Corporate Media

Since the January 3, 2026, military strikes and kidnapping of President Nicolás Maduro, the Trump administration has imposed semi-colonial rule over Venezuela, forcing dramatic shifts in the country’s domestic and foreign policies.

The capstone of the new tutelary regime is an oil deal announced in late August that Trump called “the biggest in history.” The agreement turns over 17 prime oilfields, holding over 20% of the country’s reserves, to a Pentagon-controlled corporation tasked with supplying cheap fuel to the US war machine for decades to come.

After spending years manufacturing consent for US-sponsored regime change in Venezuela (e.g., FAIR.org, 6/4/21, 1/11/23, 2/12/25), having a government in Caracas subservient to Washington represented a new scenario for the corporate media. The novel conditions have raised few significant qualms for Western outlets. Tactical objections notwithstanding, there is no fundamental disagreement with the US running the affairs of a Global South country.

Not ‘stealing Venezuela’s oil’

Working hand in glove with the Trump administration, the acting Delcy Rodríguez government has overhauled Venezuela’s hydrocarbon legislation (Venezuelanalysis, 7/13/26) to offer what oil experts consider a business environment more favorable to foreign capital than at any point in the country’s history. The new oil agreement with the White House manages to go even further.

The 17 oilfields in question will be taken over by North American Blue Energy Partners (NABEP), a private company in which the Pentagon’s Office of Strategic Capital (OSC) will get a 35% stake while investing nothing—and wielding veto power over its board.

Furthermore, according to the White House, the US State Department will secure 20% of NABEP’s output at cost, and have a right of first refusal over the remaining 80%. On top of this, Venezuelan officials have already suggested Washington would be given an additional “sales discount”  (Venezuelanalysis, 9/9/26).

In summary, Trump is looking to secure cheap crude supplies at a time when his disastrous Iran debacle has thrown global energy markets into upheaval. The agreement is so blatantly skewed that US Energy Secretary Chris Wright felt he needed to clarify that Washington was not “stealing Venezuela’s oil” (AFP, 9/3/26).

Nevertheless, Western media outlets were largely unfazed by such an obvious oil grab, euphemistically referring to the deal as “highly unusual” (New York Times, 8/29/26) or “remarkable” (BBC, 9/1/26), at most as “contentious” (Guardian, 9/1/26).

Corporate journalists did raise objections over the central role played by NABEP owner Alejandro Betancourt, a shady Venezuelan businessman who faced multiple money-laundering probes before the Trump administration intervened, and pressured judicial authorities at home and abroad to drop the investigations (BBC, 9/2/26; CNN, 9/4/26; New York Times, 9/4/26).

But media seemed satisfied with Trump’s state and energy secretaries Marco Rubio and Chris Wright pledging that US oversight will keep proceedings honest (Reuters, 9/2/26; New York Times, 9/4/26), despite the fact that billions in Venezuelan oil revenues, controlled by the US Treasury Department since January, are unaccounted for (Council on Foreign Relations, 6/3/26; Financial Times, 7/22/26).

Procedurally transparent plunder

Objections to the Venezuela/NABEP/Pentagon venture were mostly procedural and out of concern for appearances, not driven by any principled opposition to US imperialist predation. Faced with outright colonial plunder of Venezuela, the political and media establishment only demands “accountability” and “transparency” (New York Times, 5/5/26; Financial Times, 9/18/26).

For months, the White House has controlled Venezuelan oil export revenues, with Trump officials openly calling them “one of the largest assets ever to go on the US balance sheet,” and a source of “leverage” over Caracas. Yet Trump’s Democratic opponents have found no issue with seizing another country’s income, raising only questions about the allocation of the funds in reference to alleged corruption on the part of Caracas and Trump insiders (The Hill, 9/30/26; Washington Post, 9/17/26). This despite the fact that the Venezuelan government has to submit a “monthly budget” to access its own funds (New York Times, 1/28/26) and is subjected to US-imposed auditors (Reuters, 4/27/26).

The other source of disappointment with Trump stomping all over Venezuelan sovereignty, but prioritizing oil over regime change, is impatience for the restoration/recovery/return of “democracy” to Venezuela (Politico, 9/2/26; Guardian, 8/30/26; CBC, 9/3/26). Despite  widely acknowledgement that Trump is eroding democracy at home (New York Times, 8/20/26, 10/14/26; Guardian, 10/8/26), somehow pundits expected him to prioritize it in an oil-rich foreign country.

