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On December 10^th, far away from Caracas, the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony was held at the Oslo City Hall, a great moment of global moral clarity, as it is seen around the world. Among all, the Nobel Peace Prize is the most political in nature, and probably the most misunderstood. Handing it to María Corina Machado was not without controversy. Some argued that peace has yet to be achieved, others maintained that the struggle for democracy in Venezuela continues, and a few went so far as to claim that Machado was calling for war and escalating the conflict.

Despite that criticism, the Nobel Peace Prize recognizes Machado’s struggle to keep alive the flame of democracy under a dire authoritarian context. It certainly arrived at the most dangerous moment of this political process. But this begs the question: what does the prize being awarded to Machado tell us about the Venezuelan struggle for democracy—and what is dangerously obscure about that?

To begin elucidating this question, it is important to keep in mind that the Norwegian Nobel Committee recognizes struggles, not outcomes, and its decision to honor Machado is less about Venezuela’s democratic future and more about explaining why the international community chose to intervene, symbolically and morally, in this particular moment in history.

The state of democracy at the moment of recognition

It is difficult to establish a relationship between liberal democracy or democratization processes and the Nobel Peace Prize, but a trend emerges in the following figure.

After major conflicts like World War II or the Cold War, leaders from established democracies were often awarded, but there are also periods when laureates come from low-democracy or authoritarian contexts. In this sense, the Nobel Prize functions as a moral intervention when institutions have failed the people, as seen in the second figure.

This trend is evident in the last 15 years of the Nobel Peace Prize, which has been awarded to figures from authoritarian contexts such as Russia, Belarus, Iran, and, most recently, Venezuela in 2025. Seen in this light, Machado’s award fits a more recent Nobel pattern: it is granted not after democratization, but during the struggle, before a political transition has occurred.

We need to take the prize’s symbolism seriously. It is not necessarily about political power but moral authority. The Norwegian Committee increasingly rewards symbolic leadership rather than governing capacity. That is why earlier recipients often came from countries with strong institutions and democratic regimes, in a more celebratory context, whereas more recent laureates represent civil resistance against authoritarian regimes, boosting morale among pro-democracy forces and their ongoing struggle.

In this sense, María Corina Machado’s Nobel Prize validates peaceful protest and nonviolent resistance, rather than placing a bet on a potential presidential candidate.

Power after the prize? Three precedents

More recently, people wonder what the fate of María Corina and the struggle for democracy in Venezuela will be after receiving the Nobel Prize. We can look at three past laurates who also sought to expand human rights and pave the way for a democratic future.

Especially in light of the detention of Narges Mohammadi, the 2023 Nobel Peace Prize laureate in Iran, and the release of Ales Bialiatski, the 2022 laureate in Belarus—the same week Machado received the award—concerns about her safety are heightened.

A Nobel Peace Prize does not bring about transitions, nor does it replace domestic institutions. Instead, it raises the international cost of repression, protects civic mobilization, and fixes moral responsibility on the regime.

From these precedents, three scenarios emerge for Machado’s path:

The first scenario is the “good” case: Nelson Mandela. In 1993, the South African leader was awarded the prize amid a negotiated transition already underway, after being in prison for almost three decades. By forming a wide coalition, Mandela and his party built a strong case for democratization, in conjunction with international pressure. The prize came just one year before winning the presidential elections. In this case, the Nobel came during the path to power.

The second scenario is the “not-so-good” case of Aung San Suu Kyi, from Myanmar. When she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991, it was a time of moral resistance very different from Mandela’s case. She would finally reach power 24 years later, illustrating that political authority does not follow immediately from the award. After the transition from a military junta to a more democratic regime, and after her party won reelection in 2020, her government was toppled by a coup d’etat that sent her back to prison with a 27-year sentence. The new military junta stopped the democratic transition and she was banned from holding office. She has also been criticized for her unwillingness to condemn campaigns against an ethnic minority. This case demonstrates that even with a Nobel Prize and electoral success, democratization is fraught when military dominance and deep ethnic conflicts remain.

And the third scenario is the “bad” case: Guatemala’s Rigoberta Menchú. Menchú received global recognition for her work defending the rights of indigenous communities in Guatemala. It is a “bad” case not because something happened to her—she is still active—but rather that her two presidential campaigns, in 2007 and 2011, were unsuccessful. Menchú’s experience is a good example of the prize’s inability to actually produce palpable outcomes in domestic politics. International recognition does not automatically translate into domestic power.

When things are dire and hope is needed

In Venezuela, liberal democracy is at its lowest, as shown in the second figure. The Nobel Prize Committee awarded the prize because of Machado’s activism in nonviolent resistance, electoral organization, and keeping the flame of democracy alive in an authoritarian regime. The Nobel here amplifies the cause of Venezuelan democracy amongst international elites, but does not resolve the long-standing power imbalance.

A Nobel Peace Prize does not bring about transitions, nor does it replace domestic institutions. Instead, it raises the international cost of repression, protects civic mobilization, and fixes moral responsibility on the regime. It is more of a symbolic intervention. Machado did not receive the Nobel because Venezuela is transitioning to a democracy, not even because that outcome can be guaranteed under the current circumstances. She received it precisely because Venezuela’s democracy is at its lowest, and the cost of dissenting at home carries extreme risks. This has been the trend among laureates over the last 15 years.

It is also important to caution against messianic expectations. Democratic transitions result from collective action. Any future democratization process and its subsequent consolidation must emphasize society over saviors—a mistake Venezuelans have made in the past and must avoid once and for all.

After Maduro’s January 3 extraction and arrest, and the emergence of an uneasy relationship between the United States and interim president Delcy Rodríguez, the conversation about Venezuela has increasingly focused on the future of the oil industry. The issue was central to Trump’s rhetoric in the weeks leading up to the extraction and has remained so as he pushes for a rapid reactivation of the sector as part of what he sees as a broader democratic transition.

It makes sense. For decades, the oil industry has been the heart of the country’s economy. Any viable route toward a solution to Venezuela’s prolonged socioeconomic crisis passes through the recovery of the national oil industry, a sector uniquely damaged under chavismo. This assumption also underpins María Corina Machado’s message, which holds that following a democratic transition, renewed investment and increased exports would fuel economic recovery and the establishment of Venezuela as the “Energy Hub of the Americas.”

Yet both narratives tend to treat the oil industry as a static entity that responds predictably to simple incentives. Last week’s meeting with oil executives at the White House showed that this reality is not so simple, as major corporations like Exxon Mobil appear far less eager to engage than anticipated without stronger guarantees, as shown in a statement they released over the weekend. So, while there is a lot of talk about recovery in the oil industry, it is not clear who will do it or how long it will take. Moreover, any revitalization effort requires a sizable amount of human capital to staff the thousands of jobs the industry demands. In the case of Venezuela, a significant portion of that talent moved abroad to continue their careers as the oil sector deteriorated.

The prospects of recovery become more challenging without their input or expertise. Therefore, while narratives of reactivation suggest these workers would return and work in Venezuela automatically, it is important to directly consider their perspectives. Before Maduro’s extraction and arrest, I spoke with four Venezuelan oil workers overseas to understand what “reactivating” means and whether they would be open to returning to work in Venezuela. All four oil workers spoke on condition of anonymity and are identified by pseudonyms due to professional and personal concerns.

“Political stability is important, and you do see flashes that things might improve and that changes are coming, but real stability never fully materializes.”

Their initial reactions echoed some of the themes of last week’s White House meeting. There are things that need to change in Venezuela’s oil industry to begin imagining a process of reactivation, particularly the importance of a clear legal framework for investors. For Javier, an oil services engineer currently based in South America, this is particularly relevant: “I think a lot will depend on how things are set up, on what the rules of the game look like. For companies to return, and with them the workforce, those rules will matter a great deal.”

Juan, who is based in Saudi Arabia, also emphasized the importance of political stability: “Political stability is important, and you do see flashes that things might improve and that changes are coming, but real stability never fully materializes. That’s one of the main differences in this part of the world. Even when the economy collapses or there are global problems, there is still a great deal of stability.”

