Biden's Soft Stance Backfires: Maduro's Narco-Nephews Sanctioned Again

Paul Riverbank, 12/13/2025Renewed US sanctions on Maduro’s inner circle mark a shift back to hardline tactics, underscoring the persistent tug-of-war between diplomacy and pressure in tackling Venezuela’s narco-politics, with consequences rippling across the Americas.

Convicted for plotting to ship a staggering amount of cocaine northward, the nephews of Venezuela’s president eventually received 18-year sentences each. Yet diplomatic chess in 2022 changed the calculus: the Biden administration exercised clemency and traded the two men’s freedom for U.S. prisoners held in Venezuela, a decision that sparked no shortage of argument in Washington and among the diaspora.

That debate—whether to pursue engagement or assert pressure—has been a recurring dilemma in the halls of power. Now, after a brief experiment with lifted restrictions, the Treasury has snapped back with force. Also back under sanction: Carlos Erik Malpica Flores, another member of an extended family that seems stitched into every sector of the country’s financial apparatus. Malpica, once Venezuela’s national treasurer, had previously seen his own blacklisting reversed in a gesture meant to encourage genuine elections. Instead, the 2024 vote unfolded under what U.S. officials bluntly framed as a sham—leaving the administration’s patience depleted.

Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent minced no words in his Thursday statement, warning of a criminal network that, in his assessment, channels poison into the U.S. “These sanctions undo the Biden Administration’s failed attempt to make a deal with Maduro,” Bessent declared, “enabling his dictatorial control at the expense of both the Venezuelan and American people.” According to the agency, the released nephews resumed their involvement in drugs, as if to underscore the futility of the diplomatic gambit.

Malpica’s reappearance on the sanctions list is just the latest in a swelling tally. The inventory reads almost like a family register—reaching from Maduro himself and first lady Cilia Flores, down to nephews and distant kin. Their names form the axis of a tangled web of charges: illicit enrichment, currency rigging, and the bloody business of trafficking.

It’s a dramatic reversal from the earlier effort to coax change through talks. The Trump administration, in its day, reached for the sledgehammer—broad and severe sanctions for human rights violations and corruption. Biden’s circle opted at first for a softer approach, easing specific restrictions to encourage voter-friendly reforms. But as Maduro dug in, suppressing dissent with renewed vigor, Washington’s inclination shifted—hard lines reemerging where handshakes had briefly held sway.

Beyond the corridors of both governments, the ramifications of these maneuvers ripple across northern South America. Years of U.S. and regional crackdowns have done little to staunch the flow of drugs emanating from Venezuela, putting intense scrutiny on its neighbors. In recent days, Colombian authorities have found themselves on high alert. The ELN, a guerrilla group holding sway in large swathes of Colombia, imposed curfews and lockdowns, bracing for potential cross-border escalation after stark warnings from former President Trump. Trump’s rhetoric was anything but ambiguous—vowing that suppliers of narcotics targeting the U.S. would face attack, full stop.

Colombia’s defense leadership has refused to be cowed. Defense Minister Pedro Sanchez promised that armed forces would maintain a visible, relentless presence—on every river, hill, and jungle track. The ELN, for its part, has invoked familiar anti-imperialist rhetoric, though for ordinary citizens, the justifications matter little; it’s the violence and lawlessness that upend daily life.

Back in the U.S., domestic debate over these policies remains charged. Not long ago, Democrats lambasted the Trump team for authorizing strikes on drug-carrying boats. A handful even floated impeachment against senior officials. Yet history has a habit of blurring these divides—decades ago, on grainy tape, you’ll find a younger Joe Biden calling for a fierce, unforgiving approach to “narco-terrorists.”

In the end, the rhythm of U.S. policy continues: handshake, confrontation, breach, and back again. Those bearing the brunt—families in Venezuela and Colombia—wait for genuine progress, caught between the opposing winds of diplomacy and hardline enforcement.

The stakes are measured not only in headlines or diplomatic cables but in the livelihood and security of millions. As the flow of drugs northward persists and dollars snake south, one thing is clear: The latest sanctions represent less a sudden pivot than a return to the old calculus—pressure over persuasion, at least for now. How long that stance holds, and whether it achieves more than temporary disruption, remains to be seen.

