Venezuela is in turmoil — and it’s only getting worse. What has long been a public secret is now undeniable: Nicolás Maduro has been the head of the infamous Carteles de los Soles, the military-linked drug cartel that has for years flooded the United States and the Caribbean with narcotics. His government, once draped in revolutionary rhetoric, has morphed into one of the largest state-sponsored criminal enterprises in the Western Hemisphere.

For decades, our Coast Guards in the Caribbean — underfunded, understaffed, and under constant threat — have tried to stem the tide of cocaine shipments passing through our waters. But let’s be honest: they’ve been fighting a losing battle. The smugglers are well-armed, well-financed, and deeply entrenched. Every interception we make is just a drop in the ocean.

Now, at last, the United States has stepped in decisively. The arrival of the USS Gerald R. Ford, the world’s largest and most powerful aircraft carrier, marks a turning point. President Donald Trump has made it clear: this is not just another symbolic gesture — it’s a message that Washington is done watching the Caribbean drown under the weight of Venezuela’s drug empire.

The U.S. Navy has confirmed the carrier’s presence in the Caribbean, joining a wider task force conducting anti-narcotics operations. Officially, the mission is to disrupt drug-smuggling routes — and rightly so. For far too long, these routes have been lifelines for organized crime, corruption, and human misery.

Predictably, critics — mostly from the left — are crying foul. They accuse the U.S. of “militarizing” the Caribbean and claim these operations amount to extrajudicial killings. But those who sit comfortably in Washington, Brussels, or Amsterdam don’t understand what it’s like to live here — in the crossfire of traffickers and corrupt regimes. They don’t see how drugs destroy communities, corrupt institutions, and poison generations.

We, in the Caribbean, do. We’ve lived it.

So, yes — we should welcome these efforts from the United States. If people have to be killed in the process, so be it. No one asked them to smuggle cocaine. No one forced them to become part of the criminal web that props up Maduro’s dictatorship. Every man who steps onto a drug boat knows exactly what he’s risking.

Washington has linked the recent naval strikes to Tren de Aragua, Venezuela’s sprawling criminal network now designated as a terrorist organization by the U.S. government. According to President Trump, the raids are “necessary to protect the safety of Americans.” In truth, they also protect us — the Caribbean nations who have been the unwilling transit points for this bloody trade.

Naturally, Maduro’s regime has responded with outrage, labeling the deployment of the USS Gerald R. Ford an “imperialist threat” and announcing a “massive military mobilization.” But this bluster is nothing new. Venezuela’s armed forces — riddled with corruption and cartel influence — are more likely to protect smugglers than sovereignty.

Make no mistake: this is a pivotal moment for the region. The deployment of a nuclear-powered U.S. supercarrier just miles from Venezuela’s coast underscores the growing militarization of the southern Caribbean — but also a renewed determination to restore order and accountability where chaos has reigned for too long.

For those of us living in Curaçao, Aruba, Bonaire, and across the Caribbean, this isn’t just geopolitics. It’s survival. The seas that once symbolized freedom and trade have become corridors of crime. And now, for the first time in a long time, there’s real hope that someone powerful enough is doing something about it.

History will judge this moment. But for now, the Caribbean should stand firmly with the United States in this fight. Because if not now, when? And if not them, who?

Finally, there’s a president who acts.