By: Ricardo Abud.
Nicolás Maduro's latest legal battle in the United States cannot be understood solely as a procedural matter. Behind the debate over his immunity as head of state lies a much deeper conflict, one that intersects with sovereignty, political legitimacy, international law, strategic interests, and, inevitably, Venezuelan oil.
On September 2, Maduro's defense team requested a dismissal of the charges against him in a U.S. court, arguing that, as head of state, he was protected by immunity. The defense maintains that Maduro held the office of head of state when the charges were filed and that the alleged acts were related to his official duties. This argument takes on particular significance due to a circumstance that is difficult to ignore: the United States ceased recognizing Maduro as president of Venezuela in 2019, but after his arrest, began recognizing Delcy Rodríguez as the Venezuelan authority with the power to represent the state. This shift in the U.S. position forms the core of one of the defense's main lines of argument. And here lies the true complexity.
A political contradiction is not necessarily a legal contradiction. Rodríguez did not suddenly appear on the Venezuelan scene. She was part of Maduro's government and held the position of executive vice president. Her subsequent rise to the interim presidency occurred within the institutional structure that existed after Maduro's capture. Therefore, it is legitimate to ask: if the United States considers Rodríguez to have sufficient authority to represent the Venezuelan state, what are the consequences of this for the institutional structure of which she herself was a part? It is a politically powerful question, but one must resist the temptation to automatically turn it into a legal conclusion. Recognizing an authority as a representative of a state does not necessarily mean recognizing as legitimate the entire preceding political process that led to that authority. A foreign government can decide with whom it should engage and who can act on behalf of a state without retrospectively validating every decision of the preceding government. This distinction is fundamental. Maduro's defense could use the U.S. position regarding Rodríguez to challenge Washington's consistency. What he still needs to prove is that this apparent contradiction produces a concrete legal consequence: that Maduro retains immunity that prevents US courts from prosecuting him. These are very different things.
The immunity of foreign heads of state is not an invention of Maduro's defense. There is an international legal principle that protects certain foreign officials from the jurisdictions of other states. But it is also incorrect to turn that immunity into a kind of automatic shield. The crucial question is who can be considered a head of state for the purposes of U.S. jurisdiction and what the consequences are of recognition or non-recognition by the U.S. executive branch. Washington has maintained since 2019 that Maduro is not the head of state it recognizes. Furthermore, U.S. courts have historically shown deference to the decisions of the executive branch regarding the recognition of foreign governments. Therefore, the argument cannot be reduced to: "Maduro was president, therefore he had immunity." The real issue is much more complex: What was Maduro's legal status vis-à-vis the United States when the events occurred, when the charges were filed, and when the proceedings began, and what effect might the subsequent recognition of Delcy Rodríguez have on that status? That is the question the court will have to resolve. Furthermore, there is a precedent that makes it difficult to present immunity as a settled matter: the case of Manuel Noriega. In 1990, U.S. courts did not consider that his status as ruler of Panama prevented his prosecution in the United States. This precedent does not necessarily determine what will happen with Maduro, but it demonstrates that the status of a foreign ruler does not, in itself, constitute an absolute barrier to U.S. jurisdiction.
Oil is not a hypothesis: it is part of the new chessboard. There is another element that cannot be treated as mere speculation: Venezuelan oil occupies a central place in the new relationship between Washington and Caracas. After Maduro's departure, the United States fostered a new economic relationship with Venezuela, accompanied by a significant opening of its energy industry to private and foreign capital. Agreements with international companies have been promoted, along with a reorganization of the sector aimed at increasing production and attracting investment. The economic dimension of this transformation is enormous. Therefore, it would be naive to analyze US policy toward Venezuela while ignoring oil. Venezuela possesses one of the world's largest oil reserves, and its industry constitutes one of the most important strategic assets in the Western Hemisphere. Oil, therefore, is not simply one of the many secondary elements of this new relationship. It is one of its main material interests. But recognizing this reality does not require reducing all US policy to a single cause. Washington also has interests related to regional security, migration, geopolitical influence, the presence of Russia and China, political and economic stability, control of Venezuelan assets, and institutional reconstruction. The most plausible explanation, therefore, is not that “everything happens because of oil,” but neither is it that oil is a marginal factor. The reality seems far more unsettling: the new relationship with Venezuela combines political, strategic, and economic interests, and oil is one of the fundamental pillars of that combination.
