A Real War on Drugs

U.S. forces interdict suspected smuggling vessel — U.S. military personnel board a low-profile vessel in open waters during a counter-narcotics operation as a U.S. Navy ship stands watch in the background, part of expanded maritime enforcement targeting drug trafficking routes. Photo courtesy of U.S. military via ABC News

For decades, Americans have heard politicians talk about a “war on drugs.” Most of the time, it meant tougher sentencing, crowded prisons and endless speeches, while the drugs themselves kept flowing. What is unfolding now around Venezuela is different. This is not rhetoric. This is the closest thing the United States has engaged in to an actual, kinetic war on drugs.

The modern War on Drugs traces back to the late 20th century, when drug use became a defining political issue. While President Richard Nixon first used the term in the early 1970s, it was during the 1980s that the campaign entered the American cultural bloodstream. First Lady Nancy Reagan became its most recognizable face through the “Just Say No” movement, a nationwide effort aimed at prevention through personal responsibility and public awareness. That message resonated, but it was paired with aggressive federal policies that emphasized punishment over treatment. Mandatory minimum sentences, three-strikes laws and expanded police powers followed, contributing to mass incarceration without eliminating demand or dismantling international trafficking networks. The war became largely domestic, focused on users and street-level dealers rather than the global supply chains feeding the crisis.

That philosophy became deeply embedded within the Republican Party, where law-and-order politics were framed as moral clarity and strength. Ronald Reagan’s presidency established a template built on deterrence and national resolve. Decades later, President Donald Trump inherited and reshaped that legacy. Like Reagan, Trump framed drugs not only as a social problem, but as a threat to national security and sovereignty. Where Reagan fought the war largely through courts, prisons and messaging, Trump pushed it outward, toward borders, cartels and foreign governments accused of enabling the trade. The throughline is unmistakable: a belief that deterrence must be visible, forceful and unmistakable, even if it carries political or diplomatic risk.

Venezuela has long been a critical transit point for cocaine moving out of South America. As enforcement pressure increased elsewhere, traffickers found opportunity in a country weakened by corruption, economic collapse and fractured institutions. Over time, allegations mounted that elements within the Venezuelan government and military were not merely failing to stop trafficking, but actively facilitating it. Those claims lingered for years, addressed mostly through indictments, sanctions and diplomatic isolation.

In 2025, that posture changed.

Beginning in late summer, the United States sharply expanded counter-narcotics operations in the Caribbean and eastern Pacific. Naval vessels, aircraft and surveillance assets moved into position. Then came the strikes. As of late December, at least 29 confirmed military actions had destroyed roughly 30 suspected drug-smuggling boats, resulting in more than 100 deaths. This was not symbolic enforcement. It was lethal interdiction. The administration made clear it did not view these actions as war requiring congressional approval. President Trump put it bluntly when explaining the strategy: “I think we’re just going to kill people that are bringing drugs into our country. Okay? We’re going to kill them. You know, they’re going to be, like, dead.” Few statements in modern drug policy history have drawn a clearer line between deterrence and deadly force.

By autumn, the campaign widened. A Venezuelan-linked trafficking network was formally labeled a terrorist organization, shifting the issue from traditional drug enforcement into counterterrorism. That designation lowered legal thresholds and expanded authority. In December, pressure escalated again as the United States moved to block sanctioned oil tankers entering or leaving Venezuelan waters, striking directly at the regime’s economic lifeline.

This moment forces an uncomfortable question. If this is what a real war on drugs looks like—boats destroyed, borders contested, economies pressured—why did it take so long to reach this point? And why is it unfolding overseas while overdose deaths have continued to devastate American communities for years?

The numbers now suggest a shift. In 2025, so far, an estimated 80,391 Americans died from drug overdoses, a nearly 27 percent decline from the roughly 110,037 deaths recorded the year before and the lowest total since 2019. Overdoses remain a leading cause of death for adults ages 18 to 44, but for the first time in years, the curve bent sharply downward. Correlation is not causation, but policy matters, pressure matters and deterrence matters. As President Trump’s approach pushes the drug fight outward—targeting supply routes, trafficking networks and the states that enable them—the results are measurable at home.

Fewer drugs moving means fewer overdoses, and fewer overdoses mean lives saved.

Debate will continue over tactics, legality and long-term consequences. But one conclusion is difficult to escape. For the first time in generations, the phrase “war on drugs” is no longer just political language. It is policy, unfolding in real time, with real risks, real consequences and, increasingly, American lives being saved.