By Junaid Qaiser
The global reaction to the United States’ operation in Venezuela has once again exposed a familiar flaw in international discourse: outrage that is selective, ideological, and often detached from facts. President Donald Trump’s decision to authorize a targeted mission leading to the arrest of Nicolás Maduro has been widely condemned as illegal and reckless. Yet this criticism ignores both the long history behind the decision and the grim reality of Maduro’s rule.
This operation did not emerge overnight. As Anila Ali, President and CEO of the American Muslim & Multifaith Women’s Empowerment Council (AMMWEC), has pointed out, the groundwork was laid years ago. From President Trump’s first term, sanctions were imposed on Venezuela, negotiations were attempted, and regional partners in South America were quietly engaged. Diplomatic channels were explored extensively, but Maduro consistently refused to cooperate or reform.
Speaking to the media, Anila Ali said that the action taken against Nicolás Maduro must be understood in its full context and not as a sudden or impulsive decision. She noted that President Trump was equally clear during his re-election campaign: international drug networks and violent cartels exporting narcotics and instability into the United States and beyond would no longer be tolerated. Warnings were issued. Maduro was repeatedly identified not merely as an authoritarian leader, but as the head of an organized criminal enterprise. The operation that followed was the culmination of sustained pressure, not a sudden act of impulse.
Anila Ali highlighted the humanitarian catastrophe under Maduro’s rule. “Nearly seven to eight million Venezuelans have fled their country. This is one of the largest displacements in the modern world. Families were destroyed. People disappeared. Journalists have reported incidents where police killed civilians in public view and no one dared to respond. Criminal gangs operated openly, often with the protection of the state.”
What distinguishes this action from traditional military interventions is its precision. Venezuelan security forces did not resist. No lives were lost. There was no bombing campaign, no occupation, and no attempt to reshape Venezuela through force. Much like the Abbottabad operation in 2011, this was an intelligence-driven mission targeting an individual accused of grave crimes, not a country or its people.
The moral case against Maduro is overwhelming. United Nations investigations have documented years of torture, arbitrary arrests, extrajudicial killings, and sexual violence carried out by his regime. Under his leadership, Venezuela collapsed into economic ruin, forcing nearly eight million people to flee—one of the largest mass displacements in recent history. Ali has underscored that journalists themselves witnessed police killings in broad daylight, with fear so pervasive that even bystanders dared not react. Criminal gangs operated openly, often with the protection of the state.
Despite this record, critics have rushed to invoke international law. Yet these same voices were noticeably silent when Russia invaded Ukraine, an act that devastated cities, displaced millions, and cost countless lives. Some even celebrated it. This double standard reveals that much of the outrage directed at Washington today is not rooted in principle, but in habitual anti-Americanism.
The New York Times editorial board argues that President Trump should have sought congressional approval. In theory, this is a reasonable position. In practice, presidents of both parties have repeatedly exercised executive authority in urgent national security matters. As Ali has emphasized, Maduro was not apprehended as a legitimate head of state, but as the leader of a narco-cartel accused of fueling violence, drug trafficking, and human suffering far beyond Venezuela’s borders. That legal distinction is central to understanding the action.
Claims that the operation was motivated by oil or competition with China also fail to address the broader issue. President Trump himself framed the matter as one of hemispheric security. When a government becomes inseparable from criminal gangs and transnational drug networks, it ceases to be merely a sovereign state and becomes a regional threat.
The silence on Venezuelan streets following the operation has been misread by some as disapproval. In reality, societies traumatized by years of repression do not erupt into celebration overnight. Silence can reflect shock, fear, and cautious hope—the first pause after decades of brutality.
Even criticism from within Trump’s own political camp does not alter the fundamental truth. Leadership is rarely comfortable, and decisive action often invites backlash. As Anila Ali observed, the success of the operation itself—carried out with secrecy, speed, and without bloodshed—demonstrated both strategic planning and restraint.
Selective outrage may dominate headlines, but hard truths endure. Nicolás Maduro devastated his country, brutalized his people, and presided over a criminal regime that destabilized an entire region. President Trump chose action over paralysis and accountability over empty condemnation. History is likely to judge this moment with greater clarity than today’s critics—and far less hypocrisy.
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