The death of Renée Good was not inevitable. It was not an unavoidable accident. And it was not the product of a single bad decision made in a vacuum. The death of Renée Good was the foreseeable result of elected officials at state and local levels choosing confrontation, confusion, and political signaling over lawful process and coordination. When state and local officials openly resist lawful cooperation with federal authorities; when lawful processes are ignored or undermined; and when enforcement becomes reactive rather than planned, tragedy becomes more likely. Renée Good’s death should force an uncomfortable but necessary reckoning: when elected leaders ignore laws, they create the environment for tragedy. This is not an abstract policy debate. It is about real communities, real law enforcement officers, and real citizens caught in the middle of institutional dysfunction. Across the country, states have taken sharply different approaches to immigration enforcement. In states like Texas, cooperation with federal authorities (while controversial in some circles) has produced clear, predictable enforcement outcomes. Dangerous individuals with criminal histories are identified, apprehended, and removed through structured operations that prioritize planning and coordination. The result is not perfection, but clarity that ultimately reduces chaos, minimizes surprise encounters, and protects the public as a whole. Contrast that with the approach taken in Minnesota, where state and local leaders have openly resisted federal enforcement, challenged lawful actions in court, and publicly delegitimized the authority of federal agents. Whatever one’s views on immigration policy, this posture has consequences. When federal officers operate in hostile or ambiguous environments — without cooperation from local law enforcement — standard and routine enforcement actions are more likely to occur in public spaces, under compressed timelines, and with heightened tension. That is when mistakes happen and that is when lives are lost. Too often, the debate is framed as a binary choice between compassion and enforcement. That framing is false — and dangerously so. Adherence to the law protects everyone, including non-violent illegal immigrants. Clear legal standards, lawful warrants, and coordinated enforcement reduce the likelihood of chaotic encounters, mistaken identities, and unnecessary escalation. When enforcement is predictable and governed by due process, individuals who pose no threat are far less likely to be swept into dangerous situations born of confusion and fear. Ironically, jurisdictions that claim to be protecting immigrant communities be resisting lawful enforcement often achieve the opposite. By pushing law enforcement into powder keg situations and by creating uncertainty about when and how the law will be applied, these communities are increasing the likelihood of sudden, uncoordinated encounters in neighborhoods, workplaces, and public spaces. Lawful, transparent enforcement allows authorities to separate violent offenders from non-violent individuals, reducing risk to everyone involved. This is not about mass deportations or collective punishment. It is about process. It is about the rule of law as a stabilizing force — one that protect citizens, law-enforcement officers, and immigrant communities alike. When state officials choose political theater over cooperation, they do not make enforcement disappear. They make it more dangerous. Federal officers will still act . . . they are sworn to. Criminal actors will still exploit gaps . . . they can’t help themselves. The difference in this scenario is that the safety rails are gone. Outlier state and local officials like the ones in Minnesota are the exception, not the norm. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) is conducting operations across the country . . . so why is the conflict so localized? Candidly, the blame runs much higher than state and local jurisdictions. Years of apathy at the federal level under previous administrations have created the fuel for an explosion and sadly they will never have to answer for these gross crimes of inaction. That doesn’t mean those former administration didn’t enforce immigration law . . . in fact they did. They just did so without having Democrat elected leaders cause confusion, contention, and chaos while urging their supporters to riot and resist federal authorities. Good governance requires humility and coordination. It requires recognizing that no single level of government operates in isolation, and that public denunciations and legal obstruction carry downstream consequences. When elected officials undermine lawful authority while offering no workable alternative, they create precisely the conditions that lead to tragedy. Renée Good’s death should not be used as a talking point or a rallying cry. It is a tragically predictable outcome. There is a path forward — one that does not require ideological agreement, only institutional responsibility: Clear agreements between federal, state, and local law enforcement that defines roles and responsibilities that cannot be disregard or set aside by elected leaders because they don’t personally agree with the enforcement action; Advance coordination and planning for enforcement actions with the goal of those actions being swift and (to all extents possible) non-disruptive of daily life around the target area; Transparent communication with communities about lawful process and rights so that individuals are not caught off-guard should they be detained or arrested for interfering or hindering a federal law enforcement action; and Independent accountability when force is used, free from political spin. The law exists not to provoke conflict, but to prevent it. When government refuses to follow its own rules, the cost is measured not in headlines or court filings, but in lives. If leaders continue to choose defiance over discipline, symbolism over substance, and politics over process . . . Renée Good will not be the last name we learn too late. Chris Faulkner, a United States Marine Corps veteran (1991–2001), serves as a Senior Advisor at Connector, Inc. where he leans on nearly three decades of winning campaigns to advise our clients on their political efforts and goals. He and his wife, Angela, live outside Knoxville, Tennessee with their poodle and pit bull, and are proud parents of three adult sons.

