law mandated that foreign companies could only participate as minority partners in joint ventures with the state-owned PDVSA, ensuring Venezuela retained the lion’s share of profits to fund its social missions.
This model is being systematically dismantled. Rodríguez, as Maduro’s economics chief, had already begun this pivot with the 2020 Anti-Blockade Law, which allowed greater private ownership in the oil sector—a trade of sovereignty for survival. Now, the terms are being set by Washington. The Biden administration had allowed a limited scheme where companies like Chevron could export Venezuelan oil, with proceeds funneled through private Venezuelan banks, giving the state indirect access to foreign exchange. The Trump administration has replaced this with a more direct mechanism of control: oil revenues now flow through accounts in Qatar, accessible to Venezuela only with U.S. approval, and must be used to purchase goods from American manufacturers.
In a stark irony, Trump is now reversing the sanctions he championed, but on exclusively American terms. Venezuela is being offered the investment and market access it was denied, but as a permanently junior partner. Reports of licenses granted to traders like Vitol and Trafigura for $500 million in crude sales confirm the new normal: Venezuela can produce oil, but its financial and commercial lifelines are externally controlled. The nation’s key leverage—its oil—is being used not for national development, but as a bargaining chip for its own continued existence within a U.S.-dominated framework.
IV. The Limits of Leverage: A Faustian Bargain and Its Global Implications
However, Washington’s power is not absolute, and the “Donroe Doctrine” faces its own constraints. Venezuela’s oil is predominantly heavy and extra-heavy crude, which is expensive to extract and refine. With global oil prices relatively low and the industry shifting towards renewables, major players like ExxonMobil have publicly deemed Venezuela “uninvestable.” While Venezuelan crude is cheaper than OPEC benchmarks, the profit margins are slim, and the required upfront capital is high. This economic reality tempers the imperial appetite; Venezuela is a prize to be controlled, but not an endlessly lucrative one.
Furthermore, the doctrine’s success hinges on the compliance of a managed regime. Rodríguez must perform a precarious balancing act: satisfying Washington’s economic demands while maintaining enough legitimacy with the powerful Venezuelan military (headed by Defense Minister Vladimir Padrino López) and the ruling party’s ideological core (led by Diosdado Cabello) to prevent a destabilizing internal fracture. Her rhetoric of defiance is a necessary component of this act. The opposition, decimated and lacking institutional roots, cannot provide this stability, which is why Machado has been sidelined. The U.S. needs the Bolivarian state, albeit a neutered one, to govern.
The global implications are profound. The “Donroe Doctrine” signals that in the 21st century, full-scale invasion and occupation are out of favor. Instead, the preferred toolkit includes targeted military action (abduction, blockade), devastating economic sanctions (“maximum pressure”), and the subsequent negotiation of surrender terms that lock in long-term economic subservience. It demonstrates to other resource-rich nations challenging U.S. hegemony—be they in Latin America, Africa, or the Middle East—the potential costs of defiance in a world where alternative powers may offer economic partnership but not security guarantees.
The lesson for the Global South is a grim one: sovereignty in the face of a determined imperial power is fragile. It requires not just ideological commitment but also credible military deterrence and unwavering great-power alliances, assets that are out of reach for most. Venezuela’s “fragile pragmatism” is the response of a cornered state choosing a managed, subordinate survival over a likely catastrophic defeat. It is a stark portrait of modern imperialism, where the flags and anthems remain, but the economic heart of the nation is extracted and controlled from afar, proving Nkrumah’s neo-colonial thesis more relevant than ever.
Q&A: The “Donroe Doctrine” and Venezuela’s Predicament
Q1: What is the “Donroe Doctrine,” and how does it differ from previous U.S. interventionist strategies like those in Iraq?
A1: The “Donroe Doctrine” (a blend of “Donald Trump” and the “Monroe Doctrine”) refers to a modern U.S. imperial strategy that prioritizes “regime management” over “regime change.” Unlike the neoconservative interventions in Iraq and Afghanistan, which aimed at ideological “nation-building” and installing a completely new political system, the Donroe Doctrine is nakedly transactional. Its primary goal is to establish imperial control for maximum resource extraction (like oil) while deliberately leaving the existing local governing apparatus in place to maintain order and administer the terms of its own economic subordination. It seeks control without the burden of direct administration or the chaos of total state collapse.
Q2: Why did the U.S. choose to work with Delcy Rodríguez, a Bolivarian leader, instead of installing opposition figure María Corina Machado after abducting Maduro?
A2: The U.S. chose Rodríguez because she represents “regime management,” whereas Machado represented “regime change.” U.S. policymakers feared that completely dismantling the Bolivarian state would replicate the disastrous dissolution of Iraq’s army and bureaucracy, creating an ungovernable quagmire. Rodríguez, as a senior Bolivarian official, has the institutional knowledge and, crucially, the potential ability to manage the powerful Venezuelan military (FANB) and the ruling PSUV party apparatus. Machado’s opposition, lacking deep institutional roots and credibility with these key power centers, could not guarantee stability. The U.S. needs a functional administration to implement its economic dictates, not an ideologically aligned but politically weak figurehead.
Q3: The article suggests the Bolivarian leadership’s response is “pragmatism,” not pure capitulation. What geopolitical realities forced this pragmatic calculation?
A3: The pragmatism is forced by a devastating convergence of factors: 1) Crushing U.S. Sanctions: Years of sanctions had already bankrupted the economy, causing hyperinflation and collapse. 2) Military Blockade: The post-intervention naval blockade physically cut off Venezuela’s last economic lifelines, seizing oil shipments to allies like China and Cuba. 3) Absence of Great-Power Protection: Critically, neither China nor Russia was willing to militarily confront the U.S. in defense of Venezuela, revealing the limits of these strategic partnerships. Facing total economic strangulation with no military or great-power recourse, the regime’s only choice for survival was to negotiate from a position of extreme weakness to secure any possible economic relief and preserve the remnants of the state.
Q4: How is the new U.S.-imposed economic model on Venezuela a direct reversal of the original Chavista oil policy?
A4: The reversal is fundamental. Hugo Chávez’s 2001 Hydrocarbons Law enshrined sovereign control, mandating that foreign oil companies could only be minority partners in joint ventures with the state-owned PDVSA, ensuring Venezuela retained majority profits and control. The new U.S.-dictated model enforces subordinate partnership. Oil revenues are now funneled through foreign accounts (in Qatar) accessible only with U.S. approval and must be spent on U.S. goods. Venezuela is allowed to produce oil, but it does not control the money or how it is used. The nation is being forced to trade the sovereign, profit-sharing model for a dependent, revenue-controlled model designed in Washington.
Q5: What does the Venezuela case indicate about the nature of sovereignty and resistance for smaller nations in the current geopolitical era?
A5: The Venezuela case offers a sobering lesson on the asymmetrical nature of modern power. It demonstrates that economic sovereignty is fragile when targeted by a determined superpower wielding tools like comprehensive sanctions and naval blockades. It also shows that diplomatic alliances with rival powers like China and Russia may provide economic and political cover, but they do not necessarily translate into security guarantees against direct military coercion. Effective resistance, therefore, requires not just ideological resolve but also a degree of military deterrence and unconditionally reliable great-power alliances—assets most nations lack. The result is that “pragmatic” survival often necessitates a form of negotiated subordination, where the formal trappings of sovereignty mask a reality of externally directed economic policy.
