The US raid that captured Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro is resonating across Africa as part of a broader pattern of great‑power behavior that many on the continent see as a return to old hierarchies, rather than an isolated episode in Latin America. The operation is being read alongside growing anger at France’s conduct in Africa and unease about the expanding footprint of Russia, China, Israel, the UAE, Turkey and others, feeding a wider sense that powerful states still treat African and other Global South regions as spaces where rules are flexible and sovereignty is negotiable.

In Venezuela, the basic facts are now well established. In the early hours of January 3, US forces launched “Operation Absolute Resolve,” using airstrikes to suppress Venezuelan air defenses and hit selected military targets in and around Caracas before inserting special forces by helicopter. Nicolás Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores were seized near the presidential compound and flown out of the country to New York, where Maduro now faces long‑standing narcotics and “narco‑terrorism” charges in US courts. Washington insists this was a combined military and law‑enforcement action to apprehend an indicted leader tied to drug trafficking, but the scale of the strike, the removal of a sitting president, and rhetoric about “running” Venezuela and reclaiming its oil give the episode a distinctly regime‑change character in the eyes of many observers.

Across Africa, the language chosen by continental institutions reflects deep unease with that precedent. The African Union issued a statement expressing “grave concern” over the US military strikes and “reports of the abduction” of Maduro, deliberately invoking terms such as sovereignty, territorial integrity, and the right of peoples to self‑determination that are anchored in the UN Charter. The AU’s position does not endorse Maduro’s record, but it insists that Venezuela’s internal crisis must be settled by Venezuelans through dialogue and constitutional mechanisms, not by external force. This is a familiar reflex in African diplomacy: a defensive reading of international law born from a history of colonial interventions, Cold War coups, and more recent unilateral actions that left African regions to manage the long‑term instability that followed.

That defensive reflex has been sharpened by the last five years of deteriorating relations with France in West and Central Africa. French troops have been expelled or pushed out of Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, and other Sahelian states amid accusations of paternalism, security failures, and perceived political interference. Popular anger against France has mixed genuine grievances with ideological narratives, but the net effect has been to cement a sense among many Africans that a former colonial power still acts as if it holds a veto over local political and security choices. In that climate, images of US helicopters extracting a Latin American president while Western commentators debate who should “run” Venezuela echo powerfully: they look like another demonstration that some states can decide who governs resource‑rich countries, whether in the Sahel, North Africa, or the Caribbean basin.

Russia’s growing presence on the continent complicates this picture rather than resolving it. From Central African Republic to Mali and Libya, Russian military contractors and security agreements have allowed Moscow to present itself as an alternative to Western influence, often under the banner of sovereignty and resistance to neo‑colonialism. Yet the opaque nature of these deployments, their links to resource concessions, and reports of abuses have turned Russia itself into another symbol of great‑power intrusion, even as some African governments welcome the partnership as a way to diversify security ties and counterbalance Europe. In that sense, the Venezuelan raid is being read as evidence that multiple powerful actors are willing to project force and leverage dependency when it suits their interests.

National responses inside Africa illuminate the tension between principle, pragmatism, and fear. South Africa has emerged as one of the strongest critics, describing the US strikes and the removal of Maduro as a “clear” or “manifest” violation of the UN Charter in statements to the UN Security Council. Pretoria’s diplomats have warned that allowing such actions to stand normalizes a system where “no nation is superior” only on paper, while in practice military power decides which rules apply and when. Other governments have echoed key elements of this critique, referring to the “abduction” of Maduro and aligning their language with the AU’s focus on sovereignty and the prohibition on the use of force, even when they have little sympathy for the Venezuelan leader himself.

