The Return of American Imperialism

The Trump administration’s recent airstrike on a small vessel in the southern Caribbean—allegedly carrying narcotics and members of Venezuela’s Tren de Aragua gang—was not just a military maneuver. It was a signal. A signal that American imperialism, long cloaked in diplomacy and economic influence, is now being rebranded as counterterrorism and narcotics enforcement.

President Trump announced the strike with characteristic bravado, claiming the vessel was operated by “Tren de Aragua Narcoterrorists.”

Trump said on Truth Social: The strike occurred while the terrorists were at sea in International waters transporting illegal narcotics, heading to the United States. No U.S. Forces were harmed in this strike. Please let this serve as notice to anybody even thinking about bringing drugs into the United States of America. BEWARE!”

Eleven people were killed. No trial. No extradition. No independent verification. Just a grainy video and a declaration of guilt from 30,000 feet.

- YouTube www.youtube.com

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth told Fox News, “This is a deadly serious mission for us, and it won’t stop with just this strike.” That statement should chill anyone who believes in proportionality, sovereignty, or the rule of law.

Let’s be clear: Tren de Aragua is a violent criminal organization. It has been linked to extortion, human trafficking, and regional instability. But according to InSight Crime, it is not a major player in international drug trafficking. And it is certainly not a transnational terrorist threat on par with ISIS or al-Qaeda.

So why the airstrike? Why the escalation?

Legal experts like Mark Nevitt, writing for Just Security, warn that labeling drug traffickers as terrorists could open the door to a new “forever war”—one where the U.S. president claims unchecked authority to kill civilians based on vague affiliations and unverified intelligence. “Applying a new label to an old problem does not transform the problem itself,” Nevitt writes. “Nor does it grant the U.S. president or the U.S. military expanded legal authority to kill civilians.”

This is not just about Venezuela. It’s about the precedent. It’s about the normalization of extrajudicial violence in the name of national security. It’s about the erosion of international norms and the reemergence of a foreign policy rooted in domination rather than diplomacy.

Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro called the strike “extravagant, unjustifiable, immoral, and absolutely criminal.” While Maduro’s own record on human rights is deeply troubling, his condemnation of the strike raises legitimate questions about sovereignty and the weaponization of U.S. power.

This is not the first time the U.S. has used Latin America as a proving ground for its military ambitions. From the Monroe Doctrine to the Cold War to the War on Drugs, the region has long been treated as a backyard—ripe for intervention, manipulation, and control.

But today’s imperialism is different. It’s not about boots on the ground. It’s about drones in the sky, algorithms in the war room, and narratives crafted to justify violence. It’s about redefining threats to fit political agendas and using military force to send messages rather than solve problems.

Mainstream media should not treat this strike as a one-off event. It is part of a pattern—a pattern of expanding executive power, eroding legal standards, and militarizing foreign policy under the guise of public safety.

We owe it to the public we serve to ask harder questions: Who decides who is a terrorist? What evidence is required before a missile is launched? And what happens when the line between law enforcement and warfare disappears altogether?

This is not just a story about a boat in the Caribbean. It’s a story about the future of American power—and whether we will continue to accept its most dangerous expressions without scrutiny or consequence.

Hugo Balta is the executive editor of the Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network. Balta is the only person to serve twice as president of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists (NAHJ).