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Peter Turchin’s theory [2][2] Turchin, Peter y Sergey A. Nefedov. Ciclos seculares: dinámicas históricas de Estados y sociedades [Secular Cycles: Historical Dynamics of States and Societies]. Madrid: Akal, 2015. sheds light on a key aspect of this phenomenon by revealing how overproduction and internal competition amongst elites precipitate state collapse. However, national dissolution is not confined to fragmentation “up top”: it also manifests itself “at the bottom”, when the masses lose narratives of belonging, sources of legitimate authority and projects of collective development. This political orphanhood—which takes shape in demobilisation, migration or identitarian withdrawal—weakens the organic cohesion of the nation and undermines its capacity for resistance. For this reason, I argue, imperialist expansion is the structural consequence of national dissolution, understood as the simultaneous rupture of the elite-people cohesion underpinning the political community’s very existence.

From this perspective, I consider the Venezuelan question in opposition to the moral explanations currently in vogue regarding the advance of global imperialism, led by the far right. These interpretations assume that, because imperialists are driven by the inherently evil nature of power, the irrationality of religious fanaticism, or the disposition of absolute financial might or unchecked military force, they pursue their expansionist policies without restraint. In contrast to this approach, it is worth recalling that, in politics, no actor unilaterally controls social change: their behaviour is political because it is framed by the quest for order. The effectiveness of a coup is proportional to the capabilities or weaknesses of its opponent, shaped by the effects of past or present actions, and to political timing. In other words, it is proportional to opportunity or fortune. Whoever wins the struggle for hegemony does so within the framework of specific conditions arising from previous situations, to the detriment of another contender’s bid for order.

The Twilight of the Free World Mythos

The upheaval of a global order based on the idea of a “Free World”—which emerged after World War II—is possible because the policies that gave it shape have weakened the very nations that embraced it. These policies have made life exceedingly difficult for thousands of people—especially the youngest among them—leading to disillusionment and fragmentation. Against this backdrop, the countries of the “Free World” are struggling to remain united. Perhaps also because, as their nations weaken, other forms of national and international order are emerging, showcasing the limitations of the Western model.

Indeed, this crisis of cohesion within the empire leads to a knee-jerk reaction and incites action. Under the leadership of this new right-wing, elites are challenged, and war is waged. The battle is fought in apocalyptic terms because it seems there is no other way to remain united except through fierce rivalries that—based on the friend-or-foe mentality—keep Western nations unified. The fact that it is Rubio who is leading the conversation amongst European elites suggests that this crisis of civilisation is being defined as a crisis of the political principles of social democracy, which led the reconstruction of the Western world after the Second World War. The left, lacking an alternative, seems unable to formulate new narratives that would re-engage the masses—left politically orphaned by the financial crisis—in a progressive direction.

The right wing of the world’s leading power is working to maintain a lasting adversarial boundary that sets it apart from the other rising giants. It seeks to agree on who the enemy is so that, from that point, it can redefine what it wants and who its allies are. This reinvention of the Western order is epitomised in Latin America as the Trump corollary to the so-called Monroe Doctrine. However, remaining consistent with our initial hypothesis, we must note that this doctrine is only applicable in contexts where the national cohesion of the countries facing these threats of domination is weakened.

Venezuela: National Crisis and Imperialist Expansion

In Venezuela, a decade prior to the military invasion (2015–2025), the United States had been pursuing a consistent policy to undermine the nation’s ruling coalition, driven by an opposition political elite which, powerless in the face of Chavista hegemony, turned to “foreign intervention” to seize state power. This policy was characterised by three strategies: 1) the economic suffocation of the country through more than 900 economic sanctions against the government, the main driver of the economy and owner of the country’s oil resources; 2) the systematic attack on the government’s reputation, which eroded its relations with the West; and 3) support for a policy of internal insurrection which, combining violent tactics and electoral episodes in turbido, accentuated the country’s social fractures following the conflicts sparked by the Bolivarian Revolution.