They also expressed concerns about how PDVSA, the state-owned oil and gas company, operates, arguing that this would pose a hurdle for potential investment. Carlos, who is based in Houston and currently works in technical support and engineering roles for international operations, emphasized that PDVSA’s relationship with the government should be re-evaluated: “There has to be a total restructuring of what PDVSA is. It should be entirely focused on operations. It shouldn’t worry about the political part.”

During the years of both Chávez and Maduro, the company became heavily politicized and deeply involved in electoral campaigns, as well as functioning as a logistical arm of the government’s social programs. Beyond enabling corruption and mismanagement, this expansion stretched the company too thin and left it with long-standing debts to oil services companies. Javier noted that those debts would make such companies wary of investing in Venezuela.

There is also a significant concern about the technical capabilities of the industry after years of decay. Juan, for instance, said that with the low levels of maintenance, “it is almost impossible to reactivate it to the level it was before. It will need too much foreign investment to return to the same level.”

Miguel, a Venezuelan oil industry engineer working in regional engineering management, said there is still much that is unknown and that there is a profound need for technical assessments at every level. “We have to ask, what are all the barriers that prevent us from a higher barrel output?” He added that this would necessarily lead to a process of infrastructure modernization. “When I talk about modernizing infrastructure, I mean evaluating everything, equipment, pipelines, refineries, storage, to see what works, what doesn’t, what needs to be repaired, and what needs to be installed. It’s about asking whether the equipment is still adequate or whether more efficient options exist.” Miguel also emphasized that this process will require the reestablishment of supply chains, from chemicals to spare parts, so that all the different industries linked to the oil business are solidified again.

All of these processes take time and rely on highly uncertain timelines. When considering a potential return to work in Venezuela, nostalgia is quickly confronted by family responsibilities. For instance, Carlos stated: “With all the love and nostalgia in the world, yes, I would like to. But when you have a family, you also have to guarantee their safety.”

The Venezuelan diaspora is not a monolith, but rather a dynamic group. The lessons they learned back home are now being deployed at a global scale and they see recovery as a long process, with the needs of their families as a pressing concern.

It goes beyond safety. There must also be conditions for families to flourish: “To consider returning, there would also need to be economic, personal, and family conditions in place, good schools, a functioning healthcare system,” Juan added.

This was a particular concern as well when I talked with my father about it. He has been working in the industry for 30 years and throughout a wide variety of countries. He emphasized that while the idea of returning sounds nice on paper, the living conditions are essential: “We’ve had to move many times, and the underlying theme through all of them has been the fact that the conditions back home were not appropriate. It wouldn’t make sense to rush back”. He also added that while it is true that it is possible to live well in Venezuela, there’s systemic issues that need to be addressed: “You know it is very possible to live well in Venezuela, but there are broader things to think about like inflation or the fact that the healthcare system is not as solid”.

I wish the story was different and that this highly-skilled workforce would return to quickly rebuild the industry. Yet, in times as complicated as these ones, it’s vital to remember that the Venezuelan diaspora is not a monolith, but rather a dynamic group. The lessons they learned in Venezuela are now being deployed at a global scale and they see recovery as a long process, with the needs of their families as a pressing concern. For instance, Carlos added: “How do I give my children what they need to become, I don’t know, citizens or have the opportunities they currently have within the United States or the different countries where I have lived?” In addition, returning to Venezuela represents, in some cases, starting without the social roots they had growing up. This is the case for Miguel: “My immediate family and my friends are no longer there. Going back to Venezuela would mean returning to a place where my parents are no longer living, my siblings are outside the country, and my wife and her family are also abroad. That Venezuela I might miss, the one I remember from when I was younger, no longer exists.”

Still, despite these calculations, the possibility of return is never fully closed. As Miguel stated: “Obviously, if I’m needed in Venezuela, I’m willing to help rebuild it, but several things would have to align. That’s why my answer today is that we’re still evaluating. Still evaluating. I don’t know.”

Latin American financial assets have emerged among the best-performing markets worldwide at the start of 2026, driven by an unusual alignment of positive political catalysts, strong commodity prices, and renewed global appetite for emerging markets.

Equities and currencies across the region have sharply outpaced developed markets, reversing several years of relative underperformance.

The shift in sentiment has been triggered by a sequence of closely timed developments.

A sustained upswing in commodity prices — particularly industrial and precious metals — has strengthened the outlook for South America’s export-driven economies.

And while the full consequences of the recent US seizure of Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro have yet to play out, some investors view the ousting as positive. A number hope the move will reduce geopolitical tail risks long associated with the region.

Adding to the momentum, the announcement of the EU–Mercosur trade agreement revived expectations of deeper trade integration between Europe and Latin America, even as doubts remain over its full implementation.

Global macro conditions have also played a decisive role. Major investment banks, including Bank of America and AllianceBernstein, indicate that a weaker US dollar in 2026 is boosting the appeal of emerging market assets.

Historically, periods of dollar weakness have coincided with strong emerging market performance, as capital shifts toward countries where returns are higher.

Countries most exposed to metals markets have been the primary beneficiaries. Chile and Peru — key producers of copper, silver and gold — have enjoyed substantial windfall gains from the metals rally.

Chile, the world’s largest copper exporter, shipped 14.9 million tonnes of the metal in 2024, according to ITC Trade Map data.

Latin America shines among top-performing global markets

Performance data compiled by CountryETFTracker show that five Latin American countries now rank among the world’s ten best-performing equity markets over the past three months.

Chilean stocks are up 36.6% since mid-October, making them the best-performing investable equity market globally via exchange-traded funds. Simultaneously, the Chilean peso has appreciated more than 8% over the past two months, reflecting improved terms of trade and renewed portfolio inflows.

Argentina has been another standout, with a 27.45% rally in equity markets since October. Investors have responded positively to the liberalisation reforms introduced by President Javier Milei, who took office in December 2023.

The International Monetary Fund, in its latest Regional Economic Outlook, credited the Milei administration with enacting “an ambitious package of market-oriented reforms” targeting productivity, regulatory simplification, and fiscal sustainability.

The IMF noted that, if sustained, these reforms could yield substantial medium-term gains by opening Argentina’s economy and improving investor confidence. That’s despite the fact that such austerity forms were particularly unpopular with the general public when first announced, triggering protests in Argentina.

Beyond Chile and Argentina, Peru has posted equity gains of around 27%, with the Peruvian sol now trading at its strongest level relative to the dollar in over five years.

Elsewhere, equities in Colombia rose about 16%, and Brazil has rounded out the regional leaders with a 12.9% rally.

By contrast, the US S&P 500 has gained just 4.8% over the same period, while Germany’s DAX is up around 5%, underscoring Latin America’s marked relative outperformance.

EU–Mercosur agreement signals strategic shift for Latin America

The long-awaited EU–Mercosur trade agreement, more than two decades in the making, is set to be formally signed on 17 January in Paraguay, marking a turning point in relations between Europe and South America.

For the founding members of the Mercosur bloc — Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay — the accord represents their first major trade agreement with an external partner, opening preferential access to a market of nearly 450 million EU consumers.

“The approval of the EU–Mercosur trade agreement is a landmark moment, creating the largest free trade area in the world by population,” Ángel Talavera, head of European macro at Oxford Economics, said in a note.

Combined, the EU and Mercosur economies account for around a quarter of global GDP and roughly 780 million people.

For Latin American markets, experts say the significance goes beyond improved agricultural access to Europe. The agreement is expected to lower tariff and non-tariff barriers on industrial inputs, particularly benefitting manufacturing-heavy economies such as Brazil and Argentina by reducing costs, improving competitiveness and strengthening supply-chain integration.

According to a study by Banco Santander, the deal is poised to transform trade and investment flows across South America. The EU already accounts for close to €370bn in foreign direct investment into Mercosur and over €125bn in annual trade.

Brazil’s Institute for Applied Economic Research expects the deal could lift Brazil’s GDP by around 0.5 percentage points and raise investment by 1.5 percentage points annually, reflecting stronger export prospects and increased foreign direct investment.

