The scene would be comical if it weren’t tragic: the USS Gerald R. Fordthe most powerful warship on the planet, sails in Latin American waters amid tensions with Venezuela, presumably to combat drug trafficking. What’s the next step? Hypersonic missiles against suspicious fishermen? Drones hunting canoes on the high seas? The disproportion is so grotesque that it seems taken from magical realism, but without magic and with a lot of war realism.
The decision to deploy such a naval monster to the region is not just absurd: it is revealing. It reveals that, for some sectors of US power, drug trafficking continues to be a useful excuse to justify interventions, intimidation and displays of military force. Just like the old days: Panama in 1989, when they invaded to capture Noriega; Dominican Republic in 1965, to “restore order”; or Guatemala in 1954, when the CIA decided that land reform was a communist threat. The pretexts change, but not the script.
And what about the drug trafficking phenomenon itself? Of its structural complexity, of its “long history”? Nothing. Silence. The aircraft carrier does not come with financial flow analysts, public policy experts or alternative development programs. It comes with missiles, radars and marines. As if cocaine were fought with torpedoes and not with intelligence, social justice and regional cooperation. And in the coca growing areas: with alternative development programs (that work when they are carried out…).
double irony
The irony is twofold. While Ford is deployed, governments such as Colombia and the United Kingdom distance themselves from American operations in the Caribbean, denouncing extrajudicial killings from the skies. Who remains, then, as an ally? Who applauds the “show”? Can anyone believe that launching missiles at three-man boats or poorly paid fishermen is a serious strategy against organized crime?
And worse yet: we don’t even know if those boats are really “narcoboats”. In many cases, it is already known that these were boats belonging to artisanal fishermen, migrants or informal workers sailing in precarious conditions. The “shoot first, ask questions later” logic transforms the Caribbean Sea into a scenario of floating impunity, where the presumption of innocence sinks before the ship.
What should be on the agenda of the UN – an organization that, unlike some government agencies, has addressed drug trafficking with seriousness and a multidimensional approach – are not aircraft carriers or bombing, but rather the promotion of alternative development, the urgent debate on the disproportionate use of force in anti-drug operations, extrajudicial killings in international waters and the need to establish clear limits on military interventionism under security pretexts. If the UN wants to remain a legitimate forum for global governance, it must demand that the fight against drugs be based on human rights, empirical evidence and sovereign cooperation, and not on naval displays that are more reminiscent of the Cold War than a 21st century strategy. The same can be asked of the OAS, if it wants to regain relevance in a continent that no longer tolerates complicit silences or decorative diplomacy.
The history of Latin America is full of these imperial gestures disguised as humanitarian concern or the fight against drugs. But it is also full of memory. And memory, when activated, is inconvenient. Why remember that behind every intervention there were hidden interests, abuses and consequences that still hurt. Him USS Gerald R. Ford It’s not just a ship: it’s a symbol. And like any symbol, it speaks more about who sends it than about who receives it.
Latin America doesn’t need aircraft carriers. We need respect, listening and above all recognition that drug trafficking is not fought with war, but with politics. But of course it doesn’t look that good in satellite photos.
