Here we are again, the White House directors present us with the same
"Empire Strikes Back" film, always with the same plot, but this time seton the coast of Venezuela, in Trumpian style. They're getting boring;
these bloodthirsty, control-hungry vampires of power have truly lacked
imagination. In this horror carousel, the great US power brandishes the
flag of the war on drugs to justify its military projection. Yet another
pretext, packaged-as is its wont-as a savior, to justify another war,
but always to grab oil, resources, and power, and also to avert the
imminent bankruptcy of the US.
The Trump administration has disturbingly intensified its rhetoric
against Maduro, accusing him of leading a "Cartel de los Soles," of
being a drug trafficker, and a "narco-terrorist." According to Trump and
his supporters, a significant portion of the drug flow-especially
cocaine-originates in Venezuela or passes through it. So, the brilliant
plan this time is: let's devastate Venezuela's evil narco-state, put a
pro-American puppet in charge, and save our unproductive youth, turned
zombie-like by fentanyl (a synthetic opioid that has caused a wave of
overdose deaths) on the streets of Los Angeles. Trump, however, has
never given a damn about these allegations, but they're still excellent
excuses.
However, independent observers and analysts have strongly questioned
these accusations. As already mentioned in Massimo Varengo's excellent
article (Umanità Nova, November 12), according to Pino Arlacchi, former
director of the UNODC, Venezuela is not a narco-state: the accusations
are not supported by concrete reports from international anti-drug
agencies. Furthermore, as the website Contropiano reports, United
Nations reports only marginally mention Venezuela, indicating that only
a small fraction of Colombian drugs transit through the country.
In short, demonization based on drug trafficking appears in many cases
to be a propaganda ploy, useful to legitimize further military pressure
immediately following the investment, over the past two years, in
weapons of mass destruction supplied to the friendly state of Israel to
carry out the genocide in Gaza and maintain its apartheid policy.
According to recent press reports, the US has deployed a significant
naval fleet in the Caribbean as part of "anti-narcotics" operations
that, to many, sound like a revival of classic "gunboat diplomacy."
But what is the real loot? Behind these accusations, it is certainly not
to be ignored that Venezuela is rich in enormous oil reserves and that
its energy history is deeply intertwined with US interests. For decades,
the United States has maintained a strategic interest in Venezuelan oil:
just think of the oil nationalizations in Venezuela, the ever-varying
power of PDVSA, the state-owned company, and Washington's response with
sanctions and political pressure. Furthermore, this is certainly not the
first time the United States has justified its intervention in a
strategic country, including economically, with moral pretexts ("we are
fighting the evil of drugs").
To understand the current situation, we must also look at the history of
US imperialism, its strategies, and how control of resources (especially
oil) has often guided its actions. Here are some examples.
- Plan Colombia: This is one of the most striking examples of how the
rhetoric of the "war on drug trafficking" is being used for geopolitical
and economic reasons. Plan Colombia, supported by the United States, was
not only an anti-drug campaign, but also a security support operation
aimed at stabilizing the region to protect strategic interests,
including oil.
- Energy interventions in Latin America: The US has a long-often
hidden-history of involvement in Latin American countries when natural
resources are at stake. For example, Operation FUBELT in Chile
(1970-1973) is one of the best-known cases. The CIA intervened to
destabilize the Allende government, fearing that its policies could
threaten American economic interests.
- Operation Condor: In the 1970s and 1980s, the United States supported
transnational repressive networks in South America (Argentina, Chile,
Paraguay, Uruguay, Bolivia, etc.), ostensibly against "subversion," but
with concrete consequences of political control and repression, often in
collaboration with authoritarian right-wing regimes.
- Nicaragua: During the 1980s civil war, the Contra rebels, supported by
the CIA, were accused of trafficking cocaine to finance their fight
against the Sandinista government. Declassified documents show that NSC
(National Security Council) officials were aware of the links between
some Contra commanders and drug traffickers. A Senate investigation (the
"Kerry Committee") found that some funds earmarked for the Contras came
from intermediaries connected to drug trafficking. Some sources claim
that the US exploited the "narco-terrorism" narrative to justify
military support for the Contras.
- Afghanistan: Opium and strong American responsibility. More and more
real and complex evidence is emerging of CIA involvement in the Afghan
poppy fields. During the Soviet invasion (1980s), the US, through
Operation Cyclone, supported the mujahideen, some of whom, like
Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, used the CIA's help to build opium trafficking
networks and heroin laboratories. More recently (2004-2015), the CIA
reportedly launched a secret project to sabotage opium production:
planes flew over the fields of Helmand and Nangarhar to disperse
selected poppy seeds, with low concentrations of alkaloids, so that the
resulting plants genetically contaminated native crops, reducing the
purity of the opium. The US's political and military support for groups
that, in turn, exploit opium as an economic resource is clear. The
secret planting program demonstrates a sophisticated form of
"alternative warfare": not targeting farmers directly, but seeking to
degrade the quality of the poppy to reduce the value of the opium.
Authoritative documents and analyses support the idea that the CIA and
the US gained a strategic (and partly economic) advantage from the opium
trade in Afghanistan, especially during the Soviet war.
It is also necessary to examine the international and health-related
dimensions of addiction to understand the issue of drug trafficking
beyond its geopolitical perspective.