Estimates from Real Instituto Elcano and the Bank of Spain suggest EU–Latin America trade could expand by up to 70% over time, while intra-regional trade within Latin America could rise by as much as 40%.

A turning point for Latin America?

Latin America’s recent strong performance in global financial markets seems to reflect more than just cyclical tailwinds.

Rising commodity prices, easing geopolitical risks, and a weaker US dollar have all helped draw global investors back to the region after years of underperformance.

At the same time, reform momentum in countries such as Argentina and renewed trade links with Europe have improved perceptions of policy stability and long-term growth potential.

While challenges remain and many of the economic benefits will take time to materialise, markets are increasingly viewing Latin America as a relative bright spot among emerging economies.

For now, the region’s combination of high returns, improving fundamentals, and strategic relevance in global trade is proving hard for investors to ignore.

President Trump says he’ll take Greenland “whether they like it or not,” and the White House has confirmed military force is on the table.

The reason? Beneath the island’s melting ice sits a fortune in rare earth minerals that power everything from electric vehicles to fighter jets. China controls about 70% of global production and 90% of processing, and its October 2025 export restrictions have Western governments scrambling for alternatives.

The Geopolitics of Greenland

The push to unlock Greenland’s rare earth deposits is playing out against a complex backdrop of international relations. Denmark provides about $570 million annually to Greenland—more than $10,000 for each of the island’s 57,000 residents—making the world’s largest island heavily dependent on Danish support. However, this hasn’t stopped the Trump administration from eyeing its strategic value.

But Greenland’s value extends far beyond its mineral wealth. The island’s location along the shortest route between Europe and North America makes it crucial for U.S. military interests, particularly for ballistic missile warning systems.

The U.S. already maintains a permanent presence at Pituffik air base in northwest Greenland under a 1951 agreement with Denmark. The treaty gives the U.S. access to much of the continent and the ability to expand its military footprint to monitor Russian naval activities in the waters between Greenland, Iceland, and Britain—without the need to fully occupy the landmass.

Greenlandic Prime Minister Jens-Frederik Nielsen has made the island’s position clear: “We don’t want to be Americans, we don’t want to be Danes, we want to be Greenlanders.” But that hasn’t cooled Trump’s interest, with Greenland possessing 25 of the 34 minerals the European Commission deems “critical raw materials.”

Critical Minerals Powering Tomorrow’s Technology

While China controls nearly 70% of global production of rare earths and about 90% of processing capacity, Greenland’s deposits represent a potential alternative source for these vital materials. The market for these minerals reached about $328 billion in 2024, with demand for some elements tripling since 2017.

These minerals serve diverse applications across industries:

• Neodymium and dysprosium are crucial for creating powerful permanent magnets used in electric vehicle motors and wind turbine generators.
• Terbium improves the temperature resistance of these magnets, making them more durable.
• Praseodymium strengthens the magnetic properties essential for high-performance motors.

However, developing Greenland’s resources presents challenges beyond Greenland and the EU’s opposition to any American takeover. The concentration of rare minerals in the region’s ore is relatively low—between 1% and 6%—making extraction more costly and technically challenging. The harsh Arctic climate adds further difficulties, with ice floes blocking transportation during winter months and requiring complicated ways to store what’s mined.

Even putting these concerns aside, experts put large-scale mining operations for these metals about 10 to 15 years away.

Markets in Europe showed little movement on Monday after a broad rally in Asia.

US futures dipped, meanwhile, after Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell said the Department of Justice had served the central bank with subpoenas.

Powell noted that the threat of a criminal indictment relates to his testimony about the Fed’s building renovations.

President Donald Trump insisted that he did not “know anything” about the investigation that escalates a nearly year-long feud between the government and the central bank.

When asked by NBC if the probe is intended to pressure Powell on rates, Trump said: “No. I wouldn’t even think of doing it that way.”

Trump has nonetheless criticised the $2.5 billion (€2.13bn) renovation of two Fed office buildings as excessive.

Gold and silver continue to rise

Markets appeared to take the news in their stride, although gold and other safe-haven assets climbed.

Gold vaulted over $4,600 an ounce, shooting up over 2.5%, and silver approached $85 for the first time, rising over 7%. Copper futures in the US jumped by 2.52% to $6.051.

Powell’s term as chair ends in May, and Trump administration officials have signalled that he could name a potential replacement this month. Trump has also sought to fire Fed governor Lisa Cook, another move that chips away at central bank independence.

Gold’s rise is also linked to unrest in Iran as nationwide demonstrations against leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei enter a third week. More than 500 people have been killed during the demonstrations, according to the US-based Human Rights Activists News Agency, including 490 protesters.

President Trump said that he intends to intervene in the country if the Iranian government continues to kill protestors.

US futures dip lower

Futures for the S&P 500 dipped by 0.53% a few hours before daily trading started on Wall Street.

Futures for the Dow Jones Industrial Average fell 0.67%, while the Nasdaq composite index slipped 0.71% in pre-market trading.

Last Friday, US stocks hit records following a mixed report on the US job market. The data may delay another cut to interest rates by the Federal Reserve but does not entirely rule out the possibility.

The S&P 500 climbed 0.65% to 6,966.28, topping its prior all-time high set earlier in the week. The Dow Jones Industrial Average added 0.5% to 49,504.07 and likewise set a record. The Nasdaq composite led the market with a 0.8% gain, closing at 23,671.35.

The US Labor Department said employers hired fewer workers during December than economists expected, though the unemployment rate improved and was better than expected. An update on US inflation at the consumer level is due Tuesday, followed by a report on wholesale prices on Wednesday.

In other dealings early Monday, the dollar fell to 157.8180 Japanese yen, a daily drop of less than 0.1%. The euro climbed to $1.1691, a 0.49% rise.

US benchmark crude oil gave up early gains, falling to $58.91 per barrel. Brent crude, the international standard, dropped to $63.18 per barrel.

Rest of the world

In Germany, the DAX was nearly flat at 25,358.17, while France’s CAC 40 also showed modest movements, coming to 8,359.71 by mid-afternoon. Britain’s FTSE 100 edged less than 0.1% higher, to 10,127.05.

In Asian trading, Hong Kong’s Hang Seng gained 1.44% to 26,608.48, while the Shanghai Composite index jumped 1.09% to 4,165.29 after reports that Chinese leaders were preparing additional support for the economy.

In South Korea, the Kospi added 0.84% to 4,624.79 while Australia’s S&P/ASX 200 gained 0.48% to 8,759.40. Taiwan’s Taiex gained 0.92%.

France has been mired in political turmoil since Macron dissolved the National Assembly in June 2024 – and on Friday, Paris was effectively sidelined at a turning point moment for the European Union, as it failed to stop the Mercosur agreement.

After weeks of farmers’ protests and under the threat of a no-confidence vote at home, Macron chose to oppose a deal negotiated by the European Commission over 25 years with Mercosur countries Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay.

If implemented, the agreement would create a 700 million-strong free-trade area, opening new markets for EU companies at a time when the bloc’s largest trading partner, the US, is becoming more inward-looking.

The countries who backed the deal, led by Germany, Spain and the Commission itself, proved determined to confront mounting global economic tensions by diversifying trade ties beyond the US and China despite protests from farmers, who for years have warned the deal could expose them to unfair competition from Latin American imports.

France in particular amplified those concerns, piling pressure on the Commission, which holds exclusive EU competence over trade policy.

According to one EU diplomat who spoke to Euronews on condition of anonymity, France on Friday thanked the Commission for the concessions it had made to farmers over the past year but ultimately justified its continued opposition to the deal with a reference to political reasons.

The signature ceremony between the EU and the Mercosur countries will take place on January 17 in Asunción, Paraguay, sources familiar with the matter told Euronews.

As expected, Italy – whose support France needed to secure a blocking minority of four member states representing 35% of the EU population – backed the agreement.

But Italy also emerged with tangible gains for its farmers, securing all the guarantees France had pushed for, including early access to €45 billion from the Common Agricultural Policy and a retroactive freeze of the EU carbon border tax on fertilisers.

For von der Leyen, the outcome marks a victory too.

