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On January 3, 2026, the United States carried out a large-scale operation in Venezuela that resulted in the capture of Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, and their transfer into U.S. custody. [1] Within hours, the story stopped being only about Maduro. It became a stress test of the West’s default assumptions about how global order actually works.
The reaction split fast and predictably: condemnation framed in the language of sovereignty and the UN Charter; applause framed in the language of liberation and justice; and, underneath both, a quieter argument about whether “international law” is a meaningful constraint—or primarily a vocabulary used to legitimize outcomes power already permits.
Two languages for one event
When a great power uses force to remove a sitting head of state and relocate him for prosecution, states and commentators typically reach for one of two languages.
The first is legal-institutional: Was this lawful? Was it authorized? What does the UN Charter permit? What precedent does it set?
The second is strategic-realist: What will it cost? Who can impose consequences? What does it deter? What does it invite?
These languages often coexist, but Venezuela forced a choice because it exposed the tension between *the claim* of a rules-governed international order and *the mechanism* by which order actually persists.
The enforceability problem
The measured point is not that international law is “fake” in every domain. A great deal of international life runs on rules that are real in practice: treaties, trade arrangements, financial compliance, aviation coordination, maritime norms, and sanctions enforcement. In those domains, rules can be highly consequential because they are tied to access, markets, and institutional membership.
But in the domain that states care about most—hard security and regime survival—international law runs into a structural limitation: there is no global sovereign with a monopoly on force. The question is not whether rules exist, but whether they bind the actors most able to ignore them.
That isn’t a rhetorical flourish. It’s the structural fact everything else sits on.
The UN can convene, condemn, and deliberate. But it cannot consistently coerce major powers into compliance. In the wake of the Maduro operation, the UN Security Council moved to meet and the UN Secretary-General warned the action set a “dangerous precedent.” [2] That may shape legitimacy and alliances. It may raise political costs. But it does not function like law inside a state, because law inside a state ultimately rests on enforceable authority.
This is why the phrase “international law” so often behaves less like binding law and more like legitimacy currency—something states spend, something rivals contest, and something that matters most when it is backed by power.
The reaction spectrum makes more sense as philosophy, not partisanship
The political reactions were not merely partisan reflexes; they were expressions of competing world-models.
Institutionalists treated the precedent as the core danger: once unilateral force becomes normalized, the world becomes easier for worse actors to imitate.
Sovereignty-first critics (especially in regions with long memories of intervention) treated it as a return to imperial patterns—regardless of Maduro’s character.
Results-first supporters treated it as overdue action against an entrenched authoritarian regime and criminal networks.
Realists treated it as a reminder that rules do not restrain actors who cannot be credibly punished.
It is possible to disagree with the operation and still accept the realist diagnosis. “This was reckless” and “this reveals how order works” are not contradictions—they’re often the same conclusion stated in different registers.
A small but telling detail: systems moved, not just speeches
One detail worth noting is that the event had immediate operational spillover beyond diplomacy: temporary Caribbean airspace restrictions and widespread flight cancellations followed, with U.S. authorities later lifting curbs. [3] That’s not a moral argument either way. It’s simply a reminder that great-power action produces real-world system effects instantly—while multilateral processes operate on a different clock.
Meanwhile, Venezuela’s internal institutions scrambled to project continuity. On January 4, 2026, reporting described Venezuela’s Supreme Court ordering Vice President Delcy Rodríguez to assume the interim presidency following Maduro’s detention. [4] Again, one can read this in legal terms or strategic terms. But it underscores the same point: the decisive moves were being made through power, institutional control, and logistics—not through international adjudication.
What Venezuela is really teaching
The strongest measured conclusion is this:
1. International law can matter as coordination and legitimacy.
2. But in hard-security conflicts, it does not function like ordinary law because enforcement is selective, especially against great powers.
3. Therefore, when Western leaders speak as though “international law” itself will constrain outcomes, they are often describing the world they want—or the world they remember—more than the world that exists.
This is the wake-up Venezuela delivers: not that rules are worthless, but that rules don’t become rules until they are paired with credible consequences. If the West wants a world that is safer for liberal societies, it must stop mistaking procedural vocabulary for strategic capacity.
What Western leaders should do differently
If “international law” is often a language of legitimacy rather than a source of enforcement, then the task for Western leaders is not to abandon norms—but to rebuild the conditions under which norms can actually hold. That requires a change in posture that is both external and internal.
