Reform

Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto unveiled ambitious economic growth and fiscal deficit targets for 2027 while promising reforms aimed at restoring investor confidence and strengthening state institutions. The announcement comes after months of market concerns over government spending plans, policy uncertainty, and weakening confidence in Southeast Asia’s largest economy.

Government Sets Ambitious Economic Targets

Prabowo outlined a growth target of 5.8 percent to 6.5 percent for next year while aiming to lower the fiscal deficit to between 1.8 percent and 2.4 percent of gross domestic product. The government also expects inflation to remain under control and pledged to improve food security and attract greater investment.

Investor Confidence Faces Pressure

Indonesia has faced growing scrutiny from investors and rating agencies this year. Credit rating outlooks were downgraded due to concerns about policymaking credibility, fiscal discipline, and transparency. Market fears intensified after discussions around possible changes to the country’s long standing fiscal deficit ceiling and rising state spending commitments.

Commodity Control Plan Sparks Market Concerns

Prabowo confirmed plans to establish a new state agency to oversee exports of major commodities including coal, palm oil, and nickel. The government says the move is intended to reduce revenue losses and strengthen national control over natural resources, but investors worry it could disrupt pricing systems and reduce private sector profitability.

Private Sector Role Remains Important

Despite increasing state involvement in strategic sectors, Prabowo stressed that Indonesia still welcomes private companies and small businesses as partners in economic development. He called for cooperation between the government and the private sector to achieve long term prosperity.

Analysis

Indonesia’s latest economic strategy reflects a balancing act between ambitious state led development goals and the need to maintain investor confidence. While the government aims to accelerate growth and strengthen control over key resources, markets remain cautious about rising fiscal risks and unpredictable policy changes.

The proposed commodity export agency could significantly reshape Indonesia’s role in global resource markets because the country is one of the world’s largest exporters of coal and palm oil. However, stronger government intervention may create uncertainty for foreign investors and commodity traders.

At the same time, maintaining fiscal discipline will be critical as Prabowo moves forward with large welfare programmes and economic reforms. The success of his agenda will likely depend on whether the government can reassure markets while delivering growth, stability, and stronger institutional credibility.

With information from Reuters.

Amid an oil blockade against the island, the US blames Cuba’s communist leadership for ‘standing in the way’ of aid.

The United States has offered $100m in humanitarian assistance to Cuba on the condition that the island’s communist government agrees to “meaningful reforms”.

The sum was made public in a statement from the US State Department on Wednesday, though the administration of President Donald Trump underscored it had made the offer privately in the past.

But the $100m comes with strings: namely, that Cuba’s government commits to Trump-approved changes.

“Today, the Department of State is publicly restating the United States’ generous offer to provide an additional $100 million in direct humanitarian assistance to the Cuban people,” the statement said.

“The decision rests with the Cuban regime to accept our offer of assistance or deny critical living-saving aid and ultimately be accountable to the Cuban people for standing in the way of critical assistance.”

The statement marks the latest chapter in an ongoing pressure campaign designed to destabilise Cuba’s communist leadership.

Since Cold War tensions in the 1960s, the US has placed a comprehensive trade embargo on the Caribbean island, in part as a reaction to the Cuban Revolution.

It has become the longest-running trade embargo in modern history, and the US has justified its continuation by pointing to systematic repression under Cuba’s communist government.

But critics have denounced the trade embargo as worsening humanitarian conditions on the island.

The crisis reached a tipping point in January, after Trump abducted Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro, a close ally of Cuba.

In the following weeks, Trump cut off Venezuelan funds and oil supplies to Cuba. He then threatened economic penalties against any country that supplied Cuba with fuel, implementing a de facto oil blockade on the island.

Since then, only one Russian oil tanker has reached Cuba in late March. That month alone, the island suffered two island-wide blackouts.

Cuba relies heavily on foreign imports of oil to power its ageing energy grid. Only 40 percent of its oil supply is produced domestically, according to the International Energy Agency.

The United Nations warned earlier this year that Cuba faces the possibility of humanitarian “collapse”, with public transportation grinding to a halt, food prices soaring and public services like hospitals struggling to keep the lights on.

Trump, meanwhile, has repeatedly threatened to shift his focus to Cuba after the US-Israeli war on Iran ends, saying the island is “next” on his list of countries where he would like to see regime change.

“As we achieve a historic transformation in Venezuela, we’re also looking forward to the great change that will soon be coming to Cuba,” Trump told Latin American leaders at a summit in March.

“Cuba’s in its last moments of life as it was. It’ll have a great new life, but it’s in its last moments of life the way it is.”

Earlier this month, the US president issued a fresh wave of sanctions against the Cuban government, accusing the island of posing “an unusual and extraordinary threat to US national security and foreign policy”.

Media reports have also indicated that the Trump administration has stepped up its surveillance flights around Cuba, possibly in preparation for a surge of military assets to the Caribbean.

In Wednesday’s statement, the State Department blamed the communist system for having “only served to enrich the elites and condemn the Cuban people to poverty”.

It did not mention the US role in the humanitarian crisis on the island but instead described Cuba’s government as a hurdle to delivering much-needed aid.

“The regime refuses to allow the United States to provide this assistance to the Cuban people, who are in desperate need of assistance due to the failures of Cuba’s corrupt regime,” the State Department wrote.

It added that, should Cuba accept its terms, the $100m would be distributed through the Catholic Church and “other reliable independent humanitarian organizations”, rather than through the island’s government.

Adelmo Becerra is a Venezuelan trade union representative from the National Institute for Training and Socialist Education (INCES) and also a member of David Hernández Oduber Revolutionary Current (CREDAHO). In the past, he worked as an instructor at INCES and as a worker in the steel industry in Ciudad Guayana. In this interview, Becerra discusses the Venezuelan government’s recent labor policies under US sanctions, the growing labor reform prospects, and the present struggles and challenges facing the working class.

On May 1, the Venezuelan government raised non-wage bonuses while maintaining the minimum wage frozen. What was your reaction to these announcements? How do you place them in the context of recent labor policies in Venezuela?

The announcements represent a continuity of the labor policies of recent years. There had been expectations for restoration of the minimum wage in the short term. According to Article 91 of the Constitution, it must be adjusted once a year. Naturally, it would be a partial and limited restoration. But it is important to place the announcements in the context of various processes currently unfolding in the labor sphere.

In Venezuela, the Social Dialogue Forum, a body coordinated by the International Labour Organization (ILO), has been in place since 2021. Several trade union federations participate in this forum, including the Independent Trade Union Alliance of Venezuela (ASI), to which the INCES union belongs, the Venezuelan Workers’ Confederation (CTV), the Bolivarian Socialist Workers’ Federation (CBST), as well as government representatives. The Social Dialogue Forum is not binding, but Venezuela has ratified conventions, including Convention 26, which establishes consultations with trade union organizations for setting the minimum wage. However, a mechanism for establishing it has not yet been agreed upon.

At the same time, the government led by Acting President Delcy Rodríguez has established the National Dialogue for Labor Consensus, which includes the CTV, ASI, and CBST labor federations, along with representatives from business associations FEDECÁMARAS and FEDEINDUSTRIA, and government officials.

