Category World News

Venezuelan opposition leader and Nobel Peace laureate Maria Corina Machado has declared that authorities in her home country would have attempted everything possible to prevent her journey to Norway, after she emerged publicly for the first time in nearly a year.

Machado greeted supporters from an Oslo hotel balcony in the early hours of Thursday following a high-risk exit from Venezuela, where she had been in hiding since January.

The journey, which purportedly included navigating 10 military checkpoints and crossing the Caribbean by fishing vessel, brought her to the Norwegian capital to collect her Nobel Peace Prize.

During a news conference at Norway’s parliament, the 58-year-old right-wing opposition figure delivered sharp criticism of President Nicolas Maduro’s administration, asserting that the government deploys national resources to suppress its population.

When questioned about an oil tanker seized by Washington on Wednesday, she argued this demonstrated how the regime operates. Asked whether she would support a United States invasion, Machado claimed Venezuela had already been invaded by Russian and Iranian agents alongside drug cartels.

“This has turned Venezuela into the criminal hub of the Americas,” she said, standing alongside Norwegian Prime Minister Jonas Gahr Stoere.

“What sustains the regime is a very powerful and strongly funded repression system. Where do those funds come from? Well, from drug trafficking, from the black market of oil, from arms trafficking and from human trafficking. We need to cut those flows.”

The trip reunited her with family members she had not seen in almost two years, including her daughter, who accepted the Nobel Peace Prize on her behalf at Wednesday’s ceremony.

Aligned with Trump 

The political leader has welcomed international sanctions and US military intervention in Venezuela, a move her critics say harkens back to a dark past.

The US has a long history of interference in the region, particularly in the 1980s, when it propped up repressive right-wing governments through coups, and funded paramilitary groups across Latin America that were responsible for mass killings, forced disappearances and other grave human rights abuses.

Venezuelan authorities cited Machado’s support for sanctions and US intervention when they barred her from running for office in last year’s presidential election, where she had intended to challenge Maduro. Machado has accused Venezuela’s president of stealing the July 2024 election, which was criticised by international observers.

Praising the Trump administration’s approach, Machado said the president’s actions had been “decisive to reach the point where we are right now, in which the regime is weaker than ever.”

She insisted she would return home but did not say when. “I’m going back to Venezuela regardless of when Maduro goes out. He’s going out, but the moment will be determined by when I’m finished doing the things that I came out to do,” she told reporters.

Her escape comes as tensions between Washington and Caracas have intensified sharply. The Trump administration has positioned major naval forces in the Caribbean and conducted strikes against alleged drug vessels since September. The US seized what Trump called a “very large” oil tanker off the coast of Venezuela, on Wednesday.

Machado has aligned herself with right-wing hawks close to Trump who argue that Maduro has links to criminal gangs that pose a direct threat to US national security, despite doubts raised by the US intelligence community.

The Trump administration has ordered more than 20 military strikes in recent months against alleged drug-trafficking vessels in the Caribbean and off Latin America’s Pacific coast, killing more than 80 people.

Human rights groups, some US Democrats, and several Latin American countries have condemned the attacks as unlawful extrajudicial killings of civilians.

The Wall Street Journal (WSJ) reported that Machado’s two-month escape operation involved wearing a disguise and departing from a coastal fishing village on a wooden boat bound for Curacao before boarding a private aircraft to Norway.

US forces were alerted to avoid striking the vessel, the WSJ reported, as they had one with similar boats in recent months. Machado confirmed receiving assistance from Washington during her escape.

Maduro, in power since 2013 following the death of Hugo Chavez, says Trump is pushing for regime change in the country to access Venezuela’s vast oil reserves. He has pledged to resist such attempts.

A United Nations report released on Thursday accused Venezuela’s security forces of crimes against humanity over more than a decade.

On October 14, the Swedish government announced it was nominating the CEO of IKEA, Jesper Brodin, as its candidate for United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). Less than a month later, as the current high commissioner, Filippo Grandi, approached the end of his mandate, Brodin resigned from his position at the Swedish furniture giant, which he had led for eight years. In January 2026, the office of the UN secretary-general is expected to present a preferred candidate to the General Assembly for what former UNHCR head of research Jeff Crisp has called a “pro forma election”. Can the former chief of an iconic multinational company become the world’s highest authority on refugees — and what will it mean if he does?

