Venezuela and Trump in historical context

The new year got off to a shocking start, with US bombs falling on Caracas and the de facto president Nicolás Maduro being abducted. He soon reappeared in a Brooklyn jail. I was just across the river in Manhattan, which somehow made it all seem even more surreal.

The spectacle of it all–its made-for-TV, Jack Ryan-quality–was doubtlessly part of what made the operation attractive to Trump. That it was in operational terms a resounding success has dampened criticism. Even the anti-forever war part of the Trump coalition tends to be reverent of, and wowed by, the sophisticated capabilities of the US military at first. Criticism elsewhere in Latin America has also been muted by that factor and by fears of falling afoul of an unmoored U.S. unilateralism. However, the region’s responses have been tepid, perhaps especially, because Maduro was a deeply despised figure. The consequences of late-stage chavista rule in Venezuela have scrambled politics in Central and South America. Early polls suggested that intervention was pretty popular among the broader public in much of South America. Maduro was blamed for Venezuelan emigration (in large part correctly); those migrants were often blamed for insecurity (typically an exaggeration). Meanwhile, incumbents scramble to avoid being next, prompting unusual caution from Colombia’s Gustavo Petro and a delicate balancing act from Mexico’s Claudia Sheinbaum.

And yet, like most interventions, I do not think this one is likely to age well. I wrote an article in Foreign Policy discussing the historical parallels, written with Carsten-Andreas Schulz. Echoes of US interventions a century ago, we argue, suggest that the idea of “running” Venezuela from offshore will quickly become fraught. Marco Rubio’s appearance on Capitol Hill suggested as much, again making demands and levelling threats.

I also participated in a panel organized by the European International Studies Association, “After Venezuela: Regional and Global Consequences of U.S. Intervention.” Reflecting the unstinting pace of the news cycle, much of the discussion had already shifted to threats against Greenland and the consequences for NATO.

There’s a great deal more to say about this intervention and its consequences. The attack was an evident violation of international law and affront to the UN Charter. There’s been a lot of discussion of this, although I’m not sure to what end. The Trump administration–unlike in the 2003 invasion of Iraq–barely made an effort to cook up international legal justifications. Instead, they appealed to the extra-territorial enforcement of US law. The US has done this in some ways (sanctions, prosecutions) for a long time, but the idea that the enforcement of US law justifies the US of military force is quite different. (In some respects, the 1989 invasion of Panama and arrest of Manuel Noriega shared this notion, but there was also an argument made about democracy, human rights, etc.)

Few tears will be shed for Nicolás Maduro. The justifications offered for his removal (the quasi-fictional ‘Cartel de los Soles’) are dubious, but Maduro was an autocrat who presided over the impoverishment of his people and the destruction of democracy through violent repression and stunning corruption. But the regime that he helped consolidate essentially remains in place. There’s little evidence so far that the intervention will materially improve conditions for people in Venezuela. Indeed, it’s quite clear that this wasn’t the point. If anyone had any doubt, then the Trump administration’s removal of protected status for Venezuelan migrants and attempts to dramatically escalate non-criminal deportations to a country in crisis should make that clear. This creates quite a political challenge for the Venezuelan opposition, like Maria Corina Machado, who have cozied up to Trump during the past year and since the intervention.

What was the point, then? What drove this decision? On the one hand, Trump’s own declarations make it seem obvious: it was about the oil. That explanation has proved popular with those who see the intervention as nothing more than a continuation of resource imperialism, now with the mask off.

I don’t think this is an adequate explanation, however. Maduro was eager to make a deal on oil, if it kept him in power. The problem was that making such a deal with Maduro was unacceptable to a slice of Trump’s coalition, especially Cuban and Venezuelan exiles centered around Marco Rubio. The pressure on Cuba, then, was a central goal. Trump’s idea of cashing in on these oil fields clashes with limited interest from major oil companies in sinking major investments there. For others, like Stephen Miller, forcing Venezuela to accept more deportees was the point. At least at first glance, the intervention gave something to many elements of the Trump coalition. But with the rest of the regime in place, little prospect of aid, and no respite for Venezuelan migrants, what it has given to the people of that country is far from evident.

Visit to Chile

Belatedly, I wanted to post a few remarks on my visit to Chile from October 12-18. I went to Santiago at the invitation of colleagues at the Instituto de Estudios Internacionales at the University of Chile, especially Federico Rojas and my former PhD student Cristóbal Bywaters. It was my first time back in Santiago since spending nearly four months there on a Fulbright visiting professorship in mid-2018. It was tremendous to be back in this great city, to see old friends, and to build new connections with scholars, diplomats, and students.

During the week-long visit, I had a busy agenda, with a number of talks and sessions, as well as a couple of days in the Chilean foreign ministry archives. On Monday, I visited the IEI and met with with colleagues there and toured the facilities. Later that day, I had the great privilege of presenting my book, A Small State’s Guide to World Politics, at the Chilean Diplomatic Academy. Many thanks to Director Ambassador Hernán Bascuñán and his team for the invitation, and especially to the students for their attention and excellent questions.

On Wednesday, I joined a fantastic group of students, who have created a discussion group on foreign policy analysis. We talked about Latin American and Chilean foreign policy, as well as small states in international politics.

In the afternoon, I presented at the department seminar, sharing work-in-progress on the design of the League of Nations. Finally, I gave a talk as part of the Regionalism Seminar Series, supported by the CAF Development Bank of Latin America. I talked about the challenges of sustaining regional cooperation and organization, with illustrations from Central America.

On Thursday evening, we had a real higlight, as Cristóbal presented his new book, Chile’s Struggles for International Status and Domestic Legitimacy
Stand
ing at the Liberal Order’s Edge. It was a real honor to see my student present the work that originated with his PhD thesis in front of a packed house, with a panel including Foreign Minister Alberto Van Klaveren, and an audience with other former ministers, ambassadors, and leading experts.