Then there is the struggle on the streets that has unfolded in the country in recent years. I would single out the August 2018 Program for Growth, Recovery, and Economic Prosperity as a starting point. This program produced two instruments that have denied wage and labor rights established in collective bargaining agreements, even disregarding the Constitution and labor legislation. I am referring to Memorandum 2792, from October 2018, which sets out the broad guidelines regarding the suspension of collective bargaining rights. And then there is the 2021 ONAPRE Directive, which addresses its specific application. Both instruments remain in force, and their repeal has been a constant demand in the workers’ struggles.

So, back to May 1, there was no restoration of the minimum wage. However, the announcements stem from agreements reached at the National Dialogue for Labor Consensus. And the signed minutes refer to a “wage consultation process” that will begin in May. This indicates that the issue of the minimum wage is far from settled. Similarly, the agreements “urge” the private sector to establish this same US $240 income floor, specifying that it may be through “non-wage bonuses,” although in reality there are no mechanisms to enforce it.

But the minimum wage is not an isolated issue. We have heard spokespersons from both the government and the private sector speak of labor reform. Just in recent days, in a meeting of the Social Dialogue Forum, one of the agreements was to “coordinate consultations of labor-related laws with the National Assembly.”

Let us take a closer look at the issue of bonuses versus wages. What are the consequences of this “bonus-ization” policy?

The main impact is on workers’ entitlements, specifically in the form of social benefits. These benefits accumulate over the course of the employment relationship, and their primary function is to recognize seniority so that it can be taken into account when paying out benefits.

But there is also another concept: retroactivity. This means that benefits are paid based on the final salary. Thus, when an employment relationship ends at a private company, the benefits paid as compensation are calculated based on the final wage and the duration of the employment. The same applies to those retiring from the public sector, or from a private company that offers a retirement plan –which is very rare in Venezuela.

This issue is very important because it has been at the center of the historical Venezuelan working-class struggles following the oil-led industrialization and the 1936 Labor Law. Social benefits allowed Venezuelan families to have assets, purchase homes or other property, and also served as a safety net in contexts of unemployment or economic crisis. This safety net no longer exists today because the minimum wage has been effectively eliminated.

Then there are other important factors, such as social security contributions, which fund the Venezuelan Social Security Institute (IVSS). This is a universal solidarity-based system in which both employers and employees contribute, and it serves as the economic foundation for old-age pensions and other IVSS social support initiatives, such as in healthcare. So, this system is also in crisis because contributions are computed based on wages.

The result is that for the private sector, both social security contributions and severance pay are practically free right now, and that in turn affects job stability.

Speaking specifically about INCES, which is a state-run training institute, what is the current employment situation like? Do the staff work full-time?

According to data recently provided to us by the authorities, there are approximately 11,500 people on the payroll, 6,800 of them active workers, and the rest are retirees. The vast majority receive only the “economic war” and bonuses, now set at $200 and $40 a month, respectively. Through our collective bargaining agreement, retirees also receive the food bonus, which is not the case in general in the public sector.

In recent years, as a union, we have held discussions with INCES authorities and the Ministry of Labor –which oversees the institute –to ease the requirement that people come to work every day while we try to secure better conditions. Simply put, if their income isn’t enough, they should have the option of trying to find a second or third job. With the recent increases in bonuses, the authorities are putting more pressure on workers to return to full-time work, but it’s complicated.

We are still in that struggle to improve conditions, even though we have not even been able to make progress on a memorandum of understanding to improve the socioeconomic clauses of the current collective bargaining agreement. But that’s the priority.

Turning now to the private sector, you have participated in the Observatory for Labor Dignity, which has investigated current working conditions in Venezuela. In general terms, why the focus on the private sector? And what is the reality of that world?

The first reason is that unionization rates in the private sector have historically always been very low in our country. At its peak, in the 1970s, it reached 30%, and today it is likely below 15% –and that is being optimistic. We must take into account the massive migration of recent years. It is a very low unionization rate, and in sectors such as retail or services, there are practically no unions.

Consequently, the level of job insecurity and vulnerability is much higher, especially given the government’s policy of restraining official workplace inspections based on tacit agreements with the private sector under the pretext of “promoting employment.”

One issue that came up repeatedly was the lack of maternity protection which was one of the advances of the 2012 Labor Law. Right now, in the companies we investigated, such as [department store chain] Traki or [textile distributor] El Castillo, no woman wants to get pregnant because that would mean immediately losing their job. Not only that, but it would also make it impossible to get a reference letter or a recommendation for another job.

It is important to stress that the approach to undermine or marginalize collective bargaining agreements was not limited to the public sector. The private sector also adopted it. Under the guise of “protecting jobs”–claiming that companies would go bankrupt otherwise –many employers sent workers home on minimum wage, with some being called back to work at the employer’s discretion.

Given the context of crisis and precariousness, under US economic sanctions, that has persisted for several years now, is the impact on workers’ awareness noticeable?

Indeed, there is a very acute lack of awareness regarding labor rights. The new generation of workers is entering the workforce with virtually no knowledge of the rights they hold by law, in part because they have never had access to them.

So, issues like employment contracts, pay stubs, or even working hours themselves are a problem. It is very common to have 10, 12, or even 14-hour workdays, or for the two days off per week not to be upheld. At Traki, this is usually respected, although the two days are not necessarily consecutive. In El Castillo, the average is one and a half days. In El Castillo, there is also a practice of having workers sign their contract and a resignation letter at the same time, which is obviously illegal.

Another characteristic is high turnover. Fixed-term contracts have become the norm. Although after several contracts the law grants the right to continued employment, this is practically nonexistent. The vast majority of people move around a great deal between jobs. This is, of course, made possible by the fact that benefits are nearly non-existent and it is extremely cheap to dismiss a worker, which in turn keeps people in a much more precarious situation.

But there is an important factor to consider: the shift in subjectivity –and this, of course, is not a phenomenon unique to Venezuela. A few days ago, I watched an interview with a North American researcher who found that for young people in the US a job at Starbucks seems like a good opportunity –better than average. Here, in some of the testimonies we collected, young people expressed satisfaction with working at the Traki department stores. They earn some $250 a month, work 9- or 10-hour shifts –while conditions elsewhere are worse –have two days off a week, and would like to stay there. Therefore, the notion of work with rights has also eroded. Issues like overtime pay, not to mention social security, become irrelevant due to the precariousness of the present. The employment relationship, which includes rights and mechanisms to protect them, is beginning to be viewed simply as a commercial transaction.

Labor reform talks are underway. Government spokespeople talk about “updating” the law following the impact of US sanctions, while private sector spokespeople are also voicing their demands. What is currently at stake?

I think there are several aspects to consider. We are clearly witnessing an aggressive campaign being waged by the media, along with well-known economists and influencers, to impose a narrative that any wage increase will cause inflation. As such, the only way to raise wages is to reduce employers’ responsibilities and eliminate the retroactive nature of labor benefits.

