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With his kidnapping of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, President Donald Trump proved he is no less an imperialist than his predecessors, and that’s precisely why many of the nation’s leading editorial pages are hailing Maduro’s capture.
“History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes,” Mark Twain allegedly quipped. On January 3, 1990, Panamanian Commander Manuel Noriega surrendered to US forces, who carried him off to face drug charges. Thirty-six years to the day later, US forces swooped into Venezuela, abducting President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, following decades of hostility between the oil-rich socialist country and the United States. The pretext offered: Maduro had to be taken to the US to face drug charges.
The coincidence is a reminder that the US has a long history of both covert and military intervention in Latin America: President Donald Trump, as extreme as he might be, isn’t an outlier among American presidents in this regard. And despite the right’s attempt to paint Trump as some sort of peacenik (Compact, 4/7/23; X, 10/14/25), he is no less an imperialist than his predecessors.
And that’s precisely why many of the nation’s leading editorial pages are hailing Maduro’s capture.
The Wall Street Journal editorial board (1/3/26) called the abductions “an act of hemispheric hygiene,” a dehumanizing comparison of Venezuela’s leaders to germs needing to be cleansed.
For the Journal, the abductions were justified because they weren’t just a blow to Venezuela, but to the rest of America’s official enemies. “The dictator was also part of the axis of US adversaries that includes Russia, China, Cuba, and Iran,” it said. It called Maduro’s “capture… a demonstration of Mr. Trump’s declaration to keep America’s enemies from spreading chaos in the Western Hemisphere.” It amplified Trump’s own rhetoric of adding on to the Roosevelt Corollary, saying “It’s the ‘Trump Corollary’ to the Monroe Doctrine”—a nod to the long-standing imperial notion that the US more or less owns the Western Hemisphere.
The next day, the Journal editorial board (1/4/26) even seemed upset that the Trump administration didn’t go far enough in Venezuela, worrying that it left the socialist regime in place, whose “new leaders rely so much on aid from Cuba, Russia, China, and Iran.” “Despite Mr. Trump’s vow that the US will ‘run the country,’ there is no one on the ground to do so,” the paper complained, thus reducing “the US ability to persuade the regime.”
You’re writing from the country that has spent the past four months blowing up small craft in the Caribbean, and you think it’s Maduro who has “destabilized the Western Hemisphere”?
The Washington Post board (1/3/26) took a similar view to the Journal. “This is a major victory for American interests,” it wrote. “Just hours before, supportive Chinese officials held a chummy meeting with Maduro, who had also been propped up by Russia, Cuba, and Iran.”
The Post, which has moved steadily to the right since Trump’s inauguration a year ago, seemed to endorse extreme “might makes right” militarism. “Maduro’s removal sends an important message to tin-pot dictators in Latin America and the world: Trump follows through,” the board wrote. (Really? Did we miss when Trump “followed through” on his promise to end the Ukraine War within 24 hours? Or to take back the Panama Canal? Or make Canada the 51st state?) It belittled Democratic President Joe Biden, who “offered sanctions relief to Venezuela, and Maduro responded to that show of weakness by stealing an election.”
Like the Journal, the Post board (1/4/26) followed up a day later to push Trump to take a more active role in Venezuela’s future. It worried about his decision to leave in place “dyed-in-the-wool Chavista” Delcy Rodriguez and other “hard-liners” in Maduro’s administration.
The Post chided Trump for dismissing the idea of installing opposition leader María Corina Machado, who it deemed a worthy partner in imperial prospects: “She has a strong record of standing for democracy and free markets, and she’s committed to doing lucrative business with the US.” As with the Journal, the assumption that it’s up to the US to choose Venezuela’s leadership went unquestioned.
The New York Times editorial board (1/3/26), on the other hand, condemned the abductions, saying Trump’s attack “represents a dangerous and illegal approach to America’s place in the world.”
But the board only did so after the requisite vilifying, asserting that “few people will feel any sympathy for Mr. Maduro. He is undemocratic and repressive, and has destabilized the Western Hemisphere in recent years.”
You’re writing from the country that has spent the past four months blowing up small craft in the Caribbean, and you think it’s Maduro who has “destabilized the Western Hemisphere”?
Perhaps rather than worrying that US behavior will encourage some other country to behave lawlessly, US papers could be more concerned about their own country’s lawlessness.
Even as CBS News content czar Bari Weiss spiked a "60 Minutes" piece about the plight of Venezuelan migrants under the administration’s brutal round-ups, the Times editorial blamed Maduro alone for the humanitarian crisis at hand. “He has fueled economic and political disruption throughout the region by instigating an exodus of nearly 8 million migrants,” the editorial said. As is typical in US commentary on Venezuela (FAIR.org, 2/6/19), the word “sanctions” does not appear in the editorial, though US strictures have fueled an economic collapse three times worse than the Great Depression.
