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oil blockade
Who’s the Real Criminal at Sea? Trump’s Tanker Grab vs. the Houthis’ Anti-Genocide Blockade
How can Washington claim the right to seize or blow up vessels, disrupt maritime trade, and kill civilian boaters—while bombing Yemen and condemning its de facto Houthi government for intercepting ships in the Red Sea to counter Israel’s genocide in Gaza?
Dec 22, 2025
The United States has now intercepted multiple Venezuelan oil tankers as part of its escalating aggression against Venezuela, while also destroying dozens of small boats in the Caribbean and Pacific under the banner of “drug enforcement,” killing over 100 people whose identities the U.S. has obscured. At the same time, the Trump administration has threatened a naval blockade of Venezuela—a sovereign country with which the United States is not at war.
How can Washington claim the right to seize or blow up vessels, disrupt maritime trade, and kill civilian boaters—while bombing Yemen and condemning its de facto Houthi government for intercepting ships in the Red Sea to counter Israel’s genocide in Gaza?
This contrast exposes a stark double standard in U.S. policy. The U.S. government labelled the Houthis’ actions as “terrorism”, piracy, and a threat to U.S. national security, even as the Houthi government presented plausible legal justifications for its actions based on the laws of war. But Washington has tried to normalize—or even glorify—its own attacks on tankers, pineros (ferries or water-taxis) and fishing boats, which violate the most basic principles of international law.
Beginning in November 2023, Yemen’s Houthi movement launched a naval campaign in the Red Sea, Gulf of Aden, and Arabian Sea in response to Israel’s assault on Gaza. The Houthis publicly announced their criteria, stating they would target only vessels linked to Israel, bound for Israeli ports, owned by Israeli companies, or connected to states materially supporting Israel’s war.
The United States and its allies immediately denounced these actions as criminal. And there were legitimate grounds for scrutiny. Human rights groups raised concerns about attacks that struck vessels without obvious Israeli connections and about the safety and treatment of civilian crews. Over the course of the campaign, the Houthis targeted more than 100 commercial vessels, damaged dozens, sank several, and seized at least one ship outright—the Galaxy Leader—detaining its multinational crew for more than a year before releasing them in connection with Gaza ceasefire negotiations.
Legal experts have been unequivocal: the United States has no jurisdiction to seize foreign-flagged vessels to enforce its domestic laws or unilateral sanctions outside its territory, particularly in another country’s territorial waters.
But as a matter of law, the Houthis consistently framed their actions as blockade and interdiction during an armed conflict, justified by Israel’s grave breaches of international humanitarian law. That legal framework exists. Under the Geneva Conventions and customary international law, parties to an armed conflict have the right—and in cases of grave breaches, the obligation—to interdict shipping that materially supports a belligerent committing mass civilian harm. In the case of Israel’s genocide, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) has found, and the UN General Assembly (UNGA) has affirmed, that all states are obliged to cut off all military and economic support for Israel’s assault on Gaza.
The United States’ response was not to pressure Israel to halt its genocidal assault—an outcome that would have also immediately ended the Houthi campaign—but to unleash overwhelming force against Yemen. Beginning in December 2023, Washington organized Operation Prosperity Guardian, a multinational naval deployment backed by extensive U.S. airpower. Over the following year, the United States and Britain carried out hundreds of airstrikes on Yemen, bombing radar sites, missile launchers, ports, the capital, Sanaa, and other infrastructure. Several hundred Houthi fighters were killed, along with scores of civilians. One U.S. strike on the Ras Isa oil terminal killed dozens of African migrants when U.S. bombs hit a detention facility.
But how do the Houthi interdictions compare with the Trump administration’s actions toward Venezuela?
On December 10, Donald Trump boasted to reporters, “We have just seized a tanker on the coast of Venezuela — a large tanker, very large, the largest one ever seized actually,” as his administration released video of U.S. Marines rappelling from helicopters onto a civilian oil tanker. This was not a conflict zone. Venezuela is not at war with the United States. There was no UN Security Council authorization, no armed conflict, and no claim of self-defense.