First: speak honestly about interests and tradeoffs.
A rules vocabulary can be morally sincere and still strategically evasive. Western publics deserve leaders who can say, without euphemism, what outcomes matter, why they matter, and what costs we are willing to pay to secure them.
Second: re-embody Western values in our institutions, not merely our slogans.
The West is not “a place that sometimes gets things right.” It is the most successful civilizational experiment yet produced: freedom under law, pluralism, scientific dynamism, broad prosperity, and the moral insight that the individual matters. If leaders treat this as an embarrassment rather than an inheritance, they will govern as caretakers of decline.
Third: restore civic confidence by repairing the narrative infrastructure.
A civilization that teaches its own children that it is uniquely evil will not defend itself—or even understand why it should. The “mono-focused West-is-bad” story has become a kind of institutional reflex across parts of education, culture, and bureaucracy. You can reject naïve triumphalism while still insisting on civilizational honesty: that the West has flaws, committed crimes, and still produced the best lived human outcomes at scale to date.
Fourth: build capacity again—material, strategic, and moral.
Norms without capacity do not preserve peace; they invite tests. This means defense industrial readiness, energy resilience, border and migration competence, counterintelligence seriousness, and the willingness to impose costs where deterrence requires it.
Finally: treat multilateralism as a tool, not a substitute for power.
Institutions can amplify strength; they cannot conjure it. A West that wants a stable order must stop acting as though process is the engine. Process is the dashboard.
Afterword: the more polemical take
Western elites keep reaching for “international law” the way a sleepwalker reaches for the bedside table—by habit, not by sight. They speak as if naming the norm substitutes for enforcing it. But there is no authority behind it for the actors that matter most.
So the scandal isn’t disagreement about Venezuela. The scandal is that so many of our leadership classes still talk like we live in a world where legitimacy language can replace power, unity, and competence. That was a comfortable posture in a more unipolar era. It is a dangerous posture now.
In a multipolar environment, moral declarations without strength don’t preserve order. They advertise weakness. And weakness is not neutral: it invites tests.

Footnotes
[1] Reuters (Jan 3–4, 2026): reporting on the U.S. operation capturing Nicolás Maduro and Cilia Flores and transferring them to U.S. custody.
[2] Reuters (Jan 3, 2026): UN Security Council to meet over U.S. action; UN Secretary-General calls it a “dangerous precedent”; meeting requested with backing from Russia/China.
[3] Reuters (Jan 3, 2026): Caribbean airspace restrictions and flight cancellations following the operation; later lifted.
[4] Reuters (Jan 4, 2026): Venezuela’s Supreme Court orders Delcy Rodríguez to assume interim presidency after Maduro’s detention.
Direct Reference Links
[1] Reuters — “Mock house, CIA source and Special Forces: The US operation to capture Maduro”
https://www.reuters.com/business/aerospace-defense/mock-house-cia-source-special-forces-us-operation-capture-maduro-2026-01-03/
[2] Reuters — “UN Security Council to meet Monday over US action in Venezuela”
https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/un-chief-venezuela-us-action-sets-dangerous-precedent-2026-01-03/
[3] Reuters — “US lifts Caribbean airspace curbs after attack on Venezuela”
https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/us-airlines-cancel-flights-after-caribbean-airspace-closure-2026-01-03/
[4] Reuters — “Venezuela’s Supreme Court orders Delcy Rodriguez become interim president”
https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/venezuelas-supreme-court-orders-delcy-rodriguez-become-interim-president-2026-01-04/
When they are not running the show versus when they are running the show. Funny how that works.

Arguing with the activists is often tedious and tendentious, why? Because they tend to define their pet concepts in such ways are purposefully inscrutable and hard to respond honestly to. James Lindsay unpacks the activist view of Racism and how to navigate the through their obfuscatory conceptions of it.
“You might find some success with the approaches you’re thinking of, depending on whose ears they land upon, but I don’t think you’ll win much ground with them. They certainly won’t convince anyone well-steeped in the Woke ideology. That’s now how these people think about the issue, and they’ll just point to your arguments as another example of you not really understanding how racism works. You’ll be hoisted by your own petard. The only way for you to get around this is to demonstrate that you do know how racism works, on their terms, and that you reject it for good reasons, which is almost impossible when you’re going up against a large group of people who think the opposite way.
