The speed and precision of the operation left little room for resistance, let alone consent. There was no declaration of war, no United Nations mandate and no multilateral process. Instead, overwhelming force was applied in a matter of hours to remove a sitting head of state from the territory of a sovereign country.

What unfolded was not a conventional invasion, but something arguably more unsettling: a display of the speed, secrecy and coercive reach of the world’s most powerful military imposing law enforcement on the territory of another sovereign state, without consent, notification, or legal authorization.

From the standpoint of international law, this distinction matters less than Washington may suggest. Article 2(4) of the UN Charter is explicit: members shall refrain from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state. The absence of occupation does not sanitize the incursion.

This time might makes right is back in a different package. The language used by senior US officials following the operation was telling. There was little attempt to cloak the action in moral universalism or democratic obligation. Instead, the justification was blunt: the US acted because it could.

Power, not legitimacy, was the operative logic. This is not the liberal rules-based order Washington once claimed to defend. It is a return to great-power prerogative, updated for the age of precision warfare.

The implications extend far beyond Latin America. If even a sitting president can be removed through force, then restraint becomes a liability. The act has shown that respect from great powers may only be granted once deterrence is firmly in place. In such an environment, nuclear capabilities will be guarded even more jealously by hardened regimes, while sustained force accumulation will appear less as provocation and more as necessary insurance.