Today marks a full year that the Trump administration has used military aircraft and weapons to destroy suspected drug-smuggling boats in the Caribbean and eastern Pacific, killing hundreds of alleged traffickers to date. Officials portray these strikes as a tougher approach to combating narcotics trafficking. In reality, they represent something far more troubling: an unlawful expansion of military force into what has long been—and should remain—a law enforcement mission.
This policy is legally unsound, strategically counterproductive, and morally corrosive. It weakens the international partnerships that have underpinned successful maritime drug interdiction for decades while placing American servicemembers in the impossible position of carrying out actions that may conflict with the law and their own personal and professional ethics. Drug smugglers are criminals—not enemy combatants—and treating them as military targets undermines both the rule of law and America’s credibility abroad.
Absent an armed conflict, suspected traffickers cannot lawfully be treated as combatants. Labeling them military targets stretches domestic and international law beyond recognition. Nor can the government simply rely on domestic criminal law. The Posse Comitatus Act generally prohibits the Department of Defense from conducting civilian law enforcement, which is precisely why Congress has long relied on the Coast Guard—operating under the Department of Homeland Security with statutory law enforcement authority—to conduct maritime counter-drug operations.
International law also provides a well-established framework for these missions. The United States has spent decades building agreements with partner nations that allow the Coast Guard to verify vessel nationality, board suspect vessels, collect evidence, and prosecute traffickers while respecting national sovereignty. These partnerships have made the United States the world’s leading maritime counter-drug force. As retired U.S. Coast Guard senior officers with deep experience in maritime law enforcement operations, coordination, and policy, we are proud of those efforts and stand by them.
The new approach abandons that proven model in favor of lethal strikes that destroy not only vessels but also the evidence and intelligence needed to dismantle criminal organizations. Dead suspects cannot be questioned. Destroyed vessels cannot be searched. Prosecutors cannot build cases from evidence that no longer exists. Rather than dismantling cartels, the strategy risks eliminating only replaceable operators while leaving the criminal networks that recruit, finance, and direct them intact.
Nor is there compelling evidence that the strategy is succeeding. Public reporting indicates that while trafficking routes briefly shifted and cocaine prices temporarily fluctuated, the availability, purity, and price of cocaine in the United States have largely returned to pre-operation levels. If those indicators are correct, the campaign has achieved little lasting strategic effect despite its extraordinary use of military force.
The policy also threatens relationships that have taken decades to build. Maritime law enforcement depends on intelligence sharing, mutual trust, and legal cooperation among partner nations. Already, the United Kingdom, Canada, and the Netherlands have curtailed intelligence sharing with the United States or put caveats on the use of the intelligence they provide because of these unlawful strikes. It remains unclear to what extent governments in the region are consulted before individual strikes. If those relationships erode, the United States risks sacrificing the very alliances that have made successful maritime interdiction possible.
Beyond the legal and strategic concerns lies an equally important moral one.
America’s sea services have long operated under a simple principle: preserve life at sea whenever possible. Mariners rescue people in distress regardless of nationality or circumstance. That ethic predates modern international law and remains central to professional maritime service.
Yet publicly reported accounts indicate that, in at least one instance, two survivors of a strike were subsequently killed while defenseless and adrift. If accurate, such actions would represent a profound departure from longstanding humanitarian principles and the values American servicemembers swear to uphold.
The burden falls most heavily on those ordered to carry out these operations. Servicemembers accept that lawful military service may require the use of deadly force. But policies that blur the line between military operations and law enforcement place them in an impossible position, forcing them to rely on intelligence assessments to kill suspects, rather than arrests, evidence collection, and judicial process to take them out of the drug trade. Even when force is lawful, taking a life can leave lasting psychological scars. Asking military personnel to conduct operations of questionable legality and uncertain strategic value risks inflicting unnecessary moral injury on the very people entrusted with defending the nation.
America faces a serious drug trafficking problem, and maritime interdiction remains an essential part of addressing it. But abandoning the rule of law in favor of military targeting will not solve that problem. The United States already possesses an effective model. For decades, the Coast Guard, working alongside the Department of Defense and international partners, has intercepted massive quantities of narcotics, gathered critical intelligence, and helped dismantle transnational criminal organizations while respecting domestic law, international law, and the sovereignty of partner nations.
That system was not perfect, but it was lawful, credible, and strategically effective. Replacing it with military strikes that raise profound legal questions, undermine international cooperation, and expose servicemembers to unnecessary moral and legal risk is not a demonstration of strength. It is a departure from the principles that have long distinguished the United States from its adversaries.
The architects of this policy should ultimately be held accountable—not through the lawlessness this strategy embraces, but through the rule of law they have chosen to disregard. America can combat drug trafficking without abandoning the legal principles, alliances, and moral standards that have made its maritime forces respected around the world.
The authors are retired U.S. Coast Guard senior officers with extensive experience in maritime law enforcement, operations, and policy. The views expressed are their own.