Still, you have to understand “racism” like they do to try to do anything. The Woke use a very particular, very narrow definition of “racism” that has a very expansive application because it is believed to be “systemic” and thus applicable to and a part of everything. This extremely broad and expansive application of the term “racism” belies just how peculiar and restrictive the actual definition is.
The way they see “racism” is that it was something that was invented by early (pre)-scientific discussions of race and (genetic) heritability in the European context in the 15th–17th centuries, which were then amplified in the 18th and 19th centuries to justify the enslavement of black Africans and colonial conquests that Europeans were doing all over the world at the time. They believe, not wholly wrongly, that white Europeans invented the modern idea of “race” as an inheritable status and tied it to social standing so they could use it to conquer and enslave while providing themselves with access to society that they intentionally excluded all others from having. The trouble is, historically, this is mostly true. Some of the details are a bit messed up, like believing that “science” in the 16th century is roughly the same thing as science now and that most people think of race the same way in terms of the social-standing arguments as they did centuries ago, but the origin story they give is largely correct if you neglect the relevance of the evolution of human thought over the last several hundred years. They believe this system to be utterly pervasive throughout every possible aspect of every contemporary society that has been in any way influenced by any Western thought, and this is a huge problem (called “white supremacy” or “colonialism,” depending on the activist making a ruckus about it).
This brings us to a first important point. Because they only think in terms of this particular way of thinking about race, what happened in other contexts in the past, like the Muslim enslavement of the Slavs, or what happens outside of the West, as in India, cannot be understood as “racism” (or even racially-motivated behavior). This is because “race” and “racism” specifically refer to a system of domination tied to white people granting themselves superiority and all others having inferiority as described above. It doesn’t mean anything else, and that’s the heart of “prejudice plus power” definition they make so much noise about. The “power” part is the power white people gave themselves a few centuries ago and, in many—but not all—cases, fought tooth and nail to maintain until relatively recently in our history. Thus, Indians can be prejudiced toward each other and might even have their own systems of power, but they fall outside of the system of power in which “racism” is defined. Same goes for the Muslims enslaving the Slavs. The system of power isn’t the white, Western one and thus is inscrutable from their perspective. (It would be a culturally chauvinistic act to try to analyze other cultures because of the cultural relativism at the heart of the Woke worldview.) It could be theorized somehow, one must suppose, but not as “racism,” which was a white, Western invention (in their eyes). (This seems like a weird semantic game because it is one.)
Now we can make a little headway toward charting a useful reply, though. The confusion itself tells us something: that we don’t think about racism this way anymore. It took centuries of work in liberalism—seeing universal humanity, treating people as individuals, gathering better information through science and ethics, and persuading people to understand these improvements on their own terms through education and public appeal—to break that meaning down and replace it with the one we’re more familiar with today: holding some races up as superior or others down as inferior, or taking intentional actions that are in accordance with such beliefs. The “prejudice + power” reformulation by the Woke is an attempt to try to resurrect the old view, probably because things in society got too equal to continue using the more sensible liberal view and keep making radical gains.
But let’s back up and let something sink in. Their definition of “racism” is only that which white people set up in the 15th century going forward to justify slavery and colonialism by defining a white race that got the privileges of society and all the other races as inferior. That, and its legacy that remains today. Anything else, in the Woke worldview, is not “racism.” It might be bad; it might be prejudice; it might be discrimination; but it’s not “racism.” Yet again, in the Woke way of thinking, then, it’s considered a form of (white, Western) cultural chauvinism to call the racism that Indian people believe and do to each other by the term “racism,” or to believe that “racism” can be reversed and put back against white people, either by other racial groups gaining the effective power or by taking white people out of the white-majority or Western context and rendering them the minority.
So black people in a particular context—like a group of them kidnapping a lone white person—might be using race as a reason to act badly against a white person but, because that one relevant “system of power” is not in play, it wouldn’t be viewed by the Woke as “racism.” It just doesn’t meet their very peculiar and narrow definition of “racism” because that’s not the relevant “power” in the “system of power” that they demand be in operation. (This is the kind of argument that can only be maintained in the deepest confusion or by lying outright, by the way.) Even in India, the relevant power dynamic is held to be the one that white Europeans set up for themselves in the 15th century and since, and its influences by colonialism, and the way it applies to the Indian region now. No other power is the relevant system of power under consideration. (If you notice this is a form of white, Western chauvinism, that’s because it is one.)