According to the latest UNODC World Drug Report 2025, global
non-alcoholic drug use has increased significantly: in 2023,
approximately 316 million people between the ages of 15 and 64 used at
least one illegal substance, compared to 5.2% in 2013. The most commonly
used substances are cannabis (approximately 244 million users), followed
by opioids (61 million), amphetamines (30.7 million), cocaine (25
million), and ecstasy (21 million). Furthermore, the cocaine market
peaked in 2023: illegal production is estimated at 3,708 tons, a 34%
increase over the previous year. This global boom, according to the
UNODC, fuels a vicious cycle: greater demand -> greater production ->
more crime, violence, and instability. On the other hand, from a health
perspective, the UN reports that only a small portion of people with
substance use disorders receive adequate treatment: its report
highlights a significant "treatment gap." In short, addiction is
increasingly prevalent, yet resources invested in healthcare systems are
not keeping pace with the problem: punitive policies often prevail over
public health ones, and not only in the "liberal" United States.
We must also ask, for example, what might happen if the United States
stopped using resources to threaten, intimidate, and attack, and instead
invested those same resources in a comprehensive public health plan for
its own population, with a genuine focus on addiction. This is the
question we must ask not only those targeted by the war, but also those
who pay for it, and try to understand how things could be done
differently. Many experts denounce the dominant strategy in the fight
against drugs-especially the one exported by the United
States-privileging repression and criminalization over treatment,
prevention, and harm reduction. The organization Harm Reduction
International, for example, published a report criticizing the
allocation of resources: much of the money is directed toward "war"
rather than evidence-based health policies (Harm Reduction
International). This model not only fails to sustainably reduce the drug
market, but often causes direct harm to vulnerable communities,
criminalizes drug users, exacerbates inequality, and threatens human
rights. The real "narco-state" is the imperialist logic that uses the
pretext of drugs to justify violent interventions and exploitation,
while ignoring the real needs of suffering people.
According to People's Dispatch, the naval operating cost for US ships
deployed in the Caribbean (in a hypothetical operation against
Venezuela) is estimated at at least $18 million per day. A US-Venezuela
war, if conducted on a large scale with the goal of "winning" and
stabilizing, could cost tens of billions of dollars, a very high figure
even for the Pentagon, and unsustainable without serious budgetary
impacts. Let's say between $20 and $50 billion. With that same $20 to
$50 billion (or more), the United States could implement a highly
ambitious but realistic plan for universal or near-universal public
healthcare, strengthening addiction treatment, prevention, and mental
health, and greatly reducing domestic social suffering. Shall we make a
much more conservative estimate and reduce spending to, say, $10 billion
a year? With $10 billion, it's realistic to build an ambitious public
plan to treat a significant number (1-2 million) of people with
addictions in the US, including staff training, harm reduction programs,
home services, and I think you could even offer free Venezuelan coffee,
come on.
If the state invested in care, not punishment or intimidation, it would
demonstrate responsibility toward its citizens (which, in theory, is the
only reason a state should exist according to certain questionable
democratic models of the social contract). Instead of sending aircraft
carriers and naval fleets, it could build recovery centers; instead of
bombing foreign bases, it could distribute naloxone and psychological
support. Such a program would not only tackle the fentanyl epidemic from
within, but would also shatter the narrative that the state deals with
drugs only for security reasons. It would demonstrate that true security
is life, not control; that politics is not about domination, but about
service and solidarity.
Recent data, for example, show that fentanyl seizures in the United
States have exploded: between 2017 and 2023, seizures increased by
1,700%, with a significant portion of them being pills; one report noted
a 30.6% drop in fentanyl-related deaths in one year. According to
Reuters, the overall decline in overdose deaths is also attributable to
public health measures (naloxone distribution, therapeutic support), not
just repressive policies.
Let's imagine a radical plan, a national free public health program in
the US, whose pillars include, on the one hand, massive prevention
efforts in schools, communities, and the most vulnerable urban areas,
with addiction education campaigns; and, on the other, a plan focused on
treatment and rehabilitation, with free or subsidized clinics for
substance use disorders, including a strong focus on harm reduction
(substitution therapy and psychoeducation).
We cannot forget that part of the drug addiction epidemic in the United
States is rooted in inadequate social policies: a weak welfare system,
growing inequality, and inadequate public health care that over the past
twenty years have left millions of people vulnerable, exposed to stress,
loneliness, and despair. When the state fails to provide material
support-stable employment, healthcare, solidarity-many end up seeking
relief and refuge in drugs. This creates a fertile ground for pain to
thrive. This social ill is not solely the fault of those who suffer from
it: the state itself is jointly responsible, not only by omission, but
also by action. And it is not just a contemporary phenomenon. Already in
the 1960s and 1970s, the massive use of LSD, marijuana, and other
psychedelics in the hippie movement was not entirely unrelated to state
maneuvers. Historical documents suggest that the CIA, as part of Project
MK-ULTRA, funded research on LSD and experimented on young members of
the counterculture. If the state is an indirect or even direct architect
of those "sociocultural experiments," who can assure us that it hasn't
laid the foundations for a much broader epidemic today, fueled by
poverty, inequality, and a healthcare system that prefers to criminalize
addiction rather than treat it?
We cannot accept that the rhetoric of security and morality conceals
profound economic interests, control, and resource exploitation.
Ultimately, the real solution lies not in war, but in social issues, in
healthcare, prevention, and treatment. Investing in public health, harm
reduction, education, and rehabilitation means addressing addiction for
what it is: a human issue, not a geopolitical scapegoat. A free and just
world is not built with aircraft carriers or sanctions, but with
dignity, solidarity, and true freedom.
The state always has its hands stained with blood, corruption, and
suffering. Let's stop asking violence to become solidarity, let's stop
asking war to become peace, let's stop asking oppressors to create
freedom, let's stop asking and take it all back!
Gabriele Cammarata
https://umanitanova.org/sangue-soldi-e-salvatori-guerra-al-narcotraffico-le-mille-maschere-dellimpero/
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