Clearing the Fog of Empire: A Christian Response to the U.S. Strike in Venezuela

I grabbed my phone and texted, “What do you think about the news from Venezuela?” It was Sunday morning, just hours after the U.S. launched a military strike in Caracas, the country’s capital and location of President Nicolás Maduro’s compound.

Having scanned the headlines, my first thoughts turned to the young family I’ve recently gotten to know, having arrived in our neighborhood last year after a long and dangerous journey from Venezuela. Not long after they settled in Chicago, we celebrated the birth of their daughter, a joyous answer to years of prayer.

Sitting around a dining room table last fall while holding their baby, I listened as mom and dad told me about their migration from the country they love and miss. Sprinkled throughout the many instances of fear, uncertainty, and trauma were testimonies of God’s salvation, provision, and miraculous intervention. How, I wondered while reading about explosions and casualties, were these friends processing the dramatic events unfolding in the country they were forced to flee? And how might their perspective shape my own?

Like many other Venezuelans, my new friends were conflicted about the operation which captured Maduro.

They lamented those who were killed and are under no delusions about President Trump’s motivations. At the same time, they have experienced the repressive regime which, in different iterations, has shaped life in their country for decades. With many others, they have prayed ceaselessly for the Maduro regime to fall.

Could it be, they wondered, that God is using wicked people to bring their people relief?

Venezuela, Then and Now

My earliest memories are from a small town in southern Venezuela.

My dad was a pilot with a mission aviation organization, and the town’s location on the edge of the country’s infrastructure was ideal for flights to remote towns and villages. My sister and I attended a local school where, long before we knew the “Star-Spangled Banner,” we lined up each morning in our school uniforms to sing the Venezuelan national anthem.

The Venezuela of my childhood memory wasn’t perfect; class divisions were evident and the standard of living of many of our neighbors lacked the privileges our family enjoyed. But in those years, largely because of the high prices demanded by the country’s massive oil deposits, Venezuela was one of the region’s wealthiest countries with a free press, open democracy, and rapidly developing infrastructure.

That began to change in the 1980s. As Foreign Affairs reported ten years ago, “Lower oil revenue meant cuts in public spending, scaled-down social programs, currency devaluation, runaway inflation, a banking crisis, and mounting unemployment and hardship for the poor.”

These societal quakes opened space for the rise of Hugo Chavez, a political outsider whose policies sometimes benefited the country’s poor but which also led to consolidated power and political repression. In 2012, just before his death, Chavez passed the baton to his vice president, Nicolás Maduro. Under Maduro, repression escalated, political dissidents were jailed and tortured, and protestors were intimidated and killed. Wealth was further consolidated and the majority of Venezuelans now live in extreme poverty. It’s no wonder that, in the past decade, almost 8 million residents, more than 20% of the population, have emigrated, mostly to countries in Latin America and the Caribbean.

Rejoice and Weep: Centering Venezuelan Voices

Behind my Venezuelan friends’ conflicted response to the U.S. attack on their country is this litany of oppression, heartbreak, and loss. Remembering this history of terror and trouble helps me understand the celebrations which have broken out among the global Venezuelan diaspora. “Thank you, Lord,” said one woman in Florida in the early hours following the attack, “Thank you, President of the United States. I’ve been waiting for years — he’s done so much damage. This has been horrible.”

For U.S. Christians like me, wondering how to respond to our country’s unprovoked attack, prioritizing our Venezuelan sisters and brothers is critical.

We will “rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” even when the circumstances are complicated. Those of us who disagree — strongly! — with the presidential administration’s actions can still respond compassionately to those most impacted by the circumstances in Venezuela.

The Prophetic Tradition: Unmasking Propaganda

But if Christian love compels us to respond with compassion to the Venezuelans harmed by a repressive government, it also obligates us to uncover the realities the Trump administration has tried to obscure. We are the inheritors of a prophetic tradition which confronts the propaganda of kings and emperors with the truth– “You are that man,” said Nathan to the murderous David (2 Samuel 12:7); “I will bring calamity on you,” said Elijah to the thieving Ahab (1 Kings 21:21); “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above,” said Jesus to the oppressive Pilate (John 19:11).

In this truth-seeking vein, we should interrogate the reasons the U.S. has given for its activity in Venezuela.

