One year into his second presidency, Donald Trump has established himself as the most revolutionary US president in recent history. Whereas “America First” once sounded isolationist – particularly to his MAGA base – it is now clear that it reflects a Hobbesian worldview, in which the strong extract what they can from the weak.

In this vision, the US avoids direct military conflict with “peer” powers such as China, or with nuclear-armed states like Russia and North Korea. Instead, it competes relentlessly over resources and advanced technologies, while largely respecting others’ “spheres of influence” so long as they stay out of what Trump defines as America’s.

Latin America, in Trump’s view, is firmly within that sphere – and China’s expanding presence there is now treated as a strategic threat. Beijing has invested billions in Brazil, brought Colombia into its Belt and Road Initiative, and poured money into Argentina’s lithium chloride production, vital for batteries.

It has replaced US soybean exporters by doubling purchases from Brazil to nearly $50bn, expanded iron-ore imports, and made Peru’s Chancay Port the hub of its regional logistics network. Chinese e-commerce with Latin America surged by around 50% in 2025, tying digital infrastructure to Beijing’s ambitions for data sovereignty, cybersecurity control, and expanded surveillance. China has also deepened its military footprint through arms sales, training programs, and partnerships, notably with Venezuela.

The idea that this constitutes a threat rests on an old doctrine. In 1823, the Monroe Doctrine declared the Western Hemisphere off-limits to foreign powers. Since then, nearly a third of the roughly 400 US interventions worldwide have taken place in Latin America, where Washington has repeatedly toppled governments it deemed hostile, often using methods later ruled illegal by international courts.

In 2013, US Secretary of State John Kerry proclaimed that the “era of the Monroe Doctrine” was over and that Latin America would be treated as a partner rather than a sphere of influence. That position has now been abandoned. The Trump administration’s 2025 National Security Strategy (NSS) explicitly commits to “reasserting and enforcing” the doctrine – setting the stage for the recent US attack on Venezuela and the abduction of its president, Nicolás Maduro.

Maduro is a dictator who stole the 2024 election, crushed Venezuela’s economy, and systematically violated human rights. But the US intervention had little to do with liberating Venezuelans. If it did, there would be many other regimes Washington would have to target. Trump, after all, appears more interested in threatening to annex Greenland.

Nor is Trump particularly committed to regime change in Caracas. Although opposition figures Edmundo González and Nobel Peace Prize laureate María Corina Machado have won elections, the Trump administration has blocked both from taking power, apparently judging them too weak and too liberal. Instead, Maduro’s vice president, Delcy Rodríguez – well versed in accommodating China and Russia – has emerged as interim president, a skill set Trump presumably finds transferable.

The NSS leaves little doubt about Washington’s priorities. The US, it states, will not allow “non-Hemispheric competitors” to “own or control strategically vital assets” in the Americas. In practice, this means ensuring that the US – not its rivals – controls Venezuela’s vast natural resources, starting with the world’s largest proven oil reserves.

Until recently, China bought about 80% of Venezuela’s oil exports. Much of the remainder, sold at discounted prices, went to Cuba, a longstanding US adversary. Bringing Venezuela’s oil sector under US control would deliver multiple prizes: profits for American energy companies, the loss of a major supply for China, and further pressure on Cuba’s already battered economy.

Trump would likely relish being the president who finally topples the Cuban regime, a move that would play well with Cuban-American voters. Secretary of State Marco Rubio has hinted that Cuba itself could be targeted. Colombia’s left-wing president, Gustavo Petro, has also faced US threats over his criticism of American interventionism.

Oil is not the only prize. Venezuela may hold significant reserves of critical minerals, including rare earths essential to semiconductors and other high-tech industries. Securing them would help erode China’s dominance of global supply chains.

This obsession with mineral wealth extends far beyond Venezuela. Last year, the US pressured Ukraine into signing a deal to share profits from future mineral and energy sales, ostensibly to reimburse Washington for its military support. Greenland remains in Trump’s sights because it holds the world’s largest untapped rare-earth deposits.

Trump insists that such actions restore American strength and command respect. Some leaders are eager to play along. Argentina’s right-wing president, Javier Milei – buoyed by a $40bn US bailout – applauded the Venezuela operation, as did leaders in Chile, Ecuador, and Honduras. Europe’s far-right “patriotic” parties, praised in the NSS, also welcomed the move.

But by now it should be clear that Trump cannot be trusted. America’s European allies are slowly accepting this reality as they contemplate the possibility of defending Greenland from the US itself. Machado learned the lesson the hard way: after dedicating her Nobel Peace Prize to Trump in hopes of his backing, she was simply sidelined. Fear and dependency do not produce respect.

With the Venezuela operation, Trump has effectively legitimised Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and handed China a pretext to move on Taiwan. He has also paved the way for further illegal US military actions in Latin America and beyond. Preventing a new Hobbesian era in international relations will require more than condemnations. Rising and established powers alike – including Germany, India, and Japan – must work together to defend and enforce shared rules of conduct.

Shlomo Ben-Ami is a former Israeli foreign minister