Herein lies perhaps the most singular characteristic of the Venezuelan situation. The United States intervened to remove Maduro from power and subsequently began working with a figure belonging to the same government apparatus that Washington had criticized for years. Rodríguez, moreover, has shown a much greater willingness to negotiate with the United States on energy and economic matters. Under his administration, the opening of the oil sector accelerated, and agreements with foreign companies were strengthened. The paradox is evident. Washington has not only changed who occupies the center of Venezuelan political power. It is also participating in a transformation of the economic model through which the country manages one of its main strategic resources. For decades, Venezuelan oil was associated with a strong state presence and control of PDVSA. The new direction promotes much greater participation of private and foreign capital. Therefore, what is happening cannot be interpreted merely as a change of government. It also represents a reconfiguration of Venezuelan economic power. And this dimension deserves as much attention as the presidential contest.
The situation raises a question that goes far beyond Maduro: what exactly does “legitimacy” mean when domestic law, international recognition, and effective control of power are all simultaneously involved? For Venezuela, an authority may be considered legitimate according to certain constitutional norms. For another state, that same authority may not be recognized. And, at the same time, that foreign state may end up recognizing a different authority because it believes that this authority is the one that can currently represent the Venezuelan state. Herein lies an uncomfortable reality of international relations: political legitimacy and the effective capacity to exercise power do not always coincide. The law attempts to establish rules to resolve this tension, but international politics never operates in a power vacuum.
Neither Maduro nor Washington can reduce reality to a single narrative. Maduro's defense has an argument that deserves to be heard: the United States has substantially modified its position regarding Venezuelan authority and now recognizes a figure who emerged from the same political apparatus it rejected for years. This constitutes a real tension. But a tension does not necessarily equate to an insurmountable legal contradiction. Similarly, the United States can legally defend its position against Maduro and, simultaneously, be acting guided by very specific strategic and economic interests. Acknowledging one thing does not oblige denying the other. And this is where political analysis must escape overly convenient explanations. To say that everything Washington does responds exclusively to its desire to control oil oversimplifies reality. But to claim that oil interests are irrelevant would be equally untenable in the face of the agreements and economic transformations that are taking place. The truth lies on less comfortable ground: the United States has evident oil interests in Venezuela, and these interests are part of its strategy. But the policy towards Caracas also responds to a combination of geopolitical, economic and security factors.
Therefore, the battle unfolding around Maduro has two fronts. One is in the courts, where it will be decided whether the arguments of immunity, recognition, and status as head of state are sufficient to prevent Maduro from being prosecuted in the United States. The other front is much broader and possibly more important for Venezuela's future: it is the dispute over who defines the country's new balance of power, who will have influence over its institutions, who will participate in its economic reconstruction, who will have access to its resources, what role the Venezuelan state will play in the oil industry, and to what extent Venezuela will retain the capacity to autonomously decide on the exploitation of its greatest energy wealth. Therein lies the truly historical dimension of the moment. Because Venezuela is not simply undergoing a presidential succession. It is undergoing a reconfiguration of political, economic, and geopolitical power.
Perhaps the most honest position is to accept that several things can be true at the same time. There can be a serious legal argument in Maduro's defense without that meaning the court will necessarily have to accept it. There can be a clear tension between the US rejection of Maduro and the subsequent recognition of Rodríguez without that tension automatically creating a legal obligation to recognize Maduro. There can be enormous US oil interests without all political events being explained solely by oil. And US intervention can be legitimately questioned without automatically making Maduro an innocent victim of all the accusations he faces. Reality doesn't need to conform completely to Washington's narrative or Caracas's narrative. In fact, it is probably precisely this need to fit facts into a narrative that most prevents us from understanding what is happening. The Maduro case will ultimately be decided by concrete legal arguments. But the historical significance of what is happening lies elsewhere.
The United States needs energy and influence. Venezuela needs to rebuild. Rodríguez needs to consolidate his power. Washington needs an interlocutor. And Maduro, from a US prison, is trying to turn his own status as head of state into the legal argument that could restore a position he lost in the political arena. These are intersecting interests, not necessarily aligned ones. And perhaps that is the most objective way to understand this moment: not as a story of heroes and villains, nor as a battle in which one side is entirely right, but as a struggle for power, legitimacy, resources, and influence in which each actor tries to turn law, politics, and diplomacy into instruments of their own strategy. The truly important question is no longer simply whether Maduro can win a legal battle. It is who will ultimately define the rules of the new Venezuelan order and, above all, who will have the real capacity to enforce them.
THERE IS NOTHING MORE EXCLUSIONARY THAN BEING POOR.
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