I grew up in Weston, Florida, often called “Westonzuela” because it has one of the largest concentrations of Venezuelans outside of Venezuela. Two of my closest friends are Venezuelan, and through them I saw, up close, what the collapse of a country looks like not in headlines, but in families. That experience shapes how I view junctures, such as the recent capture of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, when the world must choose between imperfect action and the quiet comfort of doing nothing.

Venezuela’s story is not abstract. Within a generation, one of the most prosperous countries in Latin America was reduced to mass emigration, chronic shortages, political repression and the hollowing out of ordinary life. Professionals fled. Savings evaporated. Basic stability disappeared. This was not an accident of history. It was the result of sustained authoritarian misrule that destroyed institutions and foreclosed peaceful change. Yet for years, much of the international response amounted to condemnation without meaningful consequence, a posture that allowed this collapse to deepen.

That context matters when evaluating the global events headlining every major newspaper. In the early hours of Jan. 3, U.S. special forces conducted an operation that resulted in Maduro’s detention, citing a longstanding indictment alleging his involvement in a cocaine-trafficking conspiracy and ties between senior members of the Venezuelan government and transnational criminal networks. The operation marked a dramatic escalation after years of sanctions, diplomatic pressure and failed efforts to induce political change through negotiated means.

Supporting this action does not require pretending it is legally clean, nor does it require blind trust in the U.S. government. The U.S. has made serious, sometimes disastrous, mistakes abroad. In Afghanistan, a twenty-year military effort ended with a chaotic withdrawal and the rapid collapse of the very institutions the intervention was meant to sustain. In Iraq, flawed intelligence and post-invasion mismanagement contributed to prolonged instability, widespread civilian suffering and the erosion of regional security. These precedents underscore a real risk that, without discipline and a clear post-action strategy, Venezuela could follow a similarly destabilizing trajectory rather than a path toward durable recovery. It would be dishonest to ignore secondary interests, including oil and regional influence, especially given Venezuela’s vast reserves and the geopolitical leverage energy access continues to confer. And any use of force, direct or indirect, carries real human cost.

But acknowledging these realities does not mean paralysis is the moral high ground.

There are moments when decisive action, even imperfect action, is preferable to endless condemnation paired with inaction. For years, Venezuelans have paid the price for international hesitation. Broad sanctions were imposed without a credible pathway for political transition, allowing the regime to shift the burden onto ordinary citizens while insulating its inner circle. Diplomatic efforts, including repeated rounds of negotiations and dialogue, produced statements and temporary concessions but failed to meaningfully constrain repression or restore democratic accountability, a failure laid bare by Maduro’s most recent electoral “victory.” In the absence of enforcement or sustained leverage, these measures functioned less as pressure than as delay, giving an entrenched regime time to consolidate power, sidestep isolation and outlast international outrage.

Supporting this action is not celebrating power. It is recognizing that prolonged authoritarian collapse is itself a form of violence, one that destroys lives slowly, predictably and at scale. If the alternative is allowing that reality to continue indefinitely, then refusing to act is not morally neutral.

None of this absolves the United States of responsibility. Any intervention must be followed by restraint, accountability and a serious commitment to Venezuelan self determination, not exploitation.​​ That standard, however, does not necessitate inaction. The fact that an action is imperfect does not make it unjustified.

For the people I grew up with, who watched their country unravel while the world debated, real change matters. Supporting this moment, cautiously but clearly, is not cynicism. It is recognition that sometimes history does not offer clean options, only necessary ones.