For the better part of the past year, the dominant narrative in oil markets has been one of comfort. Global inventories are healthy. U.S. crude production is at record levels. Demand growth has moderated from post-pandemic highs. Analysts point to millions of barrels per day of spare capacity sitting inside OPEC and conclude the world is swimming in oil. On spreadsheets, that conclusion looks reasonable. In reality, it is dangerously misleading. The oil market today is not oversupplied. It is structurally overexposed — exposed to geopolitical concentration; exposed to fragile logistics; exposed to sanctioned barrels that cannot flow; and exposed to a supply chain that depends far too heavily on a few vulnerable corridors. Markets have mistaken volume for security. What we actually have is a tightly wound global delivery system where disruption risk is embedded into the very barrels that are supposed to provide comfort. And when risk sits behind the supply itself, prices don’t glide higher — they spike violently. Abundance Without Resilience Global oil demand has not stalled. The International Energy Agency continues to project growth of roughly one million barrels per day per year, driven largely by Asia, aviation recovery, and petrochemical feedstocks. Even in a slowing global economy, oil remains the backbone of transport, industry, and manufacturing. At the same time, the United States has become the world’s most dominant producer. According to the Energy Information Administration, U.S. crude output has pushed above 13 million barrels per day — the highest sustained level any country has ever produced. American shale has been the marginal growth engine that kept global balances stable despite declining production in places like Venezuela, Nigeria, and sanctions-hit Iran and Russia. This dual reality — steady demand and high U.S. production — creates the illusion of cushion. But oil markets aren’t secured by how much is pumped. They’re secured by how reliably it can move . . . and that’s where the system is most vulnerable. The Spare Capacity Myth When analysts cite 3 to 5 million barrels per day of spare capacity, they are referring almost entirely to a handful of Persian Gulf producers — Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates chief among them. That capacity is real in a technical sense, but its value as a stabilizer depends on geography. Those barrels must still exit the Gulf. They must still pass through the Strait of Hormuz. They must still rely on the same shipping lanes and insurance markets that collapse first when tensions rise. In other words, the global buffer is sitting inside the very zone where disruption risk is highest. Spare capacity that cannot be delivered is not spare capacity — it is theoretical comfort. Oil markets are not diversified. They are geographically concentrated and politically conditional. Hormuz: Where Overexposure Becomes Systemic Roughly 20 million barrels per day of crude and petroleum liquids transit the Strait of Hormuz — about one-fifth of global consumption. No redundancy exists at scale. Pipelines bypass only a small fraction of flows. Tanker routes have no substitute. When Iran threatens the Strait, markets don’t wait for closure. They price probability. Freight rates rise, insurance premiums surge, cargoes hesitate, buyers hoard, sellers delay, and suddenly a market that looked well-supplied becomes tight overnight — not because oil disappeared, but because delivery became uncertain. This is the defining feature of an overexposed market: reliability shocks masquerade as supply shocks. Venezuela: The World’s Favorite Mirage Barrel Venezuela offers another form of exposure — barrels that exist but can’t stabilize markets. Years of underinvestment and sanctions have hollowed out production capacity and export reliability. Infrastructure is degraded. Blending materials are scarce. Politics override operations. In every oil rally, Venezuela is cited as potential relief . . . In every disruption, it proves incapable of responding in time. Those barrels are stranded not by geology, but by governance. Demand Doesn’t Pause for Geopolitics The world’s most critical sectors — aviation, freight, petrochemicals, military logistics, and industrial production — cannot simply shut off when oil becomes volatile. Demand