After the First Strike: Venezuela, Influence, and the Ethics of Force

Two explosions, a burning vessel, and the silent corpses of survivors clinging to life. In the Caribbean Sea, U.S. forces struck a Venezuelan-flagged boat twice, forcing Americans to confront a brutal question: how far will a nation go to preserve power and influence? Beneath the rhetoric of anti-narcotics and national security lies a calculus where morality bends, legality stretches, and human lives become collateral in a broader game of dominance. This is not just a strike; it is a mirror reflecting the ethical cost of treating national security as synonymous with control.

George Cassidy Payne

We need to be asking ourselves why — why release the footage when they did, why concentrate so much attention on Venezuela, and why carry out an operation that leaves no one alive to speak for themselves. It increasingly feels like a manufactured pretext, an incident shaped with emotional precision to clear the path for a dramatic shift in U.S. policy. By spotlighting Venezuela, the administration leans into a familiar adversary whose vast oil reserves, political volatility, and growing alignment with China and Russia make it a strategic pressure point in what resembles a modern Monroe Doctrine posture. The timing and curation of the released footage appear designed to anchor public perception early, while the absence of surviving witnesses removes any alternative account that might complicate the official storyline. In this reading, the event doesn’t sit as an isolated tragedy but as one move in a much broader geopolitical campaign. The admiral’s involvement suggests he was operating under directives that frame these “drug-interdiction” strikes as an early stage of a larger strategy, one that he may believe aligns with national security goals, even if from the outside the connection looks tenuous at best. Here, the disturbing part isn’t only what happened, but what it may be preparing the public to accept next.

On September 2, 2025, a U.S. military operation targeted a Venezuelan-flagged boat suspected of drug trafficking, resulting in a strike that destroyed the vessel. According to credible reporting, at least two individuals reportedly survived the initial hit and were seen clinging to wreckage before a second strike was ordered — a so-called “double tap.”

The follow-up strike was reportedly authorized by Vice Admiral Frank M. Bradley, then-commander of U.S. special operations, under operational authority delegated by Pete Hegseth, the U.S. Secretary of Defense. The White House insists that the operation was lawful and that Bradley acted “within his authority.”

Yet crucial aspects remain shrouded in secrecy. The exact weapons used — whether a drone-delivered missile, a helicopter munitions strike, or some other ordnance — have not been publicly confirmed, and no independently verified forensic record of munitions used, targeting decisions, or post-strike damage assessments has been released. The description of the attack is limited to “kinetic strike” or “air-strike,” but without further detail. This opacity deepens accountability concerns and complicates external efforts to evaluate proportionality, necessity, or compliance with legal norms.

The strike also casts a stark light on the chain of command. Secretary Hegseth, according to his own statements, said he did not personally see any survivors after the first strike, explaining he left the scene to attend another meeting, invoking the “fog of war.” His departure during such a consequential operation raises deeply troubling questions about intent, responsibility, and moral judgment at the highest levels. Whether his absence reflects incompetence, callous indifference to human life, or a desire to avoid bearing direct witness — the result is the same: a decision with lethal consequence made without full accountability or transparency.

International-law and human-rights frameworks raise serious red flags about the follow-up strike. Legal experts argue that ordering lethal force against people who are incapacitated, shipwrecked, or otherwise hors de combat. those no longer posing a threat, violates longstanding norms, whether under the law of armed conflict or human-rights law. In this case, survivors reportedly clung to a destroyed hull, not resisting, not mounting any evident threat, yet no rescue or capture attempt was made. Viewed through that lens, the strike risks classification not as a lawful interdiction, but as an extrajudicial killing.

The official justification frames the vessel and its occupants as “narco-terrorists,” allegedly endangering U.S. citizens. But conflating drug trafficking with wartime combat dangerously blurs the line between criminal law enforcement and military engagement. Many international actors, including the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), have condemned the campaign, calling such strikes “unacceptable” and demanding independent investigation, mediation, and an end to lethal maritime interdiction without accountability.

Beyond legality, this strike — and the structure of command behind it — reveals how state power can be wielded not just to destroy vessels, but to erase human lives, suppress alternative narratives, and assert dominance. Venezuela’s oil wealth, geopolitical alliances, and economic fragility make it a strategic pressure point. By deploying military force under the guise of counter-narcotics, the U.S. signals operational reach and readiness to use lethal force as a lever of influence. Media is given curated footage; surviving voices are silenced. Pattern makes policy.

History offers a cautionary lens: the events echo past entanglements like the Gulf of Tonkin incident, ambiguous events framed decisively, spectacle preceding scrutiny, and narrative control ensuring alignment with strategic objectives. The precision of timing and control over who lives to testify intensifies the ethical stakes.

“What we are witnessing is not just a military operation,” says a former senior Pentagon legal adviser. “It is the shaping of perception, the construction of a story, and the use of human lives as instruments in that narrative.”

Every American must ask whether moral decency is expendable in pursuit of power. Are we willing to normalize lethal force as first resort, justified afterward on grounds of expediency, dominance, or national security?

The Caribbean strikes are more than tactical operations; they are a test of national character. When influence becomes the ultimate measure of security, morality is the first casualty. Without public scrutiny, transparency, and accountability, legality, proportionality, and human cost become negotiable, adjusted to fit strategic objectives.

The question is not simply what the U.S. does in Venezuela or the Caribbean, but what Americans are willing to accept in the name of national security. History will judge not only the acts themselves but the ethical choices we allow to be normalized in their name.

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George Cassidy payne is a writer and educator with a deep interest in architecture, film, and the immigrant experience. With a background in philosophy and social justice, his work often explores the intersections of place, identity, and memory. Payne is particularly drawn to stories that challenge conventional narratives about history and belonging. When not writing, he can be found wandering through Brutalist landmarks, contemplating the interplay of light and concrete. He lives and works in Rochester, NY.