Practically speaking, that means anything you do to try to argue against the Woke understanding of “racism” in terms that normal people today actually understand to characterize racism falls into their trap. They’ve set you up to be able to say you don’t understand racism—and then insinuate or state that it’s because you’re white. This last extra accusation follows, for them, because part of the definition of that system of racism is the internalization by white people that white dominance is normal and natural, and thus white people are unable to understand that “the system” even exists at all. More than that, they “don’t know and don’t want to know.” Again, this was probably (mostly) true 100 years ago, but it hasn’t been legally true in at least 50 years and hasn’t had almost any cultural influence in at least 30 years.
This is also why the Woke would tell you that you thinking “it’s racist to say white people can’t understand racism” shows that you don’t understand “racism,” as they mean it. In the Woke worldview, it’s the default state of affairs that white people can’t understand “racism” and that white people are in a dominant social position they created for themselves with regard to race. That means that, for them, thinking there can be “racism” against white people proves you don’t understand “racism” (probably because you’re white). The only understanding they can comprehend is that “racism” is a social and political fiction created by white people specifically for oppressing other races.
The Woke definition of “white” explicitly says this: “white,” in the Woke definition, is a racial category created by Europeans with white skin specifically to grant themselves social privilege and a position of social dominance over people with other skin tones. They named as a privilege of “whiteness” the ability to decide who is and who is not “white,” and thus who is and is not invited to share in the privileges of full membership in society. Then they naturalized this for themselves through many arguments appealing to early and incorrect “scientific” explanations that are now seen as pseudoscience and ethical arguments that have been rejected as unethical for decades, or in some cases, over a century. This, though, is also why they say that “whiteness” intrinsically contains “anti-blackness,” because whereas lighter “brown” skin-tones could be included as “white” (as with Italians and other Mediterraneans), black, by definition, can’t be made “white.” This is a duplicitous way for them to think about the issue because they also say that “whiteness” most relevantly not a feature of one’s birth but a kind of social property that could, in effect, be extended to anyone regardless of their race—and they know they’re playing both sides of the ball on this one.
To wrap up, any strategy you might take up for combating these ideas has to come from a position that shows you understand that “racism,” as they define it, is, and only is, a political creation by white people to advance their own interests and oppress other races in the advancement of their own interests. That’s what they mean by “racism,” and that’s what they believe white people can’t understand.
(You’ll notice I’ve proved them wrong in this right here and now, so the counterargument would be that it’s only truly comprehensible by lived experience—what racism is like to live with—which is, as you indicated, something white people often do experience in discrimination and prejudice, not least now under Woke terms, but also especially when leaving majority-white contexts, just like everyone else would in parallel situations. This then forces them to say that’s not “racism” being experienced, because they mean “racism” on their own definition, which white people can’t experience by their definition. This stance is what it seems as well, a demand that we all just have to take their word for it, which we all recognize as a terrible basis for making any kind of real-world decision with consequences that other people have to live with. And that’s the thing: people can believe whatever they want about racism, but if we’re going to set policy by it that effects everyone, we all have to understand the terms and have access to the basis for understanding them so that we can agree to them. Anything else is a form of gnostic totalitarianism.)
The way you challenge that, once you show you’ve understood it, is to point out that all of the meaningful progress on fighting racism has rejected, not embraced, this antiquated view and moved racism away from being considered a systemic property and toward being a matter of individual conscience, belief, and action. That is, racism was moved away from something that is (as a system) or that people are (as people) to something that people believe or do (and thus could reject or refrain from doing), and this specific change in understanding the concept is what allowed us to reduce its influence and what can allow us to minimize it going further, if not eradicate it entirely. Thus, you can demonstrate you understand and reject their understanding of racism and assert your own because it has more reason and better ethics behind it. You won’t convince the fully Woke, who will just retreat into their own appeals to “lived experience,” but pretty much everyone else will be impressed and see that it’s not you who doesn’t understand what’s going on.”
“Power is not a mistake in which the powerful can be educated, it’s not a misunderstanding, and it’s not a disagreement. Justice is not won by moral argument, or exertion, or individual transformation, and it’s not won by spiritual epiphany – It’s won by taking power away from the powerful and dismantling the institutions.”
– Lierre Keith
Cameron Russell shows us the power of image and how our perceptions shape our reality.



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