The Commission aggressively pushed the deal for a year, jumping hurdles to reach a technical and political agreement. Von der Leyen was relentless despite the opposition from Paris, which in the past would have been enough to make the Commission back down facing the ire of the French government.

Former Commission President Jean-Claude Junker famously used to say, “La France…C’est la France!”, referring to Paris’ habit of getting its way under the EU’s indulgence. Those days now appear to be coming to an end.

Von der Leyen capitalises on Macron’s weakness

Macron’s shock decision to dissolve the National Assembly in June 2024 stunned European partners and altered the balance in Brussels. Von der Leyen, now heading the EU executive for a second term, has moved to sideline the French president despite his decisive backing for her appointment in 2019.

Just three months after the dissolution, she capitalised on Macron’s weakened position to push out Thierry Breton, a powerful French commissioner seen as too dominant.

Breton was the architect of two landmark EU digital laws, the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act, and a relentless defender of French interests in Brussels as well as a critical voice within von der Leyen’s College of Commissioners where disagreements with the chief are not often tolerated.

Still, Macron agreed to replace him with one of his oldest allies, Stéphane Séjourné, a former Renew leader in the European Parliament who served as French foreign minister from January to September 2024.

In Brussels, Séjourné is viewed as less influential his predecessor. Where Breton’s former portfolio also covered digital policy, defence and space, Séjourné now holds a far narrower portfolio focused on industrial strategy and the single market.

France’s waning influence has not gone unnoticed among diplomats from other countries, who have grown accustomed to seeing the bloc’s second-largest member paralysed by political fragmentation and partisan infighting.

The government’s painful efforts to rein in soaring debt and deficits have prompted diplomats to joke that France has become “the most frugal member state” – a major break from its traditional embrace of heavy public spending.

Good ideas, bad timing for Emmanuel Macron

The French president now finds himself in an awkward position.

Paris still retains enough clout to sway key discussions, most notably when it comes to the “Made In Europe” preference, long advocated by Macron and now widely endorsed by other leaders as a counterweight against foreign competition.

On foreign policy, Macron has continued to shape Europe’s key debates. He made headlines as the first European leader to raise the prospect of deploying national forces to Ukraine; initially dismissed as unrealistic, the idea gained new traction after Donald Trump returned to the White House and upended US policy toward Russia.

The notion of an on-the-ground deployment was soon picked up by British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, since when the two leaders have co-led the “Coalition of the Willing” to design security guarantees for Ukraine.

Earlier this week, both Starmer and Macron signed a declaration of intent with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy to establish a multinational force in the event of a ceasefire.

Still, the Mercosur deal exposes his weaknesses where it hurts him the most – at home.

Jorge Liboreiro contributed reporting.

Venezuela has long been a country of dilemmas, defined less by decisions than by the consequences of postponing them. For more than two decades, its politics have revolved around choices with no clean exits: negotiate or resist, reconcile or repress, participate or abstain, sanction or relieve. None of these debates ever really end, they just get deferred.

The last few days have reinforced that pattern. There have been signals, rumors, half-measures, and a noticeable effort to avoid clear moves. If the Maduro era ended with spectacle, what followed has been quieter and harder to read. Not resolution, but something closer to managed uncertainty.

Those dilemmas do not look the same from every vantage point. They look one way from inside the arrangement now led by Delcy Rodríguez, another from an opposition that gained recognition but little control, and another still from Washington, where the Trump administration is trying to recalibrate pressure without fully owning the consequences. The common thread is simple enough. Everyone wants leverage, but no one has very much of it.

A managed opening under Delcy ?

For Delcy Rodríguez, the central question is not whether to open the economy, but how far she can go without touching the political core of the system. Economic normalization is safer terrain. It can be adjusted, slowed, or reversed. It reassures business actors, eases currency pressure, and creates the impression of movement without challenging the security apparatus that ultimately sustains power.

Nothing announced in the arrangements with the United States alters the centrally planned nature of the regime. At most, they shift the locus of external influence, moving it from Beijing to Washington, without changing who makes the decisions at home.

As stability is increasingly purchased through economic relief and diplomatic accommodation, rather than fear alone, Cabello’s role becomes less structural and more transactional.

Rodríguez and her brother Jorge may believe that selective compliance with Washington strengthens their hand against the opposition. Releasing a handful of high-profile political prisoners could be presented as progress, while house arrest can be easily revoked. But that calculation only goes so far. Colectivos are still active, police checkpoints remain, and the revolving-door logic of repression has not disappeared, it has simply become less strident.

Political reform is a different problem. Whatever broader strategy is being attempted, removing figures like Diosdado Cabello or Vladimir Padrino López too early would be costly. Their role is not symbolic. It is structural. They sit at the intersection of civilian authority and coercive power. Moving against them risks fragmentation and instability, outcomes no “transitional” figure wants to test.

The result is familiar. Economic flexibility paired with political stasis. Markets are easier to manage than men with guns. The opening exists, but it remains narrow.

Diosdado Cabello and the logic of repression

Diosdado Cabello remains central to that arrangement. He is still a key pillar of the repressive structure and an enforcer of internal discipline. Without figures like him, maintaining order during any attempt at reshuffling would be far more difficult.

That same visibility, however, makes him vulnerable. As the government looks outward, seeking normalization and legitimacy, Cabello’s profile becomes a liability. He is an obvious candidate for scapegoating or bargaining, a way to signal change without altering the underlying balance of power.

For now, collaboration makes sense. A premature break would require fractures within the elite and firm backing from the security forces, conditions that do not yet seem to exist, and he would be crazy not to explore. But waiting has its own risks. Each step toward economic normalization changes the political economy of repression. As stability is increasingly purchased through economic relief and diplomatic accommodation, rather than fear alone, Cabello’s role becomes less structural and more transactional. Still powerful, but easier to sideline, trade, or sacrifice when the balance shifts.

His dilemma is less about ambition than risk and timing. Wait too long and become expendable. Move too soon and stand alone.

An opposition without leverage

If the government’s problem is how much to concede, the opposition’s is how to act when it cannot force concessions at all.

The old debate about whether to participate in elections has faded, at least for now. The more pressing question is how to push for outcomes without alienating the Trump administration, while also avoiding being sidelined from a process largely run by others.

This is a less comfortable position than the clarity of boycott politics. The opposition retains international recognition and moral legitimacy, but little control over sequencing, guarantees, or enforcement. Its leverage is mostly external, and even that is constrained by how limited Venezuelan political capital has become in the United States.

For the opposition, every week of managed calm narrows the space in which democratic demands can still be enforced rather than negotiated away.

María Corina Machado’s influence depends in part on US backing, and that backing is not unconditional. Public confrontations, whether in Washington or Caracas, would likely benefit the Rodríguez camp, which has positioned itself as cooperative and pragmatic. An opposition better at public gestures than quiet lobbying now relies on a shrinking circle of intermediaries with access to decision-makers.

Migration fatigue, shifting priorities, and domestic politics in the United States all limit how long Venezuela can command attention. As the adage goes “no one is ever out with Trump” but at this point Zelenky’s position after his first visit to the White House probably seems enviable to Machado and Gonzalez right now.

Washington’s shrinking margin for error

For the Trump administration, Venezuela has become a problem of rising cost and narrowing options. Sanctions, diplomatic isolation, and conditional engagement are still on the table, but their effectiveness has been weakened by the political fallout from the operation to arrest Nicolás Maduro.

The Senate’s advance of a War Powers resolution signals discomfort with further unilateral action. Even if ultimately blocked, it exposes real limits. In an election year, threats of escalation carry less weight when Congress is signaling restraint.

Energy policy only adds to the tension. A push to keep oil prices below $50 makes Venezuelan crude less appealing to US firms, even with better terms. Heavy oil requires investment and time, and neither is attractive if companies fear policy reversals. At a moment when the administration is already paying a political price for its actions, the economic upside looks increasingly thin.

For now, the country sits between openings that do not transform and pressures that do not resolve.

Pressure also brings secondary effects. Migration, regional instability, and bureaucratic strain all factor into the calculation. Reopening the US embassy in Caracas reflects this shift. It lowers the temperature, but it also makes the threat of renewed escalation harder to sell.

