Capitalism’s Crowbar

Making Resource Sovereignty a Crime & 2026 Venezuelan Case Study

Peter Joseph is a filmmaker & author; host of the podcast Revolution Now! and one can support his work through Patreon.

In the fog of polarized discourse, there is no shortage of academics whose job appears to be finding—or inventing—differences in the unfolding of history while ignoring continuity. This tendency becomes especially clear when we examine the multi-generational adaptation of one of the most persistent patterns of human engagement since the Neolithic Revolution: market trade. Rather than confronting the structural through-lines that govern economic behavior over time, discussion is often fragmented into eras, ideologies, or personalities, obscuring the deeper mechanics at work.

As I’ve argued repeatedly in many Substack articles, markets are self-organizing, self-regulating cybernetic systems. By “cybernetic,” I mean that market behavior exhibits complex, multi-linear feedback loops whose interactions generate emergent outcomes independent of individual intent. These outcomes are not moral failures/intents or policy accidents; they are structural properties of the system itself.

One example is economic inequality. Regardless of how fair or ethical individual participants believe themselves to be, mass market behavior reliably transfers wealth from the majority to the minority as a systemic function.

Another example—different in form but equally immutable—is labor-displacing automation. Centuries ago, it would have seemed implausible that human labor itself would be rendered increasingly unnecessary by machines. Yet today this pattern is omnipresent, not as a malfunction, but as a direct consequence of profit-driven cost efficiency. Firms are structurally compelled to reduce labor costs, increase productivity, and externalize disruption wherever possible. Automation is not an ethical debate within capitalism; it is an emergent inevitability.

A third example is ecological destruction. The market cannot relax. Because income is required to survive, and survival requires continuous production and consumption, the system is locked into a reinforcing loop of growth and turnover that inevitably erodes habitat and depletes resources. “Growth” is not a choice; it is a structural requirement.

Keep this last one in mind as we proceed.

Such are only a few of the systemic outcomes of mass market behavior. Other branches extend into the structure of the sovereign state, the legal system, the organization and distortion of “democracy,” and beyond. Markets do not exist in isolation; they reshape every institutional layer they touch.

With that foundation in place, this article focuses on a more specific—but critically important—emergent property of market systems. Drawing from both historical and modern examples, it examines how the growth-and-expansion imperative of markets generates cultural and political justifications for aggressive resource acquisition. This gravitational pull is most clearly visible in the long history of colonial expansion—a history that cannot be separated, in economic form, from modern market behavior.

When stripped of rhetoric and legal camouflage, the continuity between colonial extraction and contemporary “free market” enforcement becomes unmistakable. What follows is an examination of how resource sovereignty came to be treated not as a democratic right, but as a crime.

From Empire to “Free Markets”: How Resource Sovereignty Became a Crime

When market economics expands beyond national borders, it runs into a basic, unavoidable problem: resources are fixed in place, while capital is not. Globalized markets therefore depend on continuous access to resources located inside sovereign nations, often far from the investors and corporations that seek to exploit them. The moment a nation decides to assert control over its own oil, minerals, land, or labor—to manage those resources for domestic development or democratic priorities rather than foreign profit—that decision is rarely treated as a legitimate act of self-governance.

Instead, it is reframed as ideological deviance.

What might otherwise be called democratic self-determination is suddenly labeled things like “socialism,” while foreign corporate access and ownership are rebranded as “free markets.” This linguistic inversion is not accidental. Historically, the accusation of socialism has functioned far, far less as a description of an economic system and more as a disciplinary label—used to delegitimize sovereignty, justify external pressure, and normalize the idea that denying foreign access to domestic resources is not a right, but a crime- a sacrilegious act against the free-market god, if you will.

II. British Empire: The Original Resource-Extraction Template

Long before the language of “free markets” existed, the British Empire established the basic template for enforced market access. Empire was not merely about territorial control; it was about guaranteeing that resources flowed outward, on British terms. Mercantilism formalized this logic by tying colonial economies directly to metropolitan industry, ensuring that wealth extraction served the center while dependency remained entrenched at the periphery. What we now call “global markets” were, in their earliest form, markets backed by force.

The British East India Company is perhaps the clearest example of this fusion. It functioned as a kind of proto–corporate sovereignty—granted legal authority by the Crown, empowered to govern territory, command armies, collect taxes, and control trade. Resources were not treated as belonging to local populations or even local states, but as imperial assets to be extracted, monetized, and shipped home. Here we see an early and explicit merging of state power, corporate extraction, and military enforcement, with profit maximization embedded directly into governance itself.

This logic extended across Africa as well. Colonies were structured almost exclusively as resource suppliers—rubber, minerals, timber, agricultural commodities—feeding industrial production in Britain and Europe. Local industrial development was not just neglected; it was often actively suppressed. Colonies were discouraged or outright prohibited from building value-added industries that might compete with metropolitan firms. Sovereignty, such as it was, existed only at the administrative level: local governance structures were permitted insofar as they facilitated extraction and maintained order.