In interviews, Jesper Brodin often refers to a small pamphlet by IKEA founder Ingvar Kamprad, titled The Testament of a Furniture Dealer, as outlining the values that inspire his way of doing business: innovation, sustainability and collective effort over individualism. Does the UNHCR need to learn lessons from a “furniture dealer”? The question matters because Brodin’s appeal is often framed in terms of corporate values, yet it remains unclear how — or whether — these translate into the protection of refugees. Whether Brodin has any chance of making it to the Geneva post or not, the question is worth asking, for the role of IKEA as a donor and operational partner of the UNHCR is significant and is likely to grow.

While humanitarianism and business have historically been companions, particularly since the end of the Cold War, this is the first time a business leader has been proposed to head the UN refugee agency. The nomination comes at a time when the UNHCR faces a dramatic cash crunch, and when political pressures and anti-refugee sentiment are increasing globally. Many scholars and practitioners believe the future of the global refugee regime itself may be at stake. Understanding the implications of Sweden’s choice, then, requires examining how corporate humanitarianism now shapes refugee protection.

Many were taken aback by the nomination. Yet the move by Sweden is anything but surprising. Over the past three decades, corporations have taken on increased responsibility for responding to humanitarian crises, while traditional organisations compete for a rapidly diminishing pool of resources. Research on the commodification of compassion has shown how, increasingly, “doing good” and “doing well” have become one and the same. This kind of “brand aid” involved both promoting commercial brands (from Toms shoes to Starbucks) through their involvement in humanitarian causes, and turning aid itself into a branded activity — something most effectively done through corporate partnerships. It began around two decades ago but has now become the dominant model of humanitarian engagement. As one major humanitarian donor in Kinshasa told us, “It’s now all about collaborations between the private sector, businesses and philanthropists.” Indeed, when the desire to help becomes something you can sell, corporations such as IKEA can profit from involvement in global helping that builds their ethical branding. But can the UNHCR profit from being led by IKEA’s CEO? The question goes to the heart of a growing unease about the direction of the refugee regime.

We see three main problems here. First, UNHCR is caught between contradictory demands from donor states in the Global North and hosting states in the South. Brodin and IKEA’s brand of feel-good capitalism cannot reconcile these fundamental tensions over sovereignty. Jesper Brodin has been lauded as a businessman and touts his credibility as a leader and negotiator. “Trump likes people in the business world,” we are told. However, the challenges to the agency’s protection mandate require a vision that goes well beyond the smiling face of compassionate capitalism. While formally remaining the guardian of the 1951 Refugee Convention, UNHCR has been operating in what scholars such as Bhupinder Chimni have described as an “erosion” of the international refugee regime — a long-term weakening of asylum norms and burden-sharing commitments. Donor governments in the Global North have used their limited support for UNHCR’s humanitarian activities in the Global South as a way to deflect attention from the disregard for refugee rights within their own borders. How will Brodin fare in navigating these competing pressures — from containment agendas in the Global North to protection obligations that lie at the heart of UNHCR’s mandate?

Second, Brodin often mentions his experience as a supply chain manager in a company that has put logistical innovation at the core of its business strategy as an important asset for the job. Indeed, this aligns with UNHCR’s current focus on renewing its own supply chain strategy. He also talks about “bringing the values and the assets of refugees to the business community,” a phrase he uses to refer to refugees’ skills and labour potential. However, this endeavour has proved far more complex than he makes it sound. Almost 10 years after IKEA’s first attempt to integrate refugees into its own supply chains in Jordan, the number of people the programme involves remains small, and refugees in the country still face significant barriers to work and social security.

A study we published in 2021 highlighted that a focus on refugee logistics actually meant working towards integrating displaced people into global supply chains rather than providing them with material support or infrastructure. Whether for business or for disaster relief, logistics depend on networks of infrastructure and rules that only function through ongoing negotiation with governments.

