The UK’s reported decision to restrict intelligence-sharing with the Pentagon on suspected drug-traffickers’ boats in the Caribbean is a modest yet symbolic act of resistance to Donald Trump’s imperialist revival. Britain is said to have objected to repeated, lethal US airstrikes on alleged smugglers off Venezuela’s coast – which have been widely condemned as illegal extrajudicial killings amounting to murder.
The strikes appear to foreshadow direct US attacks on Venezuela itself. Trump makes no secret of his wish to topple Nicolás Maduro’s authoritarian, ostensibly leftist regime. Most Venezuelans support this aim, but not the means. Regime change forcibly imposed by a foreign power contravenes international law, unless it is authorised by the UN or undertaken in self-defence as a last resort. Legal or not, it never ends well.
The US lacks a persuasive justification for war, despite Trump’s fanciful portrayal of Maduro, and Latin American cartel bosses, as “narco-terrorists” with whom he deems the US to be at war. But Trump doesn’t care. He believes that he and his country are above the law, that might makes right. Call it by its name: this is exactly the kind of brash, monarchic imperialism that the New World colonists famously rebelled against.
The self-aggrandising, regionally expansionist outlook of the second Trump administration is the most striking recent manifestation of the new era of state lawlessness that has taken hold around the world. The concept of a common rulebook and joint action to tackle shared global problems has been scorned. In Ukraine, Vladimir Putin has taken state lawlessness to new extremes – and no one seems able or willing to stop him.
Two rapidly developing conflicts may soon drive home the dangers. One is the anticipated US assault on Venezuela, which Trump, as arrogant as any pith-helmeted 19th-century empire-builder, could trigger imminently. The other is the prospective reigniting of the summer’s unfinished Israel-Iran war alongside a renewed Israeli offensive against Hezbollah in Lebanon – conflagrations that could be much worse this time.
Trump, as usual, has no plan for Venezuela, no thought for the “day after”. Like George W Bush in Iraq in 2003, he seems to think functioning democracy will somehow magically materialise in a post-coup Caracas. In any case, he does not value representative governance per se – nor the security and prosperity of Venezuelans. Of greater interest are the country’s oil, gas and minerals, and scoring an easy win.
A questionable precedent, bruited about in Washington, is the 1989 US invasion that overthrew Panama’s dictator, Manuel Noriega – also accused of drug trafficking. Trump should beware. Operation Just Cause was not straightforward. Several hundred civilians, and some US troops, died. Venezuela is a much bigger, less easily subjugated country.
I reported first-hand on the Panama crisis for the Guardian. Much went wrong then for the “piranhas” – Noriega’s name for the invaders – and could do so again. As ever, it’s political. In 1989, the newly elected George HW Bush needed a victory in his signature presidential “war on drugs”. Noriega, a former CIA informant, knew too much; Bush, a former CIA director, wanted him silenced. Demonising Maduro helps Trump argue that he, too, is beating the drug barons. And limited military operations in Venezuela could distract attention from his own skeleton in the cupboard: Jeffrey Epstein.
Problems of state lawlessness in the Middle East centre principally on Israel and Iran. Forced reluctantly into a Gaza ceasefire (which it is failing to honour), Benjamin Netanyahu’s violence-addicted, peace-averse regime is seeking new targets. Record numbers of mostly unchecked, unpunished Jewish settler attacks on West Bank Palestinians, notably on food and water supplies, recall genocidal Israeli actions in Gaza.
Israel is bombing southern Lebanon again, too, claiming the Lebanese army has failed to disarm Hezbollah after last year’s truce and that the Iran-backed fighters are regrouping. “The result of this reality is a growing likelihood that at some point in the coming weeks, Israel’s attacks on Lebanon will escalate into a full-scale war once again,” the Haaretz newspaper commentator Amir Tibon warned.
Resumed, direct warfare between Israel and Iran is the biggest worry. Trump claimed in June that Iran’s nuclear facilities had been “obliterated”. He lied. Tellingly, both he and Netanyahu have since threatened to strike again. Analysts suggest another Israeli onslaught is inevitable, given unallayed suspicions about Iran’s nuclear capabilities, the collapse of negotiations and UN inspections, and the reimposition of tougher sanctions.
In political disarray, plagued by economic crises and social unrest, and deserted by key allies such as Syria, whose leader met Trump last week, a weakened Iran is a tempting target for Netanyahu, who insists it still poses an existential threat. But their very vulnerability could render Tehran’s mullahs more dangerous. Iran is reportedly building thousands of missiles. If attacked, it may hit back much harder next time.
A repeat bout of unprovoked, US-backed Israeli aggression would be another instance of extreme state lawlessness. Yet who would stop it? Not the UN. Not the international courts. Not a cowed Europe, nor Trump-appeasing Arab states. A similarly woeful saga of fecklessness, indifference and impotence could unfold if, say, China were to invade Taiwan. Or if Russia invaded Moldova, or even Nato member Estonia.
This is the world as it is now. Rampant state lawlessness finds ultimate expression in an accelerating global nuclear weapons race unconstrained by arms control treaties or common sense. Trump is resuming nuclear tests; Putin is following suit. Xi Jinping flaunts China’s atomic arsenal; Netanyahu conceals Israel’s. Indian and Pakistani leaders threaten mutual destruction. North Korea’s Kim Jong-un is building nukes like there’s no tomorrow.
Which, at this rate, there may not be. They’re all rogue states now. As previously noted: these people could get us all killed.
Simon Tisdall is a Guardian foreign affairs commentator
