“We will run Venezuela”: What a Single Sentence Reveals About Power, Politics and the Human Cost
When a leading U.S. politician declared, almost offhand, that “we will run Venezuela,” the words landed like a stone in a still pond — concentric circles of alarm, disbelief and weary resignation spreading out across continents.
It was not just a slogan. It was a provocation with history tangled in it: echoes of past interventions, the shadow of the Monroe Doctrine, the hum of satellite feeds and social timelines. But beyond the geopolitics, those four words carried a human weight — for the millions who fled Venezuela’s collapsing economy, for the families still in Caracas waiting for medicine and light, and for entire neighborhoods in Miami and Bogotá where Venezuelan voices now mix with local rhythms.
Scenes and Voices: From Caracas to Miami
At a café in eastern Caracas, a teacher named Rosa stirred her coffee slowly and said, “We have lived with foreign threats for years. But what really scares me is the idea of being decided for. We want our future to be Venezuelan-made.” Her eyes, steady as the cracked tile floor, held both fatigue and defiance.
In a crowded living room in Hialeah, Florida, Jose — who arrived four years ago — watched the clip on a neighbor’s phone and laughed bitterly. “They talk about running our country as if it were a property they could manage,” he said. “Hasn’t anyone learned anything? When outsiders try to ‘fix’ things, it’s our people who pay.”
These reactions — cynicism, fear, a bitter humor that coats many immigrant conversations — are visible across the hemisphere. In Bogotá, a bakery owner who took in relatives from Maracaibo described how conversations in his shop turned political and personal within minutes. “We want stability, yes, but also dignity,” he told me. “Many of us fled not because someone else failed, but because the system collapsed. We don’t want someone else to be in charge of our living rooms or our hearts.”
Context and Reality: A Nation in Crisis
To understand why a statement about “running” Venezuela triggers such a response, you have to look at the scale of the country’s collapse. Over the past decade, Venezuela’s economy contracted catastrophically. Estimates from international organizations place the GDP decline at roughly two-thirds since the early 2010s, and hyperinflation devastated savings and salaries, driving millions to seek safety and opportunity abroad.
Today, more than seven million Venezuelans live outside their country — one of the largest displacement crises globally in recent memory. Hospitals struggle for basic supplies; power outages and shortages of water remain common in many regions. Sanctions, domestic mismanagement and fluctuating oil prices created a perfect storm that transformed a once resource-rich nation into a deeply impoverished society.
Against this backdrop, the idea that an external actor could merely “run” Venezuela feels less like strategy and more like erasure to those who remember better days.
International Law, Sovereignty and the Limits of Power
On paper, international law is clear: sovereign nations are not playgrounds for foreign administrations. The UN Charter emphasizes non-intervention, and post-World War II norms generally prohibit direct occupation or governance without consent. In practice, though, power politics has often blurred those lines.
A veteran foreign policy analyst I spoke with — who has spent decades working on Latin America — framed the debate this way: “There are legal mechanisms and there is the reality of power. Saying ‘we will run’ a country crosses a boundary. It invites questions about occupation, legitimacy, and ultimately, about whose consent matters.”
Historical Echoes
Latin America has long memories. The 20th century is littered with examples of external influence and regime change in the region: overt military interventions, covert operations, and political support for favored factions. Those memories fuel suspicion today. When a powerful country speaks of running another, older wounds reopen.
What Would “Running” Venezuela Even Look Like?
Speculative as it may be, it’s worth parsing the practicalities. Would “running” mean administration by a foreign-appointed caretaker government? Economic trusteeship? Military governance? Each option is fraught — legally risky, operationally complex, and politically combustible.
- Occupation or direct administration would likely violate international law and provoke broad condemnation.
- An economic trusteeship could face resistance from local institutions and requires massive oversight to prevent abuse and corruption.
- Military governance would risk further destabilization and is likely the most perilous option for civilians.
Each path also raises the question: even with superior resources, can an external power fix the social and political fractures that led to the crisis? The answer, for most experts, is: not by force or fiat. Stabilization requires local buy-in, institutional rebuilding, and decades of trust-building.
Voices of the Region
Leaders in Latin America reacted with a mix of alarm and rhetorical restraint. A foreign minister from a neighboring country said, “Sovereignty is a cornerstone of our coexistence. Any hint of external governance is unacceptable. We urge dialogue and diplomacy, not declarations of control.”
Humanitarian organizations, meanwhile, warned of the risks to aid and relief operations. “Politicizing assistance turns life-saving work into bargaining chips,” an NGO director told me. “People who need medicine and clean water cannot wait for political theater to be resolved.”
Broader Themes: Power, Populism and the Global Order
So why does a phrase like “we will run Venezuela” keep surfacing in political rhetoric? Part of it is domestic: strong, decisive language plays well for certain voter blocs who favor clear solutions over nuance. Part of it is historical: great powers have long flirted with the idea that their governance could solve foreign problems. And part of it is the deeply human tendency to look for simple answers to complex problems.
But the dangerous fallacy is to equate capacity with legitimacy. Running a country isn’t like running a corporation, and governance imposed from outside rarely produces durable peace. The global lesson is clear: power without legitimacy — even when clothed in promises of efficiency — often produces long-term instability.
What Should We Ask Ourselves?
As you read these lines, consider this — what kind of global order do we want to live in? One where might makes right, or one where consensual governance, even messy and slow, is the norm? How do we balance the urgent need to alleviate suffering with respect for national self-determination?
And for those of us far from Venezuela, there’s a moral question: when does intervention to prevent human suffering become another form of harm? The answers are rarely tidy.
Conclusion: A Call for Humility and Humanity
Language matters. When leaders speak of “running” another nation, they are not merely outlining policy; they are casting a vision of who holds power and who does not. For Venezuelans — those who stayed, those who left, and those working in exile — such talk can feel like a reopening of old wounds.
What the moment really needs is not bravado, but humility: a recognition that sustainable recovery requires local agency, years of investment in institutions, and international cooperation guided by law and respect. The hemisphere’s future will not be written by one speech, one administration, or one bold phrase. It will be forged in clinics and classrooms, in municipal councils and market squares, in countless small acts of repair.
Will the world learn from the past, or repeat it? That question is no longer rhetorical — it is urgent, and it is ours to answer.