The 2012 Labor Law reinstated the calculation of benefits based on the last salary. This had been modified, amid much controversy, during the Caldera administration in the 1990s. Still, unlike proposals we see now, retroactivity was not completely eliminated. There is a proposal to let workers choose between receiving benefits immediately or accumulating them, which completely distorts the concept and takes advantage of current economic difficulties. If wages are insufficient, workers obviously prefer to collect as much as they can right away. Even if the current $240 minimum income was turned into salaries, this would represent less than 50% of the food basket for a family, according to different estimates.

I believe it is essential to reject the narrative promoted by groups like Fedecámaras, to reject the premise that we must give up our rights and historic achievements because there are no conditions to sustain them. For starters, there is a lack of transparency and information. We do not even have reliable information on the size of the economically active population. The last census was in 2011, and following the massive migration over the past decade, we do not know what the current picture looks like.

According to 2021 data from the National Institute of Statistics (INE), there were roughly 4 million workers in the formal private sector, just over 3 million in the public sector, and around 5 million pensioners. Therefore, with that precise data, and with transparent information on revenues, it would be possible to quantify whether or not there are resources. Because GDP was heavily hit by the US blockade but has been growing—according to the Central Bank, for 20 consecutive quarters –but the last adjustment to the minimum wage, to $30 per month, was in March 2022.

Another piece of data we lack is the distribution of surpluses among the workforce, private capital, and the state. According to research by former Minister Víctor Álvarez, the labor share reached 40% by 2010. Currently, according to estimates by researcher Carlos Dürich, that figure may be around 20%, which is what is typically observed in African countries with high levels of poverty and inequality.

We need all that data if we want to discuss what is possible or not, and how the wealth that is generated will be distributed. This is especially true in this context, where, outrageously, the US controls Venezuela’s oil sales. Now the Central Bank will be subject to external auditing, but the public still lacks information. So there is a second layer of opacity there.

In summary, under the present conditions, with an unfavorable correlation of forces and foreign control over the Venezuelan economy, it is not possible to restore the minimum wage and have it cover living costs, as established in Article 91 of the Constitution. Nevertheless, economists and trade union federations have argued that there are conditions for a partial restoration.

In this complex context, both domestically and internationally, what is the path forward for the workers’ struggle in the country?

For me, there is one fundamental factor –one that has been evident in recent years –and that is social pressure. Workers are the only force that has exerted pressure on the government, and to some extent on the private sector as well, particularly since 2022. In 2023, the government placated the protests by introducing the “economic war” bonus. The minimum wage had been devalued to $5 at the beginning of the year, and 15 days later the government set the bonus at $25, and then in May at $70. Even if it happens through non-wage bonuses, it is a struggle with the bourgeoisie over the country’s income.

The May 1 increase, again via bonuses, is also a response to pressure from the streets. We will now see what happens with the wage consultations and labor reform plans. The challenge is to sustain the actions and protests over time. But that sustainability depends on unity.

And what are the challenges to building unity around the labor agenda? A few weeks ago, we witnessed an absurd demonstration by certain union factions asking for support at the US Embassy.

Precisely. On May 1, there was a unified demonstration that likely drew 3,000 to 4,000 people in Caracas, along with smaller marches in other parts of the country. Various labor federations were present, ranging from the more left-wing ones like the CUTV to those social-democratic or Christian-democratic like the CTV or ASI.

On March 12, we also had a united mobilization, but since then the forces have split. And that weakens us because it reduces our impact; the business leaders rub their hands together.

This division has partly to do with issues of leadership and protagonism, and with the fact that not all federations understand that we must play on two chessboards at this moment: on one hand, the negotiating tables, and on the other, applying pressure in the streets.

But the division is also due to a particular factor: a group called the Coalición Sindical, whose main focus is not so much labor or wages, but politics. It serves as the vehicle within the labor movement for María Corina Machado’s political faction, which is obviously trying to capitalize on labor issues for its own agenda. This group has no interest in joint actions to secure better conditions –even if only partial –for the working class; rather, its priority is to stoke conflict.

That is why we see actions such as demonstrations in front of the US Embassy, calling on Trump to intervene. But right now, the priority for the US is stability, so it can advance its energy and mining interests. It views social pressure as something the Venezuelan government must handle on its own.

In short, it is essential at this moment to have a united force with a specific agenda: to fight for the restoration of wages, for the reopening of collective bargaining negotiations, for the release of unjustly imprisoned workers and trade unionists, and to defend labor rights against regressive reform efforts.

“We’ve been so used to thinking about politics in terms of left and right, yet what Reform are able to do is to win in areas that have always been Conservative, but equally, we’re proving in a big way that we could win in areas that Labour has dominated since the end of World War I.”

SANTIAGO, Chile, May 8 (UPI) — An economic reform plan Chilean President José Antonio Kast announced to revive the country’s economy is drawing criticism over its potential short- and medium-term fiscal impact, as the International Monetary Fund lowered its growth projections for Chile.

The IMF’s World Economic Outlook report had estimated in mid-April that Chile’s gross domestic product would grow 2.4% in 2026 and 2.6% in 2027. However, the organization said this week it revised those projections to 2.2% this year and 2.5% in 2027 if external conditions and the country’s fiscal situation improve.

“Economic activity, driven by investment and exports in 2025, faces a period of heightened uncertainty,” the IMF said.

The report said higher copper production and prices support growth expectations, but warned of risks that include the crisis in the Middle East, rising oil prices and loss of domestic competitiveness tied to the sharp public spending cuts promoted by Kast.

The Chilean president’s plan includes proposals to reduce corporate taxes and cut bureaucracy in an effort to stimulate private investment. Congress is discussing tha proposal.

“Amid persistently high inequality, social discontent also remains a risk,” the IMF report said.

The IMF is not the only institution warning about the risks associated with the government’s National Reconstruction Plan.

Chile’s Autonomous Fiscal Council, an independent public agency tasked with monitoring the sustainability of fiscal policy, warned about the proposal’s possible impact on the country’s fiscal balance and public debt.

“The project commits fiscal spending with a high degree of certainty in the short term and reduces permanent revenue, while the positive effects depend on more uncertain future income associated with growth, which could lead to a deterioration in the fiscal balance if growth does not materialize at the estimated magnitude and speed,” the council said.

Jaime Bastías, director of the auditing school at Finis Terrae University, told UPI the IMF’s downgrade was “absolutely” expected because Chile’s central bank had already made a similar adjustment, while debate over financing the government’s proposal continues to intensify.

“The government’s plan can be an engine that helps us face the storm we are going through, but that is heavily conditioned on the state maintaining orderly public finances. The IMF says that if the proposed tax cuts are not offset through other channels, the country’s debt will grow too much, and that will create another problem,” Bastías warned.

Carlos Smith, a researcher at the Center for Business and Society Research at Universidad del Desarrollo, told UPI the IMF report shows that both external and domestic factors are likely to weaken household income and affect consumer spending.

“Consumption is one of the main drivers of Chile’s GDP. The IMF expects it to contract and that is already beginning to show, along with a very weak labor market. Chile is in a much weaker condition,” he said.

Smith said that although the IMF lowered its growth forecasts, the organization still appears optimistic about the long-term positive impact of the government’s proposed reforms.

“The impact will materialize more slowly than the finance minister expects. Therefore, the IMF is suggesting more efficient alternatives such as lower costs or more limited subsidies to create new jobs,” Smith said.