The United States has imposed another round of sanctions targeting the innermost circle of Nicolás Maduro—measures landing with the weight of accumulated frustration. At the heart of this latest crackdown: two figures already infamous in American courtrooms—Efrain Antonio Campo Flores and Franqui Francisco Flores de Freitas. These aren’t unfamiliar players; American agents arrested the pair at the airport in Port-au-Prince back in 2015, well before their names echoed in headlines about Venezuela’s struggles with power and narcotics.Convicted for plotting to ship a staggering amount of cocaine northward, the nephews of Venezuela’s president eventually received 18-year sentences each. Yet diplomatic chess in 2022 changed the calculus: the Biden administration exercised clemency and traded the two men’s freedom for U.S. prisoners held in Venezuela, a decision that sparked no shortage of argument in Washington and among the diaspora.That debate—whether to pursue engagement or assert pressure—has been a recurring dilemma in the halls of power. Now, after a brief experiment with lifted restrictions, the Treasury has snapped back with force. Also back under sanction: Carlos Erik Malpica Flores, another member of an extended family that seems stitched into every sector of the country’s financial apparatus. Malpica, once Venezuela’s national treasurer, had previously seen his own blacklisting reversed in a gesture meant to encourage genuine elections. Instead, the 2024 vote unfolded under what U.S. officials bluntly framed as a sham—leaving the administration’s patience depleted.Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent minced no words in his Thursday statement, warning of a criminal network that, in his assessment, channels poison into the U.S. “These sanctions undo the Biden Administration’s failed attempt to make a deal with Maduro,” Bessent declared, “enabling his dictatorial control at the expense of both the Venezuelan and American people.” According to the agency, the released nephews resumed their involvement in drugs, as if to underscore the futility of the diplomatic gambit.Malpica’s reappearance on the sanctions list is just the latest in a swelling tally. The inventory reads almost like a family register—reaching from Maduro himself and first lady Cilia Flores, down to nephews and distant kin. Their names form the axis of a tangled web of charges: illicit enrichment, currency rigging, and the bloody business of trafficking.It’s a dramatic reversal from the earlier effort to coax change through talks. The Trump administration, in its day, reached for the sledgehammer—broad and severe sanctions for human rights violations and corruption. Biden’s circle opted at first for a softer approach, easing specific restrictions to encourage voter-friendly reforms. But as Maduro dug in, suppressing dissent with renewed vigor, Washington’s inclination shifted—hard lines reemerging where handshakes had briefly held sway.Beyond the corridors of both governments, the ramifications of these maneuvers ripple across northern South America. Years of U.S. and regional crackdowns have done little to staunch the flow of drugs emanating from Venezuela, putting intense scrutiny on its neighbors. In recent days, Colombian authorities have found themselves on high alert. The ELN, a guerrilla group holding sway in large swathes of Colombia, imposed curfews and lockdowns, bracing for potential cross-border escalation after stark warnings from former President Trump. Trump’s rhetoric was anything but ambiguous—vowing that suppliers of narcotics targeting the U.S. would face attack, full stop.Colombia’s defense leadership has refused to be cowed. Defense Minister Pedro Sanchez promised that armed forces would maintain a visible, relentless presence—on every river, hill, and jungle track. The ELN, for its part, has invoked familiar anti-imperialist rhetoric, though for ordinary citizens, the justifications matter little; it’s the violence and lawlessness that upend daily life.Back in the U.S., domestic debate over these policies remains charged. Not long ago, Democrats lambasted the Trump team for authorizing strikes on drug-carrying boats. A handful even floated impeachment against senior officials. Yet history has a habit of blurring these divides—decades ago, on grainy tape, you’ll find a younger Joe Biden calling for a fierce, unforgiving approach to “narco-terrorists.”In the end, the rhythm of U.S. policy continues: handshake, confrontation, breach, and back again. Those bearing the brunt—families in Venezuela and Colombia—wait for genuine progress, caught between the opposing winds of diplomacy and hardline enforcement.The stakes are measured not only in headlines or diplomatic cables but in the livelihood and security of millions. As the flow of drugs northward persists and dollars snake south, one thing is clear: The latest sanctions represent less a sudden pivot than a return to the old calculus—pressure over persuasion, at least for now. How long that stance holds, and whether it achieves more than temporary disruption, remains to be seen.