The Trump administration’s push to reshape American foreign policy—and, with it, the global political order—continues at pace. On one front, the president appears determined to capitulate to Russia, leaving Ukraine and America’s NATO allies exposed. Yet in America’s own backyard, the administration has adopted a far more confrontational posture, signaling its intent to remove Nicolás Maduro from power, by force if necessary.

One of the administration’s central justifications is immigration. Trump officials have accused Maduro’s government of “emptying its prisons” and exporting violent criminals to the United States. They have further alleged that Venezuela has become the epicenter of a vast migrant- and drug-trafficking network, an accusation so sweeping that Washington has formally designated Maduro a narco-terrorist.

Under this questionable pretext, America’s military footprint in the Caribbean has expanded steadily for months. The skies above Venezuela have reportedly been closed to civilian air traffic. President Trump has been blunt: there will be no oil deal, no accommodation. Maduro must leave—or face assassination and regime change by force.

Trump’s posture toward Venezuela, and the broader way the United States is prosecuting its war on drugs in the Caribbean, should concern anyone who values restraint, legality, and proportionality in foreign policy. But those concerns should not blind us to the brutal reality of Maduro’s rule. His regime is a moral catastrophe. The United States could, in principle, strike a genuine blow for freedom and human flourishing by helping to remove it. But any such effort must be anchored in democratic legitimacy—specifically, by enabling the government elected in 2024 to assume its rightful place.

The aspirations of the Venezuelan people were underscored last week when María Corina Machado, the opposition leader who has spent the past year in hiding under threat of arrest, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Despite a decade-long travel ban, Machado ultimately reached Oslo to accept the award, a symbolic victory for Venezuelans still demanding democratic change.

There is much to dislike about the administration’s approach to Venezuela. While Trump and his inner circle appear to quiver in fear—or perhaps admiration—before Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, they show no such hesitation when posturing militarily against a far weaker adversary. Trump’s manifestly unqualified Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth, stands accused of ordering the killing of two stranded survivors of a missile strike on a boat alleged to be carrying drugs. The contrast is striking: an administration that shrinks from confronting Russian aggression displays remarkable bravado against defenseless fishermen.

Even more troubling is the apparent assumption of unilateral authority to designate Caribbean fishermen as terrorists, absent any formal declaration of war or congressional authorization for the use of force. Combined with the sweeping immunity granted to the president by the Supreme Court and the extraconstitutional measures embraced in the name of border security since January, this episode reflects a government increasingly willing to test the outer limits of constitutional restraint.

Those who see hope for Venezuela’s future in Trump’s aggressive posture would be wise to temper their optimism. Regime change may be the administration’s objective, but Maduro could easily be replaced by a local right-wing strongman—one who preserves the socialists’ machinery of repression while offending Trump less personally. Even if the administration genuinely desires a democratic outcome, America’s track record in building and sustaining democracies abroad is, at best, uneven.

At the same time, critics of intervention should harbor no illusions about the nature of the Maduro regime—or that of his predecessor, Hugo Chávez. When Chávez came to power in 1999, Venezuela was, on paper, the wealthiest country in Latin America. Yet its prosperity rested precariously on oil. Chávez was fortunate to inherit a historic commodity boom, which he used to bankroll a sweeping remaking of the economy along socialist lines.

As Kristian Niemietz observes in Socialism: The Failed Idea That Never Dies, this model of petro-socialism attracted no shortage of Western admirers: “One can find lengthy articles waxing lyrical about Venezuela without really saying anything about what that country actually did, other than being ‘an inspiration’ and ‘an alternative to global capitalism.’”

Among those admirers were Naomi Klein, Noam Chomsky, Jeremy Corbyn, and Owen Jones. When the oil boom ended, however, the system collapsed. Chávez did not live to see the full consequences of his experiment. By 2015, Venezuela’s economy was in freefall. The collapse in oil prices exposed the corruption and inefficiency embedded in the socialist model. Maduro’s response—printing money—produced the predictable result: hyperinflation.

As opposition mounted, repression intensified. This culminated in the 2024 election, when Venezuelans voted decisively for change. Edmundo González, the opposition candidate who ran in place of the banned Machado, is widely believed to have won. Maduro nevertheless clung to power, falsifying the results and ordering his security forces to dismantle what remained of the opposition. González fled to Spain. Machado emerged from hiding, defying her travel ban to accept her Nobel Prize.

Many others were not so fortunate. Among the disappeared is Jesús Armas, a pro-democracy campaigner and former intern at my employer, the Institute of Economic Affairs. On December 10 of last year, Armas was abducted by masked men and forced into a pickup truck in the middle of the night. His offense was leading Ciudadanía Sin Límites, an organization dedicated to promoting freedom and democracy in Venezuela.

As the IEA’s former executive director, Tom Clougherty, wrote in a letter to then–British Foreign Secretary David Lammy, “Jesús’ case is one of over 2,000 arbitrary detentions recorded since the election. Many have faced torture or worse.”

If the Trump administration is to remove Venezuela’s government, it must do so with clarity of purpose and moral seriousness. Venezuela already has an elected, pro-democracy government-in-waiting. Any American intervention must focus squarely on installing that government in office. This is essential not only for Venezuelan legitimacy, but for credibility in the United States and abroad.

There must also be a zero-tolerance approach to war crimes and illegal orders. Dismissing Hegseth would send a clear signal that President Trump is motivated by stability, freedom, and prosperity—not by indulging the most reckless impulses of his inner circle. Reinstating senior Defense Department lawyers dismissed earlier this year would further demonstrate a commitment to lawful, disciplined intervention.

The Trump administration’s foreign policy gives ample cause for alarm. But if people like Jesús Armas are freed, and Nicolás Maduro is reduced to an ignominious footnote in Latin American history, it will not have been an unmitigated failure.