The trap of managed drift

What this produces is not paralysis, but a carefully managed drift. It is quiet enough to be mistaken for stability. But the drift feels bloodless, and its costs are being deferred, accumulated, and quietly transferred. Venezuelan democracy is the one paying them.

Delcy Rodríguez can offer economic relief without altering the political core of the system. Washington can sustain pressure without fully committing to escalation. Even the opposition, trapped in its weakest position in years, can remain present without being decisive. In a configuration where no one secures what they want, everyone convinces themselves they have avoided catastrophe.

That is the danger. Drift rewards those who can wait, those who control force, those who can absorb time. It punishes those whose leverage depends on urgency, legitimacy, and momentum. For the opposition, every week of managed calm narrows the space in which democratic demands can still be enforced rather than negotiated away.

Venezuela has lived through this logic before. What makes the current moment distinct is not the structure of the dilemmas, but their accumulation. Each unresolved choice makes the next one harder. Each postponement raises the political price of action while lowering the expectations attached to it.

For now, the country sits between openings that do not transform and pressures that do not resolve. Not because options are exhausted, but because every option carries a cost someone else is being asked to bear. And in this version of stability, it is not the regime, nor Washington, that pays first. It is the possibility of Venezuelan democracy itself.

Published on 08/01/2026 – 20:28 GMT+1
•Updated
20:33

France is set to reject the Mercosur deal in a vote among EU member states, after months of efforts by Paris to build a blocking minority against the contentious accord.

If, as signals suggest, Italy backs the agreement, it would represent a severe diplomatic defeat for Macron, whose strategy to derail the deal would collapse.

“France has decided to vote against the signing of the agreement between the European Union and the Mercosur countries,” Macron posted on X.

He said the “EU-Mercosur agreement is a deal from another era, negotiated for too long on outdated foundations,” adding that the economic benefits “would be limited for French and European growth.”

“It does not justify exposing sensitive agricultural sectors that are essential to our food sovereignty,” he wrote.

Paris failure to build a blocking minority

The Mercosur agreement was clinched in December 2024 by Commission President Ursula von der Leyen with Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay, aiming to create a free-trade area of about 700 million people across the Atlantic after more than 25 years of negotiations.

France has opposed the deal at every phase, citing concerns about unfair competition from Latin American imports and under pressure domestically from its farmers.

Amid rising geoeconomic tensions, supporters led by Germany and Spain have pushed for a swift signing to open new export markets.

The signature was postponed following an EU summit last month after Italy and France expressed reservations. The Commission suggested these issues could be addressed and the signature would go ahead in January.

Paris intensified efforts in recent weeks to assemble a blocking minority, securing backing from Poland, Hungary, Ireland and possibly Austria. But Italy’s position remained decisive in the run-up to Friday’s vote at a meeting of EU ambassadors in Brussels.

After a series of concessions from the European Commission, including strengthened safeguards to monitor market disruptions and early cash payments for farmers, Italy appears to have shifted toward the deal’s supporters.

If a qualified majority backs the agreement, it would mark the first time France has been outvoted at the Council, which represents member states in Brussels – another blow for Macron as he grapples with a deep political crisis at home.

Calls for new elections in Venezuela often assume the existence of basic democratic conditions. In reality, those conditions do not exist. Venezuela cannot hold credible, free, or fair elections today because the country lacks the most fundamental prerequisite of democracy: the rule of law. Without a restoration of institutional independence and a genuine separation of powers, elections would serve only to legitimize an authoritarian system rather than offer Venezuelans a real choice.

Although Venezuela formally maintains the appearance of a constitutional democracy—with a constitution, courts, and a National Assembly—real power is concentrated in the hands of a small group of individuals aligned with the ruling party. Institutions that should act as checks on executive authority instead function as extensions of it.

A clear example is the swearing in of the interim president, Delcy Rodríguez, done by her brother, Jorge Rodríguez, who is the president of the National Assembly.

This concentration of power is not accidental. Over many years, first under Hugo Chávez and later under Nicolás Maduro, the government systematically dismantled institutional independence. A majority of judges were replaced with loyalists, transforming the judiciary into a political tool rather than an impartial arbiter of the law. As a result, courts no longer protect constitutional rights or limit executive overreach; they enforce political decisions.

The definitive rupture of constitutional order occurred after Venezuelans elected an opposition-majority National Assembly in 2015 (following the 2014–2015 political cycle). This democratic outcome represented a clear mandate to challenge executive power, oversee government actions, and restore institutional balance.

After the elections held in July of 2024, despite clear and convincing evidence that the opposition had won, not one Venezuelan institution recognized the result and instead awarded the presidency to Maduro once again.

Rather than accept this result, the Maduro government moved to neutralize the Assembly. Through rulings issued by a politically controlled Supreme Court, the Assembly was declared in contempt, its powers were stripped, and its legislative authority rendered meaningless. To fully sideline the opposition-controlled legislature, the government went further by creating a so-called “Constituent Assembly,” purportedly to reform the constitution. This body was neither elected under fair conditions nor authorized through a legitimate democratic process. Instead, it functioned as a parallel legislature designed to replace the National Assembly altogether. This marked the end of any meaningful separation of powers in Venezuela.

From that point on, Venezuela ceased to operate under its own constitutional framework. There has been no genuine transfer of power, no institutional accountability, and no respect for electoral outcomes that challenge the ruling group’s control.

In this context, calling for new elections without first restoring the rule of law is fundamentally flawed. Elections held under a system where courts, electoral authorities, security forces, and media are controlled by one political faction cannot be free or fair. They do not reflect the will of the people; they merely reproduce the existing power structure.

True elections require an independent judiciary; a neutral and credible electoral authority; respect for the separation of powers; and guarantees of political rights, free speech, and fair competition. None of these conditions currently exist in Venezuela. After the elections held in July of 2024, despite clear and convincing evidence that the opposition had won, not one Venezuelan institution recognized the result and instead awarded the presidency to Maduro once again.

Depolitize the guys with guns

For Venezuela, the path forward is not immediate elections, but a democratic transition. Such a transition must focus first on restoring the rule of law, reestablishing independent institutions, and guaranteeing basic political freedoms. More importantly, making sure that the nation’s security forces are once again impartial and can align with the mandate granted by the people.

The Venezuelan armed forces have become one of the most decisive instruments of authoritarian control. Far from acting as a neutral guarantor of constitutional order, they operate as an extension of the ruling party. This loyalty is maintained through a combination of political patronage, economic privileges, and legal impunity, ensuring that the military remains aligned with the regime rather than the nation.

Can Venezuela simply declare that everything passed over the last ten years never existed? While morally appealing, such an approach would be legally and practically unworkable.

For any genuine democratic transition to succeed, this dynamic must change. The armed forces must be depoliticized and restored to their constitutional role: defending the sovereignty of the country, not a political faction. Their impartiality is essential to guarantee that electoral outcomes are respected and that citizens can exercise their rights without fear of coercion or intimidation. Without this shift, even well-designed electoral reforms risk collapse under the weight of military interference.

Without this transition, elections risk becoming another instrument of authoritarian control. With it, they can become the foundation for rebuilding Venezuela’s democracy. Only then can elections serve their true purpose: allowing Venezuelans to decide their future freely and without coercion.

The problem of legal continuity

If the diagnosis is clear—that Venezuela cannot hold credible elections under current conditions—the path forward is far less certain. The country faces a fundamental and unavoidable question: how does a society undo more than a decade of institutional erosion without creating legal chaos or collective paralysis?

One of the most difficult challenges of a democratic transition is determining what to do with the body of laws, decrees, and decisions enacted under an illegitimate system. Can Venezuela simply declare that everything passed over the last ten years never existed? While morally appealing, such an approach would be legally and practically unworkable.

Millions of Venezuelans have lived, worked, signed contracts, owned property, and made daily decisions under this framework. Entire economic and social relationships—even distorted ones—have been shaped by these rules. Declaring all of them null and void overnight would risk replacing authoritarianism with legal uncertainty.

A transition must therefore strike a careful balance: recognizing legal reality without legitimizing the system that produced it.

