A War That Comes Home: Why The Occupation Of Venezuela Would Weaken The United States From Within – OpEd
January 5, 2026
By Peter Rodgers
The idea of occupying Venezuela, while it may at first glance be presented as a decisive move in foreign policy or a tool for restoring U.S. influence in the Western Hemisphere, is in reality less a response to external crises than a generator of deep internal crises within the United States. American historical experience shows that wars and military occupations—especially when launched with vague objectives and without domestic consensus—sooner or later bring their effects back inside the country’s borders. Venezuela is no exception to this rule; rather, because of its geographic location, social conditions, and political sensitivity, it could become a condensed example of all of America’s previous failures in foreign interventions.
The starting point of this cycle is economic cost. Military occupation, even if conceived as a limited and short-term operation, in practice turns into a long-term commitment whose expenses quickly spiral out of control. The United States has yet to fully absorb the financial consequences of the post–September 11 wars: rising public debt, pressure on the federal budget, and a reduced capacity to invest in domestic infrastructure are all legacies of those interventions. Entering a new occupation in Venezuela would mean injecting billions of additional dollars into the war machine at a time when American society is grappling with a housing crisis, economic inequality, and the deterioration of public services. This growing gap between foreign priorities and domestic needs gradually fuels social dissatisfaction and political distrust.
This economic pressure then flows directly into the realm of domestic politics. American society today is deeply polarized, and consensus on major issues has reached a minimum. The occupation of Venezuela would not heal these divisions; it would intensify them. For a significant segment of public opinion, such an action would revive memories of old interventionist patterns for which the United States has paid dearly. Others, by contrast, would see it as a sign of renewed strength or restored authority. The result would not be the formation of a shared national narrative, but rather a clash of narratives and further erosion of social cohesion—a condition that weakens rational decision-making in domestic politics.
Yet the consequences of occupation do not end there. Any large-scale military intervention inevitably creates social and economic instability in the target country, even if its governing structures were already fragile. In the case of Venezuela, this instability would likely intensify the humanitarian crisis and trigger increased waves of migration. The United States, already facing one of the most sensitive and contentious migration crises in its history, would be confronted with a new influx of refugees flowing directly toward its southern borders. This would place additional strain on local governments, service systems, and the domestic political environment, turning immigration into an even larger political flashpoint.
Alongside these developments, the issue of legitimacy arises—not only at the international level, but within the United States itself. For decades, the U.S. government has justified foreign interventions in the language of democracy, human rights, and a rules-based order. But the wider the gap grows between these slogans and realities on the ground, the more citizens’ trust in the sincerity of governing institutions erodes. An occupation of Venezuela without a clear legal framework and international consensus would deepen this gap and, especially among younger generations, reinforce the perception that U.S. foreign policy is driven less by principles than by short-term, power-centered interests.
This erosion of legitimacy carries even more dangerous consequences. The experience of the past two decades shows that foreign wars often lead to an expansion of the powers of security institutions inside the United States. Increased surveillance, restrictions on civil liberties, and the normalization of the logic of “security over rights” were clearly observed after September 11. The occupation of Venezuela could once again strengthen this trend—particularly if, under the pretext of countering external threats or regional instability, additional security tools are activated domestically. Over the long term, this trajectory stands in contradiction to the spirit of American democracy.
In such an environment, a vicious cycle emerges: economic costs generate social dissatisfaction; social dissatisfaction intensifies political polarization; political polarization makes rational decision-making more difficult; and the government, in an effort to control the consequences, turns to security instruments. The occupation of Venezuela, rather than being a sign of American strength, could become the trigger for this weakening cycle—a cycle that has been experienced many times before.
The crucial point is that these consequences are neither accidental nor unpredictable. Contemporary American history, from Vietnam to Iraq and Afghanistan, has repeatedly shown how wars “far from home” are transformed into crises “at home.” What distinguishes Venezuela is that, due to its geographic proximity and its direct connection to U.S. migration and economic issues, the speed and intensity with which these consequences return could be even greater.
Ultimately, the occupation of Venezuela would be not only a strategic risk in foreign policy, but a dangerous gamble with America’s internal stability. It would drain economic resources, deepen social divisions, erode political legitimacy, and place civil liberties at risk. If the goal of foreign policy is to ensure the security and well-being of citizens, it must be acknowledged that some wars lose at home before they ever lose on the battlefield. Venezuela would be one of those wars—a war that, even if it begins abroad, sooner or later comes home.
