COLUMN: Trump and Venezuelan Oil—When America Breaks Its Own Taboos

To secure this easing of sanctions, Delcy Rodríguez’s interim government had to accept a series of strict conditions. Among them, the most symbolic is undoubtedly the oil sector reform, adopted on January 29, 2026. This law now allows private companies, including foreign ones, to sign production contracts with the Venezuelan government, with much greater flexibility than before. This measure responds to a long-standing demand from oil companies, frustrated by the stifling control exercised by PDVSA, the state-owned oil company.

But this reform leaves a bitter taste. Because it does nothing to change the reality of power in Venezuela. Maduro may be behind bars, but his regime remains firmly in place. The same people, the same networks, and the same methods of corruption are still there. And today, they will be able to take advantage of the influx of U.S. dollars to strengthen their hold on power, while leaving the Venezuelan people in dire straits. Because even if the funds from oil sales are supposed to be “controlled” by Washington, who can really believe that this money will go to hospitals, schools, and public services? Who can believe that Rodríguez and his allies won’t find a way to divert part of these revenues?

Especially since the conditions imposed by Trump are far from guaranteeing transparency. Granted, U.S. companies will have to report to the Treasury. True, a portion of the revenue will have to be allocated to social projects. But in a country where corruption is endemic, where institutions are flawed, and where the justice system is under the thumb of those in power, who can truly guarantee that the money will go where it’s supposed to go? Who can guarantee that Venezuelans, after years of suffering, will finally see their lives improve?

I’m thinking of them tonight—those Venezuelans who have lost everything: their country, their dignity, their hope. They have endured sanctions. They have endured repression. They have endured hunger. And today, they’re being told: “Everything is going to change. Oil will flow. Money will come.” But for them, nothing changes. Because the very same people who robbed them yesterday will be the ones managing the money tomorrow. Because the very same people who starved them yesterday will be the ones deciding where the funds will go tomorrow. Because the very same people who repressed them yesterday will be the ones negotiating with the Americans tomorrow.

And what revolts me is this hypocrisy. This idea that the United States could, with a wave of a magic wand, transform Venezuela into a model of transparency and good governance. As if decades of corruption could be erased in a matter of months. As if a regime that has survived by stealing from its people would suddenly become virtuous. No. The reality is that this deal is an illusion. An illusion for Venezuelans. An illusion for Americans. An illusion for the world. And in the meantime, the oil will keep flowing. So will the profits. But justice will remain on hold.

Who will really benefit from Venezuela’s black gold?

In this story, there are clear winners. First, American companies, which will be able to exploit some of the world’s richest oil fields at a lower cost. Chevron, ExxonMobil, and others have already begun positioning themselves, with Washington’s backing. Next is the Trump administration, which can boast of having “resolved” the Venezuelan crisis while securing the United States’ energy supplies. Finally, there is Rodríguez’s interim government, which gains international legitimacy and an influx of foreign currency without having to relinquish power.

But there are also losers. First, the Venezuelan people. Because even if oil flows and money comes in, there’s no guarantee they’ll see any of it. Hospitals will continue to lack medicine. Schools will continue to lack teachers. The streets will continue to lack security. Next, there are the political opponents, who see their hopes for democracy slipping away. Because this deal, by legitimizing Rodríguez and giving him the means to stay in power, buries their dreams of change a little further.

And then there are the United States themselves. Because by striking this deal, Trump isn’t just lifting sanctions. He’s breaking a taboo. He’s sending a message to the world: democratic principles are negotiable. That repression, corruption, and human rights violations can be forgiven as long as oil is at stake. A message that weakens America on the international stage. A message that gives ammunition to China, Russia, and all those who accuse Washington of hypocrisy.

I’m thinking of them tonight. Of those Venezuelans who believed in democracy. Who protested. Who resisted. Who hoped. And today, they’re being told: “Here’s the deal. Here’s the solution.” But for them, this deal is a betrayal. A betrayal of their hopes. A betrayal of their struggles. A betrayal of their sacrifices.

And what strikes me is this idea that the United States, by making this choice, has lost something. Not just its credibility. Not just its morality. But its soul. Because when we agree to do business with a regime like Maduro’s, when we agree to turn a blind eye to its crimes, we’re not just negotiating over oil. We’re negotiating our values. We’re bargaining away our honor. We’re bargaining away what makes us a democracy.

