The most memorable moment in the presidency of Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro—at least until his kidnapping by Delta Force early this morning—came in 2017, when he accomplished the extraordinary feat of making the entire population of his country salivate with hunger simultaneously by taking a huge bite of an empanada on live television. It was as if President Donald Trump were to pause during an Oval Office address, then produce from a drawer in the Resolute Desk a fully loaded chili dog. But in Venezuela at the time, ordinary citizens were suffering near-famine conditions (the reported average weight loss of 24 pounds that year was attributed to “the Maduro diet”), and the sight of the president housing an empanada did not help his image as a man of the pueblo.
Soon this autocrat will be eating his meals off a tray provided by the United States’ Bureau of Prisons, and that is surely a victory for the people of Venezuela. But some may be curious to learn the legal and strategic rationale for Maduro’s arrest. At this morning’s press conference at Mar-a-Lago, Trump said the operation was about Maduro’s “violation of the core principles of American foreign policy,” his defiance of American dominance in the Western hemisphere, his “hosting foreign adversaries” (Maduro is an ally of Cuba, Russia, and Iran), and his alleged flooding of the United States with drugs. Trump did not mention Venezuela’s opposition politicians, the legitimate winners of its 2024 election, by name. He said the United States intended to govern Venezuela. “We’re going to run the country, until such time as we can do a safe, proper, and judicious transition,” Trump said.
The Associated Press wrote (with understatement characteristic of breaking news) that the legal implications of Maduro’s arrest were “not immediately clear.” The operation is less a challenge to international law than an instance of total disregard for it. It is an indulgence in precisely the behavior that international law theoretically constrains, namely the crossing of borders and use of force to meddle in what could plausibly be considered another country’s internal affairs. International law does not constrain America from adopting regime change in Venezuela as a policy, or from calling Maduro’s rule illegitimate. But swooping into a foreign capital and kidnapping another country’s de facto leader, so he can be tried in your country’s criminal courts, is well outside the bounds of international law, however tyrannical that leader may be.
Maduro’s arrest is being compared to the 1989 invasion of Panama and rendition of its caudillo, Manuel Noriega, to Miami to be convicted of drug trafficking and other crimes. The justification for that action was tripartite: self-defense (Panama had allegedly declared a state of war against the United States, and killed a Marine there); the American treaty with Panama, which authorized the United States to protect the Panama Canal; and finally authority granted by the exiled legitimate government of Panama, which Noriega refused to let govern.
The United States and Venezuela have no Canal Treaty, but Trump does invoke something like a self-defense rationale for his action—this time based not on a dead Marine but on Venezuela’s alleged role in sending “thousands of tons of cocaine” up the noses of innocent Americans. Taking part in this nefarious activity is tantamount to an armed attack, the administration says. This theory of international law is novel and, to say the least, a real stretch.
Nor does the Trump administration invoke the authority of Venezuela’s opposition, which would have won the 2024 election had Maduro counted the votes. Edmundo González and María Corina Machado, the winners of the 2024 election, whose results Maduro faked, have said they are ready to return to Venezuela to rule, and have endorsed the American operation. “The United States has fulfilled its promise to enforce the law,” Machado wrote. But Trump himself said this morning that he had not been in touch with Machado. What looked at first like a mere rendition now sounds more like an occupation. Trump gestured to Secretary of State Marco Rubio and other senior officials when asked who would serve as his proconsuls in Venezuela.
Did these opposition politicians know that America’s occupation of Venezuela would be part of the deal? Even if they did authorize the arrest of Maduro, their use as justification would set a disorderly precedent. There are, to put it simply, a lot of cases where countries dispute the legitimacy of other countries’ de facto governments. (Russia would like to have a word about Ukraine.) Those de facto governments may be illegitimate, odious, and oppressive. But a world where any country can topple another’s rulers, as long as they are preceded into battle by an opposition party that blesses their military action, will be awfully messy. And much of international order is an attempt to avert messes, even by letting odious and illegitimate governments stay in power, because messes can be odious too.
Stalin is famously said to have asked how many divisions the Pope had. One could equally count how many divisions the International Court of Justice, or any other body that might fret over Trump’s violation of these rules and norms, could field against the United States. The violation will almost certainly go unpunished, but the rules and norms will be missed. Trump says that he wants “partnership” with a post-Maduro Venezuela that is “rich, independent, and safe.” That is a goal that most Venezuelans share, but it will be achieved at a cost that could be painful, and that might not be felt at a time of America’s choosing.
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