Last night’s intervention in Venezuela, culminating in the capture of Nicolás Maduro, marks a serious break with the rules and principles the Western Alliance and the United States has long claimed to defend.
It was unlawful under international law, executed without United Nations authorization, and justified through power rather than legitimacy.
I am not a fan of communist regimes, and I would welcome the fall of authoritarian governments anywhere. But this was not the way to do it.
What happened last night did not advance regime change. It weakened the international order the West relies on to protect its interests.
My view is not a partisan or political argument. It is the position of anyone who believes in democratic governance, the rule of law, and civil liberties, and who understands how fragile those systems become once norms are treated as optional.
Tactical victories can feel satisfying, especially when aimed at an odious regime. But when they come at the expense of legal restraint and institutional credibility, they erode the very framework that protects democracies from arbitrary power.
The danger here is not sympathy for Maduro or chavismo. I despite any authoritarian regime.
The problem is the long-term damage inflicted on a system that depends on rules holding even when they are inconvenient.
From Caracas’ perspective, this was not liberation or regime collapse. It was the kidnapping of a sitting head of state by foreign powers. That framing matters.
It allows the remaining power structure to claim victimhood, rally loyalists, and justify repression. Rather than dissolving the regime’s internal narrative, the operation risks hardening it.
From an international legal standpoint, this ranks among the most serious breaches of the post–United Nations system carried out by the United States in decades.
There was no Security Council authorization, no credible claim of self-defense, and no lawful invitation from a recognized sovereign authority. The prohibition on forcible regime change is not a technicality.
It exists precisely to prevent powerful states from unilaterally removing governments they dislike under political pretexts.
When Washington breaks that rule so openly, it signals that international law is conditional and selectively enforced.
Strategically, Maduro’s removal does not equal regime change. Venezuela is not a one-man system. Power remains embedded in the military leadership, intelligence services, party structures, criminal networks, and foreign patrons that survived last night untouched.
Decapitation without institutional dismantling rarely produces reform. It more often produces paralysis, infighting, or prolonged instability.
Framing this episode as an abduction rather than a transition gives those actors political cover to close ranks and resist any negotiated outcome.
Some Venezuelans are celebrating, and that reaction is understandable. Chavismo has been brutal, corrupt, and economically catastrophic, destroying livelihoods and forcing millions into exile.
For many, Maduro’s capture feels like long-delayed justice. But the second-order effects may be severe.
Venezuelans living in the United States could see political protections weakened if Washington treats this as a clean break, increasing pressure to return to a country that remains unsafe.
Relatives who stayed behind may face harsher repression as the regime searches for scapegoats and symbols of resistance. Regimes under threat tend to tighten control, not loosen it.
Claims that this operation was driven by counternarcotics concerns do not withstand scrutiny. Don't make a mistake: Venezuela has long served as a transit hub for cocaine, and regime-linked corruption is real.
But it is not central to the fentanyl crisis driving U.S. domestic politics. The overwhelming majority of fentanyl entering the United States is produced using Chinese chemical precursors and trafficked through Mexican cartels and border networks.
Venezuela plays, at most, a marginal role. Invoking drug trafficking as a primary justification confuses distinct problems and weakens the credibility of the argument.
The upside of this intervention is limited. The downside is substantial and potentially lasting.
If events fail to consolidate quickly or things get out of control (so many scenarios could be listed especially via Russia and China proxy intervention) the risk grows that Donald Trump is drawn into a far more serious and costly U.S. military intervention to avoid strategic failure or political humiliation.
That would deepen American entanglement in a country where the political endgame remains deeply unclear. The question is whether the United States is prepared for that escalation and its long-term consequences.
The precedent is equally damaging. Russia and China will point to this episode to justify their own violations of sovereignty, whether in Ukraine, Taiwan, or elsewhere. Their argument will be straightforward: the West follows international law only when it suits its interests.
Western power has never rested solely on coercion. It has rested on ideas, norms, and legitimacy. Undermining those foundations accelerates a world in which power alone determines outcomes, a world that ultimately favors authoritarian states over democratic ones.
At a deeper level, this episode reflects the logic of short-termist politics. Tactical wins today matter more than strategic consequences tomorrow. Leaders focused on immediate optics, domestic applause, or personal legacy discount costs they will not have to manage.
That tendency is especially pronounced among aging politicians with little incentive to preserve institutions they will soon exit.
International order, legal norms, and credibility are slow-moving assets. They deliver value over decades, not news cycles.
When decisions are driven by short-term political payoff rather than long-term stewardship, those assets are the first to be sacrificed.
Pandora’s box for global order is now open, and closing it will be far harder than opening it ever was.