When Justice Ignores the Law, Everyone Loses
The Danger of Letting Outcomes Replace Law
I don’t usually react to breaking news. I tend to sit with things, read from multiple sources, let the initial surge of emotion pass, and think through what actually matters beneath the headlines. This morning, though, I woke up to the news of Maduro’s capture and felt compelled to stop and write.
Not because President Maduro is deserving of defense. He isn’t. His leadership caused real harm, and I do not minimize the suffering the Venezuelan people endured under his rule. I’ve seen the celebrations surrounding his capture, and I understand why many feel relief, even a sense of long-delayed accountability.
What unsettled me was not who was taken into custody, but how it was done.
Our government, or any constitutional democracy or republic, does not get to suspend law, due process, and international norms simply because the accused is widely unpopular. We need only look within our own history to see how easily that logic can be misused. These principles are not rewards for moral behavior; they exist precisely to restrain power.
Two things can be true at the same time:
Maduro’s government inflicted serious harm on its people.
The United States acting unilaterally to seize a sitting foreign head of state and his spouse, outside of extradition or established international legal process, is dangerous and wrong.
This concern is not abstract. It goes to the heart of what separates the rule of law from rule by force.
I’ve already seen a familiar argument repeated this morning: “Bad guys don’t follow the law, so sometimes you have to do what you have to do.” That logic is exactly why the law exists in the first place. It is not only meant to punish wrongdoing, but to restrain those who hold power. Once we decide the law applies only when it feels justified or popular, it stops being law at all.
Justice without process is not justice. It is the powerful acting without constraint.
Many have pointed to Venezuelans celebrating. That reality matters, but celebration does not retroactively legitimize lawlessness. History offers countless examples of moments that felt righteous in real time but carried consequences long after the relief faded. The legitimacy of an action cannot rest solely on how satisfying it feels in the moment.
There is also an uncomfortable pattern worth acknowledging. When enforcement aligns neatly with strategic or economic interests, including open discussions of foreign oil involvement, while other leaders convicted of drug trafficking in U.S. courts are pardoned for political reasons, it becomes harder to argue that principle alone is driving the action. Selective enforcement erodes credibility.
International law exists for a reason. Extradition exists for a reason. Multilateral accountability mechanisms exist for a reason. When powerful nations decide those constraints no longer apply to them, they don’t just weaken their adversaries; they weaken the framework that protects smaller nations, dissidents, and civilians from arbitrary force.
If the rule of law only applies when the target is universally despised, then it is no rule at all.
I believe it is both possible and necessary to hold compassion for the Venezuelan people and to object to the United States abandoning legal norms in the name of expediency. In fact, holding both may be the only way to take justice seriously.
As we move past the initial headlines and reactions, I hope we pause to reflect not only on who was removed from power, but on what standards we are willing to compromise, and what precedents we are setting. The question is not whether Maduro deserved accountability. The question is whether we are willing to lose our commitment to law in order to claim it.
And finally, I would ask you my dear readers to consider one thing:
If this had happened here, if a foreign nation captured a U.S. president and first lady without extradition, without due process, how would we feel about it?