Deepening US Venezuela Confrontation: Drug War or Power Play

Once Washington’s most reliable oil partner, Venezuela now stands accused of becoming a narco-state. The transformation did not happen overnight; it is the outcome of two decades of political defiance, institutional decay, and Washington’s growing use of the “war on drugs” as a tool of geopolitical pressure. What began as a dispute over sovereignty has hardened into a prolonged confrontation where every allegation serves a strategic purpose.

Venezuela’s geography made it a natural corridor for cocaine shipments long before its politics turned hostile. Sharing a 2,200-kilometer border with Colombia — the world’s largest cocaine producer — the country became an attractive route for smugglers. When state capacity weakened and corruption spread across security institutions, trafficking networks found protection within official structures.

The first open clash came in 2005, when President Hugo Chávez expelled the US Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), accusing its agents of espionage and interference. Washington dismissed the charges, warning the decision would turn Venezuela into a “safe haven for traffickers.” Cooperation collapsed, and intelligence links were cut. The move symbolized a decisive shift - from uneasy partnership to open hostility.

US sources later claimed that cocaine flows through Venezuela rose from 60 tons in 2004 to more than 250 tons by 2007, though these figures remain unverifiable.

For Washington, the statistics justified its narrative that Chávez’s Venezuela had become a narco-military hub. For Caracas, the accusations were a familiar tactic — to equate economic sovereignty with criminal behavior.

The confrontation escalated in March 2020, when the US Department of Justice indicted President Nicolás Maduro and top officials for “narco-terrorism,” alleging collaboration with Colombia’s FARC rebels to ship hundreds of tons of cocaine to the United States.

The US$15 million bounty on Maduro’s arrest blurred the line between diplomacy and law enforcement. It was unprecedented for a superpower to treat a sitting head of state as a cartel boss.

Maduro’s government called the move “a pretext for intervention,” and not without reason. Having failed to unseat him through sanctions and isolation, Washington found in the drug war a new justification to tighten pressure. While Venezuela’s institutional rot is undeniable, the “narco-state” label has become a convenient geopolitical weapon — used selectively against regimes unwilling to align with US strategic interests.

The drug war, in this case, is less about cocaine and more about control. Two decades after the first rupture, the US–Venezuela standoff remains a contest of narratives — one dressed in the language of law enforcement, the other wrapped in defiance of imperial power. Between them lies a reality both sides refuse to face - geopolitics, not narcotics, fuels this enduring hostility.

Is Pakistan Being Pushed into a ‘US Proxy War’ in Afghanistan?

Behind the new wave of border clashes may lie an old script — one written in Washington and played out in Islamabad and Kabul. Has Pakistan once again been cast in the role of America’s proxy?

The recent spike in Pak-Afghan border tensions has once again pushed the region to the edge of confrontation. Reports suggest that armed militants crossing from Afghanistan have attacked Pakistani security posts, prompting Islamabad’s “severe retaliation.” Yet, beneath the visible smoke of gunfire lies a far more intricate and disturbing reality — one that hints at the shadow of global power politics.

Following the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021, Washington appeared to have lost its strategic foothold in the region. The Taliban’s refusal to hand over the Bagam Air Base — once a vital hub of American military operations — was not merely a symbolic rejection; it was a strategic rebuff. The superpower lost a vantage point near China, Iran, and Central Asia.

It is no coincidence that within months of that refusal, Afghanistan began facing renewed instability, and Pakistan started encountering an inexplicable surge in cross-border attacks.

My hypothesis is simple: when Washington cannot re-enter Afghanistan directly, it may seek to create circumstances that justify intervention. The most effective way to do that is to provoke conflict. The pattern fits. Anonymous “operators” — possibly non-state actors with advanced intelligence capabilities — carry out attacks inside Pakistan, inviting a retaliatory strike. The resulting escalation allows the US to portray the region as unstable and Taliban-controlled Afghanistan as a “global threat.” A familiar pretext for yet another intervention is thus created.

Ironically, Pakistan — which has already paid an enormous price in blood and economy during the first “War on Terror” — now risks being drawn into another one, this time as an unwilling participant in someone else’s geopolitical chessboard. The tragedy is that Islamabad still struggles to draw a clear line between its national interests and Washington’s regional ambitions. History, it seems, is repeating itself — and not for the better.

