Category Archives: Colonialism and Resistance

Colombia’s Gustavo Petro seeks to contain the growth of “hyper-fascism” in Latin America

by Jim Hodgson

During a visit last week to Mexico City, Colombia’s former president Gustavo Petro declared he would work with others to prevent “hyper-fascism” and “techno-fascism” from taking control of all Latin America.

He met with President Claudia Sheinbaum in the National Palace (above); spoke with students at Mexico’s National Autonomous University on economic policy in the climate crisis; met with Colombians living in Mexico; and sat down for an interview with Miguel Ángel Velázquez of La Jornada daily newspaper.

In that interview, Petro spoke of his complicated relationship with the administration of Donald Trump. The two have differed sharply over Israel’s treatment of Palestine, climate justice, relations with Venezuela and Cuba, and the U.S. “war” on drugs.

Petro’s four-year presidential term ended on Aug. 7 when his hard-right successor, Abelardo de la Espriella was sworn in. Petro had been Colombia’s first president from a party of the left. He had tried (unsuccessfully) to bring about “total peace” in a country torn for decades by civil war and violence tied to drug-trafficking. It was Jan. 3, when the United States kidnapped Petro’s Venezuelan counterpart, Nicolás Maduro, that fear set in.

“After the crucial day, when they bombed Caracas, Trump said: ‘Watch your back, because now I’m coming for Petro.’ That day I thought: ‘A missile is coming for me.’”

After talks among diplomats and with Republicans in the U.S. congress, Petro and Trump met in the White House on Feb. 3. Trump called the conversation “terrific.” Petro said it was “constructive.” (In the La Jornada interview, Petro added that others behind Trump “worse than him” are driving the key decisions.)

Their rapprochement did not last. In Colombia’s presidential election, Trump and his officials backed de la Espriella, calling the other candidate, human rights defender Iván Cepeda, a “radical left Marxist.” This was one more instance of U.S. interference in Latin American elections (after a presidential vote in Honduras and mid-term contests in Argentina). 

Now, countries from Argentina and Chile to El Salvador and Trinidad and Tobago have governments of the hard-right that are solidly attached to Trump’s agenda. The next election to watch is in Brazil next month, where progressive President Luiz Inácio (Lula) da Silva faces Flávio Bolsonaro, son of disgraced former president Jair Bolsonaro.

Across the region, right-wing parties are backed by a large-scale disinformation network, La Derecha Diario (“The Right Wing Daily”). A failed murder-for-hire plot in Bolivia has drawn wider attention to the network’s activities. 

In his interview with La Jornada, Petro spoke of his vision of the political moment: 

“We live in a planetary shell; it’s the matrix of lies. We act like in The Matrix, like in the movie. Suddenly you find a bot farm. It’s not made up of human beings, but rather profiles that automatically react to any Latin American leader because they want to degrade political discourse and reduce it to insults. That’s why I call it the matrix of lies. In this shell of falsehood, some parts escape because they are strong, like states, but the intention of this matrix is ​​to enslave human beings, and it’s not just a physical chain, but a mental one, to enslave human beings to allow the exploitation of non-renewable natural resources, for example.”

Petro explained the counterattack: “Mathematics is required, because it’s a mathematical, algorithmic attack, both in the bots used to manipulate human beings and in the elections themselves and their final results.”

In a subsequent editorial, La Jornada wrote:

“Petro’s contribution to the political debate serves as a wake-up call to increase vigilance regarding foreign agents who exploit communication tools such as social media to promote neo-fascist rhetoric, spread misinformation, incite hatred, and manipulate electorates to benefit their external and internal sponsors – namely, the White House and a sector of big business resistant to democracy. 

“Alongside the bleak picture he paints, there is a message of hope. In his country in 2022, the people elected the first progressive government in history, and this experience cannot be seen as a failure. Societies are not defenseless against technofascism, he says, because they can protect themselves with strong minds and with the same resources used by oppressors: mathematics. Education is fundamental to the resistance that he joins and invites others to join.”

Yes. And, to me, hope is in revival of the networks of social movements that gave rise to the “pink wave” of progressive governments a quarter-century ago.