Oil, Militarism, and the Cost of “Reclaiming” Wealth

Trump has repeatedly claimed that, under the Venezuelan government, American oil fields were stolen and must be returned. But far from an immediate economic boom to the U.S., experts predict that rebuilding the country’s oil industry will cost more than $100 billion. And while the Trump administration will claim these costs will be covered by unleashed capital of reopened oil fields, we should apply Martin Luther King, Jr.’s warning about the cost of militarism in 1967 to this current manifestation: “A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.”

Narco-State Claims, Fentanyl, and Shifting Justifications

And what about the administration’s claims that the Venezuelan government operates like a drug cartel? The Treasury and State Departments used this designation as part of the rationale for deposing Maduro. And while it’s true that the cocaine trade has found the country’s degraded and corrupt infrastructure a haven for their business, the administration has recently backed off on the assertion that Maduro was running a cartel, undermining one of the stated reasons for the military operation.

Additionally, while Trump has been correct to decry the tremendous damage caused by the flow of fentanyl into the U.S., he is wrong to connect this manufactured drug to Venezuela, the vast majority of which is produced in Mexico with ingredients from Asia. Even so, the Trump administration defended the more than 80 people killed in U.S. military attacks on boats in the Caribbean by claiming to disrupt fentanyl trafficking.

Hypocrisy and Selective Outrage

The administration’s assertion that Maduro’s crimes justify military intervention also deserves our scrutiny. As my Venezuelan friends reminded me, life under the regime was objectively terrible. Still, there are many despotic governments around the world and, rather than threaten to attack them, our president has often paid his respects. In fact, less than a month before deposing Maduro, Trump pardoned former Honduran President Juan Orlando Hernández who had been convicted for his role in a large and violent drug-trafficking scheme.

Adding to the hypocrisy is the fact that, rather than empowering the Nobel Peace Prize–winning leader of the Venezuelan opposition party after deposing Maduro, the Trump administration has turned to his vice-president who has long enabled the repressive regime.

Legality: “Law Enforcement” or War?

Finally, President Trump and his advisors insist that the incursion onto Venezuelan soil was legal because it was a law enforcement operation and not an act of war.

However, by bypassing Congressional approval, the administration’s arguments are tenuous at best. Less ambiguous is the wide consensus that the attack violated international law and the United Nations Charter. In their assertions of legality, as with the other justifications listed above, the Trump administration’s hypocrisy is obvious. As we consider how to respond to the attacks on Venezuela, we would be wise to point the light of truth at each of the administration’s shadowy claims.

Three Options for Christians, and a Better Way Forward

Where does this leave us?

On one hand, we respond empathetically to the Venezuelans celebrating the removal of a brutal dictator.

On the other, we respond truthfully to the administration’s deceptive justifications for violence and occupation. It would be easiest to pick one or the other of these two responses.

At the risk of naiveté, we could set aside the prophetic truth about the Trump administration for the sake of compassionate solidarity with those impacted by the Maduro regime. Or, at the risk of paternalism, we could diminish the painful experiences of Venezuelans so that we might speak pointedly about our government’s hypocrisy. A second option is to hold both of these responses, compassion and truth, in tension. Such a posture is better than choosing between two equally true realities, but it’s also a way to get stuck between two seemingly competing responsibilities.

A third option opens to us if we can acknowledge the imperial nature of the U.S. Michael Gorman offers the following definition of empires, both ancient and contemporary:

“An entity that has come to widespread (global or nearly global) dominance through deliberate expansion by means of the extreme exercise of some form(s) of power–economic, political, military, and/or religious–resulting in the creation of colony-like clients of the entity and of enemies who perceive the entity as oppressive.”(1)

Naming Empire: Mythology, Self-Interest, and Providence

We see imperial tendencies when Trump asserts that the U.S. “will run the country” of Venezuela and when he appeals to the Monroe Doctrine of 1832 to justify his recent threats against Greenland and Colombia. Wes Howard-Brook and Anthony Gwyther note the following imperial characteristics exhibited by the U.S. throughout history: “slave labor; demonization, genocide, and displacement of indigenous people; colonization of distant lands (e.g., Hawaii, Alaska, the Philippines, Guam); cultural arrogance; and global military power.”(2)

Acknowledging how the U.S. functions like an empire allows at least three proactive responses to the Venezuelan attacks we might otherwise miss.