The deeper lesson of colonialism was thus normalized early on—that resources do not belong to the people who live atop them, but to whoever has the power and infrastructure to exploit them most profitably.

II. Transition Phase: Empire Rebranded, Not Abandoned

The claimed end of formal empire did not mark the end of extraction—it marked a change in method. Decolonization granted political independence on paper, but rarely delivered economic autonomy in practice. Former colonies raised new flags, wrote new constitutions, and held elections, yet the underlying structures governing resource ownership and trade very often remained intact. Formal independence did not translate into sovereignty over land, minerals, or production for local benefit. Control simply moved from imperial administrators to contractual arrangements that preserved external access.

Direct rule was replaced by subtler, more flexible mechanisms, specifically the system of market trade. Trade relationships were structured to keep newly independent nations dependent on exporting raw materials while importing finished goods. Debt financing became a powerful lever, locking governments into repayment obligations that constrained domestic policy and forced austerity or privatization. Corporate concessions—often signed under pressure or during political instability—ensured that foreign firms retained long-term claims over extraction, infrastructure, and profits. The gunboats receded, but the balance of power remained largely unchanged.

Force was increasingly less needed. The dynamics of the market economy itself and the religion of “open” private property access slow became the emerging mechanism of domination.

As Britain’s imperial role declined, the United States stepped in as the primary enforcer of this new order. The language shifted from empire to development, from colonial rule to modernization, but the core objective stayed the same: maintaining open access to resources and markets abroad. Where British authority once guaranteed extraction, American financial, political, and military power increasingly took over—ensuring that decolonization did not become genuine economic self-determination, but rather a rebranded continuation of imperial control.

IV. The United States and the Rise of “Anti-Socialism” as a Weapon

As the United States emerged as the dominant global power after World War II, imperial continuity was maintained not through formal colonization but through a market loyal ideology. “Anti-socialism” became the moral and political cover under which economic interests could be defended abroad. During the Cold War, socialism became the catch-all accusation applied to almost any government that interfered with foreign capital’s access to land, labor, or resources. Nationalization, land reform, and domestic control over strategic industries were all collapsed into the same category, regardless of context or intent. In doing so, a crucial distinction was deliberately erased: the difference between state ownership pursued for public welfare within a democratic framework, and authoritarian central planning imposed through political repression. Both were labeled equally illegitimate if they disrupted capital flows. The market MUST be the fundamental deciding force.

Latin America became the primary testing ground for this strategy. When a democratically elected government in Guatemala pursued land reform in the early 1950s, the policy directly threatened the holdings of the United Fruit Company, a powerful U.S. corporation with deep political ties in Washington. Almost immediately, the government was branded “communist,” despite operating within a constitutional framework. In 1954, a CIA-backed coup overthrew the administration, reversing the reforms and restoring foreign corporate access. The message was clear: democratic legitimacy mattered less than protecting investment claims.

The same pattern repeated in Chile two decades later. When Salvador Allende nationalized the copper industry—Chile’s most valuable resource—the act was framed not as an assertion of sovereignty, but as theft from U.S. corporations. Economic pressure, covert destabilization, and ultimately a military coup followed, replacing an elected government with a market-friendly dictatorship. Political repression was tolerated, even supported, so long as resource control was returned to acceptable hands.

V. Africa: Independence Without Resource Autonomy

Across Africa, independence arrived with great symbolic weight but limited economic freedom. Colonial administrations withdrew, national governments formed, and sovereignty was formally recognized, yet the basic extractive structure of the economy remained largely untouched. Resource flows continued outward, often along the same routes established under colonial rule. Mines, oil fields, plantations, and infrastructure were still oriented toward foreign markets, with local development treated as secondary or incidental.

Rather than military occupation, postcolonial governments were pressured through financial and institutional mechanisms. The International Monetary Fund and World Bank played central roles in this transition, offering loans tied to structural adjustment programs that demanded privatization, deregulation, and the opening of natural resources to foreign investment. These conditions effectively reversed many attempts at economic self-determination, forcing states to sell or lease public assets under the banner of efficiency and modernization. Resource control was no longer taken by force; it was surrendered under financial duress.

When African governments attempted to resist—by nationalizing industries, renegotiating contracts, or asserting greater control over resource revenues—the familiar labels reappeared. Leaders were dismissed as “populist,” “socialist,” “authoritarian,” or irredeemably “corrupt,” regardless of whether the policies in question aimed at funding public services or stabilizing domestic economies. These narratives served to justify external pressure and delegitimize sovereign decisions. In this new phase of empire, armies were far less necessary. Financial coercion, institutional authority, and market discipline proved sufficient to restore external ownership and maintain the extractive order under the appearance of voluntary compliance.