At the same time, not all voices on the continent are uniformly critical. Somaliland, seeking closer ties with Israel and Washington and eager to distinguish itself from Mogadishu, has publicly endorsed the raid as a pro‑democracy action, arguing that the removal of an authoritarian president creates space for Venezuelans to rebuild institutions. That position has found little echo at the continental level, but it illustrates how some actors see strategic advantage in aligning with US narratives, especially when they are seeking recognition or security guarantees. The tension between those who prioritize legal principle and those who see opportunity in siding with a powerful nation runs through many African debates, from security cooperation in the Sahel to port investments along the Red Sea.

Beyond formal communiqués, African commentary has focused heavily on precedent. Legal and policy analysts note that US courts have previously allowed prosecutions to go forward even when defendants were brought to American jurisdiction in questionable ways, citing the Manuel Noriega case from Panama, and point to early indications that courts may again treat Maduro’s manner of capture as irrelevant to the validity of the charges. Critics argue that this combination of military force, domestic indictments, and a narrative of global law enforcement effectively allows powerful states to rewrite the limits of extraterritorial policing, especially when dealing with leaders of weaker countries. For many African commentators, the concern is less about the specifics of Venezuelan politics than about the signal that a head of state can be seized, flown to another continent, and tried under the laws of a foreign power without multilateral authorization.

That concern links directly to the optics of France’s behavior in Africa and Russia’s entrenchment in security and mining deals. When French officials talk about “security vacuums” and “responsibility” in former colonies, critics hear a language that justifies persistent military bases and political involvement; when Russian officials and proxies frame their deployments as bulwarks against Western meddling, skeptics see another external actor trading protection for influence and resources. The Maduro raid fits into this narrative as a demonstration that the hierarchy of who can use force, and against whom, remains deeply unequal: permanent Security Council members and NATO states operate on one level, while African, Latin American, and smaller Asian states exist on another.

In East Africa, the Venezuelan operation has been pulled explicitly into debates about vulnerability and deterrence. Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni has reportedly described Maduro’s arrest as a wake‑up call, arguing that Africa’s limited ability to defend its skies, coasts, and digital infrastructure makes it structurally exposed to external coercion. His remarks, amplified in regional commentary, link recent global events into a single cautionary tale: that without credible capabilities and diversified alliances, African states may find their fate decided by distant capitals, whether in Washington, Paris, Moscow, or elsewhere.

Reactions across the Maghreb have been uneven, shaped by each country’s political posture, foreign relationships, and domestic sensitivities.

In Tunisia, the announcement of Nicolás Maduro’s capture on the evening news of January 3 was met with visible shock. Tunis and Caracas maintain generally positive relations, which Tunisian officials had been looking to expand, including through diplomatic outreach tied to Tunisia’s interest in diversifying its international partnerships. Venezuelan media had recently framed Tunisia as seeking distance from Western dominance, even though no formal strategic alignment with Caracas had been established. President Kais Saied had previously explored closer ties with China and Iran, and Venezuela was sometimes mentioned as a potential partner in his broader ambition to connect Tunisia to emerging multipolar groupings such as the BRICS.

The Tunisian government issued no official statement in response to the US operation. However, small demonstrations took place in central Tunis, where protesters denounced what they described as American imperialism. Tunisia’s main labor federation, the UGTT, invoked international law in condemning what it called an act of interference, accusing Washington of targeting Venezuela in order to gain control over its natural resources under the pretext of counterterrorism and narcotics enforcement.

Speculation has circulated in Tunisia about possible future US targets, with Iran sometimes cited in political commentary. Only one far left lawmaker publicly raised the possibility of a similar scenario affecting Tunisia itself. Former diplomats have noted that North Africa remains embedded, willingly or not, in the broader security perimeter of the Atlantic alliance, with energy resources as a shared strategic denominator.

In Algeria, where reactions were closely anticipated due to long standing ties with Venezuela, the response has been marked by silence. As of January 5, Algerian authorities had issued no official comment, neither from the Foreign Ministry nor the presidency. This lack of response has fueled speculation and analysis within Algerian media and social circles, though some of it veers into conjecture.

