By Mafa Kwanisai Mafa

What we are witnessing in the latest United States aggression against Venezuela is not a war on drugs, not a defence of democracy, and certainly not a moral crusade.

It is the old, dirty, and bloodstained script of empire playing out once again. Under the familiar pretexts of “narcotics,” “human rights,” and “restoring democracy,” Washington has escalated its long-running campaign to overthrow the Venezuelan state, openly targeting President Nicolás Maduro and the sovereign institutions of that country.

Whether through sanctions, covert operations, bounty-style indictments, or open threats of arrest and removal, the intention is unmistakable: regime change.

This is not law enforcement. It is political kidnapping dressed up as justice. The United States has no legal, moral, or political authority to decide who governs Venezuela. Yet it behaves as if it does.

It places a price on a sitting head of state, recognises self-appointed “interim presidents,” freezes national assets abroad, and strangles an entire population through illegal sanctions, all while claiming to stand for democracy. If this is democracy, then words have truly lost their meaning.

The hypocrisy is staggering. The same United States that floods Latin America and Africa with weapons, which has overseen the biggest drug consumption market in the world, suddenly pretends to be the global sheriff against narcotics.

The same state whose intelligence agencies have a long history of working with drug cartels when it suits geopolitical interests now claims moral outrage. This is not new.

It is the CIA playbook: demonise the leader, criminalise the government, destabilise the economy, fund opposition forces, and when chaos follows, present imperial intervention as “rescue.”

Venezuela’s real crime is not drugs or dictatorship. Its crime is socialism. Its crime is controlling its own oil. Its crime is refusing to submit its resources to Wall Street, Washington, and Western multinationals.

Like Iran, Libya, Iraq, and before them, Congo under Lumumba, Venezuela stands accused not of tyranny but of independence.

From an African perspective, this story is painfully familiar. We have lived it. Patrice Lumumba was murdered in the name of “stability.” Kwame Nkrumah was overthrown in the name of “freedom.” Thomas Sankara was eliminated in the name of “realism.” Muammar Gaddafi was destroyed in the name of “human rights,” leaving Libya in ruins and the Sahel in flames.

In every case, Western powers claimed noble intentions. In every case, resources, strategic control, and imperial dominance were the real objectives.

What makes the Venezuelan case even more dangerous is the precedent it sets for international order and law. If a powerful state can unilaterally criminalise, sanction, and attempt to remove the leadership of another sovereign nation, then no country is safe.

International law becomes meaningless. Sovereignty becomes conditional. Power, not justice, becomes the final arbiter.

This is why the silence of the so-called international community is so damning. Western governments that scream endlessly about “rules-based order” suddenly lose their voices. The media that lectures Africa and Latin America about democracy looks away.

The United Nations, supposedly the guardian of peace and sovereignty, stands paralysed. Reduced to issuing weak statements, the UN has become a useless bulldog: loud in theory, toothless in practice. Its credibility lies in ruins, exposed as an instrument tolerated only when it serves imperial interests.

But perhaps the most troubling silence is Africa’s. Why are African states quiet when Venezuela is attacked? Why do leaders who know the taste of sanctions, coups, and external interference hesitate to speak? Is it fear? Is it dependency? Is it the hope that silence might buy protection? History offers a brutal answer: silence has never saved anyone.

There is a well-known warning often attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller: “They came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists… Then they came for the Jews… Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me.”

Those celebrating or tolerating the targeting of Venezuela should read this carefully. Empire does not stop. It moves from target to target.

Africa should ask itself honestly: if the United States can openly pursue regime change in Venezuela today, what stops it from doing the same in Africa tomorrow? What stops the criminalisation of leaders who refuse military bases, reject dollar domination, or insist on national control of minerals?

We already see it in sanctions against Zimbabwe, coups disguised as “constitutional corrections,” and constant pressure on governments that choose independent paths.

The United States has no permanent friends. It has interests. Its wealth, power, and global dominance are written in the blood and sweat of other nations: from Native Americans and enslaved Africans to Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, and now Venezuela. Those who believe they are safe because they are currently useful are deceiving themselves.

Celebrating the potential downfall of Maduro is not a victory for democracy. It is applause for imperial violence. It is cheering the destruction of sovereignty. It is clapping as the same chains that once bound Africa are reforged for others, knowing full well they may be tightened around African wrists next.

Venezuela’s struggle is not just Latin America’s struggle. It is a global anti-imperialist struggle. Africa, with its history of colonisation and resistance, should be at the forefront of condemning this aggression. To remain silent is to invite the same fate.

If international law means anything, it must protect the weak from the strong. If the UN means anything, it must defend sovereignty without fear or favour.

And if Africa means anything to itself, it must speak loudly, clearly, and unapologetically against US imperialism, wherever it strikes. Because when they come for you, silence will not save you.