VI. The Semantic Trick: “Socialism” as Moral Accusation

By this stage, the pattern is hard to miss. “Socialism” is almost never defined with any precision when it is invoked against sovereign states. Instead, it functions as a flexible moral accusation—one that can be applied to wildly different policies, governments, and historical contexts so long as a single condition is met: interference with external economic interests. Whether a country is holding elections, allowing private enterprise, or operating mixed-market institutions becomes largely irrelevant once the label is applied.

Rhetorically, the term socialism performs several critical functions at once. It delegitimizes democratic economic choices by framing them as irrational or dangerous, even when they reflect popular will. It provides moral cover for intervention—economic, political, or military—by casting coercion as a defense against ideological extremism. And it protects investor expectations by recasting anticipated profits as something akin to natural rights, rather than contingent outcomes of negotiated access.

In this framework, property rights are elevated above all else, superseding popular sovereignty, ecological stewardship, and long-term social development. The needs of citizens, the sustainability of ecosystems, and the democratic control of collective resources are treated as secondary concerns, if they are acknowledged at all. The inversion is striking: foreign corporate claims are transformed into “rights” that must be defended, while national claims over domestic resources are reframed as illegitimate seizures—acts of “theft” against a global economic order that quietly assumes external entitlement as the default.

VII. The Structural Reality: Markets as Warfare

The idea that markets simply act as neutral bridges between nations—facilitating mutual exchange and shared prosperity—collapses under closer inspection. Global markets enforce asymmetry by design. Capital is highly mobile, able to move across borders instantly in search of higher returns, while resources remain geographically fixed. Oil, minerals, land, water, and labor exist where they exist, and that immobility places resource-rich nations in a structurally vulnerable position. The terms of exchange are never equal. Benefits from extraction tend to flow outward to investors and corporate headquarters, while the environmental damage, social disruption, and long-term economic costs remain local. Pollution, depleted ecosystems, and distorted domestic economies are absorbed by the host nation, not the global market that profits from them.

Within this framework, sovereignty is tolerated only when it is compliant. States are free to govern themselves so long as their policies do not interfere with market access, pricing, or profit flows. The moment a government attempts to alter those terms—by restricting extraction, redirecting revenues, or prioritizing domestic needs—it is accused of violating market norms and hence being immoral. What is presented as voluntary participation in a global system is, in practice, a narrow corridor of acceptable behavior, tightly constrained by external economic power.

VIII. The Core Contradiction Exposed

This leads to a central contradiction that sits at the heart of modern market ideology: a system that claims to promote freedom systematically punishes nations for exercising it economically. States are expected to open their resources, guarantee the repatriation of profits, and suppress meaningful domestic control over strategic industries in order to be considered legitimate participants in the global economy. Political independence is tolerated, even celebrated, so long as economic decisions remain externally aligned.

When states resist this arrangement—when they assert control over resources, challenge ownership structures, or attempt to redirect surplus toward public welfare—the response is strikingly consistent. They are labeled socialist, regardless of the actual policies in place. That label then becomes the pretext for isolation, destabilization, sanctions, or outright overthrow. In this way, economic freedom is redefined not as the ability of a society to choose its own development path, but as its willingness to submit to an externally imposed market order.

Modern Case Study: The 2026 Coup against Venezuela

The tension between resource sovereignty and external economic power is not just historical—it is unfolding in dramatic ways right now. In late 2025 and early 2026, the United States escalated its long-standing campaign against the government of Venezuela, culminating in a military operation in January 2026 that led to the capture of President Nicolás Maduro. U.S. forces seized Maduro in Caracas and transported him to New York to face charges including narco-terrorism and drug trafficking, charges Maduro vehemently denies and calls politically motivated. Critics around the world have described the military actions as a violation of Venezuelan sovereignty and international law and unprecedented in modern international relations.

This confrontation did not materialize out of nowhere and check all the boxes for the market-rooted technical and ideological hegemony described above. For decades, the United States has pressured Venezuela through economic sanctions, blockades of oil tankers, and military threats to open its resources to external markets. That pressure intensified after Venezuela’s oil industry was nationalized beginning in 1976, when the country brought its petroleum resources under state control as part of an effort to assert economic independence. U.S. oil companies—including ExxonMobil, Chevron, and others—once held significant stakes in Venezuelan oil projects but were gradually (and legally) removed as Caracas extended state control over its most valuable export.

Since the early 2000s, this history of legal nationalization has often been conflated in U.S. political rhetoric with broader accusations of “socialism,” positioning Venezuela as a dangerous ideological adversary rather than a nation exercising sovereign economic policy for the sake of its citizenry. The late Hugo Chávez and his successor Nicolás Maduro were repeatedly labeled socialist and authoritarian - labels that helped justify a range of interventions—economic, diplomatic, and now military—under the guise of opposing a supposedly hostile system.

