Business as usual will not stand.
At a gathering of Latin American military leaders in Miami, U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth issued a defining ultimatum: join America's militarized campaign against drug cartels, or stand aside as the United States acts alone. The Trump administration, invoking a reimagined Monroe Doctrine, has already conducted 44 naval strikes killing more than 150 people, framing criminal networks as military adversaries in a legal and strategic shift of historic proportions. What unfolds now is not merely a counternarcotics campaign, but a contest over who shapes the hemisphere's institutions — and at what human cost.
- The Trump administration has declared armed conflict against cartels, unleashing a wave of naval strikes that have already claimed over 150 lives across Caribbean and Pacific waters.
- Hegseth's blunt ultimatum — cooperate or we act alone — has injected acute pressure into U.S. relations with Latin American governments still weighing the risks of full alignment.
- Some regional leaders, like El Salvador's Bukele and Ecuador's military command, are moving toward the militarized model, conducting joint operations and signaling strategic convergence with Washington.
- Experts warn the strategy carries a dangerous internal contradiction: deploying military force in regions with weak civilian oversight and histories of armed forces abuses may corrode the very institutions needed for lasting security.
- The hemisphere now stands at an inflection point — between a militarized order imposed from the north and the fragile, imperfect architecture of civilian rule and regional sovereignty.
On Thursday, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth stood before military representatives from more than a dozen Latin American nations at U.S. Southern Command in Miami and delivered a message with little diplomatic cushioning: escalate the fight against drug cartels, or the United States will escalate it for you. The occasion was the first "Americas Counter Cartel Conference," and its timing was deliberate — most attending officials had traveled alongside their heads of state, who were set to meet President Trump days later.
Hegseth invoked shared Christian heritage, decades of failed conventional approaches, and the specter of criminal networks threatening American border security. His closing phrase — "make the Americas great again" — left little ambiguity about the ideological framework driving U.S. policy. That framework, which the administration calls the "Donroe Doctrine," positions the current moment as a muscular revival of the 19th-century Monroe Doctrine, with military assets deployed across the hemisphere at a scale not seen since the Cold War.
The legal architecture undergirding this posture is significant. By designating Mexican and Venezuelan cartels as foreign terrorist organizations and declaring the U.S. in "armed conflict" with them, the Trump administration unlocked presidential authorities that enabled 44 naval strikes on suspected drug smugglers since January 2025 — operations resulting in at least 150 deaths. The same framework reportedly facilitated the capture of Venezuela's Nicolas Maduro, now facing drug trafficking charges in New York.
Some regional governments have embraced the shift. Ecuador conducted its first joint military operations with U.S. forces this week, and El Salvador's Nayib Bukele has aligned closely with Washington's iron-fisted model. For the administration, these are validating data points.
But analysts urge caution. Rebecca Bill Chavez of the Inter-American Dialogue warns that militarizing cartel enforcement in countries where armed forces lack civilian oversight and carry histories of human rights abuses risks hollowing out the very institutions — courts, accountability mechanisms, civilian governance — that durable security requires. The deeper question, she and others suggest, is not whether cartels can be struck from the air, but what kind of hemisphere emerges from the choices being made right now.
Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth stood before military leaders from across Latin America on Thursday and delivered a stark message: escalate your fight against drug cartels, or the United States will do it for you. Speaking at U.S. Southern Command headquarters in Miami, Hegseth framed the choice as binary. "America is prepared to take on these threats and go on the offense alone if necessary," he said, addressing representatives from more than a dozen countries aligned with the Trump administration, including Argentina, Honduras, and the Dominican Republic.
The gathering, billed as the first "Americas Counter Cartel Conference," was carefully choreographed. Most of the military officials attending had traveled to Florida alongside their presidents, who were scheduled to meet with Trump at his golf club two days later. Hegseth's rhetoric invoked shared Christian heritage and decades of what he characterized as failed approaches—suggesting that traditional law enforcement methods had proven inadequate against criminal networks that threatened both the region and American border security. "Business as usual will not stand," he declared, pledging military support while invoking a phrase borrowed from Trump's campaign: "make the Americas great again."
