Trump Rebukes Biden’s Venezuela Gamble: Sanctions Slam Maduro’s Narco State

Paul Riverbank, 12/13/2025US ramps up Venezuela sanctions, reigniting debate over drug policy, migration, and diplomatic strategy.

Efrain Antonio Campo Flores and Franqui Francisco Flores de Freitas were pulled from a private jet in Haiti back in 2015, caught attempting to sneak hundreds of kilos of cocaine into the United States. Their convictions followed, as did 18-year sentences on American soil. But their story didn’t close with the clang of a prison door—in 2022 the Biden administration returned them to Caracas, sending them home in a controversial prisoner exchange that stirred a hornet’s nest of criticism in Washington. To many, including the likes of Secretary of the Treasury Scott Bessent, this was less a diplomatic overture than a reward for defiance: “These sanctions undo the Biden Administration’s failed attempt to make a deal with Maduro, enabling his dictatorial and brutal control at the expense of the Venezuelan and American people,” Bessent argued, taking care to draw a line between the current clampdown and his predecessor’s firmer stance.

Nor do the sanctions stop at those episodes that have garnered the most headlines. OFAC has added Carlos Erik Malpica Flores—a name likely familiar to anyone paying attention to Venezuela's labyrinthine dollar black market—back to the list. Malpica, once flagged for siphoning off state money, had seen his own penalties rescinded in an earlier bid to coax concessions from the Venezuelan regime. The thought was that undoing at least some punishments might lure Maduro toward legitimate elections or, at the very least, a modicum of political opening. It’s safe to say those hopes did not materialize; instead, Maduro’s grip only hardened, and the regime responded with shutdowns of dissent and what American officials now describe, without euphemism, as a “highly fraudulent election in 2024.”

Every attempt at engagement over the last decade has been a study in whiplash: hardline one month, olive branch the next, and now back to sanctions and sabre-rattling. The Biden White House has attracted ire from both sides of the aisle for its willingness to negotiate with Caracas. Republicans have wasted little time branding the policy as feckless, arguing that it invites further provocation and does little to stop narcotics from making their way north—a charge echoed by Bessent and others who warn against the perils of “gentle persuasion.”

But the toolkit isn’t limited to financial penalties. Military operations—particularly those at President Trump’s direction—have focused on interdicting cocaine-laden vessels before they reach U.S. shores. Official pronouncements speak of slashing drug traffic in Caribbean waters by over 90 percent, although the particulars of who, exactly, makes up the stray “8 percent” remain, as Trump put it, a bit of a mystery. Meanwhile, Democrats like Representative Shri Thanedar have voiced unease over the military angle, even suggesting, perhaps more for posturing than policy, that the Secretary of War could face impeachment proceedings. The ironies of history are not lost on seasoned lawmakers; footage from 1989 surfaced recently, showing then-Senator Joe Biden calling for international raids on drug lords’ strongholds—a nod to the kind of muscular intervention now criticized by many in his own party.

Deportation policy, too, is caught in this all-too-familiar see-saw. After a notable pause in returning Venezuelan migrants, the Biden administration resumed those flights in the last year, apparently bowing to domestic pressure to toughen border enforcement. But the process is anything but seamless. Caracas accused Washington of halting repatriations midstream, a claim the Trump team quickly dismissed, insisting that the flights—a symbol of their more hardline approach to immigration—would continue without interruption. It’s a debate that rarely stays confined to policy rooms; each gesture is laden with symbolic weight for audiences on both sides of the border.

Amid the fog of statements and counterstatements, Maduro remains defiant. His rhetoric, fiery as ever, depicts U.S. actions—whether sanctions, deportations, or military maneuvering—as yet another chapter in a long history of what he terms “imperial massacres.” The message, delivered loud and clear: Venezuela belongs to its people, and outside interference will be met with resistance.

Underneath all the tough talk and oscillating tactics, one fact remains unchanged. Migration has continued at historic rates, corruption still plagues state institutions, and the flow of illegal drugs has not abated in any meaningful sense. These most recent sanctions, the renewed military push, and the revived deportation flights all have the air of urgency, but longstanding observers may see something more of a pattern—a pendulum that swings but never seems to bring meaningful change.

The challenge for U.S. policymakers is perennial: how to mix pressure and pragmatism, when the regime in Caracas shows little sign of compromise? The standoff, marked by episodic concessions and quick reversals, persists. So, as the region digests this latest round of penalties, it’s easy to see why the relationship between Venezuela and the U.S. continues to oscillate between confrontation and cautious engagement. At the end of the day, for those on the ground—be they migrants, workers, or political dissidents—the stakes remain as high as ever, and the answers, as muddied as before.