In December 2025, President Donald Trump and members of his administration intensified this framing. Trump argued that Venezuela return what he described as “land, oil rights and other assets” that he claimed were “stolen” from the United States through past nationalizations—a statement widely and rightfully criticized by economists and historians as baseless, since nationalization was a legal exercise of Venezuelan sovereignty and because U.S. corporations were compensated under international norms.

Trump’s deceptive rhetoric was clear: the nationalization of the oil industry, denounced as a historic wrong, provided moral cover for escalating pressure, including naval blockades, seizures of tankers, tariffs, and ultimately military intervention. At press events and on social media, administration officials linked the rhetoric about “getting the oil back” to plans for rebuilding Venezuela’s energy infrastructure with U.S. companies, framing this as both economic opportunity and corrective justice.

What makes the Venezuelan case striking—beyond the legal and ethical controversies—is how it vividly illustrates the pattern that runs through the entire history outlined in this article: when a sovereign state asserts control over resources that powerful external actors want access to, it is swiftly rebranded as ideologically dangerous, delegitimized, and ultimately treated as a target for intervention. The long shadow cast by the label “socialism” continues to function as a disciplinary tool, enriching the narrative that resource sovereignty must be suppressed in favor of external claims. A tool that has worked well, with countless average citizens in Western society accepting this propaganda in support of criminal acts on the part of the United States and its energy corporations.

Conclusion: From Colonial Rule to Market Rule

Colonialism did not end; it was absorbed into market rule. Empire shed its uniforms and flags and reemerged through contracts, financial institutions, trade law, and enforcement mechanisms that operate under the banner of “free markets.” What once required overt occupation now functions more through economic pressure, investment norms, and ideological discipline. Across this entire transition, one thing has remained constant: resource sovereignty is the red line. Elections are tolerated. Constitutions are tolerated. Cultural diversity is tolerated. What is not tolerated is democratic control over the material foundations of society when that control interferes with external extraction. That is the real continuity from empire to the present.

This is also where the very concept of “socialism” fully collapses under scrutiny. Socialism, as a well meaning ideal, has no positive utility in the modern world—not because people don’t seek fairness, cooperation, or public benefit, but because socialism is not an economic system. It never was. It is a vague, reactive ideology that emerged historically as an oppositional label to capitalism, a word created to name resistance rather than to describe a coherent set of shared economic dynamics. It functioned as a promotional counter-symbol in the early twentieth century and later as a Cold War placeholder for “the other,” but it does not represent a unified mode of production, distribution, or coordination. There is no single economic logic called socialism—only a range of responses to the structural behavior of market capitalism.

The problem is that continuing to use that symbol today is not just analytically sloppy; it is strategically self-defeating. In the modern geopolitical landscape, invoking socialism is effectively an invitation for attack. It hands immediate narrative leverage to entrenched market power—what can accurately be described as a global capitalist criminal apparatus that has operated since the dawn of market economics, expanded through colonialism, and is now most clearly expressed through U.S.-led imperial enforcement. Declaring oneself “socialist,” regardless of intent or nuance, places a target on one’s back by activating a century of caricature, fear, ridicule, and moral panic. It becomes an instant justification for sanctions, destabilization, and coercion.

This is analogous to labeling oneself “authoritarian” simply because one critiques representative democracy—ignoring the fact that representative democracy itself has been thoroughly compromised by capitalist concentration and economic power. Opposition to a corrupted structure does not imply allegiance to its historical opposite. Yet the socialism label forces that false binary into place, collapsing complex critiques of extraction, inequality, and sovereignty into an easily attackable cliché.

Any person on social media today will encounter millions of accounts and billions of posts relentlessly promoting markets as the only viable system, while decrying “socialism” as its supposed opposite to buttress those arguments. This dynamic is extremely convenient for such propagandists—whether or not they realize they are acting as such—because there are also legions of people who profess “socialism as the way forward” without any coherent foundation for what that system actually entails. And there’s a reason for that: socialism has never been a system in the first place. Today, it serves a single function—a boogeyman used to reinforce and secure the dominance of capitalism.

So, in the end, the real issue has never been capitalism versus socialism. That framing is an ideological trap with no analytical or strategic value left in it. The real conflict is extraction versus autonomy. It is about whether societies have the right to control their land, labor, energy, and resources for ecological stability and human well-being—or whether those foundations must remain permanently open to external exploitation in the name of market “freedom.” Any serious path forward requires abandoning obsolete labels and confronting the material power structures that continue to govern the world under the softened language of markets rather than the blunt force of empire.

Peter Joseph is a filmmaker & author; host of the podcast Revolution Now! and one can support his work through Patreon.