In the establishment’s consensus, “democracy” does not mean a political system that meaningfully reflects the Venezuelan people’s collective will, but simply one that empowers opposition figures that have been groomed for years, like far-right María Corina Machado, their undemocratic credentials notwithstanding (FAIR.org, 10/23/25).

Eager to stay in power, Rodríguez has over-complied with every US demand, going as far as adopting language about Venezuela undergoing a “democratic transformation.” Her pliancy has earned her favorable corporate media profiles that completely contrast with the demonization of Maduro.

After securing an exclusive interview, Time (7/30/26) described the acting leader as a “disciplined operator” who “advocate[s] for greater economic openness,” in contrast to the “authoritarian” Maduro, who oversaw “economic collapse.” Along the same lines, the Guardian (9/12/26) presented Rodríguez as a “a pragmatic, witty and intelligent workaholic,” unlike her “authoritarian” and “incompetent” predecessor in the presidential palace.

Nevertheless, given the broad Beltway consensus for comprehensive regime change, it is unlikely that the Rodríguez administration’s subservience to Trump will secure any leeway in determining its political path forward, free from outside meddling—especially if, as is anticipated, the GOP lawmakers most likely to be impressed by such obsequiousness lose power in the US’s upcoming midterm elections (Axios, 9/23/26; Financial Times, 10/9/26).

Please think of the corporations!

Alongside their exceptionalist expectations about “democracy,” legacy outlets also focus on those they consider the true victims of Trump’s neocolonial offensive in Venezuela: multinational oil corporations.

According to Reuters (9/1/26), the recent oil deal “raises red flags for major producers,” who fear having their reputation sullied by being “seated at the same table with Betancourt,” as well as the prospect of the US government becoming a “competitor.”

Bloomberg (8/30/26) raised concerns that the agreement “reprises [the] neocolonial past” of Venezuela’s oil industry. The warning stems not from apprehension that the Venezuelan people’s future is being determined by a foreign nation, but from fear that the US’s “out-sized power” might lead to “popular unrest.” This could create conditions for what the business mouthpiece views as a catastrophic outcome: the nationalization of foreign-owned oil assets.

“The troubled history of Venezuela’s oil offers a cautionary tale,” Bloomberg’s Kevin Crowley and Patricia Garip wrote:

The country was once dominated by US and European operators and was among the world’s largest producers. But assets owned by ExxonMobil Holdings Corps. and ConocoPhillips were seized and nationalized during political upheaval in the 2000s.

Corporate media present companies that made massive profits in Venezuela for decades as victims, because the Chávez government wanted them to comply with new laws and accept minority stakes in joint ventures.

The New York Times (9/1/26) complains that the two corporations “have spent years trying to get the country to repay them for their seized assets, with little success.” The statement conceals the fact that the Venezuelan government, when it enacted the 2007 decree imposing state majority in all Orinoco Oil Belt projects, offered to compensate ExxonMobil and ConocoPhillips for their transition to minority partners, or to buy out their assets altogether. However, both corporations rejected the offers in order to pursue international arbitration. The former has already recouped most of what it was granted, while the latter will eventually collect on a significant award.

Despite the fact that Chevron, BP, Shell and other energy giants have signed deals in recent months taking advantage of the reformed hydrocarbon law (Venezuelanalysis, 9/3/26), pundits complain that ExxonMobil and ConocoPhillips remain “hesitant” (CBS, 8/31/26) and need to be “lured” (Reuters, 9/1/26). Still, the Western corporations are likely to return to the country with favorable deals (Reuters, 9/16/26).

The victor and his spoils

Faced with strategic defeat in West Asia, Trump has clung to his Venezuela success, stating on multiple occasions that “to the victor belong the spoils,” in reference to the US hijacking the Venezuelan oil industry following the January 3 attacks and presidential kidnapping (Al Jazeera, 9/24/26; Guardian, 9/26/26).

Furthermore, Trump has not been shy in boasting about the US winning a “war” against Venezuela (Financial Times, 9/18/26; New York Times, 6/26/26). Corporate journalists have rarely pointed out that this stance directly contradicts the administration’s official position that the kidnapping of Maduro and Flores was a “law enforcement” operation (New York Times, 1/6/26; PBS, 1/8/26) in order to justify bypassing congressional approval.

The US president has likewise claimed to have recovered the costs of the military operation “many times over” (Al Jazeera, 3/3/26; Guardian, 6/28/26), a fact confirmed by Luigi Pisella, a business sector spokesperson with close ties to the acting Rodríguez administration (Venezuelanalysis, 8/10/26). Pisella stated that the US has retained $4.7 billion from the Venezuelan export revenues it controls to cover the costs of its military operation.

