Trump’s Bold Strike in Venezuela: Shattering the Illusion of Isolationism

SPOTLIGHT, 5 Jan 2026

Diran Noubar – TRANSCEND Media Service

4 Jan 2026 – In a stunning display of military might and geopolitical ambition, President Donald Trump announced on 3 Jan 2026 that U.S. forces had conducted airstrikes on Venezuelan targets and captured President Nicolás Maduro, whisking him away to face drug-trafficking charges in New York. This operation, described by Trump as a “large-scale strike” executed in the dead of night, marks a dramatic escalation in U.S. involvement in Latin America. Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, were extracted from a fortified location in Caracas amid explosions that left parts of the city without power. But beyond the tactical details, this move signals a profound shift—or perhaps a revelation—about Trump’s foreign policy: the definitive end of his promised era of non-interference and isolationism.

During his 2016 and 2024 campaigns, Trump repeatedly championed an “America First” doctrine, vowing to extricate the U.S. from endless foreign entanglements. He criticized past administrations for wasteful interventions abroad, promising to focus on domestic issues like border security and economic revival. “We’re not going to be the policemen of the world anymore,” he declared time and again, positioning himself as a break from the neoconservative impulses that led to wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Isolationism, or at least a selective non-interventionism, was the cornerstone of his appeal to war-weary voters. Yet, in Venezuela, Trump has not only intervened but has done so with imperial flair, declaring that the U.S. will “run the country” until a “safe, proper, and judicious transition” occurs.

The operation’s rationale, as articulated by Trump at a press conference from his Mar-a-Lago resort, blends law enforcement rhetoric with unabashed economic opportunism. Maduro, indicted in 2020 on narco-terrorism charges, was framed as a direct threat to U.S. security due to alleged drug shipments. However, Trump’s comments quickly pivoted to Venezuela’s vast oil reserves—the largest proven in the world—stating that American companies would be “very strongly involved” in revitalizing the industry. “We’re in the oil business… we’ll be selling oil,” he remarked, underscoring a motive that critics argue reeks of resource-driven imperialism rather than altruistic democracy promotion. This isn’t subtle diplomacy; it’s a throwback to gunboat diplomacy, echoing historical U.S. interventions in Latin America, from the 1989 Panama invasion to earlier meddling in the region.

The buildup to this moment was deliberate. In the months leading up to the strikes, Trump had amassed a significant military presence off Venezuela’s coast, including warships and fighter jets, under the guise of counter-narcotics operations. He had also escalated rhetoric, designating the Maduro regime a terrorist organization, blockading oil shipments, and even offering Maduro deals involving stakes in Venezuela’s resources in exchange for stepping down—offers that were rebuffed. When diplomacy failed, force prevailed, with U.S. Special Forces leading the charge in what Trump called an “extraordinary military operation.” Casualties remain unclear, but reports indicate injuries to U.S. personnel and unknown Venezuelan losses.

This intervention flies in the face of Trump’s isolationist pledges. Far from withdrawing from global affairs, his administration has now committed to an indefinite oversight role in Venezuela, potentially involving U.S. troops on the ground and American firms extracting resources. Critics, including international law experts, decry it as a violation of sovereignty and the U.N. Charter, setting a dangerous precedent for unilateral action. Venezuelan opposition figures like María Corina Machado have expressed readiness to assume power, but even they must navigate the shadow of U.S. dominance, with pledges to relocate their embassy in Israel to Jerusalem—a nod to Trump’s broader foreign alliances.

Domestically, reactions are polarized. Some Republicans, like Rep. Mariannette Miller-Meeks, frame it as a swift end to conflict, aligning with Trump’s base that sees Maduro as a narco-dictator deserving removal. Progressives, such as Rep. Rashida Tlaib and Sen. Bernie Sanders, condemn it as an illegal regime-change war, echoing fears of another Iraq-like quagmire. Venezuelan expatriates are divided; some celebrate Maduro’s ouster after years of repression, while others decry the foreign imposition.