He added that while Ciles should adjust some aspects of the reform, he believes the plan is still moving in the right direction.

“I agree with the IMF that the proposal needs refinement and should focus on removing obstacles to investment projects without lowering the standards of our legislation or environmental protections. If that is achieved, I believe there is a possibility of reaching 3% growth by the end of the decade,” he said.

Bastías agreed, saying Chile could grow at 3% by 2030 if copper prices remain high, production increases and more private investment arrives.

“It is an optimistic scenario where we need to focus on stimulating those three factors. If that favorable future does not materialize, we will all pay the costs,” he said.

Reporting from Sacramento — Few California Democrats have garnered more praise from the party’s various constituencies than Atty. Gen. Xavier Becerra, who has led the state’s charge against the administration of President Trump with 47 lawsuits on issues including immigration and healthcare.

But in recent months, Becerra has come under criticism from progressives and civil rights leaders for his reticence to support legislative checks on police use of force. That blowback could have ramifications for an ambitious politician who seems primed for ever-higher offices.

On Tuesday, Becerra announced that his office would not seek criminal charges against two Sacramento police officers involved in the fatal shooting of Stephon Clark, an unarmed African American man.

While that decision was not unexpected, it built on another recent controversy in which Becerra was sued by civil rights groups for not releasing use-of-force records. He later outraged many progressive allies by threatening legal action over police misconduct records he said were improperly released to the media.

Becerra has long walked a line of presenting himself as both a civil rights defender and a friend of law enforcement. But has also disappointed some supporters for not taking a stand in support of legislation that would toughen use-of-force rules as well as a proposal that the state Department of Justice routinely provide independent investigation of police shootings.

“A Democratic attorney general, in particular, is kind of torn between two worlds — the law enforcement entities and officials with which he or she must work and build credibility with, and Democratic constituencies that are highly suspicious of, if not downright hostile to, law enforcement,” said Garry South, a Democratic political consultant.

“Becerra is now caught between these two constituencies in a pretty public way,” said South, who managed Gov. Gray Davis’ 1998 and 2002 campaigns that portrayed Davis as a law-and-order Democrat. Sen. Kamala Harris faced the same pressures when she was attorney general, South said.

Capitol watchers see Becerra as a possible contender some day for higher office, including governor or U.S. senator if one of those jobs opens up.

But Becerra risks alienating key voters by his handling of the Clark case and his refusal to take a position on legislation making it easier to prosecute police officers, said the Rev. Shane Harris, a civil rights activist who has long served as a delegate for the California Democratic Party.

“He needs to realize that if he wants to be governor someday, he is going to need black votes and brown votes,” said Harris, president of the People’s Alliance for Justice. “If he has any aspirations, they just went out the window for now. This right here really took him backwards when it comes to the black vote in the state of California.”

Harris said Becerra could regain ground with minority voters by supporting tough reform legislation and embracing calls for the attorney general’s office to independently investigate all fatal police shootings.

Then-Gov. Jerry Brown appointed Becerra as attorney general in 2017 after he served 12 terms in Congress — a perch that provided little opportunity to be involved in state discussions of law enforcement oversight. Many activists did not know where he would stand on policing matters.

He won election last year with strong support from police groups, including big campaign checks from the California Statewide Law Enforcement Assn. political action committee, the California Correctional Peace Officers Assn., the Los Angeles Police Protective League, the Assn. of Orange County Deputy Sheriffs PAC, the Long Beach Police Officers Assn. and the Oakland Police Officers Assn. PAC.

Becerra is too close to the law enforcement community, said Melina Abdullah, a professor of Pan-African Studies at Cal State L.A. and a member of the Black Lives Matter movement.

“I think the complete unwillingness of the attorney general to intervene in the murders of black people by law enforcement — even under the most extreme circumstances, like Stephon Clark — demonstrates either a completely failed moral compass or a shameful submission to political cowardice,” Abdullah said.

On Tuesday, Becerra defended his actions in police use-of-force cases as “by the book” and based on the evidence.

He resisted the idea that his office should routinely “parachute in,” as he calls it, and investigate officer-involved shootings that are now reviewed by prosecutors in each of the state’s 58 counties.

“I don’t have the capacity and the resources to try to take over the work of 58 different D.A.s in this one shop,” Becerra said.

He said local prosecutors are “far closer” to what is going on in their communities.

He said he knows the African American community feels hurt by the shooting of Clark, but added “I think there is a lot of hurt in the Police Department too, because they are under a microscope and two of their fellow officers are now under a microscope.”

The attorney general’s actions on law enforcement issues have frustrated some people who supported his election last year, including civil rights attorney John Burris, who represented Rodney King in his civil rights lawsuit against the Los Angeles Police Department.

“I’m disappointed,” Burris said after Becerra’s announcement in the Stephon Clark case. “I supported him wholeheartedly [during the election]. I think I had higher hopes for him in the beginning.”

Burris said he has asked Becerra in the last few years to look at other police shootings and the attorney general has always sided with the local district attorneys in not pursuing action against officers.

“At the end of the day, the attorney general is law enforcement, and they have to work with law enforcement throughout the state,” Burris said. “That’s what makes it very difficult for him and others to be very critical of the local police unless the evidence is overwhelming.”

The Clark decision was not the only action that concerned some Becerra allies.

Becerra is under criticism from groups including the First Amendment Coalition, which sued him last month after he refused to release records related to investigations of shootings or confirmed cases of sexual assault by officers.

The lawsuit alleges that Becerra is required to turn over the documents by a law — SB 1421 — that was approved last year. Police unions have sued to keep records from being released.

The ACLU of Southern California is “very disappointed” that Becerra is refusing to make public records ordered released by the state Legislature, said Melanie Ochoa, a staff attorney for the group.

“It is unfortunate that the state’s top cop is sending a message that it is OK for agencies to deny the public access to information about serious police misconduct and uses of deadly force — particularly when we already have numerous courts that have decided that agencies must release this information,” Ochoa said.

Becerra’s actions on the release of records are defended by Robert Harris, a director with the Los Angeles Police Protective League.

Harris praised Becerra for withholding such records in the Justice Department’s possession while court cases deciding whether the law applied to investigations of incidents that occurred before this year were pending.

“I think that’s an appropriate decision until we have a definitive answer,” Harris said.

Becerra defended his actions on the release of police misconduct records, citing privacy laws.

“My progressive values are still there,” Becerra told The Times.

“If I have your Social Security numbers, and there’s a good chance I do in one of my databases … you would not want me to disclose it lightly,” Becerra added. “My job is to protect that privacy.”

In January, in response to a group of journalists in Berkeley, the state’s Commission on Peace Officer Standards and Training released a list of 12,000 names of police officers and job applicants who had been convicted of crimes.

Becerra later said the state office made a mistake in releasing the names to reporters for the Investigative Reporting Program at the UC Berkeley Graduate School of Journalism.

In a letter, he told the reporters to destroy the records, arguing that possession of the data was a criminal offense.

Becerra said this week that his letter to Berkeley was part of due diligence to enforce the law.

“Someone needs to ask the folks that are in possession of information that they are unauthorized to possess or use, what don’t they understand about the law that says, ‘You are in possession of information that you shouldn’t have.’ It’s like stolen property,” he said.

