The US military campaign in Venezuela symbolizes a disruption that goes beyond immediate shocks of force or the spectacle of power. By entering Venezuelan territory without international authorization, capturing a sitting head of state, and transferring him to its jurisdiction to face domestic criminal charges, Washington has crossed what the post-1945 international system was explicitly designed to prevent. This was not a proxy war, a covert intervention or even a controversial humanitarian operation. It was a straightforward claim that military superiority can supersede international legitimacy, and that sovereign equality, long a cornerstone of the global order, is conditional when it conflicts with the interests of a major power.
The UN Charter was drafted to end such unilateralism after devastating wars. Article 2(4) prohibits the use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any State, allowing exceptions only for self-defense against armed attack or for collective action authorized by the Security Council. The Venezuelan operation does not meet any of the conditions. There was no imminent threat to the US, nor was there any UN order. Attempts to present the operation as a mix of anti-narcotics enforcement, criminal apprehension, and democratic intervention do not remedy this flaw. International law does not recognize domestic prosecutions as a legal basis for cross-border military action. If this happened, the principle of sovereignty would turn into a discretionary prerogative, which could be abrogated by powerful states at will.
What makes this episode particularly unsettling is not just the violation of the law, but the manner in which it was carried out. America did not even try to give its actions the garb of multilateralism. There was no emergency Security Council session before the operation, no coalition of states providing political cover, and no serious attempt to enforce established principles such as the responsibility to protect, which is itself legally disputed. The absence of restraint signals that Washington no longer feels obliged to justify force within the existing legal framework. This message resonates far beyond Latin America.
Historically, US interventions in the region, Guatemala in 1954, Chile in 1973, Panama in 1989, were later acknowledged as violations of sovereignty, often justified by Cold War exigencies. Yet those actions were taken in a world where international law was weak and decolonization was incomplete. After decades of commitment to multilateralism and rules-based governance, repeating such conduct in 2026 represents regression rather than continuity. This suggests not a momentary lapse, but a recalibration of principle: that legitimacy is subordinated to strategic convenience.
The reaction across Latin America underscores the depth of this concern. Governments with vastly different ideological leanings, from Brazil and Mexico to Colombia and Chile, have warned that the operation undermines regional stability and revives the specter of external hegemony. The principle of non-intervention, enshrined in both the United Nations Charter and the Charter of the Organization of American States, has been a hard-won shield for post-colonial states. Its erosion reopens historical wounds and fuels concerns about future coercion, especially in areas with economic vulnerability and political fragmentation.
Globally, the implications are even more serious. International law operates less through enforcement than through expectation. States comply not because violation is impossible, but because norms create predictability and mutual restraint. When a leading power demonstrates that such norms can be ignored without consequences, it weakens incentives for compliance by others. Russia’s war in Ukraine has already strained this system by showing that territorial conquests can be achieved despite legal condemnation. The Venezuela operation has mitigated the damage by demonstrating that even the rhetoric of legitimacy is now optional.
China, which has long argued that Western invocations of international law are selective and instrumental, has seized on the episode to bolster its narrative. Beijing’s condemnation of the operation is less about defending Venezuela and more about delegitimizing Western criticism of its own conduct, whether in the South China Sea or its dealings with Taiwan. The argument is that if sovereignty can be abrogated in Caracas, it can be abrogated anywhere. Moscow’s response also follows the same logic. The danger lies not in the rhetoric but in the gradual normalization of a world where force becomes a routine instrument of statesmanship rather than an extraordinary failure of diplomacy.
For countries like India, which are neither peripheral nor hegemonic, this episode presents a serious dilemma. New Delhi has consistently emphasized respect for sovereignty, non-interference, and strategic autonomy while deepening the partnership with the United States. The Venezuela operation tests the coherence of this position. If international law is destroyed by those who claim to defend it, middle powers are left to navigate an environment where alignment offers little normative protection, and non-alignment offers limited insulation. The credibility of institutions like the United Nations, already weakened by paralysis and politicization, has further diminished, forcing states to rely more on balance of power rather than legal assurances.
The domestic political arguments given to justify intervention also do not hold up to scrutiny. The government of Nicolás Maduro has been widely criticized for authoritarian practices, economic mismanagement, and human rights violations. Yet international law does not permit regime change by external force, no matter how distasteful a government may be. To conflate moral condemnation with legal authority is to collapse the distinction between legality and legality. History offers sobering lessons here: Interventions launched in the name of democracy often create instability, empower armed actors, and fragment societies long after the interveners are gone.
The humanitarian consequences are already visible within Venezuela. Civilian deaths in the initial attacks, uncertainty over political power, and fears of economic disruption have further exacerbated an already fragile situation. The removal of a head of state by a foreign force does not resolve internal divisions; This irritates them more. Competing claims to authority, competition for recognition, and the threat of prolonged external involvement likely turn Venezuela into a theater of proxy competition rather than a beneficiary of democratic renewal.
Perhaps the most devastating impact of the operation lies in what it reveals about the current international moment. The language of the “rules-based order” has long served as a moral currency in global politics. This allowed powerful states to claim leadership while smaller states accepted oddities in exchange for predictability and restraint. That deal is now clearly going bad. When rules are selectively enforced, they cease to be rules and become tools. When institutions are sidelined, they lose relevance. And when power is exercised without accountability, legitimacy is lost.
The Venezuela episode does not herald the end of international law; Norms rarely disappear overnight. But it accelerates the transition toward a more transactional, less principled order, where compliance depends on ability rather than conviction. In such a system, the costs are disproportionately borne by weaker states, while stronger states also face long-term instability as trust erodes and conflict becomes harder to control.
Therefore, the lessons of January 2026 are not limited to Caracas or Washington. It tells a broader truth about the fragility of the global order in an age of resurgent power politics. Once the law becomes weak, it is difficult to restore it. Once an example is set, it is difficult to limit it. If the seizure of a sovereign leader by foreign military force under the guise of justice or security becomes acceptable, the difference between order and anarchy becomes dangerously narrow.
What remains is a stark choice. Either states affirm the primacy of international law, even if it hinders their immediate interests, or they accept a world where rights can be increasingly defined. America’s actions in Venezuela show that this option is being avoided rather than faced. The costs of that postponement will not be borne by the great powers alone, but by an international system already struggling to contain the consequences of its own unraveling.
This article is written by Amal Chandra, author, political analyst and coordinator, Students for Liberty (SFL).
