The dramatic seizure of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro from his residence in Caracas in early January 2026 did not occur in a vacuum. Nor was it an aberration. Rather, it marked a moment many observers believe will come to define a new and dangerous phase in global politics—one in which international law, sovereignty, and diplomatic restraint are being steadily eroded by raw power.

Speaking on a recent episode of Thee Alfa House podcast, Professor Lamumba framed Venezuela as a “trial ground”, a testing site for how far unilateral power can be exercised in the modern world without consequence. The question now confronting the international community is not only what happened in Venezuela, but what will happen next, and who may be next.

The operation itself was precise and surgical. Maduro was removed with no reported exchange of fire, no mass casualties, and little immediate resistance. Such precision has fueled speculation that internal betrayal played a decisive role.

It is difficult to imagine a foreign power “extracting” a sitting head of state without assistance from within the security apparatus. Venezuela, after all, has long been a deeply divided society, including within its military ranks.

But beyond the mechanics of the operation lies a far more consequential issue: precedent.

To understand the significance of the moment, Lamumba draws a historical parallel to the Monroe Doctrine of 1823, when U.S. President James Monroe warned European colonial powers to stay out of the Americas. That doctrine, once framed as anti-colonial, has now been reimagined, some would say weaponized, into what Lamumba calls a modern “Trump Doctrine.”

Where Monroe warned of European encroachment, the Trump Doctrine asserts something far more aggressive: that global issues will not be resolved by diplomacy, resolutions, or international consensus, but by missiles, drones, warships, and overwhelming force. In this worldview, the United States is not merely a participant in global affairs, but the ultimate arbiter of right and wrong.

This posture has been evident not only in Venezuela, but in rhetoric directed at Iran, Nigeria, and elsewhere. It reflects a revival of gunboat diplomacy, where power, not principle, dictates outcomes.

Perhaps the most troubling implication of Venezuela’s case is what it suggests about the future relevance of international law. Institutions such as the United Nations were created to prevent precisely this kind of unilateral action. Yet their authority now appears increasingly symbolic.

If a head of state can be seized, handcuffed, and transported abroad without a multilateral mandate, what remains of the concept of sovereign equality? Lamumba argues that this moment mirrors the decline of the League of Nations, a once-vaunted institution rendered obsolete by the realities of power politics.

The United Nations, he suggests, now faces a similar reckoning.

Ironically, the United States has long condemned Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and warned China against any move on Taiwan. Yet the Venezuela operation undermines the moral and legal foundations of those arguments. If power alone justifies action, then restraint becomes optional for all.

This is the true danger: a world where nuclear-armed states feel emboldened to act without consequence, believing that might makes right.

History offers sobering parallels. The forced removal of Manuel Noriega in Panama, the capture and execution of Saddam Hussein, the collapse of Muammar Gaddafi’s Libya, each followed a similar script. Regime change was promised as liberation, only to leave instability, violence, and fractured societies in its wake.

Even earlier examples, from Haiti to Panama in 1903, underscore that intervention has rarely produced lasting peace or democracy. Instead, it has often deepened suffering and entrenched resentment.

At the heart of the matter, Lamumba argues, lies resources, particularly oil. The U.S. president has spoken openly about American companies exploiting Venezuelan resources, framing it as a pathway tore building the country. But such language closely resembles classical colonial logic: extract wealth, promise development, impose control.

This transactional approach has also been visible in recent agreements with Ukraine and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Venezuela, in this sense, is not an outlier but a warning.

The countries most vulnerable, Lamumba notes, are not major powers like Brazil or Mexico, but smaller states rich in resources and poor in leverage.

One justification offered for intervention has been the fight against “narco-terrorism.” Lamumba dismisses this as a fundamentally flawed premise. Drug trafficking, he argues, exists because of demand as much as supply. Unless consumption in the United States ends, a scenario no one seriously proposes, the drug trade will persist, merely shifting routes and actors.

Bombing or invading supplier nations does not eliminate drugs; it drives them underground. The rhetoric of drug enforcement thus becomes a convenient cover for other objectives.

Even within the United States, cracks are visible. Senator Bernie Sanders and others have questioned the legality of executive war-making without congressional approval. Lamumba goes further, suggesting that the steady sidelining of Congress and other institutions risks turning the presidency into a de facto dictatorship, though one rarely described as such in Western media.

This selective language, he argues, reflects a deeper hypocrisy in how power is framed depending on who wields it.

What happens next remains uncertain. Maduro has been in power, directly or indirectly, for nearly two decades. He built systems, loyalties, and structures that do not disappear overnight. Many Venezuelans, even those critical of his leadership, view the manner of his removal as a national humiliation.

An interim administration has been installed, with careful messaging aimed at reassuring both Maduro loyalists and international actors. Sanctions relief, particularly on oil, could quickly improve living conditions, stocked shelves, flowing goods, a sense of normalcy.

If that happens, public opinion may shift. Life without Maduro, some may conclude, is easier. Elections could follow, legitimizing a new order under international blessing.

Yet such outcomes come at a cost. They risk normalizing the idea that external force, not internal democratic process, determines leadership.

Venezuela is more than a single country in crisis. It is a test case. A guinea pig. A signal to the world about how power may be exercised in the years ahead.

Whether other global powers, China, Russia, India, Brazil, respond with more than words remains to be seen. President Lula of Brazil has spoken firmly, but speeches alone do not alter power balances.

Lamumba’s warning is stark: the Third World War may already be underway, not as open conflict, but as a series of calculated, asymmetric actions conducted under the guise of peace.

One can only hope that no miscalculation leads to nuclear catastrophe. History teaches that empires often overreach. There is a Ghanaian proverb Lamumba invokes: if you chase cowards for too long, you may eventually meet their courage.

Venezuela, and the world, now wait to see what that courage may look like.

Anthony Joseph is the publisher of The Caribbean Camera newspaper. He writes on politics, culture, and the intersection of race and democracy in Canada.

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