The Trump administration's strategy represents a dramatic departure from previous approaches. When Trump took office in January 2025, he moved swiftly to reshape American engagement with Latin America, framing it as a modern extension of the 19th-century Monroe Doctrine—which he and his team have dubbed the "Donroe Doctrine." Central to this doctrine is the deployment of military assets on a scale unseen in the region since the Cold War ended. The administration designated cartels from Mexico and Venezuela as foreign terrorist organizations and went further, declaring that the United States was in "armed conflict" with these groups. That legal designation has become the foundation for an extraordinary assertion of presidential power.
The consequences are already visible. Since Trump took office, the U.S. military has conducted 44 strikes against suspected drug smugglers operating in the Caribbean Sea and Eastern Pacific Ocean. Those strikes have resulted in at least 150 deaths. The scale of this naval deployment, combined with the legal framework treating cartels as military adversaries rather than criminal enterprises, has enabled operations that would have been unthinkable under previous administrations. In early January, this military posture facilitated a U.S. operation that captured Venezuela's then-president, Nicolas Maduro, who now faces drug trafficking charges in New York.
The approach has found enthusiastic supporters among certain regional leaders. El Salvador's Nayib Bukele, who rose to power promising an iron-fisted crackdown on criminal organizations, has aligned closely with Trump's strategy. Ecuador this week conducted its first joint military operations with U.S. forces against organized crime groups, signaling a shift toward the militarized model the Trump administration is promoting. These successes, from the administration's perspective, validate the strategy.
Yet experts warn of substantial risks embedded in this approach. Rebecca Bill Chavez, president of the Inter-American Dialogue and a former deputy assistant defense secretary for Western Hemisphere affairs, points to a fundamental tension: militarizing the fight against cartels in a region where military institutions lack robust civilian oversight, where armed forces carry a legacy of human rights abuses, and where corruption remains endemic, may ultimately weaken the very institutions needed to defeat organized crime. The rule of law—the foundation upon which sustainable security depends—requires strong civilian institutions and accountability mechanisms. When the military becomes the primary tool for addressing criminal threats, those institutions can atrophy.
Hegseth's message in Miami was unmistakable: the Trump administration intends to lead this fight, with or without regional partners. The question now is whether Latin American governments will embrace the militarized approach the administration is offering, or whether they will resist, knowing that resistance may invite unilateral American action. The stakes extend beyond cartels and border security. They touch on the kind of institutions, and the kind of hemisphere, that will emerge from this moment.
Notable Quotes
America is prepared to take on these threats and go on the offense alone if necessary.— Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth
Without strong rule-of-law institutions and civilian oversight, militarizing the fight against cartels can weaken the very institutions needed to defeat them.— Rebecca Bill Chavez, president of the Inter-American Dialogue
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why frame this as a choice between escalation and American unilateral action? Why not just say the administration wants military cooperation?
Because that's what Hegseth actually said. He didn't ask nicely. He warned. The framing matters because it signals that compliance isn't optional—it's expected, or else.
The "Donroe Doctrine" sounds like branding. Is that just marketing, or does it signal something substantive about how Trump sees the region?
It's both. It's a deliberate echo of Monroe, which was about keeping foreign powers out of the Americas. Trump is saying America owns this hemisphere's security now, and cartels are the new threat justifying that ownership. It's marketing, but it's marketing a real shift in military posture.
150 deaths from 44 strikes. That's roughly three to four deaths per strike. How do we know those were all cartel members?
We don't. The source says "suspected drug smugglers." That word—suspected—is doing a lot of work. It's the legal cover for strikes that happen at sea, where verification is difficult and accountability is distant.
Why would Ecuador suddenly agree to joint operations with the U.S. military? That's a significant sovereignty question.
Because the Trump administration is offering military support and making clear that non-cooperation has costs. For a country dealing with organized crime, the promise of American military backing can look like a lifeline, even if the long-term institutional risks are real.
Chavez's warning about weak civilian oversight—is that a Latin American problem, or is it something the U.S. military presence might actually worsen?
Both. The region does have weaker institutions. But when you hand the military the primary role in fighting cartels, you're not building civilian capacity—you're bypassing it. Over time, that atrophy becomes the problem.