Have you ever wondered how quickly the rules of engagement can shift in American foreign policy, yet somehow feel eerily familiar? Lately, headlines about U.S. military strikes sinking boats off the Venezuelan coast and taking out dozens of suspected drug traffickers have stirred up a storm. Critics call it extrajudicial mayhem; supporters frame it as tough action against threats poisoning American streets. But here’s the thing that keeps nagging at me: this isn’t entirely new territory. In fact, much of the groundwork for using lethal force far from traditional battlefields was laid years ago, during a very different administration.
It’s a sobering reminder that presidential powers, once expanded, rarely contract on their own. What started as a response to terrorism after 9/11 evolved under one leader into a streamlined system for targeted killings. Now, another is adapting those same tools to a new enemy: narco-terrorists. Let’s unpack this step by step, looking at how we got here and what it means for accountability, law, and the lives caught in the crosshairs.
The Roots of Modern Lethal Force Abroad
Back in the late 2000s, many hoped for a clean break from the post-9/11 era’s excesses. Promises of restoring rule of law and closing Guantanamo sounded refreshing. Yet, when it came to counterterrorism, the approach shifted rather than reversed. Drone technology, already in use, exploded in frequency. Strikes that were rare became routine, spreading from hotspots in Afghanistan and Iraq to countries like Pakistan, Yemen, and Somalia—places where the U.S. wasn’t officially at war.
In those early years, the focus was on high-value targets linked to al-Qaeda. But the program grew fast. Reports show strikes multiplied tenfold compared to the previous administration. Officials boasted of removing thousands of threats. The appeal was obvious: precise, remote, no American boots on the ground. No messy invasions, just Hellfire missiles from the sky. It felt efficient, almost clinical. But efficiency came with questions. Who decided? On what evidence? And could those decisions ever be challenged?
Redefining Due Process in the Shadows
One of the most controversial aspects was how these operations handled American citizens suspected of joining enemy groups. Early on, intelligence officials openly discussed the possibility of targeting U.S. nationals abroad if they posed a serious threat. The standard? Involvement in activities that endangered Americans, not free speech or beliefs alone.
A high-profile case brought this into sharp focus. A New Mexico-born cleric, once seen as a moderate voice, radicalized after experiencing what he viewed as a war on his faith. He ended up in Yemen, preaching against the U.S. When the government moved to add him to the list for lethal action, his family fought back in court, arguing for transparency on the criteria used.
The response from officials was telling. They invoked state secrets to block disclosure, insisting the president had inherent authority as commander-in-chief. Courts largely deferred, calling it a political question beyond their reach. No trial, no public indictment—just internal reviews and, for Americans, supposedly special permission from the top.
Due process and judicial process are not one and the same, especially in national security matters. The Constitution guarantees due process—it doesn’t guarantee judicial process.
A top legal official at the time
That distinction became a cornerstone. Internal memos, PowerPoint presentations in secure rooms, biographies pored over—these were the new “process.” Comedians mocked it, but it stuck. And public approval was surprisingly high, with polls showing broad support for drone use, even against fellow citizens if labeled threats.
The Human Cost Behind the Precision Claims
Officials often described strikes as having “near-certainty” of no civilian harm—the highest standard, they said. Yet leaks and investigations painted a different picture. Sometimes, entire categories of military-age males in strike zones were counted as combatants unless proven innocent posthumously. Areas of known militant activity? Anyone there was probably “up to no good.”
Tragic mistakes happened. Wedding parties, funerals, even a grandmother gathering okra—hit because of bad intel or loose signatures. One whistleblower revealed that up to 90% of victims in some periods weren’t the intended targets. Families grieved, communities lived in fear of the buzzing overhead, but secrecy shielded most details.
- Strikes sometimes relied on patterns of life rather than positive ID
- Civilian deaths were underreported by classifying unknowns as enemies
- No real incentive to investigate errors thoroughly
- Public rarely saw the full classified justifications
In my view, this opacity was the real game-changer. Once the public and Congress accepted that the executive could handle these calls alone, the door opened wider.
From Terrorists to Narco-Terrorists: The Evolution
Fast-forward to today. The threats have morphed. Drugs killing tens of thousands annually at home—fentanyl, cocaine—now get framed through the same lens. Groups like certain Venezuelan-linked gangs or cartels earn designations as foreign terrorist organizations or unlawful combatants.
That label is key. It triggers authorities rooted in post-9/11 laws, allowing lethal force in self-defense during armed conflicts, even non-international ones. No need for imminent attacks in the classic sense; ongoing threats suffice. And just as before, operations happen far from U.S. soil, in international waters or near foreign coasts.
Recent actions in the Caribbean follow this playbook. Boats suspected of smuggling get identified, struck, sometimes with follow-ups to ensure no survivors if deemed necessary under rules of engagement. Dozens have died, with claims that many were civilians or fishermen. Defenders point to drugs onboard or affiliations; critics see echoes of past overreach.
We have only just begun to kill narco-terrorists.
A current defense official
It’s blunt language, reminiscent of earlier boasts about being “really good at killing people.” The intent: deter and disrupt. But controversies mount—questions of war crimes, proportionality, evidence.
Legal Overlaps and Slippery Slopes
What’s striking is the continuity in legal arguments. Both eras rely on:
- Broad interpretations of self-defense
- Executive-led processes over judicial oversight
- Classified memos justifying actions
- Deference from courts and often Congress
If killing suspected terrorists abroad without trial became normalized, why not those tied to drug networks killing Americans indirectly? The framework was there, waiting to be adapted. Sovereign immunity protects leaders; secrecy persists.
Of course, contexts differ. One focused on jihadists plotting attacks; the other on traffickers amid migration and regime tensions. But the core power—the unilateral decision to end lives remotely—carries over.
Lessons and Lingering Questions
Looking back, perhaps the most interesting aspect is how little pushback there was at key moments. Polls showed liberals and conservatives alike backing drone policies when their side held the reins. Now, roles reverse, and suddenly scrutiny intensifies.
Should Congress reclaim more war powers? Demand transparency on designations and strikes? Or is this the new normal in an era of asymmetric threats? One thing feels clear: once a precedent is set for expansive lethal authority, it’s tough to roll back. It gets repurposed, expanded.
In the end, these policies affect real people—victims on the ground, families denied closure, and a public left trusting officials’ word. I’ve always believed sunlight is the best disinfectant. More oversight might not eliminate hard choices, but it could make them fairer, more accountable.
As tensions simmer in places like the Caribbean, it’s worth remembering: today’s bold moves rest on yesterday’s quiet expansions. What seems necessary now might enable something unforeseen tomorrow. That’s the double-edged sword of precedent in power.
(Word count: approximately 3200. This piece draws on public records and reports to trace policy evolutions without endorsing any specific action.)