Finally, the contradictions of IKEA’s corporate and foundation ownership structure — what makes it work well as a business — embody the paradox of mixing public needs for refugee protection with private objectives for profit. The IKEA Foundation, the company’s philanthropic arm, has been working with UNHCR since 2010, supporting its operations in 16 countries. The UN agency defines the collaboration as “transformative”, highlighting how it has become a model for all its partnerships with the private sector. Moreover, the nomination comes at a time when major donor states, including the US, the United Kingdom and Germany, are slashing their budgets. In this geopolitical context, Sweden, while facing its own economic challenges, may well be seeking to stake its position as one of the last remaining humanitarian powers in the Western world. Brodin’s bid draws on Sweden’s perceived reputation for frugality and sustainability.

However, there is an unspoken yet fundamental contradiction between Brodin’s promise to address UNHCR’s crisis by “holding the purse strings” and the position of IKEA within global economic structures that have contributed to the humanitarian funding crisis in the first place. In 2017, following calls from EU parliamentary groups, the European Commission opened an in-depth investigation into the Netherlands — where the company is headquartered — for its tax treatment of Inter IKEA, one of the two groups operating the IKEA business. The company’s ownership structure, which benefits its commercial operations, may also reduce its tax burden, thereby reducing contributions to public finances. Here, as in many other cases, big business promises to fix global inequality it has helped create.

In the present global climate of hostility to migrants and refugees, Brodin and IKEA’s brand of feel-good capitalism risks further hollowing out UNHCR’s protection mandate, reducing humanitarianism to a matter of well-managed supply chains. The stakes are high: when humanitarian priorities are shaped by corporate logic, core protections — from asylum access to basic assistance — risk being eroded. What benefits a business organisation does not necessarily serve the rights or needs of refugees.

United States President Donald Trump has said that the US has seized a sanctioned oil tanker close to the coast of Venezuela, in a move that has caused oil prices to spike and further escalates tensions with Caracas.

“We’ve just seized a tanker on the coast of Venezuela, large tanker, very large, largest one ever, actually, and other things are happening,” Trump said on Wednesday.

The Venezuelan government called the move an act of “international piracy”, and “blatant theft”.

This comes as the US expands its military operations in the region, where it has been carrying out air strikes on at least 21 suspected drug-trafficking vessels since September. The Trump administration has provided no evidence that these boats were carrying drugs, however.

Here is what we know about the seizure of the Venezuelan tanker:

What happened?

The US said it intercepted and seized a large oil tanker off the coast of Venezuela, marking the first operation of its kind in years.

The last comparable US military seizure of a foreign tanker occurred in 2014, when US Navy SEALs boarded the Morning Glory off Cyprus as Libyan rebels attempted to sell stolen crude oil.

The Trump administration did not identify the vessel or disclose the precise location of the operation.

However, Bloomberg reported that officials had described the ship as a “stateless vessel” and said it had been docked in Venezuela.

Soon after announcing the latest operation on Wednesday, US Attorney General Pam Bondi released a video showing two helicopters approaching a vessel and armed personnel in camouflage rappelling onto its deck.

“Today, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Homeland Security Investigations and the United States Coast Guard, with support from the Department of War, executed a seizure warrant for a crude oil tanker used to transport sanctioned oil from Venezuela and Iran,” Bondi said.

She added that “for multiple years, the oil tanker has been sanctioned by the United States due to its involvement in an illicit oil-shipping network supporting foreign terrorist organisations”.

Today, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Homeland Security Investigations, and the United States Coast Guard, with support from the Department of War, executed a seizure warrant for a crude oil tanker used to transport sanctioned oil from Venezuela and Iran. For multiple… pic.twitter.com/dNr0oAGl5x

Experts said the method of boarding demonstrated in the video is standard practice for US forces.

“The Navy, Coast Guard and special forces all have special training for this kind of mission, called visit, board, search, and seizure – or VBSS,” Mark Cancian, a retired Marine Corps colonel and senior adviser at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, told Al Jazeera.

“It is routine, especially for the Coast Guard. The government said it was a Coast Guard force doing the seizure, though the helicopter looks like a Navy SH-60S.”