The attorney general also finds himself in the center of a storm of controversy over possible legislative measures to reduce excessive force.

Becerra refused Tuesday to take a position on pending legislation by Assemblywoman Shirley Weber (D-San Diego) that would make it easier to criminally prosecute law enforcement officers who kill civilians.

Police unions and chiefs are supporting a separate measure that would instead focus on internal department policies and training.

Becerra said he has withheld taking a position on the two use-of-force bills because he has not read them yet and he wanted to first complete the investigation into the Clark shooting, which he wanted to be seen as independent and fair.

“I have not gone through the bills to the point of making decisions,” Becerra told reporters at a news conference on the Clark shooting.

“I will get involved because it’s important,” he said. “I don’t intend to be AWOL when it comes to the discussion of how we write this new chapter.”

Coverage of California politics »

patrick.mcgreevy@latimes.com

Twitter: @mcgreevy99

Venezuela’s recent Hydrocarbon Law reform has sparked fierce debates about its short- and long-term implications. In this essay, Blas Regnault, an energy policy analyst and researcher, offers an in-depth analysis of the new legislative framework, from the significant changes to the state’s governance over its natural resources to his perspective on a sovereign recovery of the oil industry.

The recent hydrocarbon reform: an overview

It is important to distinguish between two closely connected but analytically separate developments: first, US oversight of Venezuelan oil revenues after Maduro’s kidnapping; and secondly, the new Hydrocarbon Law itself. The first is an externally imposed mechanism that conditions oil sales, revenue collection, transport, and the distribution of oil proceeds to US interests. The second is a domestic legal reform whose constitutionality and political legitimacy have been widely questioned.

It remains unclear whether the new law is fully operative in practice, or whether it is only being applied selectively while its fiscal substance is displaced by the US revenue-control mechanism. ^{But the outcome is largely the same: a loss of fiscal automaticity and a form of fiscal sovereignty under tutelage in relation to Venezuelan oil income.}

In other words, the crisis of governance in the Venezuelan oil sector, together with its chronic lack of transparency since 2017, now culminates in a profound loss of sovereign control over all three dimensions of the business: its rentier dimension, belonging to the nation; its fiscal dimension, belonging to the state; and its shareholder dimension, linked to the role of the state oil company PDVSA as principal participant in extraction and commercialisation.

Therefore, the new law is not simply a technical reform. It is not merely about updating contracts, modernising procedures, or making the sector more attractive to investors. The deeper issue is that the reform changes the way the nation is compensated for the use of the subsoil and therefore alters the very governance of the sector. What is at stake is the relationship between sovereignty, ownership of the subsoil, and public income.

It is true that, on paper, the law formally preserves state ownership over the resource. But the business models it opens weaken the practical substance of that ownership. And that is the crucial point. Ownership is not a decorative legal formula. Ownership means that the state, acting on behalf of the nation, has the right to decide whether the resource remains underground or is extracted; and if it is extracted, under what conditions, with what public charge, and for whose benefit. The recent reform softens the link between ownership and the nation’s participation as owner of the subsoil, turning something that was once grounded in a general rule into something negotiable, adjustable, and highly discretionary.

A useful way of understanding the economic and social significance of the reform is to distinguish the different streams of public income historically associated with oil in Venezuela. Under the former hydrocarbon law, the nation participated in the oil business through three distinct channels: as owner, as tax authority, and as shareholder. The first channel, corresponding to ownership, was royalty. The second was taxation, arising from the state’s fiscal authority over the activity. The third was dividends, arising when the state participated through PDVSA and therefore received income in its capacity as stakeholder rather than as landlord or tax authority.

This distinction matters because the oil business has historically involved different claimants competing over the fruits of extraction. In a sector marked by extraordinary profitability and strategic importance, the owner of the rent, the fiscal authority, and the capitalist operator all seek to maximize their share of the value generated. In the Venezuelan framework that prevailed before 2026, those three roles were clearly present: the nation as owner of the subsoil, the state as fiscal authority, and the operator as capitalist actor. The new law alters the balance between them.

Royalty

The royalty is where the change is most revealing. As already noted, royalty is the clearest expression of ownership. It is paid upfront. It does not depend on profit. It is charged before taxes are assessed and before the remaining income covers the factors of production; that is, wages, interest, profits, and the other claimants on the project. In other words, royalty is not part of the production costs. If the oil price is 100 dollars per barrel and the agreed royalty rate is 30 per cent, the owner receives 30 dollars per barrel straight away. That is the proprietorial logic in its purest form.This has long been a battleground in the global oil industry. The dispute over rent has historically taken place between the operating companies, whether private national oil companies acting as operators, and the owner of the resource, that is, the landlord. Depending on the property-rights regime, that owner may be a private individual, as in parts of Texas, or the state, as in Venezuela and in most oil-exporting countries. Whether in Texas, Alaska, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Norway, the United Kingdom, Nigeria, or Venezuela, the property-rights regime has been the principal legal instrument through which the owner secures a share of the rent. It is a legitimate exercise of sovereignty, recognised by all parties involved in the global oil business.

And yet the new law, in practical terms, empties out that proprietorial logic by turning royalty into a negotiable variable within a range of zero to 30 per cent, something highly unusual in the global oil business. The potential scale of the loss becomes immediately clear once one thinks in terms of export volumes. At an oil price of 86 dollars per barrel, a 1 per cent royalty leaves the nation with less than one dollar per barrel, whereas a 30 per cent royalty yields 25.8 dollars. If Venezuela exports 800,000 barrels per day, that means roughly 688,000 dollars per day under a 1 per cent royalty, compared with 20.64 million dollars per day under a 30 per cent royalty. This is a dramatic compression of the owner’s income. It shows that a high oil price cannot compensate for the hollowing out of the royalty. Put simply, under the new law, higher oil prices will no longer automatically translate into greater income for the nation if royalties are arbitrarily lowered to the benefit of transnational capital. This is not a marginal fiscal concession; it is a radical compression of the nation’s proprietorial income. 

Taxes

Turning to taxes, under the previous legal framework, the fiscal regime included not only taxes on profits, but also local and municipal taxes on oil activity, together with other parafiscal charges and special contributions linked to extraordinary profits. These different channels gave the public side several routes through which to capture value from extraction. Under the new law, much of that architecture is displaced and compressed into an integrated tax on gross income that will also be set in a discretionary fashion up to a fixed ceiling. According to supporters of the reform, this new framework is designed to ensure the project’s “economic equilibrium.” But the political significance of that shift is considerable. What was previously structured through several distinct legal claims can now be more easily absorbed into a flexible package, negotiated project by project. In that sense, this is not simply simplification; it is a substantial thinning of the fiscal claim. Once the fiscal architecture becomes thinner, the public claim over oil value becomes weaker, more flexible, and ultimately more negotiable.

Table 2 illustrates the magnitude of the change using the March 16, 2026, marker Merey 16 price. Under the previous regime, taxes and parafiscal charges alone could amount to about $31 per barrel, or 36 percent of the barrel price. Under the post-reform interim scenario, that could fall to about $17.6 per barrel, or 20.5 percent.

