U.S. Seizes Oil, Venezuela Erupts: Machado Hails ‘Champion of Freedom’ Trump

Paul Riverbank, 12/15/2025U.S. seizes Venezuelan oil—opposition rallies, region erupts, and Venezuela stands at a fraught crossroads.

Machado herself, speaking from afar to CBS News, did not hedge her words. Her gratitude toward Donald Trump’s administration was unmistakable. “He is a champion of freedom in this hemisphere,” she declared. In her eyes, American pressure—uncompromising, even brash—has left its mark on Nicolás Maduro’s grip over the country. Whether for better or worse, that pressure is everywhere: it crashes over the country in sanctions, freezes assets, cuts supply lines, and, more recently, seizes cargoes at sea.

Just weeks ago, the U.S. Coast Guard intercepted the Skipper—a tanker moving with the slow, heavy grace of old machinery, but filled with precious Venezuelan crude—off South America’s coast. It was a first since the 2019 crackdown on Venezuela’s oil trading. In the meeting rooms of regional blocs, this sparked outrage. Nicaragua’s Daniel Ortega seethed, loudly branding the Americans “thieves,” while President Díaz-Canel in Havana sounded the alarm: the region, he said, faced dangers not seen in decades.

Maduro, never one to waste a stage, countered their anger with bravado. Before the ALBA alliance, he railed against “the colonizer project,” insisting, “we will be free.” For his government, U.S. seizures don’t just threaten oil or revenue—they strike at the very theme of sovereignty, that last line of dignity for a regime besieged.

Strikingly, on the ground in Caracas, there is little of that oratorial flourish. Conversations more often revolve around ration cards, medicine shortfalls, or the whereabouts of missing relatives than geopolitics. But for Machado and her allies, the adversary’s days are numbered. Her support of the “maximum pressure” policy—a phrase she repeats, sometimes with a tinge of resignation—is unyielding. The costs, after all, land not only on those in charge but, too often, on everyday people. “Sometimes the only way out is through,” she tells her interviewer—and whether that is comforting or cold truth, it’s what many accept.

One of her more somber acknowledgments: the mounting human toll. “Maduro was the one who declared a war on the Venezuelan people,” she said. Forced executions. Bereavement that’s become routine. Trust, even in neighbors, is a luxury in short supply. A hundred thousand shattered families—that’s the backdrop to debate over policy and power.

Yet for those plotting a future beyond Maduro, the challenge is far more than who leads next. Machado is frank: the country’s bones—financial, institutional, even cultural—will need mending. “We’ll need advice, technology, information,” she said, ticking off a shopping list that extends far beyond any White House or Senate floor. Multilateral support, she argues, isn’t just wanted; it’s essential.

None of her plans shy away from economic reality. Restructuring debt, restoring trust in currency, and coaxing back foreign investors will be fraught—especially when it comes to oil and gas, sectors now marred by corruption and sabotage. “How do we bring security to international investment?” she mused. There’s no playbook for this, only hard-earned lessons from neighbors who’ve faced political earthquakes and emerged with something less than stability.

Meanwhile, the American view, at least from the White House, leans pragmatic but detached. A senior advisor told reporters, “We’re shutting that black market down. Whether that affects prices outside of the sanctioned countries is kind of an open question. Probably not.” Publicly, the aim is to wound Maduro’s circle while sparing wider markets. The real calculus—economic and strategic—will play out in months and years, not headlines.

In the end, oil barrels and bank reserves aren’t the whole story. Venezuela’s crossroads are as literal as they are figurative: highways out of the country teem with refugees, while inside the borders, tanks idle near government buildings, a reminder of uncertainty’s permanence. Across South America, leaders glance nervously at their own fragile institutions, wondering what a Venezuelan shift might mean for them.

And amid the swirl of defiance, hope, anger, and fatigue, there’s rarely a neat dividing line between past and future. Change, in places like Venezuela, rarely comes as a gentle tide. Instead, it builds in uneasy silences—then, all at once, the ground moves.

