This past weekend, senior U.S. officials executed an unprecedented military operation that resulted in the capture of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, according to both the U.S. government and multiple international news agencies. The operation, which involved a series of explosions and airstrikes across Caracas, was confirmed by the White House and President Donald Trump, who stated that Maduro and Flores were taken into U.S. custody and are being transported to New York City to face criminal charges, including narco-terrorism and drug trafficking allegations first brought in a 2020 indictment.

Chuck Schumer, the highest-ranking Democratic politician in the United States, responded as usual with a “strongly worded letter” condemning the administration’s actions. Schumer argued that the operation was conducted without congressional authorization, accused the White House of misleading Congress and the public, and warned that the United States was being dragged toward another endless foreign conflict. Read his statement below.

This response made his position clear before he even expanded on it in the media. Of course, the president should have briefed Congress before authorizing a military operation of this scale, particularly one involving direct action against a sitting foreign head of state. Congressional oversight exists precisely to prevent unilateral executive action with far-reaching consequences. On that narrow point, Schumer’s criticism is valid, even if that standard has not genuinely been enforced as the status quo since the George W. Bush administration.

As showcased in later statements, including an appearance on ABC This Week, his priorities appeared increasingly misplaced. There, Schumer went beyond his written letter to offer a televised critique focused almost entirely on congressional procedure and executive overreach. He described the operation as a “violation of the law,” arguing that bombing inside Venezuela and seizing its president without approval from Congress was unlawful and reckless. He emphasized that Maduro might be “a horrible, horrible person,” yet insisted that “you do not treat lawlessness with other lawlessness,” repeatedly framing his objection not around the substance of Maduro’s removal but around the lack of legislative authorization and the fear of another prolonged conflict.

Schumer spoke at length about process, compromise, and precedent, but said virtually nothing about the moral and geopolitical implications of forcibly removing a foreign leader based on drug trafficking accusations that remain contested and politically charged. His criticism ultimately reveals where his priorities lie: stressing constitutional procedure and domestic political optics, rather than grappling with the far more consequential reality that the United States kidnapped a foreign head of state and enacted regime change without a clear legal or international framework. Is this genuinely the state of the Democratic Party right now? Because as far as the Second Trump Administration is concerned, constitutional procedure is optional and consequences for not following them are nonexistent.

That fracture matters because turnout and voter propensity, not persuasion, is likely to decide 2026. Republicans do not need to lose large numbers of voters to lose power. They only need enough disillusionment to depress participation in key districts. A foreign policy shock that combines military force, executive unilateralism, and explicit economic self-interest is precisely the kind of event that encourages voters to stay home rather than cross party lines. Democrats do not need to win the argument outright. They simply need Republicans to stop showing up, and right now, they are failing even at motivating their own base.

This posture from Democratic leadership closely echoes the party’s position during the early years of the Iraq War in 2004. Then, as now, Democratic leaders attempted to occupy a narrow lane that criticized Republican presidents on process while largely avoiding a substantive moral or strategic confrontation with the underlying policy itself. By focusing on how decisions were made rather than whether they should have been made at all, party leadership projected caution instead of conviction. That approach failed to persuade voters who wanted either a clear alternative to Republican foreign policy or a coherent defense of American power, and it risks doing so again. It mirrors the modern tendency to object to ICE agents wearing masks rather than to the existence of ICE itself.

There is a deeper problem at play that cannot be dismissed as simple miscalculation, but instead reflects a persistent lack of backbone at the top of the Democratic Party. Party leadership appears unwilling to articulate a firm position on the use of American force beyond procedural objections, even when confronted with actions as extreme as the forcible removal of a foreign head of state. We have already seen where this posture leads, most clearly in Gaza, where genocide and the systematic ethnic cleansing of Palestinians have been enabled in large part by the complicity, funding, and silence of the U.S. political elite. This reluctance in all cases may stem from a fear of alienating non-existent moderate voters, very existent major donors, or national security institutions, but the result is a party that appears to stand for nothing at all. If anything, it reinforces the perception that Democratic leadership is deeply embedded in the interests of big business and willing to sacrifice human lives and moral clarity to preserve the existing economic order. Embracing democratic socialism and viewing politics through the lens of improving of material conditions for everyone actually gives us a stance. When leadership refuses to stake out a principled stance, it cedes narrative control to the executive branch and confirms the belief that Democrats exist not to challenge power, but merely to manage it.

That dynamic has tangible political consequences. While Democrats may have achieved major electoral gains in 2025, those victories mask a deeper erosion of enthusiasm and trust among voters who expect moral clarity and assertive leadership. Voter propensity will likely rise in response to democratic backsliding and worsening material conditions for everyday Americans. But how many will turn out if Democrats appear comfortable with tax dollars funding the invasion of a South American nation, one that many in the current administration could not locate on a map, so long as the paperwork is done correctly? Does winning an election automatically translate into governing credibility or a popular mandate when voters sense hesitation on issues of war, sovereignty, and international law?

The answer seems increasingly clear. By repeating the mistakes of the early 2000s, Democratic leadership risks turning short-term electoral success into long-term strategic weakness. In doing so, the party undermines its ability to present itself as a meaningful alternative to Republican power and instead reinforces the image of a procedural opposition, one that will falter, compromise, and defer the moment it finds itself back in charge.

This article was written by Sam Massey.