is rigid where supply is fragile. That mismatch amplifies every disruption. When reliable demand meets unreliable supply geography, prices move sharply because consumption cannot adjust quickly enough to compensate. The market is structurally primed for spikes. The U.S. Surge Question America is often described as the new swing producer. That is true over medium time horizons. Shale can grow faster than conventional projects. Capital can be deployed quickly relative to offshore developments. But shale is not instantaneous. Adding meaningful volumes still takes months. Crews must mobilize, wells must be drilled and completed, and infrastructure must absorb the increase. Even in an aggressive surge, the U.S. might add several hundred thousand barrels per day within a quarter — not millions in weeks. And critically, U.S. barrels do not replace Gulf barrels one-for-one. Refiners can’t seamlessly swamp our heavy sour grades for light shale crude. Export logistics impose bottlenecks and domestic gasoline prices still follow global benchmarks, regardless of U.S. production levels. The United States can soften shocks . . . it cannot eliminate them. The Strategic Petroleum Reserve: A Backstop, Not a Solution The Strategic Petroleum Reserve remains a critical U.S. energy-security tool. Alongside coordinated stockpiles held by International Energy Agency members, emergency release can inject supply quickly, calm markets, and buy time during short-term disruptions. When used decisively and in coordination, they matter. But the Strategic Petroleum Reserve is a backstop, not a solution. The Reserve is finite, and sustained drawdowns weaken future protection. Markets distinguish between emergency stabilization and structural supply, and repeated releases reduce the tool’s signaling power rather than eliminating risk premia. Just as importantly, Strategic Petroleum Reserve barrels do not bypass delivery constraints. Released oil must still move through limited pipelines, reach compatible refineries, and navigate regional bottlenecks. Under the Jones Act, moving crude or products between U.S. ports requires U.S.-flagged vessels — a limited and costly fleet that can slow redistribution in a crisis. International Energy Agency-coordinated releases face similar limits. They work best as temporary shock absorbers, not as substitutes for reliable supply and resilient logistics. Strategic reserves can soften volatility. They cannot resolve the structural exposure created by concentrated supply, chokepoints, and fragile delivery systems — and markets price that reality quickly. Energy Independence ≠ Energy Insulation Even as the world’s largest producer, the United States remains fully exposed to global price formation. American households don’t buy “U.S.-only oil.” They buy products priced off global risk. Allies rely heavily on Gulf supplies. Inflation remains tied to crude volatility. The world’s overexposure becomes America’s economic problem. The Story the Market is Missing What appears to be surplus is actually a convergence of structural vulnerabilities – supply concentrated in politically unstable regions, spare capacity trapped behind narrow chokepoints, sanctioned barrels that cannot reliably reach market, logistics so fragile they now dictate price behavior, and demand that remains stubbornly inflexible in the face of disruption. This is not a resilient system flush with excess oil; it is a precarious one, disguising fragility as comfort. The Real Risk is Reliability The oil market hasn’t build resilience — it has built dependency. And dependency on unstable geography is not a cushion, it’s a trigger. For the United States, energy security must be measured not by how much oil the world produces, but by how much of it can be reliably delivered when crises emerge. Because in oil markets, it’s not the barrel in the ground that matters . . . it’s the barrel that actually shows up. Rick Westerdale has more than 30 years of experience across the federal government as well as in the global energy industry. As a Vice President at Connector, Inc., a boutique government relations and political affairs firm based in Washington, D.C., Rick advises clients on strategy, investment, and policy across healthcare, hydrocarbons, LNG, hydrogen, nuclear, and the broader energy transition.