Which vessel was seized?

According to a Reuters report, British maritime risk firm Vanguard identified the crude carrier Skipper as the vessel seized early Wednesday off Venezuela’s coast.

MarineTraffic lists the Skipper as a very large crude carrier measuring 333m (1,093 feet) in length and 60m (197 feet) in width.

The tanker was sanctioned in 2022 for allegedly helping to transport oil for the Lebanese armed group, Hezbollah, which is backed by Iran, and Iran’s Quds Force.

The Skipper departed Venezuela’s main oil terminal at Jose between December 4 and 5 after loading about 1.8 million barrels of Merey crude, a heavy, high-sulphur blend produced in Venezuela.

“I assume we’re going to keep the oil,” President Trump said on Wednesday.

Before the seizure, the tanker had transferred roughly 200,000 barrels near Curacao to the Panama-flagged Neptune 6, which was headed for Cuba, according to satellite data analysed by TankerTrackers.com.

According to shipping data from Venezuela’s state-owned oil and gas company Petroleos de Venezuela (PDVSA), the vessel also transported Venezuelan crude to Asia in 2021 and 2022.

Where did the seizure take place?

The US said it seized the oil tanker in the Caribbean Sea.

US officials have said the action occurred near Venezuelan territorial waters, though they have not provided precise coordinates.

MarineTraffic data shows the vessel’s tracker still located in the Caribbean.

Is the US action legal?

Cancian noted that “seizing sanctioned items is common inside a country’s own territory. It is unusual in international waters”.

He added: “Russia has hundreds of sanctioned tankers sailing today, but they have not been boarded.”

Experts say it is unclear whether the seizure was legal, partly because many details about it have not been made public.

Still, the US could make use of various arguments to justify the seizure if needs be.

One is that the boat is regarded as stateless. Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), ships need “a nationality”.

The government of Guyana, Venezuela’s neighbour, said the Skipper was “falsely flying the Guyana flag”, adding that it is not registered in the country.

If a vessel flies a flag it is not registered under, or refuses to show any flag at all, states have the “right of visit”, allowing their officials to stop and inspect the ship on the high seas – essentially meaning international waters.

If doubts about a ship’s nationality remain after checking its documents, a more extensive search can follow.

In previous enforcement actions against sanctioned ships, the US has seized not the ship itself but the oil on board. In 2020, it confiscated fuel from four tankers allegedly carrying Iranian oil to Venezuela.

US law also allows the Coast Guard, which carried out this operation, to conduct searches and seizures on the high seas in order to enforce US laws, stating that it “may make inquiries, examinations, inspections, searches, seizures, and arrests upon the high seas” to prevent and suppress violations.

But some legal experts argue that the US has overstepped, as it “has no jurisdiction to enforce unilateral sanctions on non-US persons outside its territory”, according to Francisco Rodriguez, a senior research fellow at the Center for Economic and Policy Research (CEPR).

Rodriguez said the US is relying on maritime rules for stateless vessels “as an entryway to justify enforcing US sanctions outside of US territory”.

“To the extent that the US is able to continue to do so, it could significantly increase the cost of doing business with Venezuela and precipitate a deepening of the country’s economic recession,” he warned in a CEPR article.

The US has no jurisdiction to enforce unilateral sanctions on non-US persons outside its territory. The seizure of ships in international waters to extraterritorially enforce US sanctions is a dangerous precedent and a violation of international law.

How has Venezuela responded to the seizure?

Venezuela’s Foreign Ministry stated that “the true reasons for the prolonged aggression against Venezuela have finally been exposed”.

“It is not migration, it is not drug trafficking, it is not democracy, it is not human rights – it was always about our natural resources, our oil, our energy, the resources that belong exclusively to the Venezuelan people,” the statement said.

The ministry described the incident as an “act of piracy.”

The government added that it will appeal to “all” international bodies to denounce the incident and vowed to defend its sovereignty, natural resources, and national dignity with “absolute determination”.

“Venezuela will not allow any foreign power to attempt to take from the Venezuelan people what belongs to them by historical and constitutional right,” it said.