This dilemma is especially acute when it comes to contracts issued by the regime. Some were instruments of corruption or political patronage; others were ordinary commercial or administrative acts necessary for the country to function.

Above all, a transitional process will require political restraint: a recognition that the goal is not to replace one concentration of power with another, but to restore limits on power itself.

Take Chevron for example. Their current operations in the country are legally questionable; many lawyers in the country will tell you that the legal framework under which they are operating has no legal foundation. This will probably make it difficult for other oil companies to go into the country and invest until there is a clear legal framework that they can trust.

A future democratic government will need a principled framework to distinguish between contracts that are inherently illegitimate due to corruption, coercion, or constitutional violations; and contracts that, while issued under an authoritarian regime, involve good-faith third parties and essential services.

This is not a problem unique to Venezuela, but it requires transparent mechanisms—such as independent review bodies or transitional courts—to prevent arbitrariness while restoring public trust.

The constitutional question

Another central issue is whether Venezuela should return to a prior constitutional framework as a foundation for democratic restoration. Some argue that the 1999 Constitution—despite its flaws—remains the last broadly legitimate constitutional document approved by popular vote and could serve as a starting point.

If so, the question becomes procedural: how does the country re-legitimize institutions that still formally exist but have lost all independence?

One possible path is a general referendum authorizing a limited, clearly defined transitional process. Such a referendum could enable the appointment of a new, independent National Electoral Council; establish a transparent mechanism to select new Supreme Court justices; and define the temporary scope and duration of transitional authorities.

This would allow change to occur within an explicit democratic mandate, rather than through ad hoc or purely political decisions.

Importantly, Venezuela does not lack institutions on paper. Courts, electoral bodies, ministries, and legislative frameworks already exist. The challenge is not rebuilding the state from scratch, but cleaning and depoliticizing institutions so they can function independently.

That process will require clear legal standards for independence and accountability. International technical support and observation would help to prevent permanent transitional arrangements by enforcing time-bound mandates. Above all, it will require political restraint: a recognition that the goal is not to replace one concentration of power with another, but to restore limits on power itself.

There are no simple solutions. Any transition will involve compromises, uncertainty, and difficult decisions. But postponing these questions—or pretending elections alone can resolve them—only delays Venezuela’s recovery.

The task ahead is not merely electoral. It is constitutional, institutional, and moral. Reestablishing democratic rule of law will require confronting the past honestly, managing the present responsibly, and designing a future in which no individual or group can again place itself above the law.

A few weeks ago, I wondered whether Nicolás Maduro was a Juan Vicente Gómez 2.0, that other dictator who held power in Venezuela for almost three decades at the beginning of the 20th century. We now know that wasn’t the case. Gómez, from the very beginning, exercised terror within the country, but he forged an alliance with American oil companies that allowed him to perpetuate the regime until his death 90 years ago. Maduro also practiced that terror, but failed to consolidate all the internal and external support he needed. When he wanted to fully surrender to the United States, the playing field had already shifted. As the saying goes, “too little, too late.”

In the conclusion of that other article, I wondered if Venezuela was on the verge of a new 1936, the year the country inaugurated a new era after the dictator’s death. It was then that the masses burst onto the public scene, modern political parties emerged, unions were organized, and solutions to the country’s serious problems began to be discussed. Today, after the US military intervention and Maduro’s capture on January 3, 2026, history is being rewritten minute by minute.

Now, as this year begins, we can break down the situation into three levels.

First, there are the celebrations. Venezuelans abroad are filled with euphoria, while within the country the reaction is more silent and private. The dictator is gone, but the dictatorship persists. The torturers remain in power. But seeing a tyrant fall, one who mocked the country with ironic brutality is a poetic justice many of us hoped for, and there remains the hope that he will also be tried for his crimes against humanity, a record that ranges from extrajudicial executions and state terrorism to the material and emotional destruction of an entire country.

Maduro, perhaps, never imagined this end, trusting that 20th century international law would protect his tyranny. But times have changed. Each power guards what it considers its own backyard, and the law of the strongest has returned, without euphemism. Herein lies the second level. It is fine to question all foreign intervention and its legality, but after the mega-fraud of July 28, 2024, regional diplomacy proved insufficient, and too many turned a blind eye. The half-hearted diplomatic attempts of Brazil, Colombia, and Mexico proved useless in achieving the transition.

The return of exiles, the demolition of the old La Rotunda prison—a symbol of political oppression like El Helicoide today—and still fragile guarantees of political participation generated new expectations during the López Contreras regime.

The region is also responsible for this outcome. Nor can we forget that it was during the Hugo Chávez era that we fell into this geopolitical trap, losing the independence and sovereignty we had achieved during the democratic years. Ideological factions, authoritarian tendencies, and an international rebellion contrary to national interests placed us in a vulnerable position in a much larger game that is not our own.

And the third level is the possibility, amidst the evident contradictions, of rebuilding Venezuelan democracy. There are many possible scenarios, and we know that we are now at the mercy of external decisions where, for the United States, the priority is not so much restoring democracy as securing its interests. With a game of musical chairs within chavismo-madurismo, Delcy Rodríguez now becomes the figure ruling from Miraflores Palace. As president, she will try to prolong her interim term and cling to power, continuing the lobbying she has been doing for some time, as a reliable ally for the United States and who could be the proconsul they need beyond an interim period. The country also faces the feudal structures left behind by chavismo, where military, regional, and economic factions that continue to control everything could engage in a power struggle of coups and counter-coups.

However, there is also the possibility that Venezuelan democratic society (which carries in its DNA the struggles of the past and present) can begin to reconstitute itself. For this to happen, it is essential to demand the release of all political prisoners, the return of exiles, an end to censorship, and a profound and peaceful institutional change that allows for the dismantling of the regime from within, by its own figures. This is a dynamic already observed in other transition processes, capable of laying the foundations for lasting social transformations, with reconciliation, but also with justice.

In this phase of the process, the main leadership of María Corina Machado and the legitimacy of Edmundo González Urrutia are recognized, but it is also the moment to convene the entire democratic leadership to build the agreements that will make future governance possible. The coming months constitute a true critical path, a fragile bridge where both the best and worst scenarios can materialize.

History does not repeat itself, but there are logics and precedents that help us better understand the processes of change. In 1936, the transformation did not occur due to foreign intervention, but rather due to the death of Gómez. The then Minister of War and Navy, Eleazar López Contreras, assumed the acting presidency. In the last weeks of December 1935, some looting and disturbances occurred, which were quickly controlled, and the new leader managed to retain power.

Venezuelans can do their part: To demand change step by step and navigate this minefield with caution, where everything, once again, could go very wrong.

The regime seemed immovable: the same ministers, the same lawmakers, the same system, sustained by consolidated power groups that demanded mere continuity. However, a timid opening began. The return of exiles, the demolition of the old La Rotunda prison (a symbol of political oppression), and still fragile guarantees of political participation generated new expectations.

On February 14, 1936, after attempts to reinstate censorship and prolong the suspension of constitutional guarantees, the people of Caracas took to the streets and, in a defiant gesture, demanded that the government go beyond minimal concessions. Overwhelmed by pressure from students, unions, and the press, López Contreras presented the February Plan a few days later, abandoning half-measures and initiating what would be a true political opening, Venezuela-style.

The situation today is more complex than in 1936. The main actors have shown no qualms, and Venezuelan society remains wounded and shackled by the cumulative repression of all these years. But the demands cannot be abandoned, nor can the future be left to external tutelage or the continuation of oppression. A new horizon is possible, and although there are external factors beyond our control, Venezuelans can do their part: To demand change step by step and navigate this minefield with caution, where everything, once again, could go very wrong. It has been achieved before, and today, with greater awareness and determination (because we have learned something), it is possible to build and consolidate a shared vision for our country.

Italy called on Wednesday in a letter to EU’s Agriculture Commissioner ChristopheHansen to lift the bloc’s carbon border tax in order to ease pressure on fertilizer prices for European farmers. The date for the Mercosur signature is still not clear.