Once again, the U.S. Treasury has thrown a spotlight on the inner circle of Nicolás Maduro, announcing a slew of fresh sanctions that reach straight into the ruling family’s orbit, and those who have long benefited from staying close. The new measures, revealed Thursday by the Office of Foreign Assets Control, don’t simply target high-level officials; this time, the net tightens around Maduro’s own nephews—figures known to U.S. prosecutors and close observers of Venezuela’s unraveling as the “narco-nephews.” These are names that, for anyone following the saga, shouldn’t have faded from memory.Efrain Antonio Campo Flores and Franqui Francisco Flores de Freitas were pulled from a private jet in Haiti back in 2015, caught attempting to sneak hundreds of kilos of cocaine into the United States. Their convictions followed, as did 18-year sentences on American soil. But their story didn’t close with the clang of a prison door—in 2022 the Biden administration returned them to Caracas, sending them home in a controversial prisoner exchange that stirred a hornet’s nest of criticism in Washington. To many, including the likes of Secretary of the Treasury Scott Bessent, this was less a diplomatic overture than a reward for defiance: “These sanctions undo the Biden Administration’s failed attempt to make a deal with Maduro, enabling his dictatorial and brutal control at the expense of the Venezuelan and American people,” Bessent argued, taking care to draw a line between the current clampdown and his predecessor’s firmer stance.Nor do the sanctions stop at those episodes that have garnered the most headlines. OFAC has added Carlos Erik Malpica Flores—a name likely familiar to anyone paying attention to Venezuela's labyrinthine dollar black market—back to the list. Malpica, once flagged for siphoning off state money, had seen his own penalties rescinded in an earlier bid to coax concessions from the Venezuelan regime. The thought was that undoing at least some punishments might lure Maduro toward legitimate elections or, at the very least, a modicum of political opening. It’s safe to say those hopes did not materialize; instead, Maduro’s grip only hardened, and the regime responded with shutdowns of dissent and what American officials now describe, without euphemism, as a “highly fraudulent election in 2024.”Every attempt at engagement over the last decade has been a study in whiplash: hardline one month, olive branch the next, and now back to sanctions and sabre-rattling. The Biden White House has attracted ire from both sides of the aisle for its willingness to negotiate with Caracas. Republicans have wasted little time branding the policy as feckless, arguing that it invites further provocation and does little to stop narcotics from making their way north—a charge echoed by Bessent and others who warn against the perils of “gentle persuasion.”But the toolkit isn’t limited to financial penalties. Military operations—particularly those at President Trump’s direction—have focused on interdicting cocaine-laden vessels before they reach U.S. shores. Official pronouncements speak of slashing drug traffic in Caribbean waters by over 90 percent, although the particulars of who, exactly, makes up the stray “8 percent” remain, as Trump put it, a bit of a mystery. Meanwhile, Democrats like Representative Shri Thanedar have voiced unease over the military angle, even suggesting, perhaps more for posturing than policy, that the Secretary of War could face impeachment proceedings. The ironies of history are not lost on seasoned lawmakers; footage from 1989 surfaced recently, showing then-Senator Joe Biden calling for international raids on drug lords’ strongholds—a nod to the kind of muscular intervention now criticized by many in his own party.Deportation policy, too, is caught in this all-too-familiar see-saw. After a notable pause in returning Venezuelan migrants, the Biden administration resumed those flights in the last year, apparently bowing to domestic pressure to toughen border enforcement. But the process is anything but seamless. Caracas accused Washington of halting repatriations midstream, a claim the Trump team quickly dismissed, insisting that the flights—a symbol of their more hardline approach to immigration—would continue without interruption. It’s a debate that rarely stays confined to policy rooms; each gesture is laden with symbolic weight for audiences on both sides of the border.Amid the fog of statements and counterstatements, Maduro remains defiant. His rhetoric, fiery as ever, depicts U.S. actions—whether sanctions, deportations, or military maneuvering—as yet another chapter in a long history of what he terms “imperial massacres.” The message, delivered loud and clear: Venezuela belongs to its people, and outside interference will be met with resistance.Underneath all the tough talk and oscillating tactics, one fact remains unchanged. Migration has continued at historic rates, corruption still plagues state institutions, and the flow of illegal drugs has not abated in any meaningful sense. These most recent sanctions, the renewed military push, and the revived deportation flights all have the air of urgency, but longstanding observers may see something more of a pattern—a pendulum that swings but never seems to bring meaningful change.The challenge for U.S. policymakers is perennial: how to mix pressure and pragmatism, when the regime in Caracas shows little sign of compromise? The standoff, marked by episodic concessions and quick reversals, persists. So, as the region digests this latest round of penalties, it’s easy to see why the relationship between Venezuela and the U.S. continues to oscillate between confrontation and cautious engagement. At the end of the day, for those on the ground—be they migrants, workers, or political dissidents—the stakes remain as high as ever, and the answers, as muddied as before.