Many thanks to Cristóbal Bywaters, PhD and the Instituto de Estudios Internacionales (IEI), Universidad de Chile for hosting me.

The Berlin Conference and Latin America

The 1884-85 Berlin Conference is one of the best known and most infamous examples of European imperialism and the “Scramble for Africa.” How did Latin American states, the world’s first collection of post colonial countries, respond?

In a new article, with my brilliant co-author Carsten-Andreas Schulz, we examine this question. It’s out now in the Journal of Global History: “Seeing the Berlin Conference from the periphery: Latin American reactions to imperialism elsewhere, 1884–85″.

Although no Latin American states were invited, their diplomats paid close attention and offered strong responses. Carlos Calvo, perhaps the region’s most famous lawyer of the period, managed to attend. Their arguments reflected both resistance to imperialism and complicity in its logic. By tracing Berlin’s reverberations across multiple regions, we highlight the broader repercussions of late nineteenth-century ‘high imperialism’ and reassesses the nature of Latin American anti-imperialism.

On the one hand, Colombian diplomat Ricardo Becerra proposed a counter-conference to reject the principles advanced at Berlin. Scandalized by the proceedings and by the application of Berlin’s new colonial doctrines in the Pacific, he wrote: “If these are the notions of justice and international morality of the most enlightened statesmen of Europe, well-justified is the fear that tomorrow, when the Panama Canal opens, for example, that the same Germany or another power would apply to our deserted coasts of the Darien the doctrine subscribed in Berlin and already practiced with respect to the Carolines.” Brazil’s diplomat in Berlin expressed similar fears that the South American country might find itself victimized by imperial expansion.

On the other hand, the famous Carlos Calvo managed to attend the conference, drawing on his reputation in international law. Once there, he defended not the rights of Africans but those of Portugal’s traditional claims. Argentina, Brazil, and Mexico soon recognized King Leopold II’s Congo Free State, in an episode seemingly overlooked in the historiography.

The article is part of our AHRC-funded project on Latin America and the making of international order in the late nineteenth century. It draws on archival research in Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, and Mexico, as well as documents from France, Germany, the UK, and the US.

Check it out, open access.

Seeing the Berlin Conference from the periphery: Latin American reactions to imperialism elsewhere, 1884–85


Abstract: The Berlin Conference (1884–85) is widely studied for its role in fuelling European imperialism and legitimising the scramble for Africa. However, its global impact beyond Europe and Africa has received little attention, with Latin America notably absent. This article examines how prominent diplomats from Argentina, Brazil, Colombia, and Mexico interpreted the proceedings. In their view, Europe’s renewed expansionism in Africa—combining private adventurism, colonisation enterprises, and imperial statecraft—resembled the great powers’ incursions into post-independence Latin America. They feared that new criteria for staking colonial claims would endanger their states’ sovereignty over vast, remote territories. Yet, while opposing intervention, these diplomats embraced civilisational thinking and state-building projects that echoed Eurocentric racial hierarchies. Their arguments reflected both resistance to imperialism and complicity in its logic. By tracing Berlin’s reverberations across multiple regions, this article highlights the broader repercussions of late nineteenth-century ‘high imperialism’ and reassesses the nature of Latin American anti-imperialism.

Article in Foreign Policy: AMLO and Juárez

On October 1, Mexico’s Andrés Manuel President López Obrador will finish a momentous six-year term. He will be handing over the National Palace to his handpicked successor, Claudia Sheinbaum. No one doubts that AMLO has been a transformative president. He upended Mexico’s political party system, dominated the media and the agenda, and yet left office with sky-high approval ratings. To his final days, he has also elicited strident critiques from those who see him as a threat to Mexico’s democratic and economic model.

In foreign affairs, however, AMLO’s transformative effects are less clear. He is oft-maligned as internationally ignorant, and even isolationist. He rarely travels abroad, and he made clear his focus would be at home. This has led, we think, to misinterpretations of the outgoing president’s worldview.

In a new article for Foreign Policy, Carsten-Andreas Schulz and I argue that AMLO’s legacy is better understood as an attempt to revive the republican internationalism of his hero Benito Juárez. We draw on our recent article in the American Political Science Review, “A Turn Against Empire: Benito Juárez’s Liberal Rejoinder to the French Intervention in Mexico.”

Second GOP Debate in 140 words

It seems some people don’t have three hours (or sufficient antacids) to watch the horde of Republicans candidates joust whilst standing in front of Boeing 707. To save you time, I have summarized the GOP Debate in a 140-word public service announcement.

Trump: I’m so great, I don’t need to know anything!
Carson: I hope I sound logical by comparison.
Fiorina: I’m here! On the big stage! Now I will answer every question! {PRINTER ERROR}

Jeb!: I’m not my brother, but my brother’s not so bad.
Rand: Oh my god…am I the reasonable one?
Kasich: I did lots of things! Now let me take credit for Bill Clinton’s accomplishments.
Rubio: The reason I am such a bad senator is because I’m anti-establishment. Now make me president so I can bomb stuff!
Christie: Pay no attention to the looming indictments…
Cruz: Plannedparenthoodplannedparenthoodplannedparenthoodplannedparenthood
Huckabee: I am the Kim Davis candidate!
CNN: You’d all be better than Hillary. Now tell us how you’d be 80% as good as Reagan. Then tell us your favorite flavor of jelly bean. Hint: The only correct answer is “freedom.”



P.S.: You might think that I forgot Scott Walker. But actually Scott Walker cut Scott Walker out of the post because he’s in favor of smaller posts. And he did it in a blue state.