The first rule for navigating the Donald Trump era remains constant: do not believe him. His statements are rarely literal and his grand proclamations often mask shabby, opportunistic tactics. This pattern holds true as the world scrutinises his administration's recent military incursion into Venezuela, an operation he hailed as "brilliant".
Theatrics Over Strategy: A Pattern of Distraction
When the US president authorised the operation that led to the capture of Venezuelan leader Nicolás Maduro, accusing him of narcotics trafficking, it followed a familiar script. Just weeks prior, Trump had declared the synthetic opioid fentanyl a "weapon of mass destruction", citing its role in nearly 70% of US drug-overdose deaths. The swift pivot in focus is characteristic.
The scale of the Venezuela action was immense, involving over 150 aircraft, including Delta Force helicopters, bombs and special operations troops. This unilateral move, conducted without congressional approval, breached both international law and the US constitution. Reports from The Atlantic detail summary executions from US airstrikes that have killed at least 115 people suspected of drug trafficking since September, with footage so graphic it reportedly nauseated a lawmaker.
Credit for this approach is widely attributed to Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth, whose style evokes a grim parody of corporate ruthlessness. As columnist Aditya Chakrabortty argues, any other nation acting in this manner would be branded a rogue state, not discussed in terms of "gunboat diplomacy".
An Old Playbook, Not a New Doctrine
Analysts seeking a coherent "Trump doctrine" or evidence of a "new world order" are misreading the situation. This is not a novel imperialism but a chaotic reversion to a very old US playbook in Latin America. A Harvard paper from 2005 calculated that between 1898 and 1994, the US successfully intervened to change governments in Latin America 41 times—roughly once every 28 months for a century.
Leaders like Salvador Allende in Chile, João Goulart in Brazil, and Manuel Noriega in Panama all fell with Washington's involvement. What distinguishes Trump is the brazen lack of pretence about promoting democracy, replaced by open talk of securing resources like Venezuela's oil. Yet even this is fantasy; with crude prices at five-year lows, major firms lack the incentive to invest the colossal sums needed to tap the remote Orinoco Belt.
Trump's ad-libbed foreign policy reflects this inconsistency. While some speculate about a retrenchment to the western hemisphere, his administration bombed Nigeria recently and threatened Iran's Ayatollah Khamenei. He is, as Chakrabortty notes, a deal-maker, not a doctrine-follower, too opportunistic to adhere to any grand strategy.
Domestic Chaos as the Driving Force
The Venezuela adventure serves as a vivid distraction from Trump's crumbling domestic position. Now in his second term, his presidency has been defined by the dismemberment of government, the outsourcing of public functions to figures like Elon Musk, and the bluster of federal shutdowns. His policy, such as tariffs on Chinese goods, has been marked by indecision, changing five times in his first six months.
The result is personal approval ratings that have sunk below those of President Joe Biden. Facing such "dreary domestic concerns", the spectacle of foreign military action provides a welcome diversion. However, this is not rule but "rule by remote control"—installing compliant figures without the burden of direct administration, a lesson learned from the quagmires of Iraq and Afghanistan.
The supporting cast for this approach is not a traditional regime but a network of "buccaneers and oligarchs, of AI billionaires, crypto bros and shadow bankers". It is a chaotic grab for resources and contracts, more unsettling precisely because it is so disordered. This disarray, however, also presents an opportunity for more robust resistance from European allies, should they choose to act beyond indulgent op-eds and confront the reality of a rogue superstate.
