On Friday, the US Treasury Department Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) announced the issuance of two general licences that allow Shell and BP to proceed with near-border and cross-border development the Dragon and Cocuina gas fields.
In the analysis below, energy expert Tony Paul provides an institutional history of the geology, capital, geopolitics and the slow monetisation of offshore gas with a focus on the Dragon gas field
When Venezuela issued a licence in January 2024 binding the Dragon gas field to Trinidad and Tobago’s commercial gas system, it was widely framed as a diplomatic breakthrough and an energy security triumph. In the narrow legal sense, that was true. But in the deeper institutional and economic sense, the licence did not create a project. It closed one.^1
Dragon did not arrive on Trinidad’s horizon as a discovery. It arrived as a mature, heavily worked offshore asset whose geology had been proven for decades, whose wells had already been drilled, whose pipelines had nearly been laid, and whose monetisation had been repeatedly delayed not by engineering failure but by shifting markets, geopolitics and institutional design.^2
To understand why Trinidad ultimately became the final viable market for Dragon gas, one has to return not to the headlines of 2024, but to the late 1970s—to a period when Venezuela’s offshore gas frontier was first being mapped in earnest.^3
Discovery before deregulation
Between 1978 and 1982, Petróleos de Venezuela SA (PDVSA) drilled a sequence of exploratory wells across four offshore structures north of the Paria Peninsula: Mejillones, Patao, Dragón and Río Caribe. Thirteen wells in total confirmed the presence of large non-associated gas accumulations in shallow water, unusually close to shore and even closer to international shipping routes.^4
By the mid-1980s, extensive seismic campaigns had already given PDVSA a technical understanding of the basin that many modern offshore provinces would envy. This was not speculative frontier geology. It was a proven gas province awaiting a market.^5
The question from the beginning was not whether gas existed. The question was where—and how—it would be monetised.
The LNG dream: Cristóbal Colón
In 1988 PDVSA turned to Shell to explore what at the time appeared the most natural development route: liquefied natural gas exports to global markets. The Cristóbal Colón Project was born, embodying the classic late-twentieth-century mega-project model—large offshore reserves feeding large onshore LNG trains financed by multinational capital.^6
By 1991 the partnership expanded to include ExxonMobil and Mitsubishi Corporation. Three-dimensional (3-D) seismic data was acquired, integrated reservoir models were constructed, and in 1994 the joint company Sucre Gas S.A. was formed to advance development.^7
All the familiar ingredients of a final investment decision (FID) were present: proven reserves, strong partners, growing global gas demand.^8
Then the market moved
Gas price projections softened. LNG economics tightened. By 1996 the returns that had justified the project no longer cleared corporate investment hurdles.^9
Cristóbal Colón stalled—not because the reservoirs disappointed, but because global gas markets are ruthless about timing.^10
It was the first moment in Dragon’s long history when geology stood ready and economics blinked.
Reinvention under the state
The early 2000s brought a new political economy in Venezuela and with it a new vision for offshore gas. The project was rebranded as the Mariscal Sucre Project and reframed around dual objectives: domestic industrial development and future export optionality.
Preliminary Development Agreements examined massive gas flows to an onshore industrial complex near Güiria, with volumes approaching a billion cubic feet per day when fully developed. The gas was to fuel power generation, petrochemicals, and potentially LNG exports once market conditions improved.
By 2007, PDVSA had created a dedicated offshore division to centralise technical planning, environmental management and national content, signalling that offshore gas was now viewed as a strategic pillar of Venezuela’s energy future rather than a partner-led commercial venture.
Once again, the bottleneck was not geology.
It was the challenge of converting reserves into revenue in a shifting global environment.
When Dragon became a built field
In February 2008 Venezuela approved the Integral Exploitation Plan for Dragón and Patao. For the first time, development moved decisively from planning to execution.
Sixteen development wells were authorised: eight in Dragon, eight in Patao. Between late 2008 and March 2011 PDVSA drilled the full Dragon development set, transforming the field from appraisal concept into production-ready asset.
In May 2011 the government formally approved reserves exceeding three trillion cubic feet recoverable.
At this point Dragon was no longer a “future opportunity.” It was a developed gas field awaiting surface infrastructure and market access.
That transition from paper project to industrial operation was symbolised in May 2010 when the semi-submersible Aban Pearl sank while drilling a Dragon development well. No lives were lost, but the incident underscored that heavy offshore execution was now underway.
Platforms, subsea systems, and accelerated production
In late 2010 Technip secured a major offshore contract covering the Dragon production platform, subsea systems, and full engineering and construction management. This was not conceptual engineering. It was the kind of contract that precedes steel fabrication, vessel mobilisation, and billion-dollar capital flows.
At the same time, PDVSA introduced an Accelerated Production Scheme designed to bring early gas volumes onstream while the full field build-out progressed. Selected wells were perforated, flow-tested, and re-engineered between 2013 and 2014 to maximise deliverability.
From a subsurface perspective, Dragon was essentially ready. The remaining hurdle was evacuation from the field and processing.
