In a dramatic escalation of U.S. policy toward Latin America, President Donald Trump’s administration has launched a sweeping new doctrine—quickly dubbed the “Donroe Doctrine” by major media outlets—that marks a sharp turn back to the interventionist playbook of the 20th century. The move, which has seen the United States deploy warships, impose tariffs, and designate Venezuela’s leadership as terrorists, is shaking up geopolitics across the Western Hemisphere and rekindling memories of past U.S. interventions in the region.
At the heart of the shift is a renewed focus on Latin America as America’s strategic backyard. According to the New York Times and the Financial Times, the Donroe Doctrine is a deliberate echo of the Monroe Doctrine, the 19th-century policy that asserted U.S. primacy in the hemisphere and justified decades of interventions. But this new version, rolled out at the start of Trump’s second term, is more aggressive and transactional than its predecessors, blending military muscle with economic leverage and a keen eye for American interests.
“We just have to take care of Venezuela,” Trump declared earlier this year, making no secret of his distaste for President Nicolás Maduro’s government and his eye on the country’s vast oil reserves. The message landed with unmistakable clarity: the U.S. is prepared to do whatever it takes to secure its interests, even if that means military action. And so, the first year of Trump’s new term has seen a U.S. armada—including the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Gerald R. Ford, three destroyers, and about 15,000 sailors—cruising off Venezuela’s coast, launching airstrikes on boats allegedly involved in drug trafficking, and conducting what the Pentagon now calls “Operation Southern Spear.”
The official U.S. line is that these operations are aimed at combating narcoterrorism and stopping the flow of drugs into the United States. Over the past two months, U.S. strikes on small boats off Venezuela’s coast have reportedly killed around 80 people, according to Axios and RT. Senior administration officials told Axios that the campaign is not about regime change—at least not yet. “Nobody is planning to go in and shoot him or snatch him—at this point. I wouldn’t say never, but that’s not the plan right now,” one official said of Maduro. “In the meantime, we’re going to blow up boats shipping drugs. We’re going to stop the drug trafficking.”
The military buildup has not gone unnoticed in Caracas. The Venezuelan government has condemned the U.S. actions as a violation of its sovereignty and an attempted coup, placing its forces on high alert. Maduro, for his part, has repeatedly denied U.S. allegations of drug trafficking and insisted his government is ready for “face-to-face” talks with Washington. Despite the heated rhetoric, there are signs of a possible diplomatic opening: U.S. officials have confirmed that a call between Trump and Maduro is “in the planning stages,” though no date has been set.
But the diplomatic overtures come alongside a hardening of U.S. policy. On November 24, the U.S. Treasury formally designated the “Cartel of the Suns”—a group allegedly operating within Venezuela’s security services and, according to Washington, headed by Maduro himself—as a foreign terrorist organization. This move, which places the group in the same category as Al-Qaeda and Islamic State, layers additional terrorism-related sanctions on top of existing measures. The term “Cartel of the Suns” refers to the sun-shaped insignia worn by Venezuelan military officers and has long been used in the media to describe alleged corruption and drug trafficking within the ranks.
The Venezuelan government has pushed back forcefully against the designation. In a statement, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs said, “Venezuela categorically, firmly, and absolutely rejects the new and ridiculous lie from the Secretary of the Department of State, Marco Rubio, who designates the alleged Cartel of the Suns as a terrorist organization… to justify an illegitimate and illegal intervention against Venezuela.” Maduro has consistently rejected all drug trafficking allegations and warned the U.S. against launching “a crazy war.”
The Trump administration’s approach to Latin America is not limited to Venezuela. Over the past year, Washington has imposed tariffs on several countries in the region and issued threats of military action—not only against Venezuela, but also against Mexico, in the name of stopping drug trafficking and illegal immigration. The administration’s strategies are notably less ideological than those of the Cold War era, focusing instead on what benefits the U.S. economically and strategically. According to Herbert Wulf, writing for the Toda Peace Institute, “They do not advocate with messianic impulse and missionary zeal a morally better world. Rather, besides the drug and the refugee issue, they are strongly pecuniary in their focus: What’s in it for the US (or for the president personally and his family)?”
The response from Latin America has been mixed, reflecting the region’s deep economic ties to the U.S. and its limited leverage. Some countries, such as Argentina and El Salvador, have aligned themselves with Trump’s policies in exchange for financial support—Argentina, for example, received a $20 billion loan after supporting U.S. initiatives. Others, like Brazil, Colombia, and Mexico, have criticized what they see as U.S. “coercive methods and colonial attitudes,” but have ultimately sought diplomatic compromises to avoid economic fallout. In November, Brazil welcomed the reduction of U.S. tariffs on beef, coffee, and fruit as a diplomatic win, even as tensions simmered.
Meanwhile, countries like Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela—long targets of U.S. sanctions—are facing intensified pressure, with military deployments and international isolation ramping up. Washington’s willingness to reward allies and punish challengers has revived memories of the so-called “Banana Wars” and other interventions that shaped the region throughout the 20th century. As Wulf notes, “We are now witnessing a return to the gunboat diplomacy of the 20th century. Washington’s intentions are enforced in Latin America, as in the last century, through military force, counter-insurgency operations, and economic coercion such as imposing tariffs.”
Underlying the Donroe Doctrine is a growing anxiety in Washington over China’s expanding economic and political presence in Latin America. With both the U.S. and China vying for influence and access to the region’s natural resources and markets, the stakes are higher than ever. The policy shift has already left its mark: pan-American diplomacy has ground to a halt, multilateralism is in retreat, and distrust of the U.S. is on the rise.
Yet for all the bluster and brinkmanship, the long-term success of the Donroe Doctrine is far from assured. Latin American countries have endured decades of U.S. intervention and are wary of returning to an era of “arrogant policy.” Whether they can forge more independent paths—perhaps by deepening ties with China, the EU, or other global actors—remains to be seen. For now, the hemisphere is on edge, watching closely as the U.S. flexes its muscles and recalibrates its ambitions south of the border.
The coming months will test whether this new doctrine can deliver security and stability, or whether it will deepen divisions and provoke new crises. One thing is certain: the echoes of history are impossible to ignore, and the future of the Western Hemisphere hangs in the balance.