The Chavista government’s response to these three operations was a strategy of entrenchment involving the construction of state-sponsored barricades. This strategy led to a process of de-institutionalisation, as the state openly took sides, thereby forfeiting its role as the representative of all Venezuelans. This configuration of the conflict produced an unprecedented social and political crisis in Venezuelan democracy, which led to the largest diaspora in Latin American history and a social fracture that remains irreparable. The process we describe is nothing other than a process of national dissolution, which made Venezuela a captive, a land-object, of imperial doctrine.

It could be argued that Venezuela—like any country in the Global South with significant reserves of valuable natural resources—has historically been not only the target of imperial ambitions, but also, in practical terms, served for almost a century as a strategic economic hub for the US oil industry and as a political stronghold for its influence in the region. Indeed, following Hugo Chávez’s rise to power and his strident anti-imperialist rhetoric, tensions with the United States escalated after a shift in oil policy and the expansion of Venezuela’s international relations. This constantly raised the spectre of the use of force to secure control over Venezuela. However, never before in the history of the Venezuelan Republic had an imperialist power found an occasion to carry out a military invasion of the nature witnessed on 03 January 2026. This was partly because it had not sought such an opportunity, given that the United States’ geopolitical situation was somewhat different—it was more preoccupied with maintaining its global positions in the Middle East and competing with Asia—; or because it had secured domestic allies to plunder the collective resources of the Venezuelan people; or because, until recently, the Chavista political project had managed to rally the majority, becoming the movement representing the wider society and maintaining a strong national unity.

However, the decade of economic and diplomatic suffocation to which we allude and the type of political conflict it descended into led to significant social fractures. These not only weakened Chavismo but the nation itself. What Chavismo had united by channelling political conflict through electoral means and the construction of new collective identities was fragmented by a resurgence of existential political conflict following Chávez’s demise.

Following his death, there was a shift in how Chavismo organised itself politically. Against the backdrop of the financial weaknesses inflicted by the economic blockade on the state and its capacity to guarantee citizens’ rights, this shift went hand in hand with the Chavista government’s decision to entrench itself within the state apparatus to defend against the insurrection led by the opposition. Although this entrenchment sought to counter hostile attacks, it entailed a secrecy that damaged its ties with the project’s social base. Chavismo thus ceased to be a political space energised by social engagement—a government that “ruled by obeying”—and became a political project that demanded only allegiance to its leaders. This defensive withdrawal, coupled with the acute economic crisis, demobilised large sections of society from politics, leaving Chavismo weakened—in terms of the strength of its grassroots support—to confront the opposition forces which, in operational terms, functioned as the national branch of empire.

Chavismo ceased to function as a hegemonic project—in the sense that it no longer represented the political community as a whole—and became the subject of significant disputes not only over the control of power, but also over the nature of the social order. The implications of this hegemonic weakening of the Chavista project are of the utmost importance for the nation: if the Bolivarian Revolution had lifted the masses out of political apathy and social exclusion, forging a political body that powerfully energised the political community and represented the nation, its disintegration would manifest as a disintegration of the nation itself. Indeed, as Juan Carlos Portantiero [3][3] Portantiero, Juan Carlos (1998). “Notas sobre crisis y producción de acción hegemónica” [Notes on Crisis and the Production of Hegemonic Action]. En Labastida Martín del Campo (Coord.) (1998). Hegemonía y Alternativas Políticas en América Latina [Hegemony and Political Alternatives in Latin America]. México: Siglo XXI Editores. explains based on his reading of Gramsci, the crisis of the state is not merely a crisis of the political class—it is not merely a crisis of representation—but also a cultural crisis that manifests as the disintegration and loss of strength of the organisational forms—mediations—through which subordinate groups achieve an “effective presence in the state”. This, at the ideological-cultural level, is experienced as a crisis of political identity, a crisis of society’s convictions regarding all things intended to govern public and collective life.