A postscript: In a Labour Day essay, Canadian politician and activist Charlie Angus offered a similarly sharp warning about the power of the big-tech corporations in the Trump White House. He recalled that in his farewell address, Joe Biden warned that the Silicon Valley elite were capable of destroying democracy and damaging the future.

On the use and misuse of sanctions in a time of empire

by Jim Hodgson

Venezuela’s catastrophic double-tap earthquake on June 24 raises yet again the issues that surround use of sanctions and their humanitarian consequences.

Forgive me for repeating myself, but most sanctions – “unilateral coercive measures” – are almost exclusively applied by rich northern countries against less-wealthy southern countries.

See Common Dreams, July 7, 2026

Venezuela’s drama plays out in the context of historic U.S. refusal to accept the development in this hemisphere of a political and economic model other than the capitalist one. At the end of 1998, Venezuelans chose Hugo Chávez to be their president because he represented a shift away from an oligarchy that used the country’s oil wealth for its own benefit and some allies in an aspiring middle class. In 2004, the United States backed a coup attempt against Chávez: it failed.

Since 2005, U.S. administrations have made annual determination that Venezuela has “failed demonstrably to adhere to its obligations under international narcotics agreements.” The United States began applying sanctions in 2006, saying that Venezuela was not cooperating fully with anti-terrorism efforts, and prohibited all U.S. commercial arms sales and retransfers to Venezuela.

Persistent U.S. action against Venezuela began after the death of Chávez in 2013. His successor, Nicolás Maduro, was perceived as less charismatic (and in the U.S. view, therefore less popular) than Chávez. Oil prices, moreover, had collapsed in 2009, rose again between 2012 and 2014, and collapsed again in 2015. Maduro seemed more vulnerable to external pressure.

Days before Christmas in December 2014, the U.S. Congress voted to give the United States the right to intervene in Venezuela “in defense of democracy and civil society.” Members of congress justified themselves by citing the need to defend “peaceful Venezuelan protesters,” alluding to protests that left 43 people dead. That “defense of civil society” law established the legal framework and paved the way for future sanctions against Venezuela.

These and other measures have been strengthened since 2015. They include a prohibition on use of currencies issued by the Venezuelan government, seizures of accounts and material goods owned by the Venezuelan state and the state-owned oil company and its subsidiaries, and measures against “third parties,” targeting companies that provide services to the Venezuelan state (including transportation of oil). 

Three months later, President Barack Obama cited that law as he issued a presidential decree declaring Venezuela an “unusual and extraordinary threat to the national security and foreign policy of the United States,” and launching what would become a program of more than 1,000 unilateral coercive measures: sanctions.

Assets of Venezuela’s national oil company, PDVSA, including its U.S. subsidiary, CITGO, were eventually blocked or seized, preventing the companies from renegotiating international commitments or attracting new investment. Venezuela went from receiving $39 billion in foreign earnings in 2014 to receiving $743 million in 2020. Measures taken during the first Trump administration led to Venezuela’s effective exclusion from international banking (including SWIFT).

Assets held abroad were confiscated by the United States and handed over to a fake government led by an opposition politician, Juan Guaidó, for whom nobody had voted and yet was backed by Canada and a handful of Latin American countries called the Lima Group.

A variety of situations show limits and possibilities of sanctions. Their use is said to be a “stick in the diplomatic toolkit,”[1] alongside others like dialogue, human rights protection, democracy promotion, mediation, or election observation. For decades after World War II, sanctions were applied by international organizations like the United Nations or the African Union against a member.

After the end of the Cold War in 1991, the UN Security Council used sanctions with mixed success in Yugoslavia and Africa—and also to tragic effect against Iraq in the 1990s. More recently, unilateral sanctions applied by individual states or groups of states against non-members have become more common—and denunciations of their illegality have become louder.

Critics see sanctions as a neocolonial tool available only to powerful states, and one that should be removed from the kit permanently. Indeed, the five permanent members of the UN Security Council are a combination of historic colonial powers and contemporary super-powers that are repeatedly accused of threatening or interfering in the internal affairs of other countries. Moreover, sharp differences among the permanent five have made it more difficult both to impose new multilateral sanctions and to ease existing ones.

