In the early hours of Saturday morning, US forces entered Venezuelan territory and forcibly removed the country's head of state, Nicolás Maduro. There was no declaration of war by the United States. Without authorization from Congress. No imminent threat was publicly articulated before the operation took place. Instead, Americans were informed after the fact, through statements framed as assertions rather than explanations.
The Trump administration has since suggested that Venezuela's stability, security, and political transition will now be managed by the US — an extraordinary claim, given the absence of any constitutional or international mandate to do so.
This is not, in essence, a story about Nicolás Maduro. Regardless of what one thinks of the president of Venezuela (and there are many valid criticisms), the much more important question that arises is this: Who decides when the United States goes to war and under what authority?
What makes this moment especially alarming is not just the action itself, but the way it was carried out: involving approximately 150 US aircraftattacks to dismantle Venezuelan air defenses and helicopter troops inserted in Caracas, the same tools that the United States uses in declared wars. Venezuelan officials are reporting deaths related to the operation, although details remain limited. But Congress did not authorize it. There was no vote, debate or consultation consistent with the War Powers Resolution. Instead, high-ranking members of Congress was selectively informed after decisions had already been made. No supervision, just notification.
It is not about whether Maduro “deserved” removal. It is about whether President Trump can unilaterally decide to overthrow another government using American military force, and whether that decision is now approved without objection.
The operation in Venezuela bypassed all the mechanisms normally used to legitimize American power abroad: judicial process, international authorization, collective defense, congressional consent. The United States acted alone, using lethal military power within another sovereign state. Whatever language is used to describe it… anti-narcoticsstabilization, transition: this was an act of war, undertaken without the constitutional mechanisms designed to restrict exactly this type of unilateral executive action.
That the administration seems indifferent to this fact should alarm everyone else.
The Constitution is unequivocal in this regard. The power to declare war does not belong to the president. He never has. The drafters did not distribute war powers this way for procedural reasons. They did so because war concentrates authority, silences dissent, and creates incentives for abuse. Requiring Congress to authorize the use of American coercive power was intended to slow decisions, require justification, and tie military action to collective judgment rather than individual will.
What happened this weekend eluded all of that. Congress was not asked to deliberate. It was treated as irrelevant, rather than as an equal power entrusted with the gravest decision a republic can make.
When war powers are exercised in this way, Congress does not simply fail in its duties; it becomes ornamental. And when that happens, the constitutional system designed to restrict the use of the military gives way to something much more dangerous: authority exercised by a single individual. A republic that allows the use of force in this way should not be surprised when others do the same.
Maduro's forced removal did not come out of nowhere. It follows a pattern that has been built in plain sight, in which the administration has constantly relabeled the use of force to avoid scrutiny. Lethal military action becomes “anti-narcotics.” The airstrikes are framed as moral retaliation. Each reformulation reduces the threshold of limitations intended to govern the force. By redefining actions that require congressional authorization as something less than war, the government has normalized the use of force without consent or accountability.
The government's insistence that the Venezuelan operation did not require congressional approval because it was a “law enforcement mission” is extremely dangerous. Law enforcement does not involve airstrikes within sovereign countries, the forcible removal of a foreign head of state, or the projection of domestic U.S. criminal claims across borders by military force.
The Trump administration's actions and justifications after the fact dissolve the boundary intended to restrict presidential power. If the president can redefine war as law enforcement, then any use of force can be justified only by impeachment. At that point, there is no longer any limiting principle left. Congress is not simply ignored: it ceases to function as a meaningful check.
Once this logic is accepted, it is not confined to one case or one country. It becomes a precedent and power spreads thanks to precedents. A United States that claims the unilateral right to overthrow foreign governments loses its ability to oppose when others do the same. The argument against aggression in Ukraine collapses. Objections to coercion in the South China Sea ring hollow. Calls to sovereignty and moderation lose force when invoked selectively.
This is not just hypocrisy; It is a collapse of credibility. Rules only matter if the powerful follow them consistently. When the country that helped build the international order treats those rules as optional, it signals to the rest of the world that moderation is no longer expected: only domination prevails.
What makes this moment especially dangerous is not just the decision itself, but the way Americans were excluded from it. War was started, a government was overthrown, and the nation's elected representatives (and, by extension, American citizens) were completely sidelined, informed only after decisions were already irreversible. A republic cannot claim to govern itself when force is exercised in its name without its voice being heard.
That silence is the point. When war can be started without authorization, explanation and public consent, the precedent does not remain strange. A government that learns that it can use force abroad without restriction will apply the same logic at home: redefining law, emergency, and necessity to suit its objectives. A public that gives up its voice on war should not expect to be heard when power turns inward.
Jon Duffy is a retired naval officer. Writes about leadership and democracy.
