When U.S. President Donald Trump announced the capture of Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro after American military strikes in Caracas last Saturday, he quickly indicated that Venezuela was not an isolated instance. Trump also [mentioned] Colombia and Cuba. Senior U.S. officials echoed this messaging. The takeaway was clear: toppling Latin American leaders through force had reemerged as an acceptable tool of U.S. policy in the region. Even nations that collaborate closely with the U.S., such as [blank] and Mexico, can no longer take their sovereignty for granted.
Regional [reactions] to Maduro’s capture have followed ideological lines, with right-wing leaders praising Trump and left-wing leaders criticizing him. Yet regardless of the ideological stance of their governments, the military establishment in the region—long perceived as free from interstate conflict—has been scrambling to adapt to a reshaped security landscape.
Against this backdrop, Trump’s aggressive signaling has created a perverse strategic dilemma for Latin American governments. On one hand, every country in the region would gain from a democratic, stable, and prosperous Venezuela. The country’s [crisis] over the past decade has imposed enormous costs on its neighbors—ranging from lost trade to the absorption of [refugees] in Latin America and the Caribbean. Colombia, Peru, Chile, and others have borne the brunt of this humanitarian crisis, straining public services and budgets. A rapid reconstruction of Venezuela’s economy and an end to its refugee outflow would undeniably ease pressures on the region.
Yet that very outcome, if seen as a U.S.-orchestrated “success,” could carry dangerous consequences. A quick stabilization of Venezuela after American intervention would reinforce Trump’s belief that military coercion “works” and risk prompting Washington to replicate the approach elsewhere.
For Latin America’s policymakers—few of whom held affection for Maduro—this creates a grim incentive. Privately, some tell me the best-case scenario might be Washington becoming mired in Venezuela, too occupied to focus on new targets. A frustrating or costly U.S. involvement in Caracas (however unfortunate for Venezuelans) would at least serve as a warning, curbing the White House’s eagerness for further ventures. Conversely, U.S. success in Venezuela could embolden hardliners in Washington to push their agenda across the region. This paradox is deeply unsettling: the very outcome the region desires for Venezuela—peace and prosperity—could drive outcomes they seek to avoid in their own countries.
Adding to Latin America’s unease is the stated rationale behind Trump’s Venezuela gamble. Unlike past U.S. interventions justified (at least rhetorically) by promoting democracy or countering communism, Trump framed the Caracas operation in bluntly transactional terms—[energy interests]. By justifying an invasion through energy resources and U.S. self-interest, Trump risks eroding trust even among Latin America’s conservative, pro-U.S. governments.
Confronted with this new reality, Latin American governments are quietly pursuing strategies to reduce overreliance on Washington. Notably, each potential countermeasure comes with significant limitations.
One obvious counterbalance to U.S. dominance is deeper alignment with China, which has [expanded its presence] in Latin America in recent years. However, over-reliance on China brings its own risks. Many Latin American nations are wary of swapping one dependency for another. Europe could naturally fill the gap, but the E.U. remains divided and slow in engaging with Latin America—a reality exemplified by delays in finalizing the E.U.-Mercosur trade deal, which [has stalled]. Other rising powers like India offer some engagement, but their regional influence is currently too small to shift the strategic balance. Similarly, Russia and other BRICS partners have limited reach.
No country epitomizes the region’s dilemma better than Brazil, Latin America’s largest democracy. Brasília has pursued a strategy of diversifying partnerships to preserve autonomy—maintaining cordial ties with all major powers without becoming entangled with any. Trump’s Venezuela intervention is testing this doctrine. [Brazil] was one of the most vocal critics of the U.S. strikes, [deeming] them a threat to Latin America’s status as a “zone of peace.”
Brazil remains committed to nuclear nonproliferation—it famously [abandoned] a secret nuclear weapons program in 1990, when President Fernando Collor symbolically buried the project’s test shaft. For 35 years, Brazilian political elites have viewed nuclear armament as both unnecessary and counterproductive, given Brazil’s peaceful foreign policy, focus on multilateralism, and the Tlatelolco Treaty designating Latin America a nuclear-weapons-free zone. Yet ongoing aggressive rhetoric from Trump is likely to strengthen voices on the fringes of Brazil’s strategic community who [advocate for rearmament].
While immediate radical changes are improbable, Latin America’s leaders, from Brasília to Bogotá, recognize that Trump’s bold move in Caracas has upended the strategic landscape. In the end, the [new norm] in Latin America—intervention for oil and influence—is likely to backfire by uniting the region to reduce dependence on the U.S.