One Post Away From War

Calling it enforcement doesn’t change reality: a blockade is war, Congress was bypassed, law was ignored, and American families are left to pay the price.

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Words matter. Especially when they come from the mouth—or more accurately, the thumbs—of a president who treats Truth Social like a launch console. When Donald Trump announces a “total and complete blockade” of Venezuelan oil tankers, that’s not tough talk. That’s a declaration freighted with legal, moral, and constitutional consequences. By definition, a military blockade is an act of war. You can dress it up in sanctions language, sprinkle in the word “terrorism,” and wrap it in chest-thumping bravado about the “largest armada ever assembled,” but it doesn’t change the underlying reality. This is war-by-post.

Trump’s announcement that Venezuela is “completely surrounded” by U.S. warships, planes, and thousands of troops is not subtle. It is coercive. It is escalatory. And it is deliberately designed to bypass the one branch of government that the Constitution requires to be part of any decision to take this country to war: Congress. That’s not an oversight. That’s the point.

I’ve seen this movie before. When you don’t want oversight, you declare an emergency. When you don’t want debate, you label your enemy a terrorist. When you don’t want Congress involved, you claim unilateral authority under the guise of national security. Trump has now designated alleged drug traffickers tied to Venezuela as a foreign terrorist organization, using the drug crisis as a political shield to do what he’s always wanted to do: act alone, act fast, and dare anyone to stop him.

Let’s be clear: drug trafficking is real. It’s deadly. It destroys families and communities. It took the lives of two of my oldest and closest friends. But turning drug enforcement into a pretext for military action is not law enforcement; it’s mission creep with missiles. If the goal were actually to reduce drug abuse, we’d be talking about education, treatment, prevention, and yes, the kind of blunt-force public messaging we once used—“Say No to Dope”—not airstrikes on vessels and a naval cordon that risks pulling us into another open-ended conflict.

Last night, I attended the Yale University CEO Summit hosted by Professor Jeffrey Sonnenfeld. In a room filled with business leaders and policymakers, one question cut through the noise: how many Americans are willing to see their sons and daughters dragged into yet another war? Venezuela. Russia. Somewhere else next. The answer, judging by the silence, was painfully obvious. These actions are deeply unpopular. And unpopularity aside, they are skating on the thinnest possible ice legally.

International law isn’t ambiguous here. A military blockade—unless in direct response to an armed attack—is considered a violation of the UN Charter and a crime of aggression. That’s not partisan spin; that’s international law 101. Even Trump’s own advisers appear to know this, which is why the White House is trying to thread a needle by claiming this is not a “full” blockade, pointing to exemptions like Chevron’s continued operations. That’s word gymnastics, not legality.

History offers a sobering parallel. The last U.S. blockade was ordered in 1962 by President John F. Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis, a moment when the world stood on the brink of nuclear annihilation. Kennedy went to the nation, explained the stakes, and worked within a framework of collective decision-making. Trump posts threats on Truth Social and calls it leadership.

Meanwhile, the practical consequences are already unfolding. Tankers are turning around mid-voyage. Dozens of vessels once waiting to call at Venezuelan ports have vanished from shipping data. More than ten million barrels of oil are sitting offshore, gridlocked. Economists warn that shutting off Venezuela’s primary export revenue could trigger catastrophic food shortages for a population of 28 million people. Collective punishment is not a strategy; it’s a humanitarian disaster in the making.

Trump claims Venezuela “stole” oil, land, and assets from the United States—a baffling assertion given that nationalizations under Hugo Chávez led to court battles and settlements, not unresolved acts of theft. Even analysts close to Venezuela’s government are scratching their heads. What Trump is really demanding is something far more dangerous: that a sovereign nation transfer its oil wealth to the United States under military threat. That doesn’t just violate Venezuelan law. It violates international law and basic principles of sovereignty.

And let’s not ignore the timing. As lawmakers prepare to vote on war powers resolutions that would require congressional authorization for military action against Venezuela, Trump escalates. He’s daring Congress to rein him in—and betting they won’t.

This is what abuse of presidential power looks like in real time. One man, one account, one decision that could light a fuse from the Caribbean to Caracas. No hearings. No vote. No consent of the governed.

A blockade is an act of war. Pretending otherwise doesn’t make it safer. It just makes it more reckless. And once again, it’s not Trump who will pay the price if this spirals; it’s the American families who will watch the news and wonder when their child’s name will be called next.

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