In spite of their ostensible hostility to Trump, corporate outlets have historically been complicit with his Venezuela policies, from whitewashing a deadly sanctions program (FAIR.org, 6/13/22) to endorsing a military buildup over debunked “narcoterrorism” accusations (FAIR.org, 11/19/25). The New York Times and Washington Post went as far as to withhold information in order to not jeopardize the January 3 operation (FAIR.org, 1/13/26).

Now, with a semi-colonial regime in place, the only concerns are about procedural transparency, democratic appearances and the well-being of multinational corporations. The Venezuelan people always get the short end of the stick.

Source: FAIR

In February 2014, Venezuela witnessed one of the most prolonged and violent periods in the past 17 years against the nationally elected government.

What began as violence at some of the country’s more elite universities quickly descended into the violent street barricades, known as the guarimbas. Forty-three people, mostly civilians and security personnel, were killed. Entire communities were walled in, their residents blocked from accessing food, transport, gas and even necessary medical services. Buildings were set alight with people inside, hundreds were injured.

The proponents, the so-called guarimberos, called themselves protesters: a claim echoed many times in the international press. But for the government and a vast number of ordinary citizens, they were terrorists.

The anniversary of these events comes at a critical moment in Venezuelan politics: over the past two weeks, the newly elected right-wing legislators in the country’s national assembly have begun pushing for an Amnesty Law. If passed, this legislation would grant a pardon to the most violent perpetrators of the barricades. 

With the perpetrators of these acts potentially about to be set free, many in Venezuela are asking: could more violence be on the cards? To answer this question we have to understand what the violent barricades were, who took part in them and why they eventually petered out. As usual, there is a whole other story that the mainstream media ignored.

Who Were the Violent Barricaders?

Although the international media portrayed the barricades as a spontaneous youth uprising, testimonies that have emerged in the wake of the barricades tell a very different story.

“There were organized groups from within the universities, which were divided into subgroups. People in charge of the distribution of information, photos, and publishing all that, people in charge of planning the routes, people in charge of security… there was organization amidst the chaos,” Gabriel* — an undercover participant at the protests who wished to remain anonymous — told me.

It’s also clear that the “youthful” barricaders didn’t operate alone — although they might have been the official face of the unrest.

In the barricaders’ stronghold of Altamira and Chacao in Caracas, collaborators from private homes to small businesses facilitated the protesters with a network of internet connections and passwords to aid their communications, as well as with food and drink, places to hold meetings or to hide from police. 

But it was perhaps at night when the most sinister and violent elements of the barricades emerged.

“There was a core violent group, but they weren’t students … They really did want to cause big shit, cause confrontations with police, they even intimidated the other guys (barricaders), they said ‘you’re a bunch of pussies, what are we gonna do with this shit?’,” Gabriel said.

“They knew how to act in these circumstances … (the police) launched gas bombs at them, and they all got out the way, grabbed the bombs and threw them back …There were people who really knew about this stuff,” related Gabriel.

The right-wing MUD coalition was a leader of the violence. In the words of one tight-lipped barricader, who also wished to remain anonymous, in response to why the protests had erupted in the first place, he simply replied, “I think it was more because of the calls from the political parties of the opposition.”

Gabriel also stated that the relationship between the MUD and the barricaders was clear.

“None of the protesters at the universities wore their university t-shirts, they all wore Popular Will or Justice First t-shirts … They might have been student groups, but the student councils are affiliated to the political opposition parties and they are accountable to them … There was a feeling among the universities that they wanted to take to the streets. There wasn’t exactly a violent idea there … but it was clear that some people wanted something transcendental to happen, the death of someone, a policeman getting burned…”

And despite the official narrative that the right wing wasn’t violent, “Men on motorbikes circled the camps — no one could get near, not even the police. But by night these … ultra violent radical groups turned up, and they (those students at the camps) let them in.”

But perhaps the most revealing comment in terms of how far the organized right-wing were involved in the 2014 barricades came when I asked what the majority of the barricaders were doing now. 

“Well if I am totally honest, those guys are legislators now,” Gabriel said.

The mayor of Hatillo, David Smolansky, and legislator Gabriela Arellano “were both up to their necks in it,” according to Gabriel. “Those who aren’t in the opposition rank and file, are in prison,” he concluded. 