What complicates matters further is the deep mistrust between Islamabad and Kabul. The Taliban government, already under economic sanctions and political isolation, accuses Pakistan of toeing the American line. Pakistan, on the other hand, blames Afghanistan for harboring militants of the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). Yet neither side seems willing to see how external forces might be manipulating both.

The strategic question Pakistan must ask is: Whose war are we fighting this time? If recent cross-border provocations are indeed part of a larger plan to destabilize the region, Islamabad must avoid taking the bait. A measured, intelligence-based response — not blind retaliation — is the need of the hour. Pakistan’s security cannot depend on reaction; it must rest on foresight.

The lesson from the past two decades is painfully clear. Every time Pakistan has fought on behalf of someone else, it has lost — in lives, in reputation, and in internal cohesion. If history is repeating itself, the least we can do is refuse to play the same role again.

Hamas Agreeing to Ceasefire: Victory or Defeat

This ceasefire is not the end of war. It is merely the pause between two tragedies.

After months of destruction, displacement, and despair, Hamas has agreed to a ceasefire. Its supporters call it a “strategic pause,” but in truth, it reflects exhaustion — political, military, and moral. When resistance drifts from purpose to performance, it loses the essence of struggle and becomes an exercise in survival.

Hamas overestimated its resilience and underestimated the duplicity of the Arab world. The self-proclaimed defenders of Palestine turned spectators, mouthing empty slogans while doing business with Tel Aviv.

The Western champions of democracy and human rights proved, once again, that these values have geographical limits. In this moral vacuum, Hamas found itself fighting alone — a resistance without reinforcements.

The ceasefire may silence the guns, but it cannot disguise the catastrophe. Gaza stands in ruins — its governance crippled, its population scattered, its children scarred.

Israel may not have destroyed Hamas, but it has devastated everything around it. The resistance lives, but the society it claimed to protect lies in ashes.

Yet Israel’s so-called “victory” is equally hollow. Two years of relentless war have brought neither peace nor security. Instead, Israel finds itself morally isolated and diplomatically cornered. The global sympathy it once commanded has turned to disgust. Even among its traditional allies, questions are being asked: how long can “self-defense” justify collective punishment?

To conclude, is this ceasefire a victory or a defeat?

For Hamas, it is survival without success; for Israel, dominance without dignity. Both sides are trapped in a cycle of destruction that yields no justice, only rubble and resentment.

The true defeat lies with the international community — which has normalized occupation, tolerated brutality, and renamed surrender as “peace.”

 

کون بنے گا غزہ کا بادشاہ

غزہ جل رہا ہے، مگر تخت خالی نہیں۔ ہر کوئی بادشاہ بننے کو بے چین ہے — کوئی بندوق لے کر، کوئی قرارداد اٹھا کر، کوئی انسان کے آنسو بیچ کر۔ یہ وہ بادشاہت ہے جس کے محل ملبے میں دفن ہیں، اور رعایا مٹی میں۔

عرب دنیا اب صرف بیانات کی بادشاہت چلاتی ہے۔ کوئی قطر میں کانفرنس بلاتا ہے، کوئی ریاض میں “امن” کے تسبیح دانے گنتا ہے۔ ہر کوئی سمجھتا ہے کہ اس کی خاموشی ہی دانش مندی ہے۔ غزہ میں خون بہے یا بچوں کے لاشے بکھریں، اصل مسئلہ یہ ہے کہ فوٹو سیشن میں کون اگلی صف میں بیٹھے گا۔ بادشاہت کے خواب اب تسبیح کے دانوں سے نہیں، “لائکس” اور “ڈالرز” سے گنے جاتے ہیں۔

مغربی دنیا بھی کم تماشائی نہیں۔ کوئی آزادیِ اظہار کے پرچم تلے جلتے گھروں کی تصویریں چھاپتا ہے، اور کوئی “دہشت گرد” کا لیبل لگا کر قبر کی مٹی ہلکی کر دیتا ہے۔ جنہوں نے فلسطینیوں کو تاریخ کا سب سے بڑا سبق دینے کا وعدہ کیا تھا، وہ اب جغرافیہ بھی ان سے چھین چکے ہیں۔

اور حماس؟ وہ بھی بادشاہت کی دوڑ میں پیچھے نہیں۔ تخت بچانے کے لیے رعایا قربان، عزت بچانے کے لیے لاشیں گنی جا رہی ہیں۔ مزاحمت کا نعرہ اب زندہ رہنے کی نہیں، اقتدار بچانے کی علامت بن چکا ہے۔