Globally, the fallout is swift. Leaders like Brazil’s Lula da Silva invoke memories of dark imperial eras, while allies like Russia and China remain notably silent (as of today)—or perhaps strategically so. Trump’s assertion that “American dominance in the western hemisphere will never be questioned again” underscores a return to Monroe Doctrine-era thinking, where the U.S. asserts hemispheric hegemony.

Echoes of Past Interventions: Lessons from Iraq, Libya, and Afghanistan

Trump’s Venezuela operation has drawn sharp comparisons to previous U.S.-led regime changes, particularly in Iraq, Libya, and Afghanistan—interventions that Trump himself once lambasted as disastrous follies.  Critics argue that this move risks repeating the same mistakes, plunging Venezuela into a cycle of instability, violence, and failed nation-building that could leave its people worse off than before.

In Iraq, the 2003 invasion to topple Saddam Hussein was justified by claims of weapons of mass destruction that proved unfounded, much like the drug-trafficking charges against Maduro are seen by some as a pretext for resource control.  What followed was a power vacuum that fueled sectarian violence, the rise of ISIS, and a costly occupation lasting years, with hundreds of thousands of civilian deaths and trillions in U.S. expenditures.  Similarly, in Venezuela, removing Maduro without a robust post-intervention plan could ignite chaos from paramilitary groups like the colectivos or cross-border insurgents from Colombia’s ELN, turning the country into a hotbed of guerrilla warfare.

Libya’s 2011 NATO-backed ouster of Muammar Gaddafi offers another cautionary tale. Intended to prevent atrocities, the intervention fragmented the nation into warring factions, creating a failed state rife with militias, human trafficking, and economic collapse.  Libya’s oil wealth, like Venezuela’s, became a prize for foreign powers, but the Libyan people endured years of civil war and instability. Trump’s promise of U.S. companies dominating Venezuelan oil echoes this resource grab, potentially exacerbating divisions rather than fostering recovery.

Afghanistan represents the epitome of prolonged entanglement. The 2001 invasion to dismantle the Taliban and al-Qaeda devolved into a 20-year quagmire, marked by corruption, ineffective governance, and eventual Taliban resurgence in 2021.  Trump’s own withdrawal from Afghanistan was chaotic, yet his Venezuela stance—hinting at possible “boots on the ground”—risks a similar open-ended commitment.  As Rep. Thomas Massie warned, this could create a “miniature Afghanistan in the Western Hemisphere,” with U.S. forces bogged down in counterinsurgency while Venezuelan society fractures.

For Venezuelans, the parallels suggest a grim future: initial elation over Maduro’s removal giving way to prolonged unrest, economic exploitation benefiting outsiders, and a humanitarian crisis amplified by foreign meddling. As in Iraq, where ordinary citizens bore the brunt of insurgency and infrastructure collapse; in Libya, where daily life descended into lawlessness; and in Afghanistan, where women and minorities lost hard-won gains—Venezuelans might face a similar fate.  Without genuine international cooperation and a focus on local needs over U.S. interests, this intervention could perpetuate suffering rather than alleviate it.

In essence, Trump’s Venezuela gambit exposes the fragility of his isolationist facade. What began as promises of restraint has morphed into proactive interventionism, driven by a mix of security concerns, economic interests, and personal bravado. As the U.S. assumes temporary control, the world watches: Is this the start of a new era of American assertiveness, or the overreach that unravels it? For now, one thing is clear—the vows of non-interference lie in ruins amid the rubble of Caracas.

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Diran Noubar, an Italian-Armenian born in France, has lived in 11 countries until he moved to Armenia. He is a world-renowned, critically-acclaimed documentary filmmaker and war reporter. Starting in the early 2000’s in New York City, Diran produced and directed over 20 full-length documentary films. He is also a singer/songwriter and guitarist in his own band and runs a nonprofit charity organization, wearemenia.org.

This article originally appeared on Transcend Media Service (TMS) on 5 Jan 2026.

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