The pipeline that nearly finished the job
PDVSA addressed that hurdle with a massive offshore pipeline linking the Dragon area to the CIGMA complex near Güiria: a 36-inch line stretching roughly a hundred kilometres across the seabed.
By 2015, PDVSA publicly reported the line more than ninety per cent complete. In practical terms, this meant that most of the physical export corridor already existed on the ocean floor. Reports suggest the pipeline had less than a 5km span to be completed.
The associated onshore project, the Planta de Acondicionamiento de Gas para el Mercado Interno (PAGMI,) was designed as eastern Venezuela’s gas heart: dehydration, liquids handling, and injection into domestic transmission networks, with future LNG interfaces always implicit.
Dragon, after nearly four decades, stood within reach of commercial flow. And then geopolitics intervened.
Russia enters and the world tightens
Between 2017 and 2020, Venezuela issued formal offshore gas licences covering Patao and Mejillones to a Rosneft-linked entity. The move reflected a strategic pivot toward Russian capital and geopolitical backing as Western energy firms retreated from Venezuelan risk.
On paper, it was a new development chapter. In practice, it coincided almost perfectly with escalating US sanctions on both Venezuelan and Russian energy companies. Financing channels narrowed. Insurance became complicated. Contractors hesitated. Rosneft itself undertook major restructuring of its Venezuelan exposure.
No single decree explicitly states that sanctions froze Mariscal Sucre. But large offshore gas developments cannot proceed when payment systems, shipping and capital markets are constrained by geopolitical isolation.
Once again, the problem was not geology. It was access.
The Chinese footprint: building without owning
Throughout this period, Chinese participation surfaced repeatedly, particularly in infrastructure development tied to PAGMI and associated facilities. Cooperation agreements and project portfolios frequently referenced China National Offshore Oil Corporation and Chinese engineering firms.
However, the public licensing record does not clearly show Chinese national oil companies holding upstream field licences in Dragon or its neighbouring structures. Instead, China’s role appears primarily as builder and financier of industrial infrastructure: a pattern consistent with its global energy strategy.
China helped construct the arteries. The molecules remained politically stranded.
Why Trinidad became inevitable
By the early 2020s Venezuela possessed something rare in global gas development: proven reserves; drilled wells; engineered offshore systems; a nearly completed pipeline and a designed processing hub.
Yet commercial flow remained elusive.
At the same time Trinidad and Tobago faced a structural gas squeeze. Mature offshore fields were declining. LNG trains were underutilised and petrochemical plants faced periodic feedstock shortages — even as billions of dollars of industrial infrastructure remained in place.
Geography, long postponed by politics, finally asserted itself.
The shortest commercial route for Dragon gas was not west into a constrained domestic system. It was east — into Trinidad’s LNG and industrial corridor.
When Venezuela issued the 2024 licence binding Shell Venezuela and the National Gas Company of Trinidad and Tobago, it did not invent a new strategy. It institutionalised the one the map had always implied.
The deeper lesson
Dragon’s four-decade journey is not a story of failed resources. It is a case study in how natural resource development is governed by cycles of capital, institutions, markets and geopolitics.
Each phase made economic sense within its historical context:
• The LNG mega-project fit the 1990s;
• State-led industrialisation fit the 2000s;
• Russian partnerships fit the sanction era;
• Chinese infrastructure fit capital constraints; and
• Trinidad monetisation fit stranded abundance.
What never changed was the gas. What kept changing was the world around it.
Why Trinidad truly “got the last dance”
Trinidad did not unlock Dragon. It inherited the final viable monetisation pathway for a field that had already been discovered, drilled, engineered, and nearly connected long before Port-of-Spain entered the picture.
The achievement of the 2024 licence is institutional rather than geological — a political workaround for decades of stalled development.
Dragon waited forty years not for better reservoirs, but for conditions that allowed molecules to move.
In the end, alignment came not through new discoveries, but through necessity — Trinidad’s gas hunger meeting Venezuela’s stranded abundance.
Not a miracle, just history finally catching up with geography.
Footnotes
1. Venezuelan Gaceta Oficial Extraordinaria No. 6.793 (29 January 2024), licence for Campo Dragón.
2. PDVSA offshore exploration and seismic campaign summaries, 1978–1985.
3. Cristóbal Colón Project partnership announcements, PDVSA/Shell/Exxon/Mitsubishi (1988–1996).
4. PDVSA Preliminary Development Agreements and Mariscal Sucre planning documents (2002–2007).
5. Reuters and Maritime Executive reporting on Aban Pearl rig incident, May 2010.
6. Technip offshore contract announcements, 2010.
7. PDVSA well completion and Accelerated Production Scheme reports, 2013–2015.
8. PDVSA activity report citing 91.5 per cent completion of Dragon–CIGMA pipeline, 2015.
9. Venezuelan gazette instruments and Reuters coverage of Rosneft-linked licences, 2017–2020.
10. Project portfolios and Venezuelan press coverage of PAGMI and Chinese EPC participation.
