“Operation Absolute Resolve” and Just War Tradition
Was the removal and arrest of Nicolas Maduro, the Venezuelan dictator in power since 2013, justified according to the just war tradition?
The answer is yes, with a small caveat. It will depend, in fact, on what happens in the next weeks and months in Venezuela, that is, on whether the larger purpose of this military action—the establishment of better political conditions—will be accomplished.
The American operation in Caracas is a rare, perhaps unique, form of military action. It is not an invasion, followed by occupation, of a hostile state. It is not a war, requiring long-term involvement of military forces and causing widespread destruction. It is not a mere arrest of an individual done by law enforcement agencies. And it is not a violent decapitation strike that eliminates the leadership of a state, replacing it with another faction or a more friendly individual. The regime has not changed, the opposition is not in power, the country is not destroyed, the material devastation and the number of enemy casualties (most of them Cuban forces protecting Maduro from his own people) are minimal, and American forces are back in the safety of offshore ships and bases.
It is therefore difficult to categorize the American action in Caracas. It is a stunning operation that surprised everyone. So far, the main criticism seems to be that Trump ordered it, rather than the critics’ evaluating it on its merits. The EU, for instance, has issued a confused statement calling for “calm and restraint by all actors,” as if the U.S. were engaging in a prolonged bombing campaign. Right now, neither the U.S. nor the Venezuelan regime is fighting: bombs are not flying, the communist henchmen are not shooting. The socialist government in Spain was even more bewildered, asserting that it “did not recognize the Maduro regime, … [but] neither will it recognize an intervention that violates international law.” It remains unclear what “recognizing” a swift special forces operation means; not to mention that it is doubtful that international law protects an illegitimate regime. Sovereignty is not a protective layer for illicit activities or crimes against humanity.
The sui generis military operation doesn’t have many precedents, and there is little to be found in the just war tradition literature that can be applied perfectly to “Operation Absolute Resolve.” Neither St. Augustine nor St. Thomas Aquinas wrote on what is now called a decapitation strike—the violent elimination of the political leadership of a state—and certainly neither considered the possibility of a very precise, very brief, and flawlessly executed extraction of a hostile autocrat and his corrupt wife. Nonetheless, the basic just war principles, which are really questions that statesmen must consider using their own prudential judgment, can still be applied.
First, was the operation conducted by the right authority? The answer is yes. It was authorized by the U.S. president, the commander-in-chief, and conducted by American forces. It was not a private action. It was also not a random decision by the president, but an execution of a goal shared (until now) by the political leaders of both parties. The Biden administration was in fact very critical of Maduro and called for his arrest, putting a bounty on his head in January 2025. Some critics bemoan that the United Nations did not approve this military operation, but the UN is not the right authority even under the best circumstances, as it is merely a gathering venue for states and not a higher authority with moral standing.
Second, was there a just cause? The answer is also yes, even more firmly than the previous one. Maduro was an autocrat, accused of horrendous crimes, lacking the approval of his own population that voted against him in 2024, and in charge of a corrupt leadership making money by trading drugs (mostly cocaine to Europe, and chemicals needed for fentanyl production to Mexico). In 2018–19 alone, the UN estimated that seven thousand people were killed by the Maduro regime. Eight million Venezuelans escaped from the country. Maduro, moreover, was supported by Iran, China, and Russia, all three attempting to create a long-term serious menace through the flow of drugs and the establishment of military footholds on the southern frontier of the U.S.
Maduro was therefore not only an active oppressor and killer of his own people, but also a threat to American security. (Yes, the flow of drugs to the U.S. is a security threat, not just a criminal challenge.) He was an illegitimate political leader creating national security problems for the U.S.
We should remember that just war tradition does not carry a presumption against violence. Violence is not the goal; peace is. But violence may be necessary to pursue peace. Statesmen have a moral responsibility to preserve the common good of the people under their care, a primary end that ought to guide all their actions. Avoidance of violence at all costs—or “peace” above all—is not an end of statesmanship.
Third, did the U.S. have the right intention? Intentions are always hard to evaluate, but the fact that Maduro was brought to face a court in New York is indicative of the intent to redress the crimes he committed. He was not killed on the spot. Moreover, there is no intent to conquer Venezuela. The Trump administration said that the U.S. will “run” the country, but so far this seems to mean only that Washington will in some way manage the money obtained from the sale of Venezuelan oil to make sure it does not benefit the autocratic leaders, and the generals behind them, still in power in Caracas. The intent is not to steal the oil, but to put it to better use for the Venezuelan population, something than Maduro and his cronies have not done.
