Nicolas Forsans, University of Essex

The Trump administration has justified the recent capture of Venezuelan leader Nicolás Maduro as a law enforcement operation to dismantle a “narco‑state”. It also claimed it would break Venezuela’s ties to China, Russia and Iran, and put the world’s largest known oil reserves back under US‑friendly control.

This mix of counter‑narcotics, great power rivalry and energy security had already been elevated to a central priority by the administration in its national security strategy. Published in late 2025, the document announced a pledge to “reassert and enforce American preeminence in the western hemisphere” and deny “strategically vital assets” to rival powers.

Donald Trump has referred to this hemispheric project as the “Donroe doctrine”, casting it as a revival of the Monroe doctrine policy of the 19th century through which the US sought to stop European powers from meddling in the Americas. He seems to be seeking to tighten the US grip on Latin America by rewarding loyal governments and punishing defiant ones.

If Venezuela is the first test case of the Donroe doctrine, several other Latin American countries now sit squarely in Washington’s crosshairs. The most immediate target is Cuba, which the US has opposed since 1959 when communist revolutionary Fidel Castro overthrew a US-backed regime there.

Trump and his secretary of state, Marco Rubio, have openly hinted that Cuba could be Washington’s next target. They have described Cuba as “ready to fall” after the loss of Venezuelan oil and have boasted that there is no need for direct intervention because economic collapse will finish the job.

Cuba is enduring its worst crisis since 1959. Blackouts now regularly last up to 20 hours, real wages are collapsing and roughly 1 million Cubans have fled the country since 2021. This is all happening as Venezuelan crude oil is being redirected under US control.

For over two decades, Venezuela has provided Cuba with fuel and financing in exchange for doctors, teachers and security personnel – 32 of whom were killed in the US capture of Maduro, according to the Cuban government. Strangling Cuba’s remaining lifelines may well be enough to topple the government there without US forces needing to fire a single shot.

It is possible that Mexico will also soon come under fire. Mexico has quietly become Cuba’s main oil supplier, shipping roughly 12,000 barrels per day in 2025 to account for about 44% of the island’s crude imports. This is unlikely to please the Trump administration, which has recently renewed its threats to “do something” about Mexican drug cartels.

The raid in Venezuela’s capital, Caracas, took six months of meticulous planning and required an extraordinary amount of resources. So it is unrealistic to expect similar raids on other Latin American countries. However, targeted military strikes cannot be excluded.

Speaking on Fox News’s “Hannity” show on January 8, Trump said: “We are going to start now hitting land with regard to the cartels. The cartels are running Mexico.” He did not provide further details about the plans.

Mexico’s president, Claudia Sheinbaum, is trying to construct protective buffers. She has combined condemnation of the raid on Caracas with intense cooperation with the US on migration and security. This includes a deal for Mexico’s navy to intercept suspected drug-running boats near its coastline before US forces do.

But as part of a strategy that pushes US dominance of Latin America, Trump has already floated classifying Mexico’s cartels as terrorist organisations and the fentanyl they traffic across the border as a weapon of mass destruction. These are legal framings that could be used to justify strikes on Mexican soil in the name of counter-narcotics in the near future.

Trump’s other targets

Colombia, historically Washington’s closest military ally in South America, has flipped from “pillar” to possible target. The country’s president, Gustavo Petro, has been one of the loudest critics of the Venezuela raid. He called it an “abhorrent violation” of Latin American sovereignty committed by “enslavers”, adding that it constituted a “spectacle of death” comparable to Nazi Germany’s 1937 carpet bombing of Guernica in Spain.

Trump, who imposed sanctions on Petro and his family in October, responded by labelling the Colombian president a “sick man who likes making cocaine and selling it to the United States”. He then mused that a Venezuela‑style operation in Colombia “sounds good to me” before a hastily arranged phone call and White House invitation dialled back the immediate threat.

How long the conciliation between the two men lasts remains to be seen. Colombia has entered a heated presidential campaign season in which Trump’s remarks are already being read as an attempt to tilt the race, much as his interventions shaped recent contests in Argentina and Honduras.

Further down the hierarchy, Nicaragua’s government will also have watched events unfold in Venezuela with terror. Long treated in Washington as part of a trilogy of dictatorships with Cuba and Venezuela, Nicaragua features in US indictments against Maduro as a transit point for cocaine flights. Nicaragua was also recently designated by the US as a key drug‑transit country.

The unusually cautious statement on the Venezuela raid by Nicaraguan presidential couple Daniel Ortega and Rosario Murillo, as well as the rapid reinforcement of the presidential compound in the capital Managua, suggest a regime that knows it could be next in line should Trump choose to extend his “narco‑terrorism” narrative.

Trump appears to be turning longstanding US concerns – drugs, migration and interference by other major powers – into a flexible toolbox for coercion in Latin America. Countries that defy Washington or host its rivals risk being framed as security threats, stripped of economic lifelines and, possibly, targeted militarily.

Those that keep their heads down may avoid immediate punishment. But this comes at the price of treating hemispheric dominance as a fact of life rather than a doctrine to be resisted.

