Opinion
Economic hegemony as a doctrine: A reading of current US foreign policy
People gather outside Downing Street to protest against the US military attack on Venezuela, calling on the British government to condemn the forced removal of Nicolás Maduro and demanding his return to Venezuela in London, United Kingdom on January 05, 2026. [Wiktor Szymanowicz – Anadolu Agency]
by Dr Sania Faisal El-HusseiniJanuary 11, 2026
Middle East Monitor.
After months of US military pressure on the Maduro regime, American forces carried out a raid on Caracas in the early hours of 3 January, abducting Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife and airlifting them out of the country. They are now being held in New York City, where Maduro faces charges related to narcotics trafficking and weapons offenses.
At a press conference held last Saturday, US President Donald Trump confirmed that Washington would administer the country for an indefinite period. He also hinted at launching a further military operation should Venezuela’s vice president refuse to cooperate with the United States.
Trump’s handling of Maduro marks a dangerous turning point in US foreign policy, one that openly tramples state sovereignty, particularly when read alongside his threats toward Iran, Lebanon, Gaza, Cuba, and Greenland.
This moment inevitably recalls events from twenty-three years ago, when the United States invaded Iraq to overthrow President Saddam Hussein on the basis of flimsy public justifications and under a broader American strategy branded as the “war on terror.” That framework was activated and sustained for an entire era in the Middle East, exacting a devastating toll on Iraq, Afghanistan, and other countries, measured in the blood of their peoples, the erosion of their security and social fabric, and the destruction of their economic resources.
US foreign strategies, at their core, are driven by the pursuit of American self-interest, often with little regard for the costs borne by the societies caught in their path. Today, a growing number of countries appear to be confronting the risk of absorbing the consequences of Trump-era American strategy, one that threatens to push beyond already dangerous boundaries, especially for those on the receiving end.
Economic objectives were never absent from past US strategic thinking, even when they operated alongside broader geopolitical and security goals, often without being openly highlighted or overstated. What is new, however, is that Trump makes these economic–strategic aims explicit. He articulates them without hesitation, presumably a reflection of a background that treats commercial deals and financial returns as the overriding priority.
Trump has stated that the United States will “administer Venezuela,” regardless of what role Venezuelans themselves may play, in order to extract and sell its oil through American companies. Venezuela holds the world’s largest proven oil reserves, the majority of which consist of heavy crude, accounting for roughly 17–18 per cent of global reserves. Incorporating Venezuelan oil into US production would give Washington greater leverage over global oil prices, while equipping it with a powerful bargaining tool across energy markets, sanctions regimes, and regional alliances
The commercial impulse in US foreign policy is not new. What has changed under Trump is that it has become openly declared, and far more brazen. This orientation has shaped American policy since the dawn of the twenty-first century, as the United States emerged as the world’s sole superpower and then consolidated that position within the post–Cold War international order.
In a 2001 report published by the US national security establishment in the aftermath of the September 11 attacks, the invasion of Afghanistan was framed as a means of achieving regional stability that would enable the future passage of energy corridors from Central Asia. This, of course, was presented alongside other core objectives: neutralising terrorist threats, preventing Afghanistan from serving as a base for future attacks, and reshaping the security environment of Central Asia
As for Iraq, US Department of Defense assessments from 2002 and 2003 asserted that, following the invasion, Iraq would emerge as a stable state and an open market, that its reconstruction would be self-financed through oil revenues, and that the United States would not bear a long-term financial burden. A report circulated at the time under the title America in the New Millennium went further, arguing that American control over Iraq would redraw the map of the Middle East, secure global energy flows, and strengthen US economic dominance worldwide.
In the aftermath of the invasion, however, official reports acknowledged that assumptions about rapid stabilisation, self-funded reconstruction, and limited costs were either deeply flawed or grossly overstated.
The pattern appears even more clearly in the context of the Western war, initiated and fueled by the United States, against Russia in Ukraine. Prior to the outbreak of the Russian–Ukrainian war in February 2022, Russia and the European Union were bound by an exceptionally close commercial relationship, one that had long unsettled Washington. In 2017, the EU accounted for roughly 44 per cent of Russia’s total foreign trade, while Russia stood as the EU’s fourth-largest trading partner.
Russian gas alone supplied close to 40 per cent of the European Union’s gas imports, a remarkably high share within Europe’s overall energy mix. Before 2022, Russia was also the EU’s largest supplier of both oil and natural gas
It is not difficult to trace the effects, and beneficiaries, of that war. Following the war, transatlantic trade between Europe and the United States surged to more than $1.5 trillion, while energy emerged as a central pillar of the relationship. The United States became Europe’s largest supplier of liquefied natural gas, accounting for more than half of European imports, effectively displacing Russia and surpassing its former role.
Now that Washington has secured these deals in its favor, the continuation of the war appears to hold diminishing strategic value, an assessment reflected in Trump’s desire to close the file. This comes despite the likelihood of prolonged instability and the risk that the countries involved may slide into deeper crises. The consequences of US-led wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, and now Ukraine bear witness to this pattern.
This helps explain the centrality of energy, and of energy-rich states, to US strategy more broadly, and especially under a president who approaches politics as commerce. It is here that the discussion returns to Gaza, and to Trump’s own statements about his economic ambitions and future projects there. By positioning himself as the head of a proposed “peace council,” Trump signals his intention to preside over Gaza’s reconstruction, an outcome that appears less incidental than deliberate, and likely central to his broader design. During Trump’s first term, and throughout his reelection campaign, he appeared to challenge the very foundations of America’s grand defense strategy. He complained openly about the size of the US defence budget, questioned the utility of NATO and the US–Korea alliance, and cast doubt on Ukraine’s relevance to American interests.
In his second term, however, Trump seems to have discovered the strategic value of profitable foreign ventures, particularly those tied to energy markets. His policy trajectory shifted toward expansion. He confronted Iran in ways that went beyond the approach of his predecessors, orchestrated the abduction of Venezuela’s president in a military operation that was both lucrative and low-cost, and moved to place Gaza under his administration, financed by Arab donors. Rather than dismantling alliances he once derided, Trump preserved them and began actively supporting increased US defence spending, deploying military power as a means to advance ventures he views as commercially rewarding.
The history of US foreign policy and grand defense strategy has been marked by a broad, sustained expansionist impulse. For 101 years, from the inauguration of George Washington as the first president in 1789 to the Battle of Wounded Knee in 1890, which effectively brought armed conflict with indigenous peoples to an end, the United States pursued a sweeping strategy of territorial expansion. In doing so, it transformed itself from a narrow strip of land along the Atlantic coast into a continental power.
In the eras that followed, US policy continued to operate within a strategic framework rooted in that same logic, albeit shaped by different contexts and calculations.
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.
