“Boots, Bombs, and Bolivars: The Return of Gunboat Diplomacy”
On Saturday, January 3, the world jolted awake to a headline that felt ripped from the darkest chapters of the Cold War. President Donald Trump announced that the United States had struck Venezuela and captured its long-serving president, Nicolás Maduro, following months of escalating pressure over accusations of drug-running and illegitimacy.
In a Truth Social post that read more like a victory communiqué than a diplomatic statement, Trump declared:
“The United States of America has successfully carried out a large scale strike against Venezuela and its leader, President Nicolas Maduro, who has been, along with his wife, captured and flown out of the country.”
Venezuela’s government confirmed that civilians and military personnel were killed in the strikes, though no figures were released. Vice President Delcy Rodríguez, who constitutionally could assume leadership, stated that she did not know the whereabouts of either Maduro or his wife.
Across Latin America, the reaction was swift and furious. Colombia and Brazil issued statements condemning the invasion and the extraterritorial arrest of a sitting head of state, denouncing Washington’s invocation of the “war on drugs” as a pretext for regime change.
The question echoes across chancelleries and newsrooms alike: By what authority does a U.S. president “arrest” a foreign head of state on foreign soil?
Not the United Nations.
Not the International Criminal Court.
Not even Interpol.
What unfolded constitutes a flagrant violation of the Charter of the United Nations, particularly Articles 1 and 2, which enshrine the sovereign equality of states and the prohibition of the use of force. Such an act threatens international peace and stability, especially in Latin America and the Caribbean, placing millions of lives at risk and resurrecting a doctrine many believed buried with the Cold War.
From Caracas, the message was unmistakable: Venezuela considers itself in a state of resistance.
Contrary to claims by segments of the Venezuelan opposition that María Corina Machado would assume power, developments on the ground suggest something far more ominous—a U.S.-led coalition preparing to take control of the country in the wake of Maduro’s ouster.
Yet even with Maduro deposed, the reality remains combustible. Regime militias and the Bolivarian National Armed Forces remain openly hostile to any American-installed administration. Defense Minister Vladimir Padrino López has called for mass mobilization of the armed forces, and a nationwide state of emergency has been declared.
Washington, for its part, has reportedly signaled readiness to launch a “much larger” second attack should resistance continue.
Prior to his capture, President Nicolás Maduro ordered the full activation of national defense plans under Venezuela’s constitutional framework. In accordance with the Constitution of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela, the Organic Law on States of Exception, and the Organic Law on National Security, he signed a decree declaring a state of external commotion throughout the national territory.
The decree’s objective was explicit: to protect the population, ensure the functioning of republican institutions, and prepare the nation for armed struggle.
In the government’s words:
“The entire country must mobilize to defeat this imperialist aggression.”
Maduro further ordered the immediate deployment of the Command for the Comprehensive Defense of the Nation and the Organs of Direction for Comprehensive Defense across all states and municipalities.
Simultaneously, the Venezuelan government called on all social and political forces to mobilize and repudiate what it termed an imperialist attack. It announced that Bolivarian Diplomacy of Peace would file complaints before the UN Security Council, the Secretary-General of the United Nations, CELAC, and the Non-Aligned Movement, demanding condemnation and accountability from the U.S. government.
History offers no illusions. Popular resistance, once ignited, rarely ends with a single strike. What some proclaim as “victory” often proves only a prelude to counterattack. As former president Hugo Chávez once declared:
“In the face of any new difficulties, whatever their magnitude, the response of all patriots… is unity, struggle, battle, and victory.”
Venezuela’s political memory runs deep. Since 1811, it has faced empires and survived. When foreign powers bombarded its coasts in 1902, President Cipriano Castro thundered:
“The insolent foot of the foreigner has desecrated the sacred soil of the Homeland.”
Today, invoking Bolívar, Miranda, and the liberators, the Venezuelan state frames the moment as yet another chapter in its long war for independence.
Critics argue the motive is nakedly economic. Trump, they say, will eventually admit that Washington’s real objective is the installation of a compliant government—one willing to denationalize oil, dismantle sovereignty, and reopen Venezuela to foreign exploitation.
Seen through this lens, the missiles, the capture, and the declarations are not anomalies. They are the revival of a familiar script—gunboat diplomacy with a digital-age press release.
From this perspective, many conclude grimly: the United States has once again acted not as a guarantor of order, but as an agent of terror on the world stage.
Just like the neon glow of the 1980s, this situation would have again called what it looks like now as in the paat —
an empire reminding the world that it never really left.