And it comes after the Times opinion page gave space calling for regime change in Venezuela. “Washington should approach dismantling the Maduro regime as we would any criminal enterprise,” wrote Jimmy Story (New York Times, 12/26/25), a former US ambassador to Venezuela. Right-wing Times columnist Bret Stephens wrote a piece simply headlined “The Case for Overthrowing Maduro” (11/17/25).
The Times didn’t mention the recent seizures of ships carrying Venezuelan oil (BBC, 12/21/25; Houston Public Media, 12/22/25)—or the issue of Venezuela’s oil at all, though even the paper’s own news section (1/3/25) admitted that oil was “central” to the kidnapping. “They stole our oil,” Trump dubiously claimed in his public address, bragging that the door to the country was now open to have “very large United States oil companies, the biggest anywhere in the world, go in, spend billions of dollars… and start making money for the country.”
These are glaring oversights by the Times board, even if it ultimately waved its finger at the administration for its military action. Contrast this to the editorial board of the Houston Chronicle (1/3/26), which serves a huge portion of the energy sector:
Even now we’re still asking: Why? Why is the US taking such drastic military action? Is it to “take back” our oil? To deport Venezuelans en masse? To fight drug trafficking? To send a message to Cuba?
Perhaps this cloud of justifications just conceals the truth—there is no real reason. Trump seems to be doing this because he can.
Elsewhere in the press, the operation against Maduro won support from editorial boards that also reserved the right to say, “I told you so.” “Maduro Had to Be Removed,” said the Dallas Morning News editorial board (1/3/26) in its headline, adding in the subhead, “But the US Cannot ‘Run’ Venezuela.”
And the Miami Herald editorial board (1/3/26), which serves a large anti-socialist Latin American population, said that while Maduro out of power was “obviously cause for enormous joy,” this was “not a guarantee for democracy.” “Is Trump’s true interest to see democracy in Venezuela,” it asked, “or to install a new leader who’s more friendly to the US and its interests in the nation’s oil reserves?”
The Chicago Tribune editorial board (1/5/25) heaped paragraphs of praise on the Maduro mission—”we don’t lament Maduro’s exit for a moment”—and scoffed at “left-wing mayors” who “howled in protest at the weekend actions.” But it saw a moral dilemma:
What moral authority does the US now have if, say, China, removes the Taiwanese leadership, deeming it incompatible with Chinese interests? Not much. And this action surely weakens the moral argument against Vladimir Putin, though Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy is now hoping Russia’s leader is the next authoritarian Trump takes out.
The New York Times editorial board (12/21/89) said something similar 36 years ago, when the US invaded Panama. While justifying the invasion, it asked, “What kind of precedent does the invasion set for potential Soviet action in Eastern Europe?”
Perhaps rather than worrying that US behavior will encourage some other country to behave lawlessly, US papers could be more concerned about their own country’s lawlessness. By kidnapping a foreign head of state, the Trump administration is saying that international law doesn’t apply to the United States. That’s a sentiment most American editorialists are all too ready to applaud—despite the danger it poses for Americans, and for the world.
The word for this isn’t justice. The word for this isn’t capture. The words are “illegal kidnapping” and “declaration of war.”
This morning I woke up to the New York Times telling me the United States had “captured” the president of Venezuela.
Let me say that again. The United States military conducted airstrikes on a sovereign nation’s capital, killed an unknown number of its citizens, and dragged its head of state out of his bedroom in the middle of the night. And the word the paper of record chose was “capture.”
Capture is what happens when you execute an arrest warrant. Capture is what happens when there’s an ICC indictment. Capture is what happens when the UN Security Council authorizes military action. Capture is what happens when Congress declares war.
None of those things happened here.
The word is kidnapping.
I’ve been writing about executive power. About how Congress abdicated its war-making authority decades ago. About how presidents from both parties have consolidated power while everyone looked the other way because the bombs were falling on someone else.

Last week I wrote about how the tools Trump is using to reshape the executive branch aren’t inherently authoritarian—they’re just tools. The problem is who’s wielding them and what they’re being used for. I stand by that.
But here’s the thing about tools: they can be used to build a house or burn one down. And what happened in Caracas this morning isn’t building anything. It’s the United States government deciding, unilaterally, that it has the authority to bomb a country, kill its citizens, and abduct its leader because we say he’s a drug dealer.
