From Gaza to Venezuela: The End of Pretenses

(a revised interview text for a Macedonian media, Makedonija denes)

The abduction of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro by the United States marks a dangerous rupture in contemporary international relations. At first glance, the act appears unprecedented—a shocking escalation that openly violates international law, state sovereignty, and the fundamental prohibition against interference in the internal affairs of other countries. Yet history reminds us otherwise. As Hegel once warned, humanity learns nothing from history—or perhaps more accurately, it forgets very quickly. As for Donald Trump, regardless his central role and will in these currents, he remains the symptom and not the deep cause of the American hyper-imperialism in its final stage. Let’s not forget that…

The United States has never shown restraint toward its designated enemies. The list of leaders who ended up on Washington’s “target list” speaks for itself. What distinguishes this case is not the act itself, but the brazenness with which it was justified. President Trump attempts to “punish” Maduro—the commander-in-chief of a sovereign state’s armed forces—for allegedly possessing weapons. Were it not tragic, it would be farcical. The accusations initially revolved around drug cartels, only to collapse in a New York court. Shortly thereafter, Trump abandoned the pretense altogether and openly declared that international law and international institutions mean nothing to him. In a grotesque parody of Kant, he invoked the “moral law within” as his only restraint.

This is the truly novel aspect of the episode: the unapologetic rejection of law itself. Everything else belongs to the familiar repertoire of U.S. foreign policy—from assassinations (Allende comes to mind), to fabricated pretexts for war (Vietnam, Iraq), to regime change by force or coercion. After Gaza, nothing should shock us anymore. The treatment of Maduro sends a message not only to Trump’s MAGA base but also to leaders of small states worldwide. Privately, some politicians from our own region have admitted as much: fear has settled deep in their bones.

This descent into lawlessness is not a sign of strength. On the contrary, with every new “adventure,” the United States sinks deeper into systemic crisis. The danger, of course, is that a war-addicted power may drag the entire world with it—possibly into nuclear catastrophe. Yet if we assess the effectiveness of this politics of brute force, the answer is paradoxical: it consistently fails. Its effects are boomerang-like and self-destructive. As Jeffrey Sachs and other astute observers of U.S. policy have long argued, these actions undermine America’s own position.

Take Venezuela again. Many believe the real objective is the plunder of its vast oil reserves, the largest in the world. Yet Trump’s triumphalism was short-lived. Major oil corporations, including Exxon, quickly concluded that investing in Venezuela’s infrastructure to extract and refine crude oil would not be profitable. In other words: a miscalculation of historic proportions. A state without a strategy, led by a man obsessed with fame, money, and power, but utterly incapable of governing, let alone managing an empire.

The same pattern appears elsewhere. Trump’s theatrically announced “Liberation Day”—in reality, a tariff spectacle—ended not in victory, but in retreat, following economic retaliation from China and India. Only the European Union remains an easy target, precisely because it no longer functions as a sovereign political entity, but rather as a compliant dependency. Meanwhile, what has this year delivered for America’s poorest citizens? Nothing. Unsurprisingly, Trump’s support has sunk to record lows. Inside the United States, ICE death squads now leave behind scenes of horror, including executions of American citizens. Collapse is no longer a distant possibility; it is accelerating. The only remaining question is the price the world will be forced to pay.

The international response to these developments has been disturbingly anemic. In a world marked by hyper-imperialism, dependency, and the absence of a functioning international system, silence prevails. The UN Secretary-General’s performance is a disgrace. Statements from figures such as Kaja Kallas and Ursula von der Leyen merely confirm Europe’s loss of sovereignty. Others retreat into narrow national calculations, aware that they cannot stop the United States, nor are they willing to die for its wars.

Instead of condemnation, sanctions, or even symbolic political and legal initiatives against U.S. aggression, most leaders and experts appear paralyzed—like prey before a snake—reduced to guessing and betting on “who is next.” If the world can avert its gaze from a genocide whose real death toll approaches 700,000, then indeed anything is possible. Trump could deploy troops to Greenland, and no one would lift a finger. He is already attempting to buy Greenlanders outright, offering $100,000 per person.

Yanis Varoufakis has long warned of the transition from capitalism to techno-feudalism. What we are witnessing now, however, resembles something even older: classical feudalism, or absolute monarchy without a monarch—where real power lies with the military-industrial complex and its allies. Talk of defending Ukraine remains abstract, because few French or British citizens are prepared to die in a war with Russia—or to risk a hypersonic strike on their capitals. This is a spiraling arms race, a logic of escalating violence.

In such a constellation, even China is compelled to reassess its military doctrine. Trump’s moves may appear chaotic, but they are strategically aligned against the rise of BRICS+ and China’s Belt and Road Initiative. This is a war not merely against states, but against the very possibility of a cooperative, non-imperial world order.

What does all this mean for the future of the international order?

Recently, I listened to an online debate featuring Richard Falk, one of the most brilliant living scholars of international law. At 95, he remains remarkably lucid—perhaps sharpened by awareness of the darkness ahead. As he argues, the UN system was flawed from the outset. Its Charter proclaims law and equality, while its institutional structure—especially the permanent members of the Security Council—embodies power politics and legalized inequality. Today, it is clear that this system is irreparable. Otherwise, Israel would not remain a member, and the United States would already face sanctions and embargoes.

Some courageous thinkers are beginning to imagine a new global architecture. The irony is bitter: the United Nations, headquartered in the United States, appears to be in terminal decline. It may be time—at least conceptually—to begin discussing an alternative international system. The world before Hitler was similarly fragmented. The cost of that fragmentation was catastrophic. Yet history also teaches that, at a certain point, even adversaries unite against a force determined to destroy the world itself.

So what comes next from the American foreign policy “kitchen”?

This metaphor is apt. Too many cooks have spoiled the broth. U.S. House of Cards today is driven by instinct, greed, and the will to dominate. There is no strategy, no analysis, and no vision for the day after. I hope that not only world leaders (i.e., statesmen if there are any left), but also the social and global movements, the academic community, and civil society in general, will stop waiting for the next disaster and become proactive.

Ultimately, the greatest responsibility rests with American citizens themselves. Only they can stop their own Nero from setting fire—not only to Washington, Minnesota, or Portland—but to the world as a whole.