Dividends

Finally, there are dividends arising from state equity participation, and these too must be distinguished from both royalty and taxation. Dividends are not paid because the nation owns the subsoil, nor are they collected because the state exercises fiscal authority over the activity. They arise because the state participates in the business as shareholder and therefore receives part of the profits in its capacity as investor. In other words, dividends represent the state’s participation in the profits of the business itself. But that income is not necessarily available for immediate public use in the same way as royalty or taxation. Part of it may be retained within the company, used for reinvestment, capital expenditure, debt service, or the wider financial needs of the enterprise. So, unlike royalty, which expresses ownership, or tax, which expresses fiscal authority, dividends are tied to the corporate logic of the business. Depending on the ownership structure, this channel of participation may range, illustratively, from zero to 60 per cent of distributable profits.

International jurisdiction of potential oil litigation

There is also an important jurisdictional dimension. By reducing the fiscal share captured by the state and by placing greater weight on contractual flexibility, the reform moves the sector towards a framework that is more exposed to international arbitration. At the same time, the sanctions and licensing regime has become part of a broader architecture of control over the oil business: control over access to the fields, control over marketing channels, and control over financial access to revenues. So, this is not merely a domestic fiscal reform. It is also part of a broader reordering of the legal and financial chain through which Venezuelan oil is governed.

Key takeaways

Supporters of the new law argue that it delivers increased flexibility, greater operability, improved investment prospects, and greater bankability. And that is not a trivial argument. In a country that has experienced production collapse, sanctions, institutional erosion, and a loss of market share, it is understandable that policymakers would seek a framework that appears more attractive to capital. In that sense, the reform may indeed reduce perceived risk and make projects easier to finance. It may also simplify part of the gross take and make negotiations easier. In that sense, the reform should not be caricatured. But it also entails the abandonment of each of the nation’s and the state’s historic roles in the sector, undermining the institutional fabric that once gave the oil economy a degree of stability and rationality.

For that reason, the disadvantages of the reform ultimately outweigh its potential benefits. What is lost is fiscal automaticity. That means the nation is no longer guaranteed a stable share by rule, but must now negotiate it, justify it, or recover it through more uncertain channels. Put differently, the reform replaces payment-by-rule with payment-by-negotiation on a case-by-case basis. In practical terms, each contract will generate its own conditions over each of the principal sources of public income arising from oil activity.

What is also lost is the clarity of a system in which the state charges because it owns the resource, not because the project happens to be commercially convenient. Once royalties become variable and fiscal terms are subordinated to the “economic equilibrium” of the project, the centre of gravity shifts. The guiding principle is no longer the nation as sovereign owner; it becomes the financial viability for the investor/operator. That is a profound political change presented as technical pragmatism.

In summary: the 2026 reform does not abolish formal ownership, but it hollows it out in practice. It replaces a more proprietorial fiscal logic with a more contractualized and discretionary one. That may attract investment, but it also weakens the automatic link between national ownership and national income. Whatever mechanism one chooses to emphasize, the result is much the same: 

• The nation no longer receives royalty by rule, but under externally conditioned arrangements. What is presented as flexibility is a retreat from ownership. 
• The state compresses its fiscal participation at every level. 
• The state oil company weakens its position as an investor. 

Once that happens, the central question is no longer simply, “How much is the state collecting?” but rather “Who decides, under what rules, with what traceability, and with what accountability?”

The historical context of Venezuela’s oil legislation

Venezuela’s oil history is not just a history of contracts or companies; it is a history of how the nation has tried to define its authority over the subsoil. Venezuela did not begin from the same position as many oil-exporting countries in West Asia or North Africa. It was already an independent republic when it developed its mining and hydrocarbons legislation. That matters, because it means Venezuela built a national jurisdictional framework around state ownership of mines and deposits, rather than inheriting a colonial concessionary order imposed from outside. That distinction is central.

From the early twentieth century onwards, successive legal frameworks progressively consolidated the republic’s sovereign claim over oil-bearing land. In other words, Venezuelan oil law was historically moving towards a more explicit assertion of the nation’s right to charge for the extraction of its natural wealth. This is one reason Venezuela mattered so much internationally: not only because it was a major producer, but because it became a reference point for fiscal regimes and sovereign oil governance, including later in the wider OPEC environment. In that sense, Venezuela’s experience was historically complete in a way that few other oil-producing countries were.

Nevertheless, there is a paradox surrounding the 1975-1976 nationalization of the oil industry. On paper, it ought to have marked the culmination of national control, but it did not deepen sovereignty. In practice, it helped produce a shift towards a more internationalized governance structure. The Ministry, as representative of the owner-nation, was gradually displaced by state oil company PDVSA, and PDVSA increasingly operated under a logic of global business rather than one of public sovereign rule. So instead of the owner-state speaking directly, the national oil company became the intermediary, and that had long-term consequences. Put differently, PDVSA, together with international oil capital, gained ground in the long struggle to reduce the landlord’s direct grip over rent.

This is where the historical relationship with Western transnational corporations becomes more nuanced than a simple story of foreign domination versus nationalist resistance. The issue is not merely the presence of Western companies, but the governance structures they operate under. Venezuela moved from a more classic proprietorial regime towards a more cessionary one, and later, especially in the late 1980s and 1990s, towards more liberal or non-proprietorial arrangements. The oil opening (“Apertura Petrolera”) of the 1990s is especially important here, because it reduced the fiscal burden and shifted the framework in a way that centralized the operator’s conditions. That was already a major break.

The Chávez years brought a partial reversal. The restoration of the property right was not merely ideological posturing; it was a restoration of a more classical fiscal logic, in which the sovereign character of the state take was reaffirmed. But that restoration took place amid other contradictions, including the politicization of PDVSA and the accumulation of debt. So even that phase did not resolve the deeper institutional tensions.

The 2026 reform, then, does not emerge from nowhere. It is a new chapter of a long historical movement: from national jurisdiction, to nationalization, to cessionary governance, to the oil opening, to partial reassertion, to crisis and collapse, and now to a new form of contractualization from a position of weakness. Venezuela’s oil history has been a struggle not simply over who owns the oil, but over who governs the terms on which ownership is exercised. The present reform is the latest chapter in that struggle, but it is a particularly radical one because it comes after institutional erosion and under a global order that is far more contractual, litigious, and externally structured than the one Venezuela faced in the mid-twentieth century.

Oil in the present geopolitical battle

The current geopolitical context of the US-Israeli aggression against Iran should, in principle, strengthen Venezuela’s bargaining position. When West Asia becomes more unstable, supply security rises as a strategic concern, and oil regains immediate geopolitical urgency, countries with large reserves and an established production history become more valuable. 

Venezuela has occupied that position before. Venezuelan oil played an important strategic role for the Allies during the Second World War, for example. Today, renewed disruption around Iran and the Strait of Hormuz has again tightened the market and raised the geopolitical value of accessible barrels.

That is precisely why the current outcome appears so paradoxical. If global conditions improve Venezuela’s leverage, one would expect the country to negotiate from a stronger position and to demand a larger participation. One would expect a legal framework that captures more rent, not less; that uses geopolitical scarcity to reinforce state take, not to dilute it. But the current reform, alongside the sequence of deals with foreign conglomerates, and combined with US control over revenues, seem to move in the opposite direction.

