The fear of neoliberals, our oligarchy, is the democratization of our economy. Why did Biden wait until he was leaving to remove Cuba from the terrorist list? Here’s the big picture.
Oligarchy fears Americans may critically think
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Summary
U.S. policies toward Latin America highlight the unfairness of economic exploitation and the suppression of alternative governance models. They emphasize the disparity between U.S. oligarchic control of natural resources and the potential for equitable distribution. Cuba and Venezuela are examples of the U.S. actively destabilizing nations that attempted to democratize resources, fearing Americans might decide that they are entitled to the wealth from our public land resources exploited by corporations.
Key Points:
- Cuba’s Perspective: Latin Americans view Cuba as a symbol of resistance against imperialism despite its economic struggles due to the U.S. embargo.
- Historical Exploitation: U.S. interventions in Latin America have repeatedly destabilized countries seeking land reform and resource democratization.
- Resource Control: In the U.S., natural resources on public and private lands disproportionately benefit corporations and wealthy individuals.
- Oligarchic Fear: U.S. elites suppress progressive ideas to prevent Americans from questioning the fairness of their economic system.
- A Vision of Fairness: Democratizing resources would eliminate the need for wealth redistribution by creating a baseline of equity for all citizens.
Progressive Reflection
There is an urgent need to challenge oligarchic systems that exploit resources and suppress democratic values. They use countries like Cuba, Venezuela, and other Latin American countries as tropes to instill fear in Americans. By embracing equitable resource distribution domestically and abroad, we can dismantle systemic inequalities and build a society rooted in fairness and collective prosperity.
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Latin America’s history with U.S. intervention paints a sobering picture of economic exploitation and political manipulation. For decades, the United States has prioritized the interests of its oligarchs over the sovereignty and well-being of its southern neighbors. The thread tying these actions together is the fear of a critically thinking populace—abroad and within the U.S.—that could challenge the status quo of wealth concentration.
From the Cold War to the present, U.S. policy toward Latin America has revolved around protecting corporate interests under the guise of promoting democracy. This strategy has perpetuated inequality and hindered democratic movements across the region. A prime example is Cuba. Contrary to the U.S. narrative that frames Cuba as a failed state due to its socialist government, many Latin Americans view it as a symbol of resistance against imperialism. Cuba’s achievements in healthcare, education, and technical fields—despite a brutal U.S. embargo—stand in stark contrast to the poverty and inequality perpetuated by neoliberal policies in many neighboring nations.
While far from perfect, the Cuban Revolution offered a different vision: a society where resources were allocated more equitably. For once, people marginalized under the Batista regime—those who looked like the average laborer rather than the elite landowner—found opportunities to rise. This was a direct challenge to the U.S. oligarchic model, where wealth and power are concentrated in the hands of a few. Castro’s nationalization of resources enraged American corporations and wealthy Cuban expatriates who had benefited from the old system. The embargo and efforts to destabilize Cuba were not about protecting democracy but about making an example of what happens when a country rejects U.S.-style capitalism.
This same pattern can be observed in U.S. relations with Venezuela. The country’s decision to nationalize its oil industry and use the profits for social programs led to relentless efforts to destabilize its government. Rather than allowing Venezuela to explore an alternative economic model, the U.S. backed coups, sanctions, and propaganda campaigns to undermine its sovereignty. Similar interventions occurred in Guatemala, El Salvador, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic—countries that dared to advocate for land reform or equitable resource distribution.
These interventions are not merely relics of the past. They reflect a broader fear within U.S. oligarchic circles: the possibility that Americans might use these countries as catalysts to question the fairness of their own system. Why, they might ask, do a handful of corporations and wealthy individuals control resources that should belong to the people? The answer lies in systemic indoctrination. From a young age, Americans are taught to equate capitalism with freedom, ignoring the fact that their economic system often operates as a form of corporate feudalism. Public lands, rich in resources, are handed over to corporations at minimal cost, while the profits flow exclusively to shareholders. This is not democracy; it is exploitation.
Imagine a system where the resources of the land truly belonged to the people. In such a model, revenue from public lands would be reinvested in healthcare, education, infrastructure, and social safety nets. Redistribution of wealth would not rely on taxing the rich after they have hoarded billions; instead, fairness would be built into the system from the start. This is the kind of critical thinking that terrifies U.S. oligarchs. If Americans began to view natural resources as a public good rather than a commodity for private enrichment, it could ignite a movement to dismantle the current plutocratic system.
The fear of such awakening drives the demonization of progressive ideas and leaders. Politicians and media outlets label any attempt to discuss resource democratization as “radical” or “un-American.” Meanwhile, they glorify the free-market system that enables a few to profit from publicly owned wealth. This indoctrination ensures that most Americans remain blind to the fact that they have been systematically robbed of their birthright.
The suppression of critical thinking is not just about maintaining control over resources; it is about preserving an entire worldview. If Americans began to see Latin America not as a region of failed states but as a laboratory of alternatives, they might demand change at home. They might question why their government spends trillions on wars and tax cuts for the wealthy while neglecting public infrastructure and social programs. They might recognize the hypocrisy of calling other countries corrupt while ignoring the legalized corruption of corporate lobbying and campaign financing in the U.S.
Latin America’s suffering is not accidental. It is a byproduct of a system designed to protect the interests of a global elite at the expense of the many. The fear that Americans might wake up to this reality drives the continued exploitation and demonization of countries that dare to challenge the status quo. But as the cracks in this system become more visible, the opportunity for transformative change grows. The question is whether Americans will seize it.
By reclaiming public resources and embracing a more equitable economic model, the U.S. could lead by example, inspiring not fear but hope. The road to such a future begins with dismantling the myths that uphold oligarchic power and recognizing that another world is not only possible but necessary.
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