We say. Not the International Criminal Court. Not the UN. Not even Congress. Marco Rubio looked senators in the eye weeks ago and said this wasn’t about regime change. He lied. They knew he was lying. And the media is busy debating whether this was “constitutional” under some tortured reading of Article II instead of stating the obvious:
This is an act of war conducted without declaration. This is a kidnapping dressed up as law enforcement. And if any other country on earth did this to us, we would call it what it is.
I pray we see protests. I pray the “No Kings” folks see this as the move of a monarch.
In October, millions marched under the No Kings banner. Veterans. Nurses. Teachers. Regular people who understood that unchecked executive power is a threat to everything we claim to believe in.
We need that again. This is insanity. If we allow this to happen unchecked it sets yet another unnerving precedent.
Trump watched the operation from Mar-a-Lago. He told Fox News it was like watching a television show. He said the military action was “genius.” And then he admitted he has no plan for what comes next. “We’re making that decision now,” he said.
We just decapitated a government—a government with the largest proven oil reserves on the planet, let’s not pretend that’s incidental—and the President of the United States is figuring out the day-after plan in real time.
The Democrats issued some statements. Andy Kim said it “sends a horrible signal.” Jim McGovern called it “unjustified and illegal.” Chris Murphy has been screaming about this for months.
But where are the marches? Where are the mass mobilizations? Where is the machinery of opposition that showed up in June and October? Are we powerless against this regime? Can our leaders not grind the gears of government to a halt?
At what point do we need Sen. Chris Murphy to lay on the tracks to stop this Crazy Train?
Let’s talk about what we’re actually seeing here.
The administration has been building toward this for months. They designated drug cartels as foreign terrorist organizations. They claimed Maduro ran something called Cartel de los Soles. Our own intelligence agencies have assessed that this cartel doesn’t exist as an actual organization—it’s a term used to describe various Venezuelan military officers involved in drug trafficking. There’s no evidence Maduro directs it.

And even if it did—this is the same government that ran cocaine through Central America to fund the Contras, that looked the other way while our Afghan allies controlled the opium trade, that kept Noriega on the CIA payroll until he stopped being useful. We don’t have a problem with drug traffickers. We have a problem with drug traffickers who won’t cut us in.

But the indictment exists. It was unsealed this morning, conveniently timed. And that indictment—a piece of paper generated by US prosecutors, not recognized by any international body—is being used to justify bombing a capital city and kidnapping a head of state.
Think about what this means. The United States has now established that it can unilaterally declare any foreign leader a terrorist, indict them in a US court, and then use military force to extract them. No international warrant required. No Security Council authorization. No declaration of war.
Benjamin Netanyahu has an actual ICC warrant for crimes against humanity. If China conducted an airstrike on Tel Aviv and dragged him onto a warship, we would call it an act of war. We would probably consider it an act of madness.
But when we do it? It’s a “capture.” It’s “law enforcement.” It’s protecting American personnel executing an arrest warrant—never mind that the arrest warrant exists only because we created it.
The fourth estate is failing us again.
I’ve read the coverage from the Times, the Post, NPR, NBC, CNN. Every single outlet uses the word “capture.” Every single one frames this as Trump says versus Venezuela says, as if there’s some legitimate debate about whether bombing a country and taking its president constitutes an act of war.
There isn’t a debate. There’s international law, which we are violating. There’s the UN Charter, which we are violating. There’s our own Constitution, which requires Congress to declare war, which they did not do.
The same media that has spent years documenting Trump’s lies, his manipulation of the system, his contempt for legal constraints—that media is now treating his claim of legal authority as a serious proposition to be evaluated rather than an obvious pretext to be exposed.
Al Jazeera, at least, quotes the UN special rapporteur calling this an “illegal aggression” and an “illegal abduction.” That’s not both-sides journalism. That’s stating facts.
We know why this is happening.
Trump said this morning that the United States will be “very strongly involved” in Venezuela’s oil industry going forward.

That’s the whole game. Everything else—the drug trafficking accusations, the terrorism designation, the indictments—is infrastructure. It’s the narrative architecture required to make armed robbery look like law enforcement.
This didn’t start with Trump. It didn’t start with Maduro. It didn’t even start with Chavez.
On January 1, 1976—fifty years ago this month—Venezuela nationalized its oil industry. President Carlos Andrés Pérez stood at the Mene Grande oilfield and announced that the world’s largest petroleum reserves now belonged to the Venezuelan people. Exxon, Gulf, Mobil—they all got bought out. They were compensated. There was no theft, no matter what Stephen Miller says. The oil companies themselves acknowledged the legality of the process. It was orderly. It was sovereign. And American capital has never forgiven it.