There’s a peculiar weight to optimism in Venezuela these days—a tension in the air, felt in coffee shops and on the battered bus routes winding through Caracas. For the country’s opposition, led—at least in spirit—by the exiled María Corina Machado, the moment is one of crosscurrents: a steely hope, laced with apprehension, shadows every conversation about what might come next.Machado herself, speaking from afar to CBS News, did not hedge her words. Her gratitude toward Donald Trump’s administration was unmistakable. “He is a champion of freedom in this hemisphere,” she declared. In her eyes, American pressure—uncompromising, even brash—has left its mark on Nicolás Maduro’s grip over the country. Whether for better or worse, that pressure is everywhere: it crashes over the country in sanctions, freezes assets, cuts supply lines, and, more recently, seizes cargoes at sea.Just weeks ago, the U.S. Coast Guard intercepted the Skipper—a tanker moving with the slow, heavy grace of old machinery, but filled with precious Venezuelan crude—off South America’s coast. It was a first since the 2019 crackdown on Venezuela’s oil trading. In the meeting rooms of regional blocs, this sparked outrage. Nicaragua’s Daniel Ortega seethed, loudly branding the Americans “thieves,” while President Díaz-Canel in Havana sounded the alarm: the region, he said, faced dangers not seen in decades.Maduro, never one to waste a stage, countered their anger with bravado. Before the ALBA alliance, he railed against “the colonizer project,” insisting, “we will be free.” For his government, U.S. seizures don’t just threaten oil or revenue—they strike at the very theme of sovereignty, that last line of dignity for a regime besieged.Strikingly, on the ground in Caracas, there is little of that oratorial flourish. Conversations more often revolve around ration cards, medicine shortfalls, or the whereabouts of missing relatives than geopolitics. But for Machado and her allies, the adversary’s days are numbered. Her support of the “maximum pressure” policy—a phrase she repeats, sometimes with a tinge of resignation—is unyielding. The costs, after all, land not only on those in charge but, too often, on everyday people. “Sometimes the only way out is through,” she tells her interviewer—and whether that is comforting or cold truth, it’s what many accept.One of her more somber acknowledgments: the mounting human toll. “Maduro was the one who declared a war on the Venezuelan people,” she said. Forced executions. Bereavement that’s become routine. Trust, even in neighbors, is a luxury in short supply. A hundred thousand shattered families—that’s the backdrop to debate over policy and power.Yet for those plotting a future beyond Maduro, the challenge is far more than who leads next. Machado is frank: the country’s bones—financial, institutional, even cultural—will need mending. “We’ll need advice, technology, information,” she said, ticking off a shopping list that extends far beyond any White House or Senate floor. Multilateral support, she argues, isn’t just wanted; it’s essential.None of her plans shy away from economic reality. Restructuring debt, restoring trust in currency, and coaxing back foreign investors will be fraught—especially when it comes to oil and gas, sectors now marred by corruption and sabotage. “How do we bring security to international investment?” she mused. There’s no playbook for this, only hard-earned lessons from neighbors who’ve faced political earthquakes and emerged with something less than stability.Meanwhile, the American view, at least from the White House, leans pragmatic but detached. A senior advisor told reporters, “We’re shutting that black market down. Whether that affects prices outside of the sanctioned countries is kind of an open question. Probably not.” Publicly, the aim is to wound Maduro’s circle while sparing wider markets. The real calculus—economic and strategic—will play out in months and years, not headlines.In the end, oil barrels and bank reserves aren’t the whole story. Venezuela’s crossroads are as literal as they are figurative: highways out of the country teem with refugees, while inside the borders, tanks idle near government buildings, a reminder of uncertainty’s permanence. Across South America, leaders glance nervously at their own fragile institutions, wondering what a Venezuelan shift might mean for them.And amid the swirl of defiance, hope, anger, and fatigue, there’s rarely a neat dividing line between past and future. Change, in places like Venezuela, rarely comes as a gentle tide. Instead, it builds in uneasy silences—then, all at once, the ground moves.