There are a lot of things that the Left wants you to believe to be true. Bigger government is better government. Higher taxes and unchecked welfare create opportunity. All gays are Democrats . . . at least, that is what the Left wants you to believe — that gay Republicans are a paradox. The truth of the matter is that gay Republicans are everywhere: they are voters, staffers, consultants, appointees, donors, veterans, and business owners. They work on campaigns, serve in government, and help shape policy at the highest levels. The distinction? Gay Republicans don’t wear their sexual orientation as a political identity, and that is exactly why the Left pretends they don’t exist. I know this because I have battled the American political environment as two parts of myself that most see as contradictory: I am gay and I am a Republican . . . and it is long past time for the Left to get over it. I’m done apologizing for being both. That sentence alone is enough to make some people scratch their heads. In polite company, it earns the uncomfortable pause. In liberal circles, it can flip a friendly conversation into a heated tête-à-tête. In some conservative circles, it can draw quiet assumptions before you’ve even stated your case. It’s as if sexual orientation is required to come with a pre-destined voting record, a list of approved opinions, and lifetime membership card to the Democrat Party. And if you decline your membership, it is met with a 180-degree flip from acceptance to demonization. For anyone out there who feels like a dark horse, I have a secret for you: sexual orientation does not bind you to the Democrat Party. Here’s the part the Left never wants to talk about . . . I’m not rare. I’m just quiet — like thousands of others. Gay Republicans refuse to fixate on identity politics. We don’t demand special labels or place ourselves into demographic silos. We believe in doing the work, contributing to the country, and letting our values — not our orientation — speak for themselves. That doesn’t make us invisible. It makes us inconvenient. Because our existence alone destroys the Left’s supposed ownership rights to gay Americans . . . body, mind, and ballot. Being gay determines who you love. It doesn’t tell you what you believe. It doesn’t dictate how you view the Constitution, the role of government in our lives, the meaning of citizenship, or the responsibilities that come with freedom. Yet the radical Left believes otherwise — often with a smug certainty that feels less like inclusion and more like ownership. When you’re gay and Republican, you quickly learn the true meaning of “tolerance” on the Left. It’s conditional. It’s transactional. It’s offered only if you say the right things, vote the right way, and treat their worldview like scripture. Step out of line, and suddenly you’re not just wrong . . . you’re a traitor; you’re self-hating; you’re confused; you’re voting against your people; you’re the Republicans’ token gay; you’re an embarrassment; you’re worse than the straight conservatives, because you’re a supposed defector from the “one true party” for gay people. Does anyone see the perfect irony? The LGB community, which claims to celebrate authenticity and open-mindedness, can be the most vicious toward gay people who think differently. I’m not talking about healthy disagreement — that’s as American as apple pie and baseball. I’m talking about cruelty, personal attacks, social expulsion, and a moral superiority that treats political conformity as a prerequisite for dignity. I’ve seen gay “friends” vanish the moment they realize I don’t sing from the same hymnal. I’ve experienced physical violence from gay men who can’t stand Republicans, let alone gay ones. I’ve felt the subtle pressure to stay quiet, to avoid “making it political,” which is code for “don’t have competing opinions amongst other gays.” And that is the harsh truth about navigating this. It comes with ostracization. Almost like you’re walking through a room full of people who claim to champion being yourself while punishing you for actually doing it. There is a particular loneliness that comes from being treated as an outlier in spaces where you’re told you’re supposed to belong. The best comparison I can think of is similar to how law enforcement officers never sit with their back to the door . . . so they can be fully aware of their surroundings and are prepared to address any threat head-on. But in this case, you start to pick your words a little more carefully. You weight the true cost of honesty. You learn which rooms are safe and which ones aren’t. You develop a strange hyper-awareness, knowing that people who preach acceptance may withhold it the moment you express a conservative view about . . . well . . . anything. And yet, I am still here. Still a Republican. Still gay. Still unwilling to accept the premise that I must convey one truth about myself and bury another to make everyone else happy. What keeps me planted is not a party label, but my values. Steady ones rather than trendy ones. Values that don’t change with the winds or the tides simply because the culture changes. The future of the Republican Party depends on staying consistent with its core principles: family, individual responsibility, love of country, and limited government. Not as buzzwords, but as a moral framework that freedom requires discipline and that a thriving society is built from the bottom up: strong families create strong communities and a citizenry who understands that rights come with responsibilities. None of this clash with being gay. If anything, it clarifies something the country desperately needs to remember sexual orientation does not equal ideology. I can (and do) believe in committed relationships, stable homes, and the social value of family without adopting the belief that government should be the primary architect of our lives. I can (and do) believe in personal freedom while still believing that self-control and responsibility are virtues, not oppressions. I can (and do) love my country — an extraordinary inheritance worth defending and improving — without apologizing for it or my role within it. I can (and do) believe the Constitution is a guardrail, not a suggestion. I can (and do) believe that when