Since then, additional Venezuelan-linked tankers have been intercepted or turned back, and the administration has openly threatened a naval blockade. Meanwhile, U.S. forces have destroyed dozens of small boats in the region under the pretext of counter-narcotics operations, killing over 100 people at sea without arrests, trials, or even public identification of the victims. These were not lawful acts of war or legitimate law enforcement. They were extralegal, summary uses of lethal force.
Under international law, seizing civilian commercial vessels in international waters or imposing a naval blockade outside of a declared armed conflict are “acts of aggression” and can constitute acts of war. The Trump administration claims its actions are justified by U.S. sanctions on Venezuela. But those sanctions are themselves illegal under international law. Only the UN Security Council has the authority to impose and enforce sanctions. Unilateral coercive measures—especially when enforced through military force—violate the UN Charter.
Legal experts have been unequivocal: the United States has no jurisdiction to seize foreign-flagged vessels to enforce its domestic laws or unilateral sanctions outside its territory, particularly in another country’s territorial waters.
The distinction could not be clearer.
The Houthis declared a blockade and attacked ships that violated it, based on a legal rationale rooted in the laws of armed conflict, to try to end mass civilian slaughter in Gaza, and their interceptions stopped when a ceasefire was declared in Gaza.
On the other hand, the United States, a permanent member of the UN Security Council, has seized tankers, destroyed boats, killed people at sea, and threatened a blockade against a country it is not at war with—not to try to end a war or save a civiliam population from genocide, but simply in pursuit of extralegal regime change and U.S. control of that country’s most valuable resources.
If the United States wants safety at sea, whether in the Caribbean or the Red Sea, it should stop enforcing illegal sanctions by the illegal use of military force, and stop enabling genocide in Palestine. US murder and violence against other people and countries does not become lawful simply because officials in the White House wish that it was.
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Unchecked Waters: The Constitutional Crisis of Trump’s Venezuela Oil Blockade
A naval blockade—regardless of whether it is met with armed resistance—qualifies under both domestic and international law as a use of force.
Dec 20, 2025
On 16 December, 2025, President Donald Trump announced what he called a “total and complete blockade” of oil tankers entering or leaving Venezuela. Delivered via his personal media platform, the statement was sweeping in its implications. Trump declared that Venezuela was “completely surrounded by the largest Armada ever assembled in the History of South America,” and he made clear this would not end until all Venezuelan “oil, land, and other assets” were returned to the United States. But beneath the dramatic language lies a far more dangerous truth: this action marks a breach of US constitutional limits, a perilous expansion of executive authority, and a break with both legal precedent and historical norms of dispute resolution.
At its core, this naval blockade—undeclared, unauthorized, and now operational—poses a direct challenge to the War Powers Resolution, a congressional statute designed specifically to prevent precisely this kind of unilateral military escalation. While prior administrations have used sanctions, diplomatic pressure, and limited enforcement actions to manage foreign resource disputes, President Trump’s move replaces law with coercion, and diplomacy with force.
The Constitutional Line That Has Been Crossed
Under Article I of the US Constitution, the power to declare war, or to authorize acts tantamount to war, lies exclusively with Congress. While Article II grants the President authority as Commander-in-Chief, it does not permit sustained, coercive military operations absent legislative consent. The War Powers Resolution of 1973 was enacted to enforce this distinction, requiring the President to seek congressional authorization for any use of armed forces likely to involve hostilities or imminent risk thereof.
The blockade announced by President Trump is not merely a foreign policy maneuver; it is a constitutional violation in motion.
A naval blockade—regardless of whether it is met with armed resistance—qualifies under both domestic and international law as a use of force. It is, by nature, confrontational, involving the assertion of control over international waters and the denial of access to maritime commerce by a sovereign state. As such, the blockade announced by President Trump is not merely a foreign policy maneuver; it is a constitutional violation in motion.