For this reason, the experience of that decade (2015–2025) can be defined as a national crisis, a crisis of the meaning that defines and binds the nation together. To summarise, we can identify at least three major debilitating effects of this crisis, which first became apparent in 2017. The first is the human exodus from the homeland: its people were migrating. The largest wave occurred between 2017 and 2019, when the outflow ceased to be a migration of elites—as it had been since Chávez came to power—and became a mass migration driven by survival. The second was the attempt at territorial fragmentation following the resurgence of the territorial dispute over Guayana Esequiba (2023), which sought to strip Venezuela of territory amid the weakening of its state [4].[4] A conflict that had been dormant since the 1966 Geneva Agreement —which proposed a practical and satisfying solution through diplomatic channels— until 2023. And which was reignited when Guyana—in partnership with ExxonMobil and with Washington’s support—upset the political balance by launching a round of tenders for oil fields in waters that Venezuela claims belong to its Atlantic coastline, seeking a final ruling on the territorial dispute from the International Court of Justice (ICJ). And the third: the US military invasion of 3 January 2026, when there was a perception not only of a breakdown of the elites and the discrediting of the president, but also of a politically demobilised society.

This is not Venezuela’s first national crisis. These dissolution processes are nothing more than the consequence of a style of antagonistic political struggle that has become a tradition in Venezuelan state culture, and which has also been fuelled by foreign forces. A form of political struggle characterised by intense political conflict, marked by severe exclusions, and laden with revenge, warmongering and violence. This struggle constantly overflows the boundaries that define collective life and shatters the state as the universal entity of the political community. For much of the 19th century, this type of conflict plagued the country with small but constant wars between local warlords, leading at the turn of the century to the imposition of order through a brutal dictatorship that stunted its political and social development. With the advent of democracy, from 1958 onwards, relative systemic stability was achieved, allowing for 30 years of relative development. However, democracy produced a series of radical exclusions that led to a crisis at the end of the 20th century. This gave way to a new form of state and political system—the Chavista model—which, whilst achieving relative stability through popular participation, failed after 15 years in power to manage or channel the political conflict in a stable manner.

The national crisis we refer to—which led to foreign invasion—expresses, in an aggravated form, the same kind of effect that previous conflicts had on the nation: its social petrification, the dissolution of the people’s connections with the elites, and the fading of faith in the nation’s collective capacities.

The Foundations of a Political Reconstitution to Recover the Nation

Within this context—which is not dissimilar to processes of recolonisation, war and dispossession in other parts of the world—the questions raised by this issue of Metapolis invite us to reflect on strategies of resistance, narratives and lessons learnt. These forms of resistance, from our perspective, are nothing other than the drive of peoples who struggle to remain united, to recognise and defend their territories, traditions and identities; who fight for their collective existence and vital resources; who fight for their nation.

What we are currently witnessing in Venezuela is a sui generis form of imperialist domination: Chavismo continues to hold power, and we do not see US troops maintaining public order. However, we do observe a form of guardianship expressed in far-reaching changes to the legislation that regulates the extraction of natural resources, trade conditions—international arbitration—and the management of funds earned from Venezuela’s oil sales—mediated by the US Treasury Department. Similarly, whilst Chavismo controls power and the threat of civil war appears to be contained, the underlying political conflict that sparked the national crisis remains unresolved. On the one hand, the opposition’s leading figure, María Machado, is lobbying in Washington, pressing for her return to Venezuela, for the economic stranglehold on the country to be maintained, and for immediate elections. On the other hand and in the face of the kidnapping of the president, the government operates under an interim leader who, lacking the strength that comes from a direct election, is subject to all manner of pressures to plunder Venezuela’s resources.