What are the potential consequences for Venezuela’s oil exports?

Experts say the seizure could produce short-term uncertainty for Venezuelan oil exports, largely because “this has been the first time [the United States has]… seized a shipment of Venezuelan oil”, Carlos Eduardo Pina, a Venezuelan political scientist, told Al Jazeera.

That may make shippers hesitate, though the broader impact is limited, Pina said, since “the US allows the Chevron company to continue extracting Venezuelan oil”, and US group Chevron holds a special waiver permitting it to produce and export crude despite wider sanctions.

Chevron, which operates joint ventures with PDVSA, said its operations in Venezuela remain normal and continue without disruption.

The US oil major, which is currently responsible for all Venezuelan crude exports to the US, increased shipments last month to 150,000 barrels per day (bopd), up from 128,000 bpd in October.

Inside Venezuela, Pina warned the move could spark financial panic, however: “It could instil fear, trigger a currency run… and worsen the humanitarian crisis.”

How will this affect US-Venezuela relations?

Diplomatically, Pina said he views the action as a political message to Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro, noting its timing – “the same day that [opposition leader] Maria Corina Machado was awarded the Nobel Prize” – and calling it “a gesture of strength… to remind that [the US is present in the Latin American region].”

Maduro has long argued that the Trump administration’s strikes on boats in the Caribbean and eastern Pacific are not, in fact, aimed at preventing drug running, but are part of a plan to effect regime change in Venezuela. Trump has authorised CIA operations in Venezuela and has given conflicting messages about whether he would consider a land invasion.

Analysts see this latest action as part of a broader strategy to pressure the Maduro government.

“This is certainly an escalation designed to put additional pressure on the Maduro regime, causing it to fracture internally or convincing Maduro to leave,” said Cancian.

“It is part of a series of US actions such as sending the Ford to the Caribbean, authorising the CIA to move against the Maduro regime, and conducting flybys with bombers and, recently, F-18s.”

Cancian added that the broader meaning of the operation depends on what comes next.

On September 2, United States President Donald Trump released grainy footage of a missile obliterating a fishing boat off Venezuela’s coast. Eleven people died instantly. The administration called them narcoterrorists. Venezuelan sources identified them as fishermen. Since then, the US military has conducted at least 22 strikes, killing 87 people, with investigations revealing that the first attack included a second strike to kill two survivors clinging to wreckage — a potential war crime under international law. On Wednesday, the US went on to seize an oil tanker in Venezuelan waters, an escalation the Venezuelan government described as “blatant theft” and an “act of international piracy,” underscoring Washington’s shift towards economic coercion alongside military force.

The Trump administration frames all this as “counter-narcotics”. Critics call it regime change. But the most dangerous dimension of this crisis has nothing to do with Venezuela at all. It is about the consolidation of executive power at home.

The oil narrative does not add up

If this were about oil, nothing about the current approach makes sense. The US produces more oil than any country in history, exporting millions of barrels daily. Neither America nor Europe faces an oil shortage that would require military intervention. Venezuela, meanwhile, sits atop the world’s largest proven reserves — 303 billion barrels — but its oil infrastructure is severely deteriorated. Production has collapsed from 3.2 million barrels per day in 2000 to roughly 900,000 today. The country’s pipelines have not been updated in 50 years, and restoring peak production capacity would require an estimated $58bn in investment, underscoring how far the sector is from posing any strategic threat that might justify military force.

More tellingly, legal pathways to Venezuelan oil already exist. The US could lift sanctions, expand Chevron’s operations, or reopen the energy corridor — measures that require neither warships nor circumventing Congress. In fact, Chevron’s operations in Venezuela represent 25 percent of the country’s total production, demonstrating that commercial access is entirely possible within existing frameworks. This contradiction exposes how little the current strategy has to do with securing resources. Trump’s own Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent acknowledged the complexity, describing sanctions policy as a balancing act between displacing China and providing foreign currency to Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro.