government grows, individual liberty shrinks; and that the best solutions are often local and voluntary rather than federal and mandated. And I can (and do) believe, profoundly, that the American experiment only works when citizens are allowed to think independently, speak honestly, and live without intimidation — whether that comes from the state or from social mobs pretending to have moral high ground. The other assumption I reject is the idea that Republicans must choose between being principled or welcoming. The Republican Party does not need to abandon its core to broaden its coalition. It needs to articulate its beliefs in a way that is confident, decent, and serious. A Party that believes in limited government should understand the danger of any institution — government, media, or corporations — that tries to enforce ideological conformity. In fact, one of the most fascinating and underreported realities of the current moment is how many openly gay Republicans hold high-ranking, prestigious roles in President Donald J. Trump’s administration. These are Trump-selected appointees across major departments, including Treasury, State, Energy, the Pentagon, the Small Business Administration, and others. In a city like Washington, D.C. that is both deeply gay and reflexively anti-Trump, these men are serving their country as openly gay and openly Republican for an unapologetically gay-friendly Republican president. That reality alone shatters the lie that the Republican Party is hostile to gay Americans. The Left doesn’t champion gay rights but rather uses gays as a club to destroy their foes on the other side of the aisle while emphatically rejecting those who simply refuse to accept their worldview. Republicans can learn an incredible lesson from President Trump and his bold and effective Administration; they must continue to make room for people like me. Not simply as a checkbox, and certainly not as a talking point, but as fellow Americans who share a belief in liberty and the dignity of individual responsibility. We can have internal debates, sure. We should! But we cannot build a durable majority by demanding uniformity on every personal detail, while the other side demands uniformity on every political thought. This is where I step off my personal soapbox and speak to those like me. To the gay Republicans who vote quietly, work quietly, and believe quietly because you’ve learned it is safer that way . . . I see you. To the gay Republicans who were told to tone it down, stay out of it, or keep politics separate from your personal life . . . that silence was never about civility, it was about control. You do not owe the Left your vote, your voice, or your life. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for believing in limited government, personal responsibility, or love of country. You don’t have to trade your principles for social approval. Republican values don’t require you to deny who you are . . . it simply abandons the idea that being gay is the most interesting thing about you. And if the radical Left “string-of-letters” organizations want to claim the mantle of compassion and inclusion, they should start by practicing it — especially with the gay people who refuse to be politically owned. Navigating this isn’t easy. Being openly gay in conservative circles AND openly Republican in gay ones requires judgment, confidence, and a thick skin. I’ve learned where the land minds are, which battles matter, who to trust, and how to stand firm without becoming a caricature for either side. That perspective isn’t theoretical . . . it’s earned. I’m gay. I’m a Republican. And I am not an exception. I am part of a much larger reality the Left can no longer suppress. And, in a toxic political environment that rewards group think while punishing independent thought, I’ll take the harder path — the honest path — every time. Corey Stevens is a seasoned campaign operative and respected national strategist having worked on successful local, state, and federal races throughout the southwest and western United States. He serves as Director of Accounts at Connector, Inc. — a boutique government relations and political affairs firm in Washington, D.C.

As Congress prepares for yet another round of hearings and “reforms” focused on prescription drug and healthcare costs, lawmakers should pause and ask a basic but essential question before calling the first witness or marking-up the first bill: who actually sets drug prices in the United States? The answer is straightforward — and too often obscured. Pharmaceutical manufacturers control prescription drug prices. Insurance companies do not. Pharmacy benefit managers (PBMs) do not. Pharmacies and pharmacists do not. Drugmakers along decide what a new medicine will cost when it launches. They alone determine when and by how much prices increase. They alone choose whether Americans will pay 2x, 5x, or 10x more than patients in other developed countries for the exact same drug. Every other participant in the system operates downstream from those decisions. Congressional oversight should start there. Yet, hearings routinely focus on insurers and PBMs, as if those entities originate prices rather than respond to them. Asking insurers why a drug is expensive is like asking the cashier why groceries cost more this year. That misdirection may generate headlines, but it does little to lower costs for patients. To be clear, insurers and PBMs matter — but in a different way. PBMs administer benefits: they process claims, manage formularies, and negotiate rebates off prices that manufacturers have already set. They do not have the legal authority to lower a drug’s list price. Insurers decide how costs are distributed — through premiums, deductibles, and copays — but they cannot force a manufacturer to charge less for a medicine. Every transaction in the U.S. drug market begins with a price established by the manufacturer. This distinction is not purely academic. It determines where policy actually works. When drugmakers raise prices, insurers respond predictably: premiums go up, formularies tighten, and more cost is pushed onto patients through higher deductibles and coinsurance. The public feels that pain at the pharmacy counter and understandably