This leads to the second point: the geopolitical issue is not only price or supply. It is also about control. What is emerging is a form of sovereignty under tutelage. Venezuela may formally remain the owner of the resource, but effective control over commercialization, revenue channels, and external validation appears increasingly conditioned from outside. Whether one calls that tutelage, external supervision, or subordinated reintegration, the takeaway is the same: sovereignty over the resource is no longer identical to sovereignty over the business. Recent US licenses illustrate the point very clearly. Washington has opened the door to renewed oil transactions with PDVSA, but under Treasury oversight and with proceeds channelled into US-administered accounts. That is not normal sovereign control over national oil income.

This is where the distinction between the origin and the destination of rent becomes especially useful. Even before we ask what is done with oil income socially or politically, we first need to know how that income is generated: through what pricing, what discounts, what fiscal structure, and through which payment channels. If that first level is opaque, then both the origin and the destination of rent become politically indeterminate. In other words, the problem is not only that the country may receive less revenue. The problem is that the country may not even be able to clearly verify what it is owed, how, and why. That is a much deeper sovereignty problem.

As a result, a geopolitical context that would, in theory, favor Venezuela, sees the country re-entering global markets with weakened sovereignty, under a framework of greater flexibility for operators and less certainty for the nation. That is why the debate is no longer only about production volumes or export flows. The real debate is about the jurisdictional and political order that now governs Venezuelan oil: who authorizes, who commercializes, who arbitrates disputes, who tracks the proceeds, and who answers to the country.

What does a sovereign recovery look like?

Moving from critique to programme is difficult, and the first honest thing to say is that no one can predict the exact path ahead. Venezuela is emerging from collapse, sanctions, loss of market share, institutional erosion, and a deep social crisis. Any recovery scenario, therefore, is bound to be politically fraught. But one thing is clear: if the country does not rebuild the public intelligibility of oil income, then any so-called recovery may simply reproduce opacity, distrust, inequality, and social tension.

A sovereign recovery does not mean autarky. It does not mean excluding foreign firms, nor does it mean mechanically returning to an earlier model. It means something more precise: restoring the link between ownership, public rule, and accountable income capture. In other words, if the nation owns the resource, then the nation must be able to know, verify, and govern how value is extracted from it. That means transparency over net prices, discounts, taxes, royalties, exemptions, payment channels, and the destination of funds. Without that, there can be no recovery in any meaningful sovereign sense. It would simply be resumed extraction.

A sovereign recovery also requires stripping away some of the ideological confusion that usually surrounds debates on natural resources. As Bernard Mommer argued more than twenty years ago, the governance of natural resources is, in many ways, a more elementary question than the conventional left-right divide suggests. In the case of oil and minerals, the deeper divide is above versus below. It is the tension between those who live and work on the surface (the nation, society, the public realm) and those who make their living from the subsoil.

That is why the question of ownership comes before the question of distribution, that is, before the question of what is done with the income generated by oil activity. Only after establishing the governance over the resource and the rules over its extraction does the familiar left-right question properly arise: how that income is used, whether for social spending, public services, etc., or private accumulation. 

The first step, then, is transparency. Not as a slogan, but as an institutional obligation. Who is selling? At what net price? Under what discounts? With what deductions? Paid where? Audited by whom? These are not minor administrative questions. They are the very mechanics of sovereignty in an extractive economy. If the country cannot answer them, then the state is no longer exercising full command over its principal source of income.

The second step is to move away from excessive discretion and back towards intelligible general rules. Contracts will always matter in oil. But there is a difference between contracts operating within a strong public framework and contracts effectively replacing public rule. Once everything becomes negotiable in the name of investment or “economic equilibrium,” the public realm shrinks and the executive realm expands. That is politically dangerous in any country, but especially in one where oil historically underpinned a broader social pact.

The third step is to reconnect oil income with social legitimacy. This is not an abstract issue. It is whether oil wealth translates to salaries, living standards, public services, social protection, and some minimum sense of collective benefit. If the country enters a new extractive cycle in which more oil is produced but public income remains narrow, opaque, or externally conditioned, then social tensions are likely to intensify rather than diminish. That is why a sovereign recovery cannot be measured by production figures alone. It must be judged by whether the nation regains an intelligible and legitimate claim over the income stream.

In simple terms, the average Venezuelan citizen is aware of fluctuations in crude prices because they know they affect the national budget. Oil income is widely and legitimately perceived as income belonging to the nation, and therefore as something that ought to support public services and collective welfare. Even when that income is later misused (through corruption, clientelism, or mismanagement) the underlying perception remains: oil revenue belongs to all Venezuelans.

That is also why the current situation can be described as one of sovereignty under tutelage. The country may still be sovereign in formal terms, yet it operates under external supervision in practical terms. Unless that gap is closed, the language of recovery will remain politically fragile.

Blas Regnault is an oil market analyst and researcher based in The Hague, whose work explores how oil prices move across time and what they tell us about the global economy. Drawing on years of experience in central banking, energy research, and international consulting, he brings together political economy, business cycles, production costs, and petroleum governance in a way that is both rigorous and accessible.

He has spent much of his career studying the deeper forces behind oil price trends and fluctuations, always with an eye on the institutional and geopolitical realities of the global petroleum market. Later this year, he will publish his book, Political Economy of Oil Prices: Trends and Business Cycles in the Global Petroleum Market, with Routledge.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Venezuelanalysis editorial staff.

The Trump administration’s historic move to reclassify state-licensed medical marijuana as a less-dangerous drug was cheered by some advocates but for others, it fell far short for the thousands still incarcerated on federal cannabis-related convictions.

The executive order, which acting Atty. Gen. Todd Blanche signed Thursday, does not address current penalties for possessing and selling marijuana or those jailed with yearslong sentences.

“While this is a victory, the fight is far from over,” said Jason Ortiz, director of strategic initiatives for the Last Prisoner Project, a nonprofit focused on cannabis criminal justice reform.

Proponents of legalizing marijuana as well as overhauling prison sentencing say this order, which does not completely decriminalize the drug, benefits only cannabis researchers, growers and others in Big Weed. Meanwhile, thousands — many of whom are people of color — are stuck serving harsh sentences for marijuana-related offenses. Or they have served their time but having a conviction on their record has made life difficult.

Now, advocates are calling on Congress and state lawmakers to take concrete steps to ensure those with marijuana-related convictions receive fair treatment or be forgiven altogether.

Prisoners and their families look for hope

Blanche’s order reclassifies state-licensed medical marijuana as a less-dangerous drug. The major policy shift, which both Presidents Obama and Joe Biden had considered, means cannabis won’t be grouped with drugs like heroin.

But it does not legalize marijuana for medical or recreational use. It shifts licensed medical marijuana from Schedule I — reserved for drugs without medical use and with high potential for abuse — to the less strictly regulated Schedule III. This will likely give licensed medical marijuana operators and cannabis researchers a major tax break and less stringent barriers to doing normal business.

Virtually no one imprisoned at the federal level is there solely for marijuana possession. But many are there for large-scale possession, trafficking offenses or both.

