In a move that has sparked fierce debate across the Americas, President Donald Trump’s early August 2025 order directing the Pentagon to use military force against foreign drug cartels has drawn both staunch support and withering criticism. This bold directive, the most aggressive U.S. counter-narcotics measure in decades, targets notorious organizations such as Mexico’s Sinaloa Cartel, Venezuela’s Tren de Aragua, and the Cartel of the Suns—allegedly linked to Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro. By designating these cartels as terrorist organizations, the Trump administration has sought to frame them as national security threats, a step that could fundamentally alter the U.S. approach to fighting transnational crime.
According to The Intercept, the Pentagon has already deployed more than 4,000 Marines and sailors to the waters of Latin America and the Caribbean, operating under the umbrella of U.S. Southern Command (SOUTHCOM). This formidable force, supported by destroyers, reconnaissance aircraft, nuclear-powered submarines, and the U.S.S. Iwo Jima Amphibious Ready Group, is officially tasked with providing the president a spectrum of options—from intelligence gathering to the possibility of direct military strikes against cartel targets.
White House spokesperson Anna Kelly described the move as a “big step” to protect the homeland from the relentless flow of fentanyl and other narcotics. But for many observers and policymakers, the announcement has raised urgent questions about both the effectiveness of such a military-heavy strategy and its implications for national sovereignty and international law.
One of the most vocal critics has been Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum, who has categorically rejected the idea of U.S. troops operating on Mexican soil. "Sovereignty is not for sale. Sovereignty is loved and defended," she declared, according to Latin Times. Sheinbaum emphasized during an August news conference that the directive “had nothing to do with the participation of any military forces in Mexico,” and made clear that “such action is neither allowed nor part of any agreement.” She insisted that any notion of a U.S. invasion was “absolutely ruled out.”
Trump, for his part, has not shied away from publicizing his offers of military assistance to Mexico. Back in May, he confirmed that he had offered support to Sheinbaum, but she firmly rebuffed the idea. Trump responded bluntly, saying, “She is so afraid of the cartels she can't even think straight,” and adding that Sheinbaum “can't walk” because of cartel violence in the country.
Beyond Mexico’s own objections, the U.S. president’s plan has drawn fire from a broad coalition of more than 30 organizations—including humanitarian, immigrant rights, faith-based, veterans’ advocacy, and drug policy reform groups. These organizations, as reported by The Intercept, have urged U.S. lawmakers to reject Trump’s plan, arguing that it would put civilians at risk and destabilize already fragile diplomatic relations between the United States and Latin American nations. In a letter to top congressional leaders, the groups called on Congress to “use every tool available” to prevent the administration from launching a military campaign in Latin America without public debate or accountability. They demanded hearings on the scope and possible consequences of the proposed use-of-force policy, and insisted that Congress block any funding for military action that hasn’t been properly authorized or openly debated.
Their letter warned, “Unilateral and hastily conceived military action could contribute to the considerable human rights abuses, criminal violence, and forced displacement already harming communities in Latin America.” The groups argued that militarized approaches to countering narcotics trafficking have often backfired, inadvertently incentivizing criminal groups to traffic smaller and more potent drugs to evade interdiction, acquire deadlier weapons, and expand their networks of corruption to protect profits.
There is also a legal cloud hanging over Trump’s order. As Latin Times points out, it remains unclear what legal assessments, if any, have been issued by the White House, the Pentagon, the State Department, or the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel regarding the order. Sara Haghdoosti, executive director of Win Without War, denounced the administration’s actions as “illegal, reckless and a betrayal of our democratic process” if carried out without congressional approval. “We’ve seen this ‘war on drugs’ playbook before in the region, and it has failed time and again—fueling violence, displacing communities, and doing nothing to address the root causes of drug trafficking,” Haghdoosti told The Intercept. She also noted, “What makes this even more egregious is that the Trump administration is pushing for war while slashing the very public health programs that save lives. People need healthcare, treatment, and support—not military posturing and strikes.”
Supporters of the new policy, however, insist that designating cartels as terrorist organizations allows the U.S. to unleash a broader range of tools against them. Under U.S. law, such a designation unlocks new sanctions and intelligence-sharing mechanisms, including asset freezes and travel bans. Yet, as Latin Times reports, it does not grant the kind of wartime authority required for armed operations on foreign soil. Any military action against cartels would therefore hinge on Trump’s broad interpretation of presidential authority to act in self-defense of the nation—an interpretation that many legal experts say is on shaky ground without explicit congressional authorization.
History offers sobering precedents. In 1989, President George H.W. Bush sent more than 20,000 troops into Panama, an action condemned by the United Nations as a violation of international law, though Bush defended it as necessary for U.S. security. In the 1990s, the Clinton administration supported Peruvian and Colombian authorities in intercepting drug flights—a program later halted after human rights concerns surfaced. Traditionally, U.S. naval forces have patrolled international waters for suspected smugglers, but always under the thin legal cover of Coast Guard authority to avoid violating the Posse Comitatus Act, which bars the military from performing domestic law enforcement functions. Trump’s directive, however, appears to break with this precedent, envisioning U.S. forces themselves capturing or even killing cartel operatives overseas.
There are also broader ethical and strategic dilemmas. Cartels are not insurgent armies with political aims; they are transnational businesses rooted in poverty, corruption, and the insatiable demand for drugs. Declaring war on them risks treating entire regions as combat zones, normalizing military intervention in countries that have not consented. Even allies wary of cartel violence worry that American militarization could spark retaliation, drive cartels deeper underground, or destabilize already fragile governments.
Experts warn that targeting cartel “kingpins” or conducting drug lab raids rarely dismantles these organizations. Instead, such actions often fragment cartels into smaller, more violent factions. The focus on armed intervention, critics say, fails to address the deep corruption and economic desperation that give these cartels their staying power. Without breaking the ties between organized crime, local governments, and legitimate businesses, the U.S. risks fighting an endless, whack-a-mole war.
Some policy analysts and advocates have suggested a different approach—one that invests as aggressively in institutional reform as in military hardware. This could mean channeling resources into investigative journalism, whistleblower protection, and judicial systems insulated from bribery. Financial intelligence units could track illicit money through banks and shell companies, cutting cartels off from their economic lifelines. International partnerships might shift from permission-to-strike agreements to capacity-building compacts, where U.S. legal and forensic experts train and equip local law enforcement to investigate and prosecute without fear of reprisal. Targeted development programs could help rural communities escape dependence on illicit economies, while Coast Guard-led joint maritime task forces could focus on interdiction missions, supported by military intelligence but without crossing into combat operations.
Ultimately, the United States faces a stark choice: wage a war that looks decisive, or build a peace that lasts. As the debate rages on, the difference between a security strategy and a sovereignty violation may be measured not in deployments, but in the trust left behind.
