On December 5, 2025, the White House unveiled a sweeping new National Security Strategy (NSS) that marks a dramatic reassertion of U.S. dominance in the Western Hemisphere and a return to the hard-edged “America First” doctrine. This latest blueprint, released under the Trump administration, signals a formal revival of the Monroe Doctrine—first declared by President James Monroe more than two centuries ago—which warned European powers to keep out of the Americas. In the modern iteration, the strategy casts the region as the top U.S. international priority and sets the stage for a new era of interventionism, rivalry, and transactional alliances.
The NSS is rooted in the conviction that national sovereignty, military strength, and economic nationalism are the bedrock of American security. According to The Conversation, the document openly touts a “Trump Corollary” to the Monroe Doctrine, making clear that the days of the Middle East dominating U.S. foreign policy are “thankfully over.” Instead, the Western Hemisphere is elevated as the arena where U.S. security and prosperity are most directly at stake. The strategy ties America’s future to maintaining preeminence in Latin America, denying China and other powers access to military installations, ports, critical minerals, and cyber infrastructure in the region.
This renewed focus has already translated into action. Over recent months, the Trump administration has launched deadly strikes against suspected drug boats in the Caribbean Sea and the eastern Pacific Ocean, killing dozens. International law experts and human rights officials have sharply criticized these attacks as breaches of international law, since Congress has not authorized any armed conflict in these waters. Nevertheless, the administration frames these operations as essential to protecting the U.S. from “narco-terrorists”—a term now fused with the broader U.S.-China great power competition.
President Donald Trump himself has been unambiguous about the administration’s posture. On December 2, 2025, he told reporters that any country manufacturing or transporting drugs to the U.S.—including Venezuela, Mexico, and Colombia—could face a military strike. That same day, Trump granted a pardon to Juan Orlando Hernández, the former president of Honduras, who had been sentenced to 45 years in prison for helping move hundreds of tons of cocaine into the U.S. The timing was no accident: Hernández’s release came just days before Honduras’ elections, shoring up conservative networks that Trump hopes will support his preferred candidate, Nasry Asfura.
In the logic of “America First,” such moves are not about principle but power. As The Conversation observes, “Obedient partners are rewarded. And power, not principle, determines U.S. policy in the region.” Hernández, with deep ties to Honduran elites and security forces, is exactly the kind of loyal, hard-right client the administration wants in a country that hosts U.S. military personnel and helps police migration routes to the north. The message to other Latin American leaders is clear: those who cooperate may be protected, while those who defy Washington risk being labeled “narco-states” and targeted by military force.
The NSS also reveals the administration’s obsession with Venezuela. The country, home to the world’s largest proven oil reserves and a strategic Caribbean coastline, has long been a focus of U.S. sanctions and diplomatic pressure. Under these restrictions, Venezuela has deepened its ties with China, Iran, and Russia—signing several energy and mining deals that the U.S. views as unacceptable. Although Venezuela is not named directly in the NSS, the document alludes to the threat posed by foreign influence and the difficulty of reversing political alignments between certain Latin American governments and external actors.
Recent developments underscore the stakes. According to The New York Times, the Maduro government has reportedly offered the U.S. a dominant stake in its oil and gold resources, attempting to pivot away from China and court the Trump administration in a bid to end Venezuela’s international isolation. Meanwhile, opposition leader María Corina Machado, winner of the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize, is pitching a post-Maduro future to U.S. investors, describing a “US$1.7 trillion opportunity” to privatize Venezuela’s oil, gas, and infrastructure. For U.S. and European corporations, the prospect of regime change promises a windfall—if Washington can help deliver it.
Yet, the administration’s strategy is not limited to energy or geopolitics. It treats economic security as inseparable from national security, viewing global affairs as a zero-sum competition with China and Russia. Alliances are approached transactionally, and multilateral institutions are viewed with deep skepticism. The NSS scolds Europe for what it calls a loss of cultural identity and political cohesion, arguing that openness and complacency have allowed others to erode freedoms and institutions once central to European identity.
What’s notably missing from the new NSS is any serious engagement with global development challenges. The strategy devotes scant attention to foreign aid and largely ignores the destabilizing effects of fragile states, mass displacement, pandemics, climate stress, and widening inequality. As The Conversation points out, these are not peripheral concerns but “core drivers of instability.” Nowhere is this failure more evident than in the treatment of global health threats. The COVID-19 pandemic demonstrated how weak health systems and unequal access to infrastructure can trigger global economic collapse and political instability. Despite warnings from public health experts that another major pandemic is likely within the next decade or two, the NSS does not prioritize global health or address the recent rise in HIV infections, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa.
Climate change, too, is relegated to secondary status. The document elevates restoring American energy dominance—through expanded oil, gas, coal, and nuclear production—as a top strategic priority, reinforcing fossil fuel dependence even as climate instability accelerates. This approach, critics argue, ignores the reality that climate change is already producing deadly consequences: more frequent droughts, floods, and natural disasters, undermining food security and driving displacement. The World Bank estimates that climate change could force more than 200 million people into internal displacement by 2050, while UN research shows that climate shocks can raise the risk of armed conflict by 10 to 20 percent in fragile contexts.
In the geopolitical arena, the NSS falls short in addressing China’s expanding influence through the Belt and Road Initiative and Russia’s growing footprint in Latin America, particularly in countries like Nicaragua. U.S. support for civil society organizations and independent media has also been weakened, creating a vacuum that authoritarian actors are eager to exploit. Regional organizations in Latin America remain divided and have not condemned recent U.S. strikes, leaving countries to navigate Trump’s policies on their own—some hoping to be treated as friends, others fearing the consequences of defiance.
The Trump administration’s National Security Strategy reflects a narrow, power-centric vision that underestimates the complex drivers of modern insecurity. By sidelining development, global health, climate realities, and support for democratic actors, it risks magnifying the very crises it seeks to contain. In today’s world, strength is measured not by rhetoric or military dominance alone, but by the ability to prevent crises, build resilience, and lead through sustained global engagement. Whether this strategy will deliver true security for the United States—or simply postpone and amplify future challenges—remains to be seen.
