In a move that’s stirred both international praise and controversy, former U.S. President Donald Trump’s authorization of drone strikes against suspected narco-trafficking boats in the Caribbean and eastern Pacific has reignited global debate over the limits of military force, international law, and the ongoing crisis in Venezuela. The policy, which targets vessels allegedly connected to Venezuela’s embattled regime, was thrust into the spotlight on November 18, 2025, when The Washington Reporter published a revealing interview with Juan Guaidó—the exiled former President of Venezuela—at the Nixon Foundation Grand Strategy Summit.
Guaidó, once recognized by the U.S. and dozens of other countries as Venezuela’s legitimate leader, did not mince words in his support for Trump’s actions. “President Trump is leading an operation back in the Caribbean to confront, to face that criminal regime back in Venezuela that used narco trafficking and terrorism to directly threaten the western hemisphere,” Guaidó told the Reporter. He clarified that the operation is not aimed at Venezuela’s people but at what he called a "criminal regime led by Maduro and his cronies," whom he accused of leveraging ties with groups like Hezbollah and with nations such as Iran, Russia, and China to maintain power through "fear, corruption, and violence."
The Trump administration’s rationale for these lethal strikes is rooted in a familiar, if controversial, logic: that killing those operating drug-smuggling boats will ultimately save American lives by curbing drug flows and reducing overdose deaths. But as The Conversation noted in a recent analysis, this argument echoes the discredited “custom of the sea”—an old maritime tradition that once justified killing for survival, such as the infamous 1884 R v Dudley and Stephens case, where shipwrecked sailors killed and ate a crewmate to survive. That precedent, established after the yacht The Mignonette sank off Africa, ultimately found necessity was not a valid defense for murder, and the two men responsible were convicted.
Legal experts are now questioning whether the Trump-era policy, which authorizes deadly force against suspected drug traffickers at sea, stands on solid legal ground. As The Conversation reported, “Maritime and international law experts have raised concerns about the legality of the attacks,” and the echoes of the Mignonette case suggest that “if anyone ever goes to trial for the boat strikes, they could potentially be convicted of murder following the landmark 19th-century ruling.” The debate is far from academic; it cuts to the heart of whether the U.S. can justify such actions as acts of war or whether they cross the line into unlawful killings.
From Guaidó’s vantage point, however, the stakes are existential. He described the Maduro regime as a “criminal autocracy” that has weaponized chaos, corruption, and foreign alliances to cling to power. “What began as an authoritarian regime has evolved into a system that fuels state power, which organizes crime, using the nation’s work to serve not our people, but to evade justice, sustain power, to fear, corruption, and violence,” he said. Guaidó argued that if the world tolerates such regimes, “they invite others. If we allow chaos to be weaponized, it will not stop at our borders.”
The impact of Venezuela’s crisis is not limited to its own borders. Bonnie Glick, former deputy administrator for USAID and fellow panelist at the summit, underscored the country’s dramatic fall from grace. “Venezuela was the wealthiest country in South America, and it is now one of the poorest countries in the world, because the natural resources of the country have been pillaged by successive dictators,” Glick said. She painted a picture of lost opportunity, noting that a free Venezuela could become a key trading partner and a force for stability in the hemisphere.
Guaidó, for his part, believes that a restored democracy could see Venezuela producing between three and five million barrels of oil per day, reinvigorating the region’s economy and strengthening ties with the United States. But he warned that as long as Maduro remains in power, “the cost will not be only for the Venezuelan people. The cost is greater, it’s instability, it’s the opportunity cost by producing, not only oil, also gas minerals, that can be commercialized all over the region and in the main initiative with the US.”
The Trump administration’s aggressive stance, including a $50 million bounty on Maduro and a focus on criminal networks like Tren de Aragua, has found support among many Venezuelan exiles and opposition leaders. Guaidó praised Trump’s leadership, stating, “Freedom, the security and our future are inseparable in this moment, and President Trump knows well.” He even went so far as to say that Trump’s efforts in confronting the Maduro regime and narco-trafficking deserve the Nobel Peace Prize—a sentiment echoed by Glick, who criticized the Nobel Committee’s decision to overlook Trump’s peacemaking efforts.
Yet, the policy is not without its detractors. Maritime law scholars point to the dangers of justifying lethal force under the banner of necessity or greater good, warning that such logic risks returning to a darker era of international norms. As The Conversation observed, the choice facing the international community is stark: “Either international norms turn back to the era of the ‘custom of the sea’ and regard murder for the greater good as legal, or they uphold the verdict in R v Dudley and Stephens and view the actions in the Caribbean Sea as unjustified acts of murder.”
For Guaidó, now living in exile in Miami, the fight remains deeply personal. “It’s difficult being exiled. It’s not only my situation. I mean, eight million Venezuelans, we want to get back to our country. I want my girls home and to grow up in Venezuela,” he said, reflecting on the pain of forced displacement and the everyday contradictions of living free in America while unable to return home.
The broader regional implications are clear. Guaidó warned that instability in Venezuela threatens to spill over into neighboring countries, fuel migration crises, and empower malign actors from Moscow to Tehran. He argued that holding regimes like Maduro’s accountable not only weakens dictatorships but also “promote[s] better ways to recover democracy.”
As the debate continues, the world is left to grapple with difficult questions: When is the use of lethal force justified? Can necessity ever excuse killing? And what responsibility does the international community bear in confronting criminal regimes that weaponize chaos and corruption? The answers, as history shows, are rarely simple—but the consequences may shape the future of democracy and stability in the Americas for years to come.