The Fallacy of “Stolen Oil”: A Historical and Legal Fiction
Trump’s central justification for the blockade—that Venezuela “stole” American oil—is not supported by historical fact or legal doctrine. Venezuela’s oil sector was nationalized in 1976, with the creation of the state company Petróleos de Venezuela, S.A. (PDVSA). Over the years, foreign firms—including US giants like ExxonMobil and ConocoPhillips—were permitted to operate under negotiated terms. In the early 2000s, Venezuela reasserted control over key assets, converting foreign-controlled projects into joint ventures in which the state held majority ownership.
These actions were not acts of piracy, but sovereign decisions—ones that fall well within Venezuela’s rights under international law. The resulting disputes were not settled by force, but through arbitration and negotiation. Indeed, many of the affected companies sought recourse through investor-state arbitration mechanisms, challenging compensation levels or contract terms—not the fundamental legality of nationalization itself.
Even as tensions grew, the United States relied on sanctions, licensing restrictions, and diplomatic tools. Not once, in decades of resource disputes throughout Latin America—including in Mexico, Bolivia, and El Salvador—did the US resort to blockades or military coercion to assert commercial claims. The shift to force in the Venezuelan context is therefore not only unprecedented but also deeply destabilizing to the established order.
Sanctions Are Not a Blank Check
The distinction between sanctions enforcement and military action is not academic. Sanctions, as administered by the Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC), regulate economic conduct—typically prohibiting certain transactions by US persons. They do not authorize armed interdiction of foreign-flagged vessels on the high seas. While isolated tanker seizures have been justified through civil forfeiture statutes—sometimes involving alleged ties to terrorism or sanctions evasion—the transition to a systematic maritime blockade is an escalation into armed coercion.
This is not simply a technical legal issue. It is a constitutional crisis in real time.
Under the War Powers Resolution and the 1980 Office of Legal Counsel opinion, even emergency military deployments must terminate within 60 days without congressional approval. The blockade’s indefinite duration, announced expansion, and linkage to political demands—such as the return of assets—place it well outside the legal bounds of executive discretion.
This is not simply a technical legal issue. It is a constitutional crisis in real time.
A Dangerous Precedent
If a President can declare and execute a naval blockade without congressional approval—based on economic grievances, political claims, or allegations of foreign misconduct—then the separation of powers itself is under siege. Today, it is Venezuela. Tomorrow, it could be any other state or region where American commercial or political interests are challenged.
Even more alarming is the potential precedent this sets for private claims to become triggers for military action. By framing a dispute over oil contracts as a matter of theft, the administration recasts a regulatory disagreement as grounds for warlike engagement. This upends international norms, threatens global maritime order, and encourages future executives to substitute force for law in matters of foreign commerce.
The Legal and Diplomatic Path Forward
It is not too late to reverse course. The solutions are neither exotic nor novel. They are grounded in law, history, and precedent:
Congress must reassert its constitutional role. Whether through resolutions like House Concurrent Resolution 64 or emergency oversight hearings, the legislative branch must enforce the War Powers Resolution and prohibit unauthorized hostilities.
The Executive must return to lawful enforcement mechanisms. This includes relying on civil forfeiture, targeted sanctions, and international arbitration—not coercive naval operations.
When the President crosses a constitutional red line and no one pushes back, it is not just a policy failure—it is a signal that the balance of powers has tilted dangerously toward autocracy.
Diplomatic engagement must be restored as the core modality. Disputes over Venezuela’s resource management must be addressed through negotiation, licensing frameworks, and international claims processes—not unilateral blockade.
For decades, the United States has held itself as a champion of a rule-based international order. That order cannot be maintained abroad if it is being subverted at home.
The High Cost of Erosion
The blockade of Venezuelan oil tankers may appear to some as a show of strength or a necessary escalation. But in truth, it is a dangerous erosion—of law, of precedent, and of constitutional governance. It represents not the defense of American interests, but the abandonment of the constitutional boundaries that define the Republic.
When the President crosses a constitutional red line and no one pushes back, it is not just a policy failure—it is a signal that the balance of powers has tilted dangerously toward autocracy. Congress must act, the courts must scrutinize, and the public must demand that power be wielded not in anger or impulse, but in accordance with the law.
Because once the executive can blockade without approval, the Constitution becomes not a safeguard, but a suggestion.
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