Expectations for Rome to greenlight the trade deal had risen in Brussels after European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen pledged on Tuesday to unlock additional funding for farmers to the tune of €45 billion as soon as 2028 in a designed to sway the pivotal support of the Italian government in favour of the deal.

“If in today’s meeting these conditions are certified by the Commission, Italy will support the deal (Mercosur),” Meloni’s agriculture minister Francesco Lollobrigida told reporters in Brussels.

Italy’s request comes as the Commission convened EU agriculture ministers in Brussels on Wednesday for talks on the future Common Agricultural Policy funding -a key piece of the common budget and highly sensitive to domestic politics – and reciprocity in production standards between Latin America and Europe, a key French demand.

France still opposes the Mercosur deal.

Farmers furious as Mercosur enters final stretch

The Mercosur agreement would create a free-trade area between Latin America, including heavyweight economy Brazil and the EU, cutting tariffs across sectors the board for European companies but also opening market access to Latin America.

Italian farmers, alongside France, Poland and Ireland, fear the deal with Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay will expose them to unfair competition.

Italy’s backing of the deal is essential to reach a qualified majority of member states needed to support it, or a blocking minority as a tiebreaker.

This is a developing story.

Morgan Stanley plans to launch ETFs tied to the price of Bitcoin and Solana, the first and sixth-largest crypto assets by market capitalisation respectively, according to a Form S-1 filed with the US Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC).

This is the first time one of the ten largest US banks by total assets has formally moved to offer crypto ETFs.

An exchange-traded fund (ETF) is a basket of assets that trades on a stock exchange like a share, giving investors easy exposure to an index, sector or commodity without owning it directly.

Many investors favour gaining crypto exposure via ETFs because they are low-cost and convenient. They can also offer greater liquidity while removing the regulatory and logistical complications of holding and safeguarding the underlying assets directly.

However, in the two years since the SEC approved the first US-listed Bitcoin ETF, it has largely been asset managers rather than banks that have launched these products.

BlackRock, the world’s largest asset manager, said last December that its Bitcoin ETF suite had become the firm’s top revenue source, with allocations nearing $100 billion (€85bn) and generating more than $245 million (€210mn) in annual fees.

US banks, which have only acted as custodians of client funds until now, seem ready and eager to evolve as providers of crypto services in 2026.

Regulatory push under Trump

The current US administration has been notably favourable towards the crypto asset industry. President Donald Trump’s family launched a crypto platform, World Liberty Financial, just 50 days before the 2024 presidential election.

The company is managed by Trump’s two eldest sons, Donald Jr and Eric Trump, and alongside another firm, Trump Media and Technology Group, it has expanded the US President’s personal crypto ventures.

In parallel to these private interests, the current US administration has made a major regulatory push encouraging Wall Street to fully embrace crypto assets.

In July 2025, Trump signed the Guiding and Establishing National Innovation for US Stablecoins Act (GENIUS Act) into law, creating a comprehensive regulatory framework for stablecoins. These are crypto assets designed to maintain a stable value by pegging their worth to a real-world asset, typically a fiat currency such as the US dollar.

That same month, the Crypto Legal Accountability, Registration and Transparency for Investors Act (CLARITY Act) was approved in the US Congress. It is now moving through the US Senate and is expected to pass on 15 January 2026.

The CLARITY Act is a landmark legislation intended to end the long-standing era of “regulation by enforcement” that has weighed on US crypto firms for years.

In September 2025, the SEC also revamped listing rules for new commodities ETFs, including those tied to crypto assets, clearing the way for firms to bring more financial products to market.

The shift helped spur Morgan Stanley to broaden client access to crypto investments in October 2025, and it has now filed with the SEC to offer crypto ETFs directly.

At the start of 2026, Bank of America also began allowing its wealth advisers to recommend crypto allocations in client portfolios, another sign of growing adoption of crypto assets among major US banks.

What this means for the EU

This development in the US banking sector and the crypto industry is not only significant for Wall Street, but also has direct implications for European investors.

US-listed ETFs are typically not available to European retail investors because they do not meet EU requirements under the Undertakings for Collective Investment in Transferable Securities (UCITS) regime.

Morgan Stanley has been expanding its footprint in the European ETF market since entering the space in 2023, and has been building the infrastructure needed to launch EU-compliant versions of these funds.

While Europe has yet to see a UCITS-compliant spot crypto ETF, major platforms such as Coinbase, one of the world’s largest crypto asset exchanges, are partnering with financial institutions, including Morgan Stanley, to enable crypto ETF trading in Europe this year.

Together, they aim to comply not only with UCITS, but also with the EU’s Markets in Crypto-Assets (MiCA) rules, which require firms to hold a Crypto-Asset Service Provider (CASP) licence.

Morgan Stanley’s leap indicates that for Wall Street, crypto is no longer a reputational risk to avoid, but a revenue stream they can no longer afford to ignore.

Maduro is out, Delcy Rodríguez is in, and yet Venezuela feels no more democratic than it did three days ago, when the former president was still boasting about air defenses and bunker walls.

The change itself was not entirely unexpected. In recent months, reporting had increasingly pointed to Rodríguez as the most viable figure to ensure continuity after Maduro, alongside speculation about negotiations involving her and her brother Jorge Rodríguez, including meetings in Doha facilitated by the Qatari government, that would have secured Maduro a negotiated exit and a prolonged, carefully managed transition.

In the end, that golden exile proved unnecessary. What followed was not a rupture, but an acceleration: the same transition logic, executed without the need for Maduro’s consent—or his presence. Still, calling this a “transition” rather than a decapitation feels increasingly strained when several of the figures flanking Rodríguez as she signaled her willingness to step in, should the Supreme Court so demand, carry the same international bounties Maduro once did, and in some cases appear in the very same indictments, now sharing docket space with far more famous recent arrivals.

If this were a democratic transition, power would be moving outward, toward institutions, parties, and voters. We would have seen the unconditional release of political prisoners. The winners of the July 28 election would not be calling for international protests demanding that their victory be respected. Instead, power has moved sideways and downward. The most visible winners of the post-Maduro moment are not opposition leaders, but many of Maduro’s former allies.

Even more telling is that while the armed forces appear to have retreated to their barracks, colectivos have rapidly expanded their role in Caracas from tolerated enforcers to de facto authorities. They patrol neighborhoods, gather intelligence, intimidate opponents, and perform basic law-enforcement functions with a confidence that suggests not stabilization, but delegation. Where, exactly, the United States is exerting the control President Trump claims to hold over Venezuela’s transition remains unclear, and, for now, largely the stuff of rumor.

Rodríguez may offer a fresher, more professional face at the head of the regime, but the internal knife-fighting, the power jockeying, and the coercive architecture remain firmly in place

This is not state collapse. It is state outsourcing. The arrested transition has reproduced Venezuela’s familiar condition of managed chaos, governed by actors who require neither legal mandates nor democratic legitimacy, only loyalty and force. For ordinary Venezuelans, the result is a familiar but sharpened experience of power: surveillance that feels more granular, coercion that feels more localized, and accountability that feels even more elusive.

The irony is that this consolidation is unfolding under the language of moderation and normalization. Rodríguez’s elevation has been framed as a stabilizing move, a technocratic turn after years of bombast and paranoia. Her record as economic vice president and minister is now being repackaged as evidence of competence, pragmatism, even reform. After denouncing Maduro’s “abduction” by U.S. forces on January 3, the very next day saw a remarkable pivot in the regime’s propaganda apparatus: Rodríguez was suddenly celebrated as Venezuela’s first female president, with a speed matched only by her plane’s return from Russia and landing in Venezuelan airspace, despite official claims that the skies were under U.S. control.

If colectivos are serious about rooting out traitors, they may find better luck checking phones in Miraflores and the Capitol than stopping cars on the highways of Caracas.

That speed matters. It reveals how thin chavismo’s ideological commitments have become, and how central narrative management now is to regime survival. Maduro was not the project; he was a vehicle. Once removed, the system adapted almost instantly, swapping revolutionary mythology for managerial language without altering the underlying mechanics of control.