Nicolas Forsans, Professor of Management and Co-director of the Centre for Latin American & Caribbean Studies, University of Essex

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Matteo Vergani, Deakin University

What we currently know about antisemitism in Australia is pieced together from a fragmented body of information produced by community organisations, researchers and law enforcement. And it is largely interpreted and translated to the public through news reporting.

Through this reporting, Australians have learned that organised criminal groups were involved in targeting Jewish communities and foreign actors also played a role.

At the same time, some data on antisemitic incidents released by security agencies has been incorrect. Other statistics produced by community organisations has been publicly challenged.

Researchers like myself have also produced data on antisemitic incidents, but this is limited in many ways.

In a nutshell, the picture of what constitutes antisemitism and how and why it has spiked in recent years is far from being clear.

This lack of clarity matters. Without a reliable understanding of what happened in the lead-up to the Bondi terror attack, which data can be trusted, and how different forms of antisemitism intersect, Australia cannot fully grasp how it reached a point where Jewish Australians were murdered at a public religious gathering.

Shedding light on this problem will be difficult, but it is essential to understand both the scale of the problem and how to respond.

Potential for more divisiveness

The royal commission established by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese is designed to address many of these unresolved issues.

As set out in its terms of reference, it will examine the nature and prevalence of antisemitism in Australia and assess how it can be more effectively addressed. It will also:

• Review the responses of security and law enforcement agencies
• Investigate what happened before, during, and after the Bondi attack
• develop recommendations aimed at strengthening social cohesion.

Social cohesion and national consensus are the stated end goals of the entire exercise. Yet, the context in which the commission is operating is highly volatile. There is a real risk that rather than repairing social cohesion, the process itself could damage it.

This risk comes from the heavy political pressure now attached to the royal commission and from the way some political actors are using it as a weapon in broader political battles, including attacks on the government.

The antisemitism debate is already a political minefield. And the commission has entered that terrain from its first day.

The decision to acknowledge the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism in the terms of reference is likely to be used by some to delegitimise the commission altogether. Critics argue the definition can be used to silence legitimate criticism of Israel, while supporters say it draws a necessary line between political critique and antisemitic tropes.

At the same time, some politicians have questioned the appointment of Former High Court justice Virginia Bell to head the commission, which could also undermine the credibility of the inquiry.

As a result, the commission is already inflaming existing political tensions. This is deeply unfortunate because it makes the task harder for those who are genuinely focused on understanding antisemitism, responding to it effectively, and improving the safety and well-being of Jewish Australians.

Why the Christchurch royal commission was successful

Royal commissions carry strong symbolic weight. They are often implemented when something has gone badly wrong, and the social fabric feels strained. The aim is to restore trust and provide a clear public account of what happened and why.

A useful point of comparison is the royal commission that followed the Christchurch terrorist attack in New Zealand. The inquiry led to wide-ranging reforms, including changes to firearms laws, counter-terrorism frameworks, approaches to social cohesion and inclusion, hate crime and hate speech legislation, and improved support for victims and witnesses.

It also contributed to the creation of the Christchurch Call to eliminate terrorist and violent extremist content online. This global initiative involving governments and technology companies has been successful in limiting the spread of terrorist and violent extremist material.

However, the political and social climate in New Zealand at the time was very different. There was a stronger sense of national unity and far less public contestation about what constituted hate. The attack was also not entangled with an ongoing and deeply polarising international conflict.

In Australia, the context is far more charged. The war in Gaza continues to divide public debate, regularly spilling into domestic politics.

It’s worth noting that antisemitic attacks have not stopped after Bondi. There was a firebombing less than two weeks later. This makes the task of using a royal commission to calm tensions and rebuild trust significantly harder.

Many pieces to the puzzle

Despite these difficulties, the commission matters now more than ever. Jewish Australians need answers, and the broader public deserves to understand what actually happened.

At present, the picture of what has caused rising antisemitism and the Bondi attack is confused. Public sentiment on the war, organised crime, foreign actors and terrorist ideology all appear to intersect, but how they connect remains unclear.

Different security agencies, researchers, and community organisations hold different pieces of evidence. Without bringing these strands together, Australians cannot fully understand the problem, let alone work out how to prevent it from happening again.

The path ahead will be difficult and exposed to disruption. One obvious challenge is the risk of further attacks while the inquiry is underway. Any new incident would complicate the process.

If, for example, an attack occurred that was shown to involve formal training or links to a terrorist organisation, serious questions would arise about whether the commission’s terms of reference remain adequate, or whether additional investigative processes would be required.

The most important test will come at the end. The commission’s recommendations must be acted on, regardless of which party is in government. That follow-through is what determines whether a royal commission produces real change or becomes just a symbolic exercise.

Meeting this test will require political restraint and maturity. It will mean resisting the temptation to turn the commission into a tool for partisan conflict and instead treating it as a shared national effort to protect communities and restore trust.

Matteo Vergani, Associate Professor and Director of the Tackling Hate Lab, Deakin University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.