Currently, the Venezuelan Anti-Blockade Observatory has documented approximately 930 active sanctions against hundreds of individuals, companies, aircraft, and vessels. A recent article in TeleSUR documents the impact of the sanctions on earthquake recovery efforts.

In a July 7 piece for Just Security, a pair of experts—George Lopez, professor emeritus of peace studies at the University of Notre Dame, and Venezuelan economist and Francisco Rodríguez of the Center for Economic Policy and Research (CEPR)—noted that post-earthquakes, “the United States pledged $300 million to relief agencies, mobilized civilian and military teams to Venezuela that are trained on disaster relief, and issued a limited sanctions waiver for earthquake relief activities.

“But these measures are far from enough,” they stressed, explaining that “the United Nations estimates the losses from the quakes stand at $37 billion,” or 32 per cent of Venezuela’s gross domestic product.

Even The New York Times can see the enormous gap between the U.S. relief offer and the billions of dollars in Venezuelan assets it controls.

Calls to end the sanctions on Venezuela are not new: the damage has been felt for more than a decade. In 2020, more than 40 churches and ecumenical organizations in Latin America and the Caribbean signed a letter calling for an end to U.S. sanctions. “These strategies will not serve any purpose other than to harm those who are already suffering, and who are the most vulnerable to COVID-19. The economic sanctions will also negatively affect the political and social environments needed for a peaceful solution to the crisis in Venezuela.”

That letter followed a statement the previous month from the U.S. National Council of Churches that condemned any possible military intervention in Venezuela and urged elimination of all economic sanctions. It also called on the global ecumenical movement to oppose intervention and sanctions, and to affirm Venezuela’s right to self-determination and sovereignty.

These issues were taken up again by the World Council of Churches and its Commission on International Affairs in a July 16 webinar.

“From the standpoint of international law, interventions such as those perpetrated by the Russian federation in Ukraine and by the U.S. in Venezuela raise serious concerns,” said Peter Prove, director of the commission. “For the WCC, such illegal violations are also theological and ethical violations.” The webinar can be viewed here.

[1] Michael Nesbitt, “Canada’s ‘Unilateral’ Sanctions Regime Under Review: Extraterritoriality, Human Rights, Due Process, and Enforcement in Canada’s Special Economic Measures Act,” (2017), 48-2 Ottawa Law Review 509, CanLIIDocs 119: https://canlii.ca/t/71w.

Matanzas harbour in 2018.

Joel Suárez: “Solidarity is the political name for love” 

In the context of the arrival of the Nuestra América convoy in Cuba, Joel Suárez spoke with La Jornada opinions editor Luis Hernández Navarro about the motivations of those who have rallied to help the island in the face of President Donald Trump’s “cynical and genocidal siege.”

Suárez is a key figure in the weaving of global solidarity relations between Cuba and other countries. His father, Rev. Raúl Suárez, was founder of the Martin Luther King Memorial Centre (CMMLK) in Havana, and Joel served as its coordinator for about 20 years. Raúl and Joel were central to the successful rapprochement between churches and the government in the 1990s, and Joel was part of the drive to expand the World Social Forum from its roots in Porto Alegre, Brazil. CMMLK is a global partner of The United Church of Canada. I first met Joel in Kingston, Jamaica, in October 2000 when we both attended a Caribbean Conference of Churches consultation. He was among my guides to diverse ecumenical and political situations I encountered in Cuba, Brazil, Venezuela, Colombia and beyond.

I am pleased to share some excerpts of the conversation between Joel and Luis here below.

“Those who support us have an affinity for the revolution“

Luis: These days, support has been arriving in Cuba from various countries. How is this solidarity being received? The right wing claims they are “useful idiots.” What is your opinion?

Joel: No one came here out of foolishness. There is always political tourism, but here, people came motivated by deep feelings of love and solidarity, which is the political name for love.

We need to understand where this solidarity comes from. It comes from people who sympathize with the revolutionary project and oppose the Cuban dissidents and their closeness to the empire and the United States government. They are part of a camp where there are diverse opinions about Cuba, where people converge who think this is heaven and who question those who claim this is hell.

