As a consequence of the recent attack on Venezuela and the kidnapping of its president by unilateral resolution of the White House, academics, artists, and politicians from different countries are calling on the Global South to awaken to the accelerated process of “Palestinianization of the world.”

Venezuela: The cause of the problem will never be the solution

What is happening in Venezuela today is neither an anomaly nor an unexpected deviation from the international order. Nor can it be interpreted as a temporary reaction to a specific government or as an isolated episode of diplomatic tension. It is, once again, the reappearance of a historical logic that Latin America knows with painful precision: that of being treated as a wild frontier, a territory where the rules that govern the “civilized world” are suspended without scandal and violence is exercised as if it were a natural right.

Total economic blockades, confiscation of property, covert military operations, explicit threats of intervention, and kidnappings presented under a new version of the Monroe and National Security doctrines, which more closely resemble the myth of “living space” wielded by the Third Reich a century ago. These are not deviations from the international system: they are part of its historical functioning when it comes to the Global South and Latin America in particular.

What happened on January 3 marks, however, a new threshold. It was not just a reiteration of known practices, but an obscene demonstration of impunity before any law and a confirmation of the current “Palestinization of the world.” The violation of Venezuelan sovereignty, carried out without a declaration of war and publicly presented as a demonstration of power, did not suspend the international order: it declared it dispensable. Where diplomatic euphemisms, legal ambiguities, or humanitarian alibis once operated, there appeared the direct assertion that force alone is sufficient to legitimize itself. What was shown was not an excess, but a pedagogy of domination directed at the entire world. The names of governments change, ideolexics are updated, moral excuses are recycled, but the script remains intact. Latin America reappears as a space available for exemplary punishment, political experimentation, and the pedagogy of fear.

Regional history is too clear to feign surprise. Military invasions, prolonged occupations, coups d’état, proxy wars, economic blockades, sabotage, kidnappings, and systematic media demonization campaigns have accompanied every attempt at political autonomy, social redistribution, or sovereign control of resources for two hundred years. These were never isolated mistakes or correctable excesses, but rather a persistent policy, sustained by a hierarchical conception of the world that reserves full rights for some peoples chosen by Manifest Destiny and permanent exception for others.

Thinking of Latin America as a savage frontier does not imply accepting an imposed identity, but rather denouncing the imperial gaze that constructed it as such. That imperial gaze not only constructs available territories: it also produces human hierarchies. It decides which lives deserve mourning, which acts of violence deserve scandal, and which can be administered as collateral damage. The international order does not limit itself to regulating conflicts: it distributes sensitivity, legitimizes indifference, and organizes silences. That is why aggression does not begin with missiles, but with the normalization of a language that makes the unacceptable acceptable and renders invisible those who are left out of the distribution of rights. It is a view that naturalizes violence towards the global south with the complicity of its local hangers-on, that racializes conflicts and that shamelessly suspends the principles of international law when they hinder strategic interests. What in other territories would be considered a crime, an act of war, or a flagrant violation of sovereignty, here becomes a “measure,” “pressure,” “preventive operation,” or “assistance for stability.” To a certain extent, brutality has become more overt, and the old excuse of “democracy” has lost its usefulness and appeal. What remains is the defense of “freedom,” the freedom of masters and merchants, and the fear and morality of slaves.

In this sense, Venezuela is not an exception but a dress rehearsal. When a power acts in this way and faces no effective sanctions, the message is unequivocal: the exception becomes the rule. What is tolerated today as a singular case is incorporated tomorrow as an operational precedent. International law does not fall suddenly; it is emptied by an accumulation of silences. A scenario where the limits of what can be done without generating a significant reaction from the international community are tested. What is tolerated today as a singular case will be invoked tomorrow as a precedent.

None of this implies ignoring internal conflicts, discussions, profound conceptions of what democracy is or should be, or social debts, an endemic problem in Latin American countries. We cannot deny this, just as we cannot accept that these tensions enable external aggression—in fact, history repeatedly shows that these imperial aggressions and interventions have been the greatest fuel for social conflicts and underdevelopment in these countries. No internal criticism justifies an invasion. No political disagreement legitimizes the collective punishment of a people. Sovereignty is not a reward for virtue or a moral certification granted from outside: it is the minimum threshold for societies to decide their destiny without a gun on the negotiating table.

Faced with this escalation, the response of much of the international community has been silence, ambiguity, diplomatic lukewarmness, and a lack of concrete measures. This is language that does not seek to stop violence, but to manage it. Words that never name the aggressor, that dilute responsibilities and place the harasser and the resistor on the same level. Latin American history teaches us that great tragedies did not begin with bombings, but with words and excuses that made them tolerable. When aggression becomes normalized, violence advances without resistance.

Defending Venezuela’s sovereignty today does not mean defending a government or closing the internal debate. It means rejecting a logic that reinstates war as a legitimate instrument of international order based on the interests of the strongest. It means affirming that Latin America is not anyone’s backyard or front yard; it is not a sacrifice zone or anyone’s wild frontier. And it also means assuming a basic intellectual responsibility: breaking the historical amnesia before it is rewritten, once again, with the blood of others.

Because remaining silent in the face of aggression has never been neutral. When history finally speaks, it is not usually forgiving those who looked the other way. For many, this is unimportant. For us, it is not.

Signed by

Abel Prieto, Cuba
Adolfo Pérez Esquivel, Argentina
Andrés Stagnaro, Uruguay
Atilio Borón, Argentina
Aviva Chomsky, Estados Unidos
Boaventura de Sousa Santos, Portugal
Carolina Corcho, Colombia
Débora Infante, Argentina
Eduardo Larbanois, Uruguay
Emilio Cafassi, Argentina
Federeico Fasano, Uruguay
Felicitas Bonavitta, Argentina
Gustavo Petro, Colombia
Jeffrey Sachs, Estados Unidos
Jill Stein, Estados Unidos
Jorge Majfud, Estados Unidos
Mario Carrero, Uruguay
Óscar Andrade, Uruguay.
Pablo Bohorquez, España
Pepe Vázquez, Uruguay
Ramón Grosfoguel, Estados Unidos
Raquel Daruech, Uruguay
Stella Calloni, Argentina
Víctor Hugo Morales, Argentina
Walter Goobar, Argentina