غزہ میں بادشاہت کا تاج اب خون میں بھیگا ہوا ہے — مگر دعوے دار سب مسکراتے ہیں۔ کوئی اسرائیل کی طرف دیکھتا ہے، کوئی واشنگٹن کی، کوئی تہران کی۔ سب جانتے ہیں، جو بادشاہ بنے گا، وہ رعایا کے خون سے نہیں، خاموشی سے حکومت کرے گا۔

اور رعایا؟ وہ اب صرف ملبے کے نیچے رہ گئی ہے، جہاں بادشاہت کے تمام خواب دفن ہو چکے ہیں۔
آخر میں صرف ایک سوال باقی ہے —
غزہ کا بادشاہ کون بنے گا؟
جو سب کو مار چکا ہے، یا جو اب بھی زندہ رہنے کی سزا بھگت رہا ہے؟

Neither Trump nor Machado Deserves Praise

Both Donald Trump and María Corina Machado thrive on the politics of illusion. Trump promises to “make America great again,” while Machado vows to “liberate Venezuela.” Behind these slogans lies a familiar playbook — inflame divisions, exploit public despair, and crown oneself the only redeemer of a corrupted state.

Trump’s brand of populism is less about patriotism and more about personal vengeance. His contempt for institutions, judiciary, and even allies is legendary. He has converted grievance into a political doctrine and chaos into an electoral strategy. To his followers, this looks like courage; to the rest of the world, it looks like narcissism on steroids.

Machado, meanwhile, is being hailed by the Western media as the “face of freedom.” But her freedom narrative is selective. She belongs to the same Venezuelan elite that squandered the nation’s oil wealth long before Hugo Chávez arrived. Her sudden rediscovery of democracy sounds less like conviction and more like nostalgia for lost privilege.

In a country battered by sanctions, corruption, and poverty, her promise to “rebuild Venezuela” rings hollow without a plan beyond regime change.

Washington, as usual, has learned nothing. It once sold dictators as “pro-West reformers”; now it packages every anti-Maduro voice as a democrat. In reality, Machado’s politics is no less polarizing than Maduro’s — only more polished in presentation.

Populism, whether draped in Trump’s flag or Machado’s rhetoric, remains a dangerous narcotic. It feeds on resentment, not reason. It dismantles institutions in the name of saving them.

Democracy cannot be rescued by those who believe they alone embody the will of the people. Both Trump and Machado thrive on division and deliver little more than slogans. Their rise exposes not their genius but our collective fatigue with genuine leadership.

Neither deserves praise — because both are reflections of societies that have mistaken noise for change.

 

PSX benchmark index declines 3.49%WoW

Pakistan Stock Exchange (PSX) remained under pressure during the week, given investor skepticism amid political uncertainty stemming from tensions between the government and its coalition allies. The benchmark index declined by 5,891 points or 3.49%WoW, to close at 163,098 points on Friday, October 10, 2025. To read details click https://shkazmipk.com/weekly-stock-market-report-81/

Western Media Starts Wailing When Crude Oil Prices Fall

One of the greatest ironies of the global economy is that when oil prices rise, Western media cries about “global inflation,” but when prices fall, the same voices start lamenting “economic instability.” It seems oil prices are not an energy concern but rather the emotional thermostat of the West — every fluctuation sends their headlines into fever or frost.

Whenever OPEC decides to cut production to stabilize prices, Western analysts call it a “cartel manipulation.” Yet when American shale oil producers flood the market with excess supply, driving prices down, the same pundits celebrate it as a “victory of the free market.” The contradiction is so striking that even economists find themselves wondering — where does the real crisis lie: in the market or in the Western conscience?

If Russia sells oil to sustain its economy, it’s branded a “war economy.” But when the United States sells off its strategic reserves to reduce its fiscal deficit, it’s hailed as an act of “economic wisdom.” The truth is, every drop in oil prices hurts not the ordinary consumer — who might finally breathe easier at the pump — but the investors whose profits are tied to every dollar movement in Brent crude.

To the Western media, oil is no longer just fuel; it’s a narrative weapon — used to control markets, moods, and minds. When oil is expensive, the threat comes from Russia or OPEC; when it’s cheap, the “global economy” is suddenly in peril. The rest of the world can only watch, amused, as the same newsrooms that cheer for capitalism begin to mourn when the market actually behaves like one.

Perhaps one day, crude prices will drop — and Western media won’t start wailing. But until then, every fall in oil prices will sound like a siren in newsroom.