Liberation or Occupation?

In the early hours of January 3, U.S. forces entered and carried out strikes in Venezuela, removing Nicolas Maduro from power. The operation was swift, decisive, and framed as a necessary act—an intervention to combat narco-trafficking, restore order, and free a population suffering under an entrenched dictatorship.

We’ve seen this movie before; we know better than to think it will be “smooth sailing” from here.

It is worth stating what is obvious: Maduro was a dictator. His government repressed political opposition, hollowed out democratic institutions, and oversaw an economic collapse that drove millions of Venezuelans to flee. Many Venezuelans—though not all—are celebrating his removal.

The question is not whether Maduro was a problem. The question is whether the U.S. invasion and forced regime change can provide a long-term solution.

History offers a sobering answer.

For more than half a century, the U.S. has repeatedly tried to reshape foreign governments through force, often with confidence that this time would be different. In Latin America alone, U.S.-backed coups and interventions—from Guatemala in 1954 to Chile in 1973 and Panama in 1989—were justified as necessary corrections to instability, authoritarianism, or drugs.

But stable democracy was almost never the result of U.S intervention. Instead, past U.S. administrations left behind weakened institutions, further polarized societies, and a lingering distrust of both local governments and Washington.

We don’t just have Latin American examples. The 2003 invasion of Iraq dismantled a brutal dictatorship, but it also dismantled the state itself, fostering years of violence and fragmentation that persist to this day. Afghanistan showed how easily foreign militaries can remove a regime—and how difficult it is to replace one with legitimacy. Libya, often cited as a limited intervention, collapsed into militia rule after its strongman was removed. In each case, regime change succeeded tactically and failed strategically, bringing further instability to these countries and the regions surrounding them.

Venezuela is not immune to these dynamics. Political order cannot be imported; it must be discovered and built locally. When Washington sets the priorities, it creates a knowledge problem that no amount of military intelligence can solve. It replaces the organic development of local institutions with a fragile, top-down structure that lacks the domestic consent necessary for long-term survival.

Washington’s official explanation for the intervention emphasizes drug trafficking and criminal networks. Those concerns are real, but incomplete. Venezuela’s geopolitical importance long predates the latest rhetoric about narcotics. It sits atop some of the world’s largest proven oil reserves and has resisted U.S. influence for decades. Framing the invasion solely as a law-enforcement action obscures the deeper economic and strategic interests at play—and risks convincing policymakers that military force can solve problems rooted in politics and institutions.

The regional consequences may be even more troubling. Post-invasion rhetoric by President Trump has already hinted that other countries—Cuba, Mexico, and Colombia in particular—could face similar pressure if they are deemed insufficiently cooperative. This should alarm anyone concerned with stability in the Western Hemisphere. Drug markets are transnational; military interventions are not. Pushing forceful solutions into complex domestic environments risks spreading conflict, not containing it.

None of this is an argument for defending the brutal Maduro regime or ignoring Venezuela’s humanitarian crisis. It is an argument for education and humility. Removing a dictator does not automatically create a democracy. Foreign control rarely substitutes for domestic consent. The most successful political transitions—however slow and imperfect—have relied on internal coalitions, regional diplomacy, and sustained institutional support rather than shock and awe solutions.

The tragedy is that the U.S. has learned these lessons before, only to forget them again. Liberation by invasion is an illusion. It promises clarity and control in a world that rarely offers either. Venezuela’s future will ultimately be decided not by who captured Maduro, but by whether Venezuelans are allowed and able to build legitimate institutions of their own.

If history is any guide, occupation disguised as liberation will not bring stability. It will only delay the inevitable, leaving Venezuelans to pay the price for a stability that exists only on paper.