For Washington, this appears, so far, to have been good enough. With Maduro gone, the Trump administration’s priorities seem to have shifted from political transformation to stabilization and risk management. A loud, autonomous opposition, once instrumental to regime pressure, is now framed less as a democratic partner than as a short-term liability. The result has not been repression, but marginalization: opposition figures are tolerated, even encouraged to remain visible, while being excluded from meaningful decision-making.

Meanwhile, the regime has solved a different problem, at least temporarily: how to continue governing under legal siege. Rodríguez’s inner circle overlaps heavily with the same network of officials who defined the Maduro years, many of whom face international indictments and bounties of their own. This is not fertile ground for the trust or guarantees required to sustain a regime as complex as Venezuela’s.

Whether Rodríguez’s presidency is a durable settlement or a trial arrangement remains unclear. So does the question many within chavismo are surely asking themselves: faced with continued pressure from Washington to “deliver,” will Rodríguez lean into the combative instincts that defined her domestic record, or will Maduro and Cilia Flores soon find themselves joined by more former comrades at MDC?

Transitions are meant to reset political and legal time. What has happened in Venezuela has merely rearranged it. Rodríguez may offer a fresher, more professional face at the head of the regime, but the internal knife-fighting, the power jockeying, and the coercive architecture remain firmly in place.

What emerges, then, is not a failed transition, but an arrested one. Politics has been paused in the name of order. Democracy has been deferred in the name of stability. Venezuela is governed as if perpetually on the verge of change, never quite authoritarian enough to provoke rupture, never democratic enough to allow arrival. Maduro is gone. Democracy, once again, is told to wait.

For the past four years, I’ve taught a course called Environment and Sustainable Development at a university in Chile. Because the class is taught in English, it tends to attract exchange students, mostly from Europe, North America, and occasionally other parts of Latin America.

The syllabus covers poverty, economic growth, environmental protection, the Sustainable Development Goals, public policy. In general, big themes where the discussions are often intense, idealistic, and deeply moral. They are also revealing, not only of what students believe, but of what kinds of explanations are considered legitimate, and which ones are quietly ruled out.

Certain patterns repeat themselves every year.

When we discuss the root causes of poverty, European students almost invariably point to colonization. Chilean students, understandably, emphasize dictatorship. When we talk about development and environmental protection, activism is framed as the primary solution, corporations as the main villains. When I ask what makes them angry about sustainability, the answers tend to cluster around the same targets: multinational companies, billionaires, “the rich,” or the latest celebrity caught flying a private jet.

What rarely makes the list are authoritarianism, institutional collapse, censorship, human trafficking, organized crime, or forced migration. Human rights violations in countries like China or Russia are mentioned cautiously, if at all. The destruction of economic institutions is treated as a technical detail rather than a political choice. And when Venezuela comes up, it exists less as a lived reality and more as an ideological case study.

I’ve had the privilege of teaching remarkably bright students. Many have gone on to pursue master’s degrees at some of the most prestigious universities in the world. Yet explaining Venezuela to them remains one of the most challenging parts of my job.

The problem is not lack of interest. It’s the dominance of explanations that leave no room for Venezuelans to speak for themselves.

Not because the country is incomprehensible, but because the narrative space around it is so crowded.

I first encountered this problem more than a decade ago. In 2012, I attended a summer school at the London School of Economics on conflict and democracy. One session focused on Venezuela. The discussion portrayed the Hugo Chávez government as a democratic success story: a country that voted frequently, reduced poverty, and empowered the poor. There was no mention of inflation, no discussion of institutional erosion, no reference to restrictions on the press or early signs of authoritarianism.

I remember arguing, armed with data, reports, and personal experience, while several European classmates passionately defended the “Bolivarian Revolution” as one of the best things that had happened in Latin America. Venezuela, to them, was not a country but an idea. A symbol. A rebuttal to US foreign policy.

More than ten years later, that framework has proven remarkably resilient.

In my classroom today, Venezuela still raises an extraordinary number of questions. Once I open the subject, it’s like Pandora’s box, there’s no closing it back. When I share data on media censorship, students ask how people inform themselves. When we discuss the food crisis, they genuinely worry about how families ate during the worst years, particularly around 2017. They ask how daily life functions in a country with hyperinflation, collapsing public services, and mass migration.

These questions are genuine. They come from empathy, not ideology. And they point to something important: there is a real appetite to understand Venezuela better. The problem is not lack of interest. It’s the dominance of explanations that leave no room for Venezuelans to speak for themselves.

There comes a point when constantly defending one’s lived reality against people who have never visited the country, never read Venezuelan sources, and never spoken to those who endured the collapse becomes exhausting.

Venezuela is often discussed through frameworks imported from elsewhere, dependency theory, anti-imperialism, critiques of neoliberalism, while the data produced by Venezuelans is dismissed as biased, exaggerated, or politically motivated. Inflation figures that reached 1,00,000% are questioned. Hunger surveys that show 90% of poverty in the country are treated with suspicion. Migration numbers are downplayed. Reports on institutional collapse are framed as opposition propaganda.

But Venezuela is not a country lacking data. It is a country whose data has been systematically silenced with the regime’s propaganda even echoed in the most prestigious universities around the world.

For years, independent universities, NGOs, and research centers stepped in to document what the state refused to measure: poverty levels, food insecurity, public health outcomes, migration flows. Much of what we know today about Venezuela comes not from international institutions, but from Venezuelans collecting, analyzing, and publishing data under conditions of censorship and intimidation.

This is the data that rarely makes it into global debates.

Instead, Venezuela is often reduced to a morality play: a noble project sabotaged from abroad, or a cautionary tale stripped of agency. In both cases, Venezuelans themselves disappear. We are either victims of external forces or footnotes in someone else’s ideological argument.

There comes a point when constantly defending one’s lived reality against people who have never visited the country, never read Venezuelan sources, and never spoken to those who endured the collapse becomes exhausting. Ignorance, after all, is not always innocent—it can be a choice.

But there is also a responsibility. For those of us who have migrated, who now teach, research, or work abroad, there is a duty to keep explaining Venezuela, not as an abstraction, but as a country shaped by deliberate political decisions. The elimination of central bank independence was not an accident. Expropriations were not symbolic gestures. The pursuit of total state control over the economy was not an unfortunate side effect of good intentions. These choices produced hunger, poverty, and mass migration.

Explaining this does not require abandoning concern for the international rules-based system. It requires intellectual honesty.

But many others are willing to listen. They ask questions. They want to understand how a country with immense natural wealth ended up with one of the largest displacement crises in the world.

Recent events have shown what happens when Venezuelans reclaim the tools of documentation and accountability. When María Corina Machado and others insisted on preserving electoral records, the act itself became political, not because it was partisan, but because it challenged the monopoly over truth. Data, in authoritarian contexts, is never neutral.

Not everyone will be willing to reconsider their views. Some people remain deeply attached to narratives shaped primarily by hostility toward the United States, projecting that conflict onto Venezuela regardless of evidence. For them, the country serves a symbolic function, and symbols are rarely surrendered easily.

But many others are willing to listen. They ask questions. They want to understand how a country with immense natural wealth ended up with one of the largest displacement crises in the world. They are capable of seeing Venezuelans not as ideological placeholders, but as millions of people who have resisted, adapted, protested, voted, migrated, and survived in pursuit of something very simple: the ability to live freely in their own country.

Venezuela matters not only because it is our history, but because its future challenges a narrative that has gone largely unquestioned for too long, the idea that anything framed as anti-US is automatically virtuous, and anything aligned with self determination and power to the people is in our best interest. This binary leaves no space for critical thinking, and even less for evidence.

In defending old ideological frameworks from the comfort of distant classrooms and safe democracies, some fail to reckon what they are actually defending: mass human rights violations, institutional destruction, and prolonged human suffering. Whether through ignorance or willful blindness, the cost of that defense is paid by Venezuelans.In his book Animal Farm, George Orwell’s final chapters tells the story of how the new animals in charge end up proclaiming “all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others”.  In the global conversation about Venezuela, some voices are still treated as more legitimate than those who lived through the collapse. Reclaiming Venezuelan data, and Venezuelan narratives, is not about winning an argument. It is about restoring the basic right to explain our own reality.