And today, Trump is asking us to believe that everything is under control. That he has everything planned out. That the funds will go where they’re supposed to go. But how can we trust a man who has spent his career trampling on the rules? How can we trust a system where money takes precedence over everything else? How can we believe that, this time, it will be different?

Three Ways to Prevent Another Disaster

This deal with Venezuela cannot proceed without safeguards. Three measures are essential. First, independent oversight of the funds generated by oil sales. Not oversight by the U.S. Treasury, but by a transparent international body that includes representatives from Venezuelan civil society. Second, an economic reconstruction plan that places the needs of the Venezuelan people at the top of the priority list: hospitals, schools, and infrastructure. Not vague promises, but concrete commitments, with deadlines and designated officials.

Finally, there is the question of democracy. Because this deal cannot be an end in itself. It must be accompanied by a clear timeline for free and transparent elections. Not in five years. Not in ten years. But now. Because without democracy, without justice, without the rule of law, no deal will hold. No amount of money will make a difference. No reform will change the lives of Venezuelans.

And then there’s us. The citizens. The observers. The voters. Our role is not to look the other way. Our role is not to blindly believe in promises. Our role is to demand accountability. To demand transparency. To demand that this deal not become yet another humanitarian disaster. Because if we don’t do it, who will? If we don’t keep watch, who will?

I don’t know what the future holds for Venezuela. Maybe this deal will bring about an improvement. Maybe not. Maybe, in five years, we’ll look back and say, “In the end, it was the right choice.” ” But one thing is certain: today, this deal reeks of corruption. It reeks of compromise. It reeks of opportunism. And it reminds us of a simple truth: when you negotiate with dictators, you’re not just negotiating over oil. You’re negotiating your conscience.

So yes, let’s demand safeguards. Let’s demand transparency. Let’s demand that the Venezuelan people finally be placed at the heart of our priorities. Because that is the true measure of a deal. Not barrels of oil. Not corporate profits. But the lives it improves. The hope it restores. The dignity it brings back. And today, in the face of this deal, in the face of Trump, in the face of Rodríguez, we no longer have the right to remain silent. We no longer have the right to turn a blind eye. We no longer have the right to believe that everything will be all right. Because if we don’t stand watch, who will?

The Moment of Truth

The deal between Trump and Venezuela is a moment of truth. A moment when America must take a hard look at itself and ask: Are we willing to sacrifice everything for oil? To turn a blind eye to repression, corruption, and human rights violations? To betray our values for a few more barrels?

Yet there is another path. A path where access to oil does not come at the expense of democracy. Where sanctions are not lifted without real concessions in return. Where funds are not embezzled, but used to rebuild a country. Where Venezuelans are not forgotten, but placed at the heart of our priorities. A difficult path, to be sure. A path that requires courage, vigilance, and determination. But a possible path.

So yes, this deal is a test. A test for Trump. A test for America. A test for the world. And today, we can no longer afford to make a mistake. Because if we accept this deal without safeguards, without transparency, without democratic requirements, we will have lost far more than a little credibility. We will have lost what makes us a democracy. We will have lost our soul.

I don’t know if this deal will be a success. Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. Maybe, in a few years, we’ll look back and say, “In the end, it was the price we had to pay.” ” But one thing is certain: today, this deal poses a fundamental question for us. A question that goes beyond Venezuela. That goes beyond Trump. That goes even beyond oil. The question is: are we willing to sacrifice everything for our own interests?

And today, faced with this question, we no longer have the right to look away. We no longer have the right to bury our heads in the sand. We no longer have the right to believe that everything will be all right. Because if we accept this deal without conditions, without safeguards, without transparency, we will have lost far more than just a little oil. We will have lost what makes us democrats. We will have lost what makes us human.

So yes, let’s demand better. Let’s demand more. Let’s demand that this deal not be a betrayal, but an opportunity. An opportunity to rebuild. An opportunity to restore democracy. An opportunity to restore hope. Because that is the true test. Not oil. Not profits. But our ability to remain true to our values, even when it’s difficult. Even when it’s costly. Even when it’s unpopular. Because that is what democracy is. Not a deal. Not a contract. But a struggle. A struggle for justice. For dignity. For hope. And today, more than ever, that struggle is ours.

Signed, Jacques Provost