Under these conditions, the Venezuelan people face a critical challenge: either to rebuild their nation-state or to be condemned to its dissolution and annexed as a people—a nation—by another. Faced with this existential challenge, society harbours three major movements. A first movement is embodied by a segment of society that appears unwilling to relinquish its sovereignty, and which seeks to reclaim it through the broad principles of democracy that it has, albeit with setbacks, built: rights, agreements and consensus as the basis for coexistence. In this regard, changes have taken place in the state’s policies of social control—such as the amnesty law—providing opportunities for society to return to public deliberation. Society is speaking out, beginning to take to the streets and discuss politics—albeit within the framework of its most fundamental demands: its economic rights. The small organisations that months ago were calling out alone for democratic rights and guarantees are now beginning to fill spaces and organise themselves more effectively. They are being heard in the hope of advancing an institutional normalisation process that will create the best conditions for an electoral scenario in which the political conflict can be resolved sustainably.

“The greatest mistake committed by our political generation has been our inability or lack of will to manage the political conflict in a national and democratic manner. That grave error opened the door to foreign interference that has jeopardised the security and dignity of the entire nation. That foreign interference has never sought the welfare of our nation, but rather control of our energy and mineral resources, and it exploited our irresolvable differences to achieve this” (Elías Jaua, Chávez’s vice-president, April 2026).

A third movement is represented by highly politicised social groups from all walks of life, harbouring resentment, wounds and a desire for revenge against those they consider enemies. These groups exist because the political conflict that fragmented the nation produced numerous victims on both sides of the political divide—Chavistas and opponents—who have been exploited by a far-right narrative demanding retribution. However, under current conditions, where the conflict remains active, a logic of punishment and revenge would exacerbate the spiral of state crisis already ravaging the country.

Out of these three political movements, the one that stands out as the alternative most likely to rebuild the nation along a new historical trajectory is the first, as it appears to be a grassroots force drawing on a variety of stances and articulating itself around a strategy of common ground. “New” because it seeks to overcome the legacy of the existential conflict that has weakened the nation-state throughout this period. It is a movement that could harness social assets of enormous value.

Despite the crisis, Venezuela retains a well-organised and mobilised civil society, as well as a People’s Power—aligned with Chavism—which, over the years, has built solid experiences of participation and alternative economies—Communes, Community Councils, local productive networks, etc.—that today can diversify and enrich forms of political representation. All these structures, born from the grassroots, have the capacity to challenge the ruling class and demand an ethical and policy renewal that restores legitimacy to the parties and confidence that the nation can govern itself. In a context of foreign guardianship and widespread distrust, these forms of popular organisation constitute a reservoir of social sovereignty that can drive a democratic reconstruction of the nation-state.

Conclusions

History shows that national disintegration opens the door to imperial domination. But it also teaches us that nations can rebuild themselves when their societies regain the capacity to deliberate, organise and recognise themselves as a political entity. In Venezuela, despite foreign tutelage and internal division, signs of recovery are emerging: social sectors are reclaiming the public sphere, demanding rights and seeking to rebuild the basic consensus necessary for democratic coexistence. This movement—still fragile—constitutes the country’s most important asset.

In a world marked by “gunboat diplomacy”, where the international order is fracturing, and the threat of nuclear war is once again a genuine risk, the reconstruction of the internal political community is a precondition for survival. Only a cohesive nation can contest the margins of sovereignty in a global landscape trending towards re-colonisation and dispossession. Venezuelan history confirms this: Simón Bolívar was able to undertake his emancipatory struggle only because he succeeded in articulating a collective political entity, uniting diverse regions, classes, and social groups under a common vision for independence. Without that unity, breaking away from the Spanish empire would have been impossible.

Today, in the same way, the possibility of Venezuela regaining its sovereignty hinges on its ability to reconstitute itself as a nation, to overcome the logic of existential antagonism, and to rebuild a shared space where differences can be resolved democratically. If Venezuelan society manages to consolidate this process of recovery—based on deliberation, participation and institutional reconstruction—it will be able to stake its claim in a turbulent world without being reduced to an object of foreign guardianship. It is therefore clear that the nation, understood as a collective endeavour, remains the primary instrument for defending independence and a dignified life in times of global disorder.

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