But we are neither heaven nor hell. This is the country we have been able to create and that we have built under very adverse conditions. In this solidarity, there are many well-intentioned people who, despite the obvious differences, compare what is happening in Gaza to what is happening in Cuba: policies of genocide that use food, hunger, and energy as weapons of war, and intensify the siege against the country.

These people say: let the Cubans do what they want. If they want to go to hell or heaven, let them do it. They have come motivated by this feeling of understanding of our sovereignty and the difficult situation we are experiencing. There is another group of people who have come because they feel immensely indebted. Cuba travels the world not sharing what it has in excess, but the little we have.

Luis: Who are these aid workers?

Joel: Here I met people who came because they are parents of young people who became doctors in Cuba. People who came because Cuban medical brigades assisted the population in their countries during natural disasters. People from Central America who were supported by Cubans in the days following Hurricane Mitch. I met Italians from regions like Calabria where, despite the US offensive, 400 Cuban doctors continue to treat the sick and provide healthcare. Africans also came who are familiar with Cuba’s long history of contributing to national liberation movements in Africa, to the independence of Namibia and Angola.

Members of platforms and networks organized at the regional and global levels came. The People’s Forum of the United States brought a delegation of 40 young people. They have a campaign in the United States to purchase solar panels. Solidarity needs to be given substance and a material dimension.

Luis: What kind of solidarity is being shown?

Joel: We are seeking to connect this solidarity aid with strategies that not only provide temporary relief to the current situation but also contribute to greater sustainability. The solar panels, along with the strategies being implemented by our Ministry of Energy and Mines, aim to provide energy to healthcare centers, public services, banks, and, above all, water sources.

Another important contribution is in the area of ​​healthcare. They are donating both general and specialized medicines, as well as medical supplies for therapies. They are trying to revitalize the surgical system in the country. There are hundreds of children waiting for operations. There are groups that have practiced more sustained solidarity over the years, for example, with oncology.

It’s important to connect this support with material aid to our organizations in Cuba. Contributions from various partners of CMMLK in the United States, Europe, and Colombia are sent to rural areas of Guantánamo, where we have people organized in social transformation projects. These projects are in the strategic planning stage, based on participatory assessments conducted with the community.

Luis: So, this support doesn’t go through the state?

Joel: Solidarity in Cuba has diverse channels. Churches, neighbours who bring a suitcase to their neighbours, and the neighbour distributes it among their friends, family, and family doctor. The Martin Luther King Centre, as a legally established association, has the legal mechanisms and guarantees for its own import of containers. Not only for this energy crisis, but also since the pandemic, or in the face of natural disasters, especially hurricanes. We have an area that constantly mobilizes international solidarity to confront emergency situations and this cynical, genocidal siege by Trump and the United States government.

Luis: How does Cuban society view this solidarity? As mere crumbs, or does it have another meaning?

Joel: There’s a bit of everything, like in a pharmacy. Many people bring donations and don’t publicize it. In general, there’s respect for the dignity of Cubans, forged in the face of imperialism, so they won’t hesitate or be harmed by any charity that’s meant to be publicized. People are grateful. They get anxious, saying, “Where is it? It hasn’t arrived.”

Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum said Monday that her government is working with Cuba to renew fuel shipments. After almost three months of a U.S. oil blockade, a Russian tanker with 730,000 barrels of oil arrived in Matanzas, Cuba. Photo: La Jornada.

The aid that the Mexican government is sending, which is substantial, is distributed through the distribution systems of the Ministry of the Food Industry and the Ministry of Domestic Trade, and arrives at the bodegas (ration stores) in rationed quantities, free of charge. People are grateful.

It’s a dramatic situation, but we are grateful. Solidarity is a value that persists. What characterizes the new situation is the solidarity networks operating in communities, neighbourhoods, institutions, among people in civil society, and within the government agenda.

Likewise, we must not forget that the problem is marked by a global context of a fierce advance of the right, with an avalanche of a process of hegemony, domination and cultural homogenization of imperialism.