Peter Rodgers is an international relations graduate of Penn State University.
By Peter Rodgers
The idea of occupying Venezuela, while it may at first glance be presented as a decisive move in foreign policy or a tool for restoring U.S. influence in the Western Hemisphere, is in reality less a response to external crises than a generator of deep internal crises within the United States. American historical experience shows that wars and military occupations—especially when launched with vague objectives and without domestic consensus—sooner or later bring their effects back inside the country’s borders. Venezuela is no exception to this rule; rather, because of its geographic location, social conditions, and political sensitivity, it could become a condensed example of all of America’s previous failures in foreign interventions.
The starting point of this cycle is economic cost. Military occupation, even if conceived as a limited and short-term operation, in practice turns into a long-term commitment whose expenses quickly spiral out of control. The United States has yet to fully absorb the financial consequences of the post–September 11 wars: rising public debt, pressure on the federal budget, and a reduced capacity to invest in domestic infrastructure are all legacies of those interventions. Entering a new occupation in Venezuela would mean injecting billions of additional dollars into the war machine at a time when American society is grappling with a housing crisis, economic inequality, and the deterioration of public services. This growing gap between foreign priorities and domestic needs gradually fuels social dissatisfaction and political distrust.
This economic pressure then flows directly into the realm of domestic politics. American society today is deeply polarized, and consensus on major issues has reached a minimum. The occupation of Venezuela would not heal these divisions; it would intensify them. For a significant segment of public opinion, such an action would revive memories of old interventionist patterns for which the United States has paid dearly. Others, by contrast, would see it as a sign of renewed strength or restored authority. The result would not be the formation of a shared national narrative, but rather a clash of narratives and further erosion of social cohesion—a condition that weakens rational decision-making in domestic politics.
Yet the consequences of occupation do not end there. Any large-scale military intervention inevitably creates social and economic instability in the target country, even if its governing structures were already fragile. In the case of Venezuela, this instability would likely intensify the humanitarian crisis and trigger increased waves of migration. The United States, already facing one of the most sensitive and contentious migration crises in its history, would be confronted with a new influx of refugees flowing directly toward its southern borders. This would place additional strain on local governments, service systems, and the domestic political environment, turning immigration into an even larger political flashpoint.
Alongside these developments, the issue of legitimacy arises—not only at the international level, but within the United States itself. For decades, the U.S. government has justified foreign interventions in the language of democracy, human rights, and a rules-based order. But the wider the gap grows between these slogans and realities on the ground, the more citizens’ trust in the sincerity of governing institutions erodes. An occupation of Venezuela without a clear legal framework and international consensus would deepen this gap and, especially among younger generations, reinforce the perception that U.S. foreign policy is driven less by principles than by short-term, power-centered interests.
This erosion of legitimacy carries even more dangerous consequences. The experience of the past two decades shows that foreign wars often lead to an expansion of the powers of security institutions inside the United States. Increased surveillance, restrictions on civil liberties, and the normalization of the logic of “security over rights” were clearly observed after September 11. The occupation of Venezuela could once again strengthen this trend—particularly if, under the pretext of countering external threats or regional instability, additional security tools are activated domestically. Over the long term, this trajectory stands in contradiction to the spirit of American democracy.
In such an environment, a vicious cycle emerges: economic costs generate social dissatisfaction; social dissatisfaction intensifies political polarization; political polarization makes rational decision-making more difficult; and the government, in an effort to control the consequences, turns to security instruments. The occupation of Venezuela, rather than being a sign of American strength, could become the trigger for this weakening cycle—a cycle that has been experienced many times before.
The crucial point is that these consequences are neither accidental nor unpredictable. Contemporary American history, from Vietnam to Iraq and Afghanistan, has repeatedly shown how wars “far from home” are transformed into crises “at home.” What distinguishes Venezuela is that, due to its geographic proximity and its direct connection to U.S. migration and economic issues, the speed and intensity with which these consequences return could be even greater.
Ultimately, the occupation of Venezuela would be not only a strategic risk in foreign policy, but a dangerous gamble with America’s internal stability. It would drain economic resources, deepen social divisions, erode political legitimacy, and place civil liberties at risk. If the goal of foreign policy is to ensure the security and well-being of citizens, it must be acknowledged that some wars lose at home before they ever lose on the battlefield. Venezuela would be one of those wars—a war that, even if it begins abroad, sooner or later comes home.
Peter Rodgers is an international relations graduate of Penn State University.
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