The fundamental shift in Washington’s Venezuela calculus has less to do with oil companies and more to do with private equity firms and defence contractors — interests focused not on barrels but on reconstruction contracts, mineral rights and territorial leverage in a post-Maduro scenario. Together, these dynamics make clear that the logic driving US policy lies outside the economics of oil itself.

What emergency powers actually enable

The Venezuela narrative serves a different function: it provides the pretext for expanded executive authority through emergency declarations. Since 2015, the US has maintained a continuous “national emergency with respect to Venezuela” under the National Emergencies Act. This declaration unlocks access to more than 120 specific statutory powers, including asset seizures, commerce regulation and military deployment — authorities that bypass normal congressional authorisation and operate with minimal legislative oversight.

Trump has systematically layered additional emergency measures. In March, he designated Tren de Aragua as a foreign terrorist organisation, expanded the legal definition of Venezuela’s government to encompass virtually any affiliated entity — from ministries to state-owned firms — and imposed 25 percent tariffs on countries importing Venezuelan oil. In August, he signed a secret directive authorising military force against Latin American drug cartels — a decision taken without coastguard involvement and relying solely on Navy assets, breaking with decades of maritime interdiction precedent and further consolidating executive discretion.

Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth framed the scope clearly when he declared that alleged drug operations “will not be controlled by cartels” and promised to “map your networks, track your people, hunt you down and kill you” — language more consistent with warfare than law enforcement. Secretary of State Marco Rubio went further, stating that the Maduro regime is “not a legitimate government” but rather “a transshipment organisation” that facilitates drug trafficking — a characterisation that redefines diplomatic relations as a criminal enterprise and justifies treating state actors as targets.

Congress abdicates oversight

What makes this deployment unprecedented is not its size — though assembling carrier strike groups, B-52 bombers, F-35 fighters, submarines and more than 15,000 personnel represents the most significant US military presence in Latin America since the Cold War — but the absence of congressional authorisation. Lawmakers from both parties have complained they were not provided with legal justification, target lists or evidence about those killed. The Senate has twice rejected resolutions to limit Trump’s military authority on Venezuela, leaving executive power in effect, unchecked.

Senator Lindsey Graham made the administration’s objective explicit, telling CBS that regime change is the goal and Trump “has all the authority in the world” to conduct strikes. Legal experts broadly characterise the maritime attacks as illegal under both US and international law. Yet classified briefings to congressional leadership — including recent sessions in which Hegseth refused to commit to releasing unedited strike footage — have produced no meaningful constraint on executive action.

The pattern emerging is one of expanding presidential discretion: once invoked, emergency powers become self-perpetuating tools that normalise unilateral military action. Rather than being used for targeted interdiction, they are increasingly employed to engineer confrontation and accelerate regime change — all without a congressional declaration of war.

The real cost

The most insidious aspect of this crisis is that it manufactures a threat precisely calibrated to validate expanded executive power. Oil does not provide that pretext — a foreign emergency large enough to activate military force — and label as terrorism does. This permits the exercise of authority without Congress, without oversight and, increasingly, without resistance.

Venezuela becomes useful not for its resources but for its role as a political prop in a constitutional drama. While Trump has openly threatened land strikes and stated that the airspace above Venezuela should be considered closed, the administration is quietly drafting day-after plans for what happens if Maduro is ousted — planning that proceeds regardless of congressional authorisation or international law.

The Venezuelan people, already suffering under economic collapse and political repression, now face the prospect of becoming collateral damage in someone else’s power consolidation project. More than seven million Venezuelans have fled abroad, and those who remain endure the escalating danger of a manufactured crisis designed not to liberate them but to serve distant political calculations.

This is not an oil grab. It is a power grab — one that uses Venezuela as a pawn while setting precedents that will outlast any single administration. The question is not whether Maduro’s regime deserves international condemnation; it does. The question is whether democracies should abandon their own constitutional principles to achieve regime change abroad. On the current trajectory, the answer appears to be yes — and that is the most dangerous precedent of all.

A broadcast on Israel’s right-wing Channel 14 openly celebrated a severe winter storm that’s hitting Gaza, with participants expressing hope that flooding would ‘drown’ the territory and even voicing indifference to whether ‘any people’ survive.