First, empires always cloak their agendas in religious and cultural mythologies. The Roman Empire’s imperial cult synthesized religious norms, food practices, and loyalty to the emperor. The U.S. has our own myths about manifest destiny, national exceptionalism, and divine election.

From American flags in church sanctuaries to religious declarations on our currency to the administration’s recent use of social media memes overlaying Scripture with nationalistic imagery, the U.S. imperial mythology works to justify the government’s actions, especially when those actions are obviously illegal, immoral, or unjust.

In other words, the confusion many of us feel in a moment like this is intentional, the result of propaganda-like narratives meant to distract us from the truth. Simply recognizing this fact can free us from imperial misdirection and allow our attention to focus on those neighbors who are adversely impacted by the empire while also speaking truthfully about the harmful policies behind that impact.

Second, empires always act in their own self-interest. Whether it is territorial expansion via soft diplomacy and violent coercion or the extraction of resources via economic sanctions and stolen oil fields, the U.S. acts in its own imperial interests. “Under our new National Security Strategy,” proclaimed President Trump recently, “American dominance in the Western Hemisphere will never be questioned again.”

While its mythology disguises the country’s actual aims with the language of spreading democracy, unseating despots, or defeating terrorism, behind these slogans lies an insatiable appetite for more power– more wealth, more security, more territory, more prestige, etc. By recognizing the empire’s persistent self-interest, we avoid getting bogged down in the deceptive and distracting details meant to keep the imperial machinery running without protest.

Finally, recognizing our location within an empire opens our eyes to God’s surprising providence. So much biblical action takes place within the confines of empire, yet time and time again we see that God is not bound by empire. Esther, Daniel, Jeremiah, and so many others experienced divine providence and provision despite the empire’s claims of domination. So too the early churches scattered throughout Roman provinces and client states.

Interestingly, my new Venezuelan friends, the ones wondering whether Trump’s incursion into their homeland is an answer to prayer, have helped me see the possibility of God’s empire-subverting providence. Caught between one authoritarian leader in their home country and another in their adopted country, fleeing an oppressive regime only to find themselves the targets of slander and ever-shifting immigration policy from their new government, nevertheless this family has testimony after testimony of God’s tender care.

Which is to say, however the empire’s self-serving policies are enacted at any given time, there will be moments when, despite their intentions, those on the margins will benefit. Is that the case in Venezuela? We have good reasons to be cautious and only time will tell, but citizens of the kingdom of God will never foreclose the possibility of God’s providence undermining the empire.

Recognizing our location within the empire allows U.S. Christians to take our place among the imperially impacted saints who’ve gone before us.

We’re in good company! Viewed through this lens, we find we don’t have to pick between responses of empathetic compassion or prophetic truth; neither do we get stuck trying to hold them together. Instead, the imperial fog begins to clear and we’re free to resist the empire’s self-serving policies while leaving room for God’s empire-subverting providence.

Endnotes

(1) Michael Gorman, Reading Revelation Responsibly (Eugene: Cascade, 2011), 45.
(2) Wes Howard-Brook and Anthony Gwyther, Unveiling Empire (Maryknoll: Orbis, 1999), 236.

Questions to Consider

1. Where do you feel tension between compassion and truth when responding to global conflict — and how does your faith shape the way you hold both together?

2. How does hearing from a Christian who grew up in Venezuela challenge or deepen your understanding of U.S. power, foreign policy, and its real human impact?

3. What might it look like for Christians to resist the myths of empire while remaining open to God’s surprising work, even in unjust systems?

David Swanson is an author and the Founding Pastor of New Community Covenant Church who lives with his family on the South Side of Chicago. He is the Founder of New Community Outreach, a non-profit organization dedicated to healing community trauma through restorative practices. David is the author of Rediscipling the White Church: From Cheap Diversity to True Solidarity and Plundered: The Tangled Roots of Racial and Environmental Injustice. He is a board member of A Rocha USA, a coach for the Wheaton College Preaching Institute, and a former Director of Church Planting for the Evangelical Covenant Church. David is a CSA Pundit.