Hector Ruben McGurk, 66, has been serving life without the possibility of parole since 2007 for transporting thousands of pounds of marijuana and money laundering. He is currently imprisoned in Beaumont, Texas, over 800 miles from his son’s El Paso home. His incarceration has been hard on his son, said McGurk’s daughter-in-law, Ferna Anguiano. And the distance makes visits logistically difficult.

So it’s tempting to see this order as a glimmer of hope, given that the family believes McGurk’s punishment far outweighs his crimes. But Anguiano has no idea how to navigate lobbying for his release.

“His release date is death,” Anguiano said. “I mean, we see all this stuff on the news — bigger cases, fatal cases — and people are going in and out of prison and coming out to their families.”

They try to keep in touch through phone calls and a prison texting service. They’re concerned about McGurk’s health and his diabetes management. It would be a dream come true for him to come home.

“He deserves a second chance,” Anguiano said. “Yes, it was a poor decision he did in his lifetime. He was younger. But he is not a bad person. I think it’s fair to say he has served enough time for it.”

It’s not clear whether punishments would be different had marijuana always been scheduled differently, drug policy experts say.

“In addition to schedule-specific penalties, there are marijuana-specific penalties that have nothing to do with the schedule,” said Cat Packer, director of drug markets and legal regulation at the nonprofit Drug Policy Alliance. “Even if marijuana were to be moved to Schedule V, those criminal penalties would still exist and there are mandatory minimums for simple possession.”

Racial disparities exist in convictions and Big Weed

Destigmatizing marijuana has long been an issue for both political parties. Obama commuted the sentences of about 1,900 federal prisoners, almost all of whom were incarcerated for nonviolent drug crimes. Biden pardoned 6,500 people convicted of use and simple possession of marijuana on federal lands and in the District of Columbia. President Trump’s administration has taken far fewer drug clemency actions and does not have an overarching policy directing such actions.

“What many people on the right and the left would like is to move marijuana from this ‘just as bad as heroin’ category and to just sort of de-schedule it entirely,” said Marta Nelson, director of sentencing reform at the Vera Institute of Justice. “Regulate it like you do alcohol or tobacco.”

Studies show Black Americans are roughly 3.7 to 4 times more likely to be arrested for marijuana possession than white Americans, despite usage rates being roughly the same across racial groups. Federal-level marijuana cases are pretty small today, but those serving sentences for federal drug offenses are overwhelmingly Hispanic and Black, according to Justice Department and Bureau of Justice Statistics data.

The racial disparity with drug convictions is reminiscent of 2010 legislation Obama signed reducing the gap between mandatory sentences for crack cocaine versus powder cocaine. In 2018, Trump made it apply retroactively.

Because business owners with state medical marijuana licenses are predominantly white, the tax relief created by the rescheduling will also likely give a leg up to mostly white businesses, Packer said. A lot of equity programs won’t apply.

“This is going to, in my mind, widen the gap, the financial disparities, the business disparities that currently exist between Black and brown, Latino and white owners in the cannabis industry because licenses were not distributed equitably,” Packer said.

Possible next steps for marijuana convictions

In theory, Trump could issue a blanket pardon like he did for Jan. 6 rioters. But Nelson thinks that is highly doubtful.

“Having marijuana convictions on the record for things like mass immigration enforcement is helpful to the administration,” Nelson said.

An impactful next step would be for Congress to outline very comprehensive legislation addressing existing marijuana-related convictions, expungements and industry regulations, she added.

The Last Prisoner Project and other organizations are planning to renew a dialogue with federal lawmakers, including the Congressional Cannabis Caucus, which includes Democratic Rep. Ilhan Omar of Minnesota and Republican Rep. David Joyce of Ohio. They will also continue to lobby for Trump to conduct a large-scale act of commutation and clemency.

Advocates are also hoping Trump’s order will prompt every state to rethink their marijuana classification and penalties.

“It is imperative that every state review their situation, as a lot of their controlled substances at the state level are tied to the federal government,” Ortiz said. “We’re gonna see other states that are going to need a little help from the public to remind them what the right thing to do is.”

Tang writes for the Associated Press.

Venezuela’s January 2026 hydrocarbons law reform marks a major shift in the country’s oil sector. It establishes a more flexible fiscal regime in the name of “international competitiveness,” while expanding the private sector role in extraction, operations, and dispute resolution mechanisms.

The reform follows years of US sanctions on Venezuela’s oil industry and coincides with new US licenses allowing Western conglomerates to move into Venezuela’s energy sector.

Join Blas Regnault, energy policy analyst and consultant focused on oil geopolitics, alongside Venezuelanalysis editors Ricardo Vaz and Lucas Koerner, as they break down the reform, its economic and political context, and what it means for control over strategic resources and national sovereignty.

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April 20 (UPI) — Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva has warned about the deterioration of the international order and the paralysis of the United Nations in a message published on X.

He urged strengthening multilateralism while on an official visit to Germany, where he also promoted the trade agreement between the European Union and Mercosur.

“It is useless to have one’s house in order in a world that is in disorder. The prevalence of force over law is the greatest threat to international peace and security,” Lula wrote in a message that addresses multiple global conflict hotspots.

Lulu expressed concern over “the risks of a new conflict in Iran” and a possible escalation in Lebanon, as well as the situation in Palestine, where he said that “the survival of the Palestinian state and its people remains under threat.”

He also mentioned the war in Ukraine, noting that “the long-awaited peace remains distant.”

In his message, Lula criticized the lack of international action.

“Between the actions of those who provoke wars and the silence of those who prefer to remain quiet, the United Nations is once again paralyzed,” he said. He added that Brazil and Germany have defended for decades a reform of the Security Council that restores its legitimacy.

“Revitalized multilateralism is the only path to restore diplomacy and cooperation as tools for peace and sustainable development,” he said, and concluded with a broader call: “Humanity must recover the idea that peace is morally necessary and politically possible.”

The message aligns with a series of recent statements by the Brazilian leader on the global order and the role of major powers.

In an interview published Thursday by the Spanish newspaper El País, Lula criticized U.S. President Donald Trump over his rhetoric toward other countries and questioned the use of threats in foreign policy.

“Trump does not have the right to wake up in the morning and threaten a country,” Lula said, also calling for greater responsibility from international leaders to preserve peace.

In the same interview, he defended dialogue as the main diplomatic tool and warned about the risk of global escalation.

“I do not want a war with the United States. I decided to be very patient,” he said, explaining that his government prioritizes negotiation and national interests over ideological differences.

He also questioned the use of tariffs by Washington and said that the arguments to apply measures against Brazil “were not true.”

Lulu already has raised the need to reform international institutions.

“The time has come to redefine the United Nations to give it credibility,” he said, in line with his most recent call on social media.

In Germany, Lulu participated in the opening of the Hannover Industrial Fair alongside Chancellor Friedrich Merz.

Both leaders highlighted the free-trade agreement between the European Union and Mercosur, whose provisional entry into force is scheduled for May 1.

Merz said the agreement “will make all participating economies stronger, more independent and more resilient.” Lula, for his part, presented it as an alternative to unilateralism.

“Mercosur and the European Union chose cooperation,” he said, adding that increased trade will boost employment and investment in both regions.