What followed was fifty years of pressure. Not from one party. From the monoparty.
Bush put Venezuela on notice after Chavez won in 1998. Obama imposed the first round of targeted sanctions in 2015. Trump 1.0 went full maximum pressure—financial sanctions, oil sanctions, the recognition of Juan Guaidó as the “legitimate president” in a failed coup attempt. Biden kept most of the sanctions in place, lifted some temporarily when it suited us, then reimposed them. And now Trump 2.0 has finished the job with bombs and helicopters.
Red or blue. It doesn’t matter. When it comes to empire, when it comes to oil, when it comes to keeping the Western Hemisphere safe for American extraction, there is no opposition party. There is only the party of American business interests wrapped in whatever justification polls best this decade.
And here’s the part that should make your blood boil.
María Corina Machado—the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize winner, the opposition leader—she’s already made the sale. In an interview with Donald Trump Jr.: “We’re going to kick out the government from the oil sector. We’re going to privatize all our industry.”
She told a room full of American executives that Venezuela represents “a $1.7 trillion opportunity.” She said American companies “are going to make a lot of money.” She thanked Marco Rubio by name.
Forget Saudi Arabia, she said. Venezuela has more oil.
Usually there’s some theater about democracy, about human rights, about weapons of mass destruction. Some effort to dress the corpse before they wheel it out. This time? Trump announces on television that the United States will be “very strongly involved” in Venezuela’s oil industry. Machado tells Trump’s son that American investors are going to get rich. Stephen Miller claims Venezuelan oil belongs to us because “American sweat, ingenuity and toil created the oil industry in Venezuela.”
We want it. We’re taking it. And we’ll call it law enforcement.
Here’s what I keep coming back to.
I wrote about how we need a presidency capable of directing economic policy. A presidency that can break up corporate power, build public capacity, point the machinery of government toward the people it’s supposed to serve.
But that requires a presidency constrained by law. Constrained by Congress. Constrained by international norms. Not because constraints are inherently good, but because power without constraint becomes corrupted. It becomes exactly what we’re watching right now: a government that takes what it wants from whoever it wants because no one can stop it.
The liberals who want to strip away executive power entirely are wrong. An impotent presidency serves no one but the people who already run everything. But a presidency that bombs countries without authorization, kidnaps leaders without warrants, and announces it will take over their oil industry on live television—that’s not power in service of the people. It’s empire wrapped in our flag, and in my opinion it’s worse than burning the damn thing.
Venezuelans are fleeing across the border into Colombia. The government is in chaos. There’s no succession plan. The inner circle survived but nobody knows who’s in charge. The defense minister is calling for armed resistance.
This is what we built. Not stability. Not democracy. Not freedom. Chaos. Violence. Uncertainty.
And somewhere in the Caribbean, on the USS Iwo Jima, a man and his wife are being transported to New York to face charges in a court that has no jurisdiction over them, for crimes that may not exist, based on designations our own intelligence agencies question.
The word for this isn’t justice.
The word for this isn’t capture.
The words are “illegal kidnapping” and “declaration of war.” And if we can’t say it, if we can’t see it, we’ve lost something way more important than oil.
Weiss has internalized the belief that her job is to reinforce the corporate rather than the contrarian brand of "60 Minutes" and avoid coverage of geopolitical issues that might make her job more difficult.
According to the concept of “manufactured consent,” elaborated by Noam Chomsky and Ed Herman in the 1980s, the media carries out a propaganda function in support of the dominant political system. In the United States, this consent has favored particular governments beyond the US government itself—for instance, Israel in its conflict with Palestinians. A recent example has been CBS, owned by David Ellison’s Paramount and under Bari Weiss’ editorial leadership, which has systematically suppressed Palestinian voices in favor of Israel and President Donald Trump.
In another example of manufactured consent, Weiss’ CBS rejected a "60 Minutes" story that made the Trump administration look bad on El Salvador. Incidentally, since the end of last summer, the US State Department has dropped criticism of both Israel and El Salvador in its human rights reporting, merging the interests of CBS with the politics of the current administration. When journalist Sharyn Alfonsi wrote the segment about the Terrorism Confinement Center (CECOT) in El Salvador and what life there is like, the content was pulled at the last minute because Weiss said it needed more reporting and balance, even when journalists at CBS invited all sides for a comment. They insisted that the decision was political and not editorial.
Jeffrey St. Clair for CounterPunch recently stated that “CBS under [Bari] Weiss may be worse than Fox News, because nobody takes Fox seriously as a news source and many do CBS, though not for much longer, one suspects.” Andy Borowitz pointed out that, “When Bari Weiss and CBS decided to censor the report on El Salvador’s brutal prison, they didn’t realize that bootlegged copies would surface.” Indeed, according to Variety, the “report yanked by Weiss about the horrific treatment of detainees deported from the US to a prison in El Salvador has leaked online after appearing on a Canadian-TV app.”
