The United States sent elite forces into a sovereign capital on Saturday, seized the President Nicolás Maduro and the First Lady Cilia Flores, and kidnapped them by force. Any other phrasing is a political indulgence.

When Russia crossed into Ukraine, Western capitals did not tolerate euphemism. Vladimir Putin’s insistence on calling it a “special military operation” was rejected immediately and collectively. British politician Boris Johnson has called the Russian action “hideous and barbaric.”

No European leader asked whether Russia’s grievances deserved to be heard first. France’s Emmanuel Macron did not suggest that Moscow might oversee a “peaceful, democratic transition” in Kyiv. Keir Starmer, the UK prime minister, did not caution, “we need to establish all of the facts.” No German chancellor hinted that Ukrainian president had “led his country into ruin” and therefore forfeited its protection by misgoverning under international law.

Governments, media houses, civil society groups and international institutions named it what it was: an invasion. Words mattered then, because words locate responsibility and international order. They still do.

That order rested on one unglamorous but foundational idea that sovereignty is not conditional on virtue, ideological alignment or Western approval. Small states do not exist at the mercy of larger ones. Power does not confer moral exemption.

However now, faced with an unprovoked assault by the United States on a sovereign country in the Global South, the same political class that rehearsed international law with priestly seriousness reaches instinctively for laundering language. “Operation.” “Strike.” “Capture.” Even “extraction”, a term better suited to hostages or minerals, is deployed to soften what has occurred

The justification now being floated is illegitimacy. Nicolás Maduro does not govern by democratic consent. By this logic, the whole world becomes a target list. Fewer than 7% of the global population lives under what is classified as a full democracy, according to the Economist Intelligence Unit’s Democracy Index 2024. Vast stretches of the world are ruled by monarchies, military juntas, family dynasties, or hollowed-out electoral systems. Many of these regimes are long-standing Western allies. None are subjected to kidnapping raids.

If illegitimacy is the threshold for invasion, then international order collapses into selective enforcement. If corruption, repression, or even crimes against humanity justify external military abduction, then no leader is safe and no border is meaningful. Illegitimacy has never been the problem. Disobedience has.

When Western leaders claim the right to remove governments they do not recognise, they resurrect the logic of empire with modern logistics. Colonial imperialist states spoke of civilising missions. Today the language is democracy promotion. The presentation remains the same, delegitimise the native authority, claim moral urgency, insist that intervention is temporary, and promise prosperity once control has been secured. And the de-facto structure is – power decides, law follows, and violence is recast as responsibility.

Whether Nicolás Maduro is competent, corrupt, authoritarian, or disastrous is irrelevant to the principle at stake.

According to the United Nations Charter, that judgement belongs to the people of Venezuela, not to Washington, London, Berlin or Brussels. And definitely, not to a president for whom defiling international law as he says (referring to kidnapping of President Maduro by US military), “I’ve never seen anything like this. I was able to watch it in real time…I watched it, literally, like I was watching a television show.”

Donald Trump removed any remaining ambiguity himself. Asked who would govern Venezuela now, he gestured his hands towards himself and US Secretary of State Marco Rubio, and said it would be, “for a period of time, the people that are standing right behind me”.

He went further. The United States, he said, is “going to run” Venezuela until a “safe, proper and judicious transition”. US companies will enter the country to repair oil infrastructure and “start making money for the country”. This is not even concealed extraction anymore; it is spoken distinctly. The colonial economy always announced itself as development. Railways, refineries, roads – all built to move wealth outward while asserting the natives were being helped.

When asked how occupying and administering another country fits into “America First”, Trump was explicit. Venezuela’s energy resources are “tremendous”. They are “very important that we protect”. Protection, here, means possession. Venezuelan lives are rendered collateral to American stability. Other people’s sovereignty becomes disposable the moment it interferes with Western comfort.

There is also the question that Western capitals refuse to ask aloud: who governs the morning after? What legitimacy would a US-installed Venezuelan leadership command among a population already shaped by decades of sanctions, economic warfare and external interference?

History offers no comfort here. The United States and the United Kingdom overthrew Iran’s elected prime minister and replaced him with a pliant monarch. The result was a revolutionary reckoning whose consequences still convulse the region. Regime change has a memory, and it rarely flatters its authors.

Those celebrating the kidnapping of Maduro should pause. If one is capable today of cheering the abduction of the head of a sovereign nation, and one were alive during the run-up to the Iraq war that started in 2003, then history has taught us nothing. The arguments and consent manufacturing reporting are identical. The confidence is the same. The outcome will not be kinder.

The operation also sits uncomfortably with the mythology cultivated by the American president himself. A man who boasts of ending wars and desperately seeks a Nobel Peace Prize has, within a single presidency, bombed Iran on suspicion, devastated Yemen in the name of security, conducted military operations in Nigeria under the banner of religious protection, and now assaulted Venezuela outright.

At home, he has normalised the use of troops in civilian spaces, overseen mass deportations carried out in shackles, and turned immigration enforcement into a theatre of humiliation, complete with flights to an infamous Salvadoran prison.

The promise of “no regime change and no nation building” has aged badly. The circle closed faster than expected.

Even the threat horizon is expanding. When a reporter asked a question at the same press conference, Trump replied, “Cuba is going to be something we’ll end up talking about.” Marco Rubio then intervened, “If I lived in Havana and I was in the government, I’d be concerned at least.”

There is no semblance of diplomatic morality, but a naked warning of heedless administration.

Western media, once again, plays its part. The BBC’s framing – “Trump ordered strikes on Venezuelan military sites” – asks how rattled Venezuelans might be, not whether their country has been violated. The violence is framed as technical, efficient, almost surgical. When Russian missiles fell on Kyiv, journalists asked how civilians were surviving invasion. When US forces storm Caracas, Venezuelans are described as “rattled”, not terrorised. Journalism in the Western media is a masterclass on aiding and abetting the death of international rule of law.

European leaders often express bewilderment at why much of Asia, Africa, and Latin America refused to condemn Russia’s invasion of Ukraine with the fervour Brussels expected. The answer is not an enigma. These regions have lived through Iraq, Vietnam, Panama, Iran and Gaza. They have seen how international law is invoked when useful and discarded when inconvenient. They recognise patterns even when Europe pretends, they are anomalies. The rules have always bent towards Western interest. The only novelty is how openly this is now embraced.

By tearing holes in the very order, it claims to defend, Europe and the United States are corroding their own arguments. They are arming its rivals rhetorically and strategically. Ukraine’s appeal to international law will ring hollow when the same law is treated as optional elsewhere. Russia will cite this precedent. China already does, watching carefully as sovereignty becomes conditional and force regains legitimacy.

What has been invaded in Venezuela is the idea that decolonisation ever truly ended. Power still practises the habits of empire. And this time, it is not even pretending to look away from the oil.

Pius Fozan is a photojournalist and an international media studies scholar at the Deutsche Welle Akademie.