The silence is widely interpreted as a reflection of Algeria’s diplomatic balancing act. Publicly condemning Maduro’s capture and detention could strain relations with Washington, particularly under the current US administration. Endorsing the operation, however, would mean distancing Algeria from a partner that has historically enjoyed strong political and symbolic support in Algiers.

Venezuela under Maduro maintained especially close relations with Algeria, including high level visits in 2022 and 2024 and discussions that extended beyond hydrocarbons to potential direct air links between Algiers and Caracas. Maduro frequently transited through Algeria during long distance travel and spoke openly of his personal respect for Algeria’s leadership. These ties built on an earlier relationship with Hugo Chavez, who had also cultivated close links with Algiers and openly encouraged Algerian resistance to US pressure during the 2000s.

Beyond diplomacy, Algerian analysts are also weighing possible economic consequences. A revival of Venezuelan oil production under US influence could increase global supply and push prices lower. Given that oil and gas account for roughly 95% of Algeria’s foreign currency revenues, a sustained drop below 60 dollars per barrel would deepen fiscal deficits and erode foreign exchange reserves.

In Morocco, the situation is viewed through a different lens. Venezuela has long maintained an openly hostile stance toward Rabat due to its consistent support for the Polisario Front. Caracas recognized the Sahrawi movement in 1982 and continued to reaffirm that position through 2025. Morocco closed its embassy in Caracas in 2009 and has since conditioned any normalization on a reversal of Venezuela’s position on Western Sahara.

Against that backdrop, no official Moroccan reaction to the US operation is expected. During Venezuela’s political crisis in 2019, Rabat publicly supported opposition leader Juan Guaidó, framing its position in terms of democratic principles and support for political change. Morocco was among the first African countries to engage representatives of the Venezuelan opposition at the time.

At the same time, Morocco’s political left has strongly condemned Maduro’s arrest. Several leftist parties and civil society organizations described the operation as an attack on a sovereign state and a violation of the UN Charter. They called for respect for international law, Venezuelan self determination, and Maduro’s release, framing the incident as part of a broader pattern of US hegemony. Human rights groups and anti normalization organizations echoed these positions and announced plans for solidarity actions.

These statements have sparked sharp backlash on social media, where critics accuse leftist groups of ideological rigidity and disregard for Morocco’s national interests. Many commentators argue it is contradictory to defend a government that has openly supported a movement challenging Morocco’s territorial integrity, while remaining silent on issues that directly affect the country’s strategic priorities.

Overall, reactions in the Maghreb reflect less a unified regional position than a set of national calculations shaped by history, energy politics, and unresolved geopolitical disputes.

All in all, for many Africans, regardless of where they are located on the continent, the dominant feeling is a mix of impatience, frustration, and unease. Impatience comes from decades of promises about a “rules‑based international order” that seem to be applied rigorously when African states are on the dock, but flexibly when powerful countries decide to use force beyond their borders. Frustration arises from the sense that replacing one patron with another, like swapping France for Russia in a Sahelian capital, or courting US investment while fearing unilateral sanctions and raids, does not fundamentally change the underlying asymmetry. And unease, even fear, flows from the realization that if kidnapping a president can be framed as a lawful operation against a “narco‑terrorist,” similar narratives could, in principle, be constructed around leaders elsewhere who fall out of favor with the major powers.

Seen from this angle, the US raid on Venezuela is another data point in an emerging pattern where the boundaries between war, policing, and geopolitics are increasingly blurred, and where the promise that all states are equal before the law sits uneasily with the reality of how force is actually used. For African societies already wrestling with the legacies of French or British dominance, the temptations and risks of Russian engagement, and the long shadow of other external actors, the operation in Caracas reinforces a conclusion that many had already reached: the era of overt colonial rule may be over, but the habits of hierarchy have not vanished, and adapting to that reality will require both sharper diplomacy and a more sober approach to security.