Sharyn Alfonsi did not hold back in her criticism of CBS:
Our story was screened five times and cleared by both CBS attorneys and Standards and Practices. It is factually correct. In my view, pulling it now—after every rigorous internal check has been met is not an editorial decision, it is a political one. We requested responses to questions and/or interviews with DHS, the White House, and the State Department. Government silence is a statement, not a veto. Their refusal to be interviewed is a tactical maneuver designed to kill the story.
Alfonsi further explained:
If the administration’s refusal to participate becomes a valid reason to spike a story, we have effectively handed them a “kill switch” for any reporting they find inconvenient. If the standard for airing a story becomes “the government must agree to be interviewed,” then the government effectively gains control over the "60 Minutes" broadcast. We go from an investigative powerhouse to a stenographer for the state. These men risked their lives to speak with us. We have a moral and professional obligation to the sources who entrusted us with their stories. Abandoning them now is a betrayal of the most basic tenet of journalism: giving voice to the voiceless.
Back in 2020, Weiss, in her resignation letter to the New York Times, stated that “self-censorship” and “fitting a predetermined narrative” to satisfy “a narrow audience rather than allowing a curious public read,” led her to quit.
Just before that in 2018, she authored in the Times, “We’re All Fascists Now,” a right-wing lament that basically talks of a center-left discourse threatening free speech by its mere interrogation of the hard right. In essence, Weiss complains of the left trivializing fascism only to cover up the fact that she accepts hard power and state authority and structural violence as forms of conventional wisdom beyond criticism. Cultural norms are not really “left leaning,” but it is certainly useful for her to present them this way. Weiss is in the business of providing security to dominant groups in advancing and advocating the consensus required by the state-corporate news nexus.
Weiss might discount how popular fascism was and is in the context of US history in the first place. When you factor in the popularity of the Ku Klux Klan, which peaked at 6 million-plus members in the early 20th century, American admiration for Mussolini, and the regional popularity of the German Bund, the United States has a horrific past with extreme right affiliation. Just over 1 in 3 Americans listened in the 1930s to Charles Coughlin, an outspoken supporter of Nazism.
But you don’t even need to go far back in history to see the US role in El Salvador’s deterioration or Trump’s subversion of US asylum law, all to promote fascism and militarism. Currently, the Trump administration’s deportation of Venezuelans in violation of international humanitarian law is well known as an emerging crime against humanity. A federal judge has just issued a ruling that requires the United States to grant due process to deported Venezuelans. Additionally, the entire matter has the potential to be examined by the International Criminal Court.
CBS certainly knows that CECOT is a large, high-security prison in El Salvador that has been cited by Human Rights Watch, the UN General Assembly, and the Yale Global Health Review for its harsh conditions and human-rights related concerns. HRW’s report in November 2025 was entitled “You Have Arrived in Hell,” a concept reiterated by Spiegel International. Amnesty International and Relief Web covered the expulsions, which entail people deported from the United States and sent to CECOT. It is illegal under international humanitarian law to send refugees to known places of human rights abuse.
Weiss seems to believe that the flagrant nature of Trump’s actions requires the press to yield and to ignore facts that “seem radical.” Additionally, Weiss encourages apolitical journalists to engage in self-censorship and to dismiss the buried segment as a “workplace dispute.” All the while, "60 Minutes" remains entirely mainstream and conventional. As reporter Dave Zirin points out, “'60 Minutes' was never perfect, it’s been a mouthpiece for war and empire many times over the decades.” He aptly explains how Weiss canceled “the brave testimonials of Venezuelans, tortured in Trump’s El Salvadoran slave labor prison.”
To Zirin’s point, Weiss, a loyal commissar to corporate statism, has internalized the belief that her job is to reinforce the corporate rather than the contrarian brand of "60 Minutes" and avoid coverage of geopolitical issues that might make her job more difficult. When she undermines actual reporting and denies the labor, dignity, and courage found in solid reporting, she is trafficking in the politics of organized forgetting and silence.
What Weiss does worst of all, of course, is to provide cover for Trumpian structural viciousness, what policy analyst Khury Petersen-Smith has called the “era for spectacular violence.” This all comes as International relations expert Stephen Zunes recently pointed out how “the United States is now ranked 57th in political freedom,” behind dozens of nations and territories according to Freedom House. Weiss is only helping to contribute to the trend, and this backlash is likely to continue.