The United States intervention in Venezuela to abduct President Nicolás Maduro is not law enforcement extended beyond its borders. It is international vandalism, plain and unadorned.
Power has displaced law, preference has replaced principle and force has been presented as virtue. This is not the defence of the international order. It is its quiet execution. When a state kidnaps the law to justify kidnapping a leader, it does not uphold order. It advertises contempt for it.
The forcible seizure of a sitting head of state by the US has no foothold in international law. None. It is not self-defence under Article 51 of the United Nations Charter. It was not authorised by the UN Security Council. International law is many things, but it is not a roving moral warrant for great powers to perform regime change by abduction.
The claim that alleged human rights violations or trafficking in narcotics justifies the removal of a foreign head of state is particularly corrosive. There is no such rule. Not in treaty law. Not in custom law. Not in any serious jurisprudence.
Human rights law binds states to standards of conduct. It does not license unilateral military seizures by self-appointed global sheriffs. If that were the rule, the world would be in a permanent state of sanctioned chaos.
Indeed, if the US were serious about this purported principle, consistency would compel action far closer to home. By the logic now advanced, there would be a far stronger legal and moral case to seize Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, given the extensive documentation of mass civilian harm and credible allegations of genocide arising from Israel’s conduct in Gaza.
Yet no such logic is entertained. The reason is obvious. This is not law. It is power selecting its targets.
Regime change is not an aberration in American foreign policy. It is a habit with a long paper trail, from Iran in 1953 to Guatemala in 1954, Chile in 1973 and Iraq in 2003.
But the kidnapping of a sitting president marks a new low. This is precisely the conduct the post-1945 legal order was designed to prohibit. The ban on the use of force is not a technicality. It is the central nervous system of international law. To violate it without authorisation is to announce that rules bind only the weak.
The US understands this perfectly. It is acting anyway and in doing so is conducting the autopsy of the UN Charter system itself.
The rot does not stop there. Washington has repeatedly violated its obligations under the UN Charter and the UN Headquarters Agreement. It has denied entry to officials it disfavours. Preventing the Palestinian president from addressing the UN General Assembly in person last year was not a diplomatic faux pas. It was a treaty breach by the host state of the world’s principal multilateral institution.
The message was unmistakable. Access to the international system and adherence to the UN Charter is conditional on American approval.
The UN was designed to constrain power, not flatter it. Today, it increasingly fails to constrain serious international law violations. Paralysed by vetoes, bullied by its host and ignored by those most capable of violating its charter, the UN has drifted from the supposed guardian of legality to a stage prop for its erosion.
At some point, denial becomes self-deception. The system has failed in its core promise. Not because international law is naive but because its most powerful beneficiary has decided it is optional.
It is, therefore, time to say the unsayable: The UN should be permanently relocated away from a host state that treats treaty obligations as inconveniences. And the international community must begin a serious, sober conversation about an alternative global structure whose authority is not hostage to one capital, one veto or one currency – or a system whose powers supersede the UN precisely because the UN has been hollowed out from within.
Law cannot survive as a slogan. Either it restrains those who wield the most force, or it is merely rhetoric deployed against those who do not. What the US has done in Venezuela is not a defence of order. It is a confirmation that international order has been replaced by preference. And preferences, unlike law, recognise no limits.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.