Mystery Dollars 

Another question mark which also still hangs over the violent barricades is where the money came from to pay for tents, food and drink, transport, walky-talkies, weapons and a whole cohort of other not so cheap items in Venezuela.

While I was informed that many of the barricaders were paid approximately 600 bolivars a day to take part – especially to dissuade people from going on holiday during carnival – Gabriel also confirmed that he was approached and asked if he wanted to “make a bit of money.”

But the currency circulating among the violent barricaders gives even more pause for thought.

“I would actually go as far as to say that there were more dollars inside the camps than bolivars,” stated Gabriel, who added that the guarimbas coincided with a hike in the black market price of the dollar against the bolivar on website, Dolartoday.

What is clear from all this is that the guarimbas were not “student protests” or the youth in rebellion, as the mainstream media portrayed. While there were some middle class students among the ranks who didn’t intend to harm anyone, it’s also true that there were many others who came from Venezuela’s well seasoned and highly organized right-wing student movement and who were happy to flirt with violence, and even to let other other people do the dirty work on their behalf. Likewise, there were evidently highly violent groups within the protests who received funding and military training.

The Fish that Didn’t Want Water: ‘He Who Tires, Loses’

“They lost strength, people came out less and less, maybe we would have achieved something if people had stayed in the streets… Also, because of the places that (the barricades) were carried out, in Altamira, you can’t do anything in Altamira, you have to do this in the center of Caracas,” one barricader, who also preferred to be anonymous, said.

So why did the Guarimbas peter out? From a big protest in Caracas to barricades of main roads in other cities, the right-wing then also set up local barricades in their own communities. 

This was undoubtedly the straw which broke the camel’s back. In fact the barricade slogan, “he who tires, loses,” was meant to inspire people in their local communities to weather the formidable storm.

But the slogans didn’t stop people from getting tired of being barricaded in for months, without access to work, school, health, and food- no matter how disaffected these sectors were from the government.

In fact, the violent barricader I spoke to even admitted that his life in Altamira was “too affected” by the barricades.

Rather than capitalizing on local discontent, the guarimberos managed to alienate their upper and middle class support base by terrorizing them in their own homes. Even their fellow students became sick and tired of the university strike — which meant many were delayed in graduating.

With no desire to engage with the popular sectors in the country’s barrios – who the barricade leaders identified as home to the “Chavista collectives” that were “even more their enemy than the police” — the movement literally had nowhere to go inside of Venezuela. 

“They tried maybe once to bring (the barricades) up here… but the collectives, the organised community, we chased them out,” said community activist Laura from a community radio station in the eastern barrio of Petare, whose local community went head to head with a group of guarimberos, not far from where they had managed to decapitate a motorcyclist in a barbed wire trap. 

“People would do the same again,” she said

2016 = More Guarimbas? 

I was told by another former barricader that “if we have to take to the streets again then we will, but you know that’s not so easy, it involves organization”.

Despite the fact that barricades across main roads and targeted arson attacks continue to take place in Merida and Tachira, as Laura told me, it is unlikely that more barricades on a national scale will erupt this year because the rightwing is focusing its energies on its new found power in the National Assembly, as well as on organizing the recall referendum against president Nicolas Maduro for mid-2016. 

The problem for the right-wing is that the latter requires a much more consolidated level of organization than the violent barricades ever did, and it can’t be pulled off through riding the wave of media lies and discontent.

In order to organize a recall referendum, the opposition will have to collect the signatures of 20 percent of nationally registered voters – that means approximately just under 4 million signatures. And although the opposition won big at the National Assembly elections last December, they only managed to do so because of mass Chavista abstention – not because they substantially increased their vote or political presence. 

In spite of the discontent, says Laura, “the opposition know they still don’t have the people in the street … that’s why more guarimbas would be a last resort.”

And in the meantime, Chavismo is looking to regroup. In the streets, in community media, and in workplaces.

The violent barricades were the result of absolute frustration by the right-wing after having exhausted all options to oust Chavismo. But although the right-wing may have had a short term game plan to deal a series of blows to the government, they have never had an overall long-term political strategy.

While the right-wing National Assembly continues to attempt to weaken the Bolivarian revolution and its gains through legislating and the option of a recall referendum is open, it’s possible that further violence may be kept at bay. 

But if the Supreme Court blocks legislative decisions, or the recall is a failure for the right-wing, “In that scenario, I think it’s possible that all hell will break loose,” states Laura.

Whether it’s 2006 or 2016, violence is always on the opposition’s cards, especially when it has exhausted all other means.