(For the Iraq parallel and the recycled-pretext pattern, see our previous analysis here.)
The moment the United States began speaking about “running” Venezuela and “freeing its oil,” the question stopped being whether Washington had crossed a line. It became how far beyond it the new logic was willing to go.
What happened in Venezuela was not sold as a temporary security intervention. It was framed—by Donald Trump himself and by the people around him—as a management project: stabilize the country, unlock its wealth, ensure U.S. companies benefit, and keep the taps under American supervision. That language matters. Empires reveal themselves less through tanks than through verbs. And the verbs now are control, manage, extract.
So, the real story isn’t just Venezuela. It’s the template it created.
Venezuela Wasn’t the Prize… It Was the Prototype
Trump didn’t talk about Venezuela like a crisis. He talked about it like a balance sheet.
He went on camera saying the U.S. was there to “free” Venezuela’s oil. His entourage talked about “resources,” “investment,” “returns.” This was not the language of diplomacy or even war. It was the language of corporate takeover.
For decades, Washington relied on sanctions, pressure, and proxy politics to bend countries. Venezuela marks a pivot to something blunter: direct stewardship over the core of a nation’s economy. Not just influencing who governs—but deciding who sells the oil, who buys it, and who gets paid.
That’s why this moment is so dangerous. Once a superpower demonstrates it can turn a sovereign state into a resource estate, it creates a precedent. Not in law—but in practice. And in geopolitics, practice is what spreads.
Venezuela is now the proof of concept: A weak, sanctioned, politically isolated state can be recast as a managed asset. And once you prove it works, you don’t stop.
Next Targets: A Threat Map
If Venezuela is the proof of concept, then the question of “who’s next” is not speculative—it is analytical. Empires do not improvise; they prioritize. And when you map Trump’s rhetoric, U.S. strategic interests, and the vulnerabilities of certain states, a short and worrying list emerges.
Cuba sits at the top
Not because of oil, but because of symbolism and suffocation. With Venezuelan energy now under U.S. control, Havana loses a crucial lifeline. That turns Cuba into a laboratory for the next phase of pressure: no tanks, just economic strangulation, diplomatic isolation, and the slow engineering of internal collapse. Trump and his allies have already framed Cuba as a regime “about to fall,” which in imperial language means “ready to be pushed.” If Venezuela was taken by force, Cuba is designed to be taken by starvation.
Panama is the quiet strategic prize
It is not a target for regime change so much as a target for infrastructure control. The Panama Canal is a choke point of global trade and military logistics. In the Donroe worldview, control of arteries matters as much as control of oilfields. Panama doesn’t need to be invaded to be dominated; it only needs to be pressured into compliance, security arrangements, or “partnerships” that effectively hand Washington veto power over one of the world’s most critical passages.
Greenland is the global version of Venezuela
Trump’s obsession with it wasn’t eccentric—it was revealing. Rare earth minerals, Arctic shipping routes, and military positioning make Greenland a future energy and security hub. The difference is that it belongs to a NATO ally, which means the precedent being tested there is even more dangerous: if the United States can treat allied territory as negotiable property, then no sovereignty is truly protected. Greenland proves this doctrine is not confined to Latin America—it is planetary.
Mexico and Colombia are not next targets—they are next tools
Trump has repeatedly folded them into his “narco-state” rhetoric. The aim is not to conquer them but to weaponize them: border militarization, security dependency, and intelligence integration that turn sovereign states into extensions of U.S. enforcement power. This is how a sphere of influence is hardened—by making neighbors function as buffers and enforcers for Washington’s agenda.
Seen this way, the emerging map is coherent.
Oil producers, trade chokepoints, mineral hubs, and politically isolated states form a chain. Venezuela was the first link seized by force. The rest are being prepared by pressure, rhetoric, and precedent.
Empires don’t announce their next moves in secret. They announce them in plain sight—and dare the world to object.
From Monroe to “Donroe”: When a Joke Becomes Doctrine
The Monroe Doctrine once pretended to be a shield: Europe, stay out of our hemisphere.
Trump’s “Donroe” version flips it into something far darker:
We decide what happens inside it.
And he doesn’t hide it.
“Nobody can stop us.”
“We will run it.”
“We will take care of the oil.”
This isn’t improvisation. It’s ideology stripped of manners.
Under the Donroe worldview:
• Sovereignty becomes conditional
• Resources become negotiable
• International law becomes optional
Even the media has adjusted. The debate isn’t whether the U.S. has the right to do this, it’s whether it can do it efficiently. That’s how norms die: not with outrage, but with technical discussions. No need to mention the so-called “technical discussions” on Lebanon!
Once that shift happens, the map is open.
The Real Danger Isn’t Trump — It’s What He Made Acceptable
It’s easy to make this a story about Trump’s ego. That’s comforting, because it suggests the problem will end when he leaves.
But Trump isn’t the engine. He’s the accelerator.
Behind him stand:
• energy corporations waiting for contracts,
• hawks eager to reassert dominance,
• and institutions that thrive when threats multiply.
Trump just says the quiet part out loud. He turned empire into a reality show—crude, loud, and profitable.
And that’s why Venezuela matters.
Not because it’s unique.
But because it shows what the new normal looks like.
If a country can be taken apart, managed, and monetized under the banner of “stability,” then any country with resources and limited defenses becomes a candidate.
So “Who’s next?” isn’t a slogan. It’s a warning. And the world should read Venezuela not as an episode—but as a pilot.
Source: Al-Manar English Website