The oil spoils by Timothy Davies

There is something revealing about the language surrounding Venezuela’s oil. It is presented as a deal, an agreement, an opportunity for reconstruction, even a triumph of American energy policy. But strip away the diplomatic wrapping and a simpler picture emerges: pressure was applied, power was displayed, and suddenly the world’s largest proven oil reserves became considerably more accessible to the power applying the pressure.

That is not how imperialism used to announce itself. There were flags, occupations and governors in colonial uniforms. The modern version arrives with contracts, investment packages, sanctions waivers and the reassuring vocabulary of “partnership”.

Washington’s policy toward Venezuela has undergone a remarkable transformation. After years of sanctions and economic pressure, the Trump administration has moved towards opening Venezuela’s oil sector to American business and securing extensive American access to its reserves. In August, Trump announced an agreement involving 65 billion barrels of proven reserves and described it as the biggest oil deal in history. The administration portrays the arrangement as beneficial to both countries.

Perhaps it will benefit Venezuela eventually. A devastated oil industry desperately needs investment, technology, infrastructure and competent management. Venezuelans need jobs, functioning refineries and an economy capable of producing something other than political slogans. But the question is not whether Venezuela needs investment. It is how that investment was obtained, who controls the resulting wealth and who possesses the leverage to determine the terms.

That distinction matters. For years Washington used Venezuela's oil industry as an instrument of economic pressure. Now the same resource has become an instrument of economic opportunity, for American companies and American strategic interests. Sanctions are eased, contracts become possible, oil begins moving more freely and companies rush towards the Orinoco Belt. ExxonMobil is reportedly considering a return; Continental Resources has already signed a memorandum concerning an oil block.

There is an almost comic symmetry here. Venezuela was told that its government was unacceptable. Its economy was squeezed. Its oil exports were restricted. Then, when the political circumstances changed, the door opened and the oil industry suddenly became an attractive investment destination.

The oil, apparently, had not become more democratic. It had simply become more accessible. This is where the rhetoric of “America First” becomes particularly revealing. Energy security is a legitimate national interest. So is encouraging American companies to invest abroad. But when military power, diplomatic pressure, sanctions policy and commercial access begin operating in the same direction, the distinction between foreign policy and commercial extraction becomes dangerously thin.

Venezuela should not be expected to surrender its natural wealth merely because it has been politically weakened. Nor should Washington pretend that enormous economic privileges acquired after extraordinary pressure constitute an ordinary commercial transaction.

There is another danger. If Venezuelan oil becomes the prize at the end of intimidation, other governments will draw their own conclusions. The message will not be subtle: resist Washington and pay a price; accommodate Washington and your resources suddenly become negotiable.

That is not a sustainable international order. It is a hierarchy dressed as a marketplace. Venezuela deserves reconstruction. Its people deserve the benefits of their oil. American businesses deserve the opportunity to invest. But none of those propositions requires the powerful to confuse leverage with ownership.

Oil beneath Venezuelan soil belongs first to Venezuela. If prosperity follows, it should be because Venezuelans have gained a functioning economy, not because the bully discovered that intimidation comes with an exceptionally profitable receipt.