The World is Trump’s Oyster, and the Rule of Law is What He Eats for Dessert
The United States' attack on Venezuela should be read with less fascination for the target and more attention to the method. A head of state of a sovereign nation was abducted by force by the United States. The military intervention was justified with improvised legal language of drug smuggling. The ease with which this was done tells us far more than any official explanation.
The central consequence is now beyond Venezuelan sovereignty and about the remaining (if any at all) shred of respect for international law.
When a powerful state demonstrates that it can seize another country’s leader without repercussion, it rewrites the incentives that govern international behaviour. States that lack deterrent capacity are taught, brutally and efficiently, that compliance is safer than principle. States that do possess power, such as Russia, China, and Israel, are licensed that restraint is voluntary. This is how escalation is rationalised. In 2025, we saw that. War became a norm from India and Pakistan and Thailand and Cambodia, amongst all other brutal wars in Sudan, Palestine, Congo, and Ukraine.
The message travelling now is uncomplicated. If you cannot credibly threaten retaliation, your sovereignty is theoretical. Borders still exist on maps, but sovereign authority is subject to external approval, revocable at will. Under such conditions, states start viewing weapons programmes, importantly nuclear weapons, as insurance policies which would guarantee their country safety from such assault.
Also read: 'Matter of Deep Concern': India's Venezuela Statement Carefully Worded, No Mention of US
This shift will not be lost on Moscow and Beijing. Russia has spent years arguing that the post-Cold War order is selective, hypocritical, and hostile to its interests. Washington has just handed it an exhibit. Ukraine’s territories and independence, already straining under war fatigue and diplomatic hedging, are now fully negotiable.
China, for its part, observes patiently. Taiwan has always been described as sui generis, an exception, a special case. Exceptions, however, lose relevance once the rule dissolves. Sovereignty of nations without nuclear deterrence has now apparently become discretionary, timing and capacity matter more than legality. Beijing does not need US permission. The precedent is enough.
Europe’s reaction to all this has been revealing in a different way. Faced with a clear breach of the principles it claims to uphold, European leaders responded with verbal evasions that bordered on self-parody. They praised the end of an authoritarian rule and avoided the violence that produced it. They gestured towards international law but declined to apply it consistently.
Is this confusion or fear?
Fear of not toeing Washington at a moment when US military support is indispensable for Europe? Fear of being punished economically and diplomatically, as the US has already shown it would not spare Europe, by sanctioning former EU commissioners and civil society leaders in December 2025? Fear of discovering how little influence Europe now possesses when it speaks without US backing. Rather than confront that reality, European leaders have chosen a risky and self-sabotaging performance and abandoned, by silence, morality and respect for international law and the UN Charter.
The result is self-inflicted damage. Europe is dismantling the very legal architecture that protects it from being treated as a peripheral theatre again. By accepting the argument that illegitimacy nullifies sovereignty, European leaders have normalised a standard that can easily be turned against them. Once that door is open, there is no reason it should close neatly at Europe’s borders.
The US justification itself barely survives inspection. The claim of self-defence rested on allegations of drug trafficking so flimsy they failed to appear in the United States’ own threat assessments. The 2025 report of the US Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) does not identify Venezuela as a major narcotics danger. The cartel supposedly run by President Maduro is absent.
That is why the contradiction is irrelevant. If criminality were sufficient grounds for invasion, international politics would collapse entirely. Donald Trump, a convicted felon facing multiple indictments in his own country, would himself qualify under such logic. No one proposes abducting him. Power decides where law applies.
The same Trump has protected and pardoned the former Honduras president and convicted cocaine trafficker Juan Orlando Hernández, whose criminal networks are far better documented. The hypocrisy is unmatched.
Remove this legal scaffolding and the motivations are familiar. As Trump said in so many words, “We’re going to have our very large United States oil companies, the biggest anywhere in the world, go in, spend billions of dollars, fix the badly broken infrastructure, the oil infrastructure, and start making money for the country.”
Venezuela has largest oil reserves on planet and Trump intends to control Venezuelan resources and influence over markets.
Seen in this light, the threats against Greenland, “either the easy way or the hard way”, the repeated references to absorbing Canada as the 51st state, a subordinate entity, and the casual degradation of Canadian leadership, such as Trump calling the then prime minister Trudeau and the current prime minister Mark Carney “governor”, are not jokes and bluster. They probe how far the language of domination can be acceptable without reasonable resistance. That such remarks have gone largely unanswered only reinforces the lesson being taught.
The United Nations Charter, stripped of ceremony, is simple. States do not attack other states. They do not seize leaders. They do not replace governments by force. The US attack on Venezuela violates these principles so plainly.
The danger lies in what follows. Once one breach is tolerated, others become easier. States learn and adapt. They prepare for a world of jungles.
Europe was built out of the wreckage produced by exactly this logic. Its post-war settlement rested on the belief that law could restrain power, that restraint was preferable to revenge, and that predictability of law provided safety from aggression. But European leaders’ signal is that these convictions were conditional after all.
Pius Fozan is a photojournalist and an international media studies scholar at the Deutsche Welle Akademie.
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