Fourth, was the U.S. operation proportional? This is an easy yes. The casualties inflicted have been minimal and most of them seem to be Cuban bodyguards keeping the Maduro dictatorship in place. There was no destruction of the city or of the economic infrastructure or even of the Venezuelan military forces. It was one of the cleanest and most precise military operations in history.
Fifth, was it the last resort? Again, the answer is yes. It is unclear how else Maduro would have left power. He had control of the military forces and installed himself in January 2025 for his third term despite losing elections. Sanctions were of no use to remove him. And, despite recent American attempts to convince him otherwise, Maduro was not going to abandon willingly his position in Caracas. The option was to let him stay in power until his death or to remove him forcibly.
Sixth, did the military operation have reasonable chances of success? Here, the answer is more complex. The tactical goal was extremely successful despite the high risks: Maduro was taken alive out of his house in the middle of a military base with rapidity and no loss of American lives. The technological superiority, the meticulous planning, and the tactical skills of American forces are unmatched.
The achievement of the larger strategic and political objectives is, however, still in question. Two points in particular are worth considering.
First, the usual concern about a decapitation strike has been that the removal of a political leader, however evil he may be, may result in the collapse of order, a chaotic and violent period that is worse for the population than the continued autocratic rule of that regime. The good of removing the tyrant may be offset by the bad consequence of a failed state or a violent civil war. For instance, the 2011 killing of Muammar Gaddafi in Libya resulted in a torn country with negative spillover effects (such as uncontrolled migration) in Southern Europe. Similarly, decapitating the leadership of a nuclear state is considered extremely risky, as the control over weapons of mass destruction (WMDs), and more broadly over the military forces, may be loosened, fall into the hands of even more dangerous individuals, and create a situation that is more deadly than before.
In the Venezuelan case, Maduro’s removal so far has been followed seamlessly by the preservation of control in the hands of the autocratic regime. With the support of the armed forces, the vice president, Delcy Rodriguez (herself under sanctions imposed by the U.S., the EU, and other countries, for corruption and violation of human rights), has replaced Maduro. That is, the autocrat is gone, but the corrupt dictatorship is staying. But there is no chaos, satisfying this minimalist metric for success.
But is the political situation better than before? Is there a reasonable chance that the political outcome of this operation can be an improvement of the conditions of the Venezuelan people? If success is defined this way, we do not yet have an answer. It’s too early to say. The operation was not meant to impose immediately a change of the regime, probably because the political opposition, albeit victorious in the last elections, has no support among the upper echelons of the Venezuelan military. To change the regime would require not just the extraction of Maduro, but the elimination of a large military elite and the neutralization of the armed forces. To do that, the military operation would have to be a considerably more violent and massive attack, leading most likely to a full invasion of the country. Given American experiences in foreign countries over the last two decades, it is understandable why such an option has not been chosen in this case.
The question, then, is whether in the next days and weeks the U.S. will have sufficient tools at its disposal to alter the behavior of the ruling dictatorship in Caracas. Success does not have to be measured as a full regime change, but as a fundamental alteration of the domestic and international posture of the ruling Venezuelan elites. Democracy may be the best regime given all alternatives, but its establishment is often beyond the military capabilities even of the most competent great power. If the ruling regime evicts China, Iran, and Russia from Venezuela, arrests the drug trade, and stops repressing its own population, the American intervention could be considered as a strategic, as well as an operational, success.
The use of force is an inescapable fact of international relations. Often, such as in the case of self-defense, there is no alternative but to shoot back, and the justice of such a defensive action is usually quite clear to all. But in other cases, like the U.S. military operation in Venezuela, there is room for debate about whether violence was necessary and justified. The primary responsibility for considering whether such an action is just resides not in the post hoc analysts and commentators, but in the statesmen in charge of the decision. They are the ones who have more information to evaluate the potential action and have the authority (and thus, responsibility) to decide. In many cases, there is room for reasonable debate and difference of judgment, because the outcome of an action is inherently difficult to foresee.
This is why the just war tradition offers guidelines to reason through a decision. It provides questions to ask when planning and executing a military operation. It forms the prudential judgement—right reason in action—of statesmen who are tasked with these hard decisions. It is not, however, a modern scientific theory that pretends to provide a foolproof mechanism to calculate the justice of an action or the lack thereof.
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