blames the insurer. But the inflationary impulse originated upstream, with the company that set the price. Recent actions by President Donald J. Trump’s administration recognize this reality — and they deserve credit for that. The Administration’s Most Favored Nation (MFN) pricing initiative, direct price negotiation authority for certain drugs, and efforts to tie U.S. prices more closely to international benchmarks all target the source of pricing power: manufacturers. These policies are not about benefit design or insurance administration; they are about price discipline where it belongs. Congress should align its oversight accordingly. The uncomfortable truth is that the U.S. market continues to tolerate pricing practices that would not survive scrutiny elsewhere. Manufacturers argue that high prices fund innovation. Yet many of the most expensive drugs were developed with substantial public investment, enjoy long exclusivity periods, and face little discipline even after recouping their research and development costs many times over. If lawmakers are serious about lowering drug prices — not just redistributing who pays them — hearings and reforms must focus squarely on the companies that control launch prices, list prices, and global pricing strategy. That means asking drug executives hard, specific questions, such as: Why do identical medicines cost dramatically less overseas? Why do list prices routinely rise faster than inflation? Why do launch prices continue to escalate even as development risks decline? Why do drugs developed with significant public funding face no meaningful price restraint? Why are Americans expected to subsidize global pricing strategies indefinitely? Transparency alone is not enough. Accountability must follow authority. Congress should require manufacturers to justify launch prices, disclose international price differentials, and face automatic consequences when prices exceed inflation or global norms. Negotiation authority should expand where market power is concentrated. And MFN-style benchmarks should not be treated as extraordinary — but as standard tools in a market that otherwise lacks discipline. Until oversight focuses on the entities that actually set prices, hearings and reforms will continue to generate sound bites rather than solutions. Americans will keep paying the highest drug prices in the world — not because insurers demand it, but because manufacturers are allowed to charge it. If Congress wants to fix drug pricing, it needs the right people in the and at the table — and have the right questions asked of them. Rick Westerdale has more than 30 years of experience across the federal government as well as in the global energy industry. As a Vice President at Connector, Inc., a boutique government relations and political affairs firm based in Washington, D.C., Rick advises clients on strategy, investment, and policy across healthcare, hydrocarbons, LNG, hydrogen, nuclear, and the broader energy transition.

Energy markets do not wait for clarity. They move on risk, credibility, and logistics — and nowhere is that more evident than in today’s standoff with Iran. Any military action involving Tehran, whether limited or expansive, would immediately reverberate through global oil markets. But the consequences would not stop at oil prices. They would test the foundations of energy security, inflation control, and the United States’ role as guarantor of global trade routes. This moment is best understood not through abstract geopolitics, but through a modern corollary to the Monroe Doctrine — one articulated implicitly during the Trump Administration and still operative today: the United States will not tolerate hostile powers threatening strategic chokepoints, energy flows, or hemispheric economic stability. In the 21st century, that doctrine is enforced not only with naval power, but through energy dominance, resilient supply chains, and credible deterrence. Iran sits squarely at the intersection of all three. Under the Trump Doctrine (as Rob Burgess laid it out in his previous three-part series: I , II , III ), force is not deployed to manage escalation . . . it is deployed to end it. The Strategic Reality: Oil is Still the Backbone of Global Stability Despite years of energy transition rhetoric, oil remains the backbone of the global economy. Roughly one-fifth of the world’s petroleum consumption — about 20 million barrels per day — moves through the Strait of Hormuz, making it the most critical energy chokepoint on earth. Any credible threat to that corridor forces markets to reprice not just Iranian barrels, but the reliability of the entire global oil system. This is not theoretical. Even short-lived disruptions — missile strikes, maritime harassment, cyberattacks, or insurance withdrawals — can tighten supply chains faster than producers can respond. Oil markets are global, prices are set at the margin, and logistics matter as much as geology. The United States today imports relatively little crude directly from the Persian Gulf, but that does not insulate American households. Oil is priced globally. Refined products are traded globally. When disruption raises prices in Asia or Europe, U.S. consumers feel it at the pump, airlines feel it in jet fuel costs, and inflation resurfaces almost immediately. Three Scenarios, One Common Theme: Risk Becomes Price Scenario One: Limited Military Action — Price Shock Without Structural Damage In the first scenario, military action is limited in scope and duration - targeted strikes, no sustained attacks on oil infrastructure, and no prolonged attempt to block shipping lanes. On paper, this is the “contained” case. Yet even here, oil prices would rise sharply. Markets would not be responding to lost supply so much as elevated risk. Tanker insurance premiums would increase. Freight rates would spike. Some shippers would delay sailings. Buyers would pull forward cargoes. All of this functions like a temporary supply cut even if production volumes remain unchanged. In this scenario, prices could spike quickly — often overshooting fundamentals — before partially retreating as it becomes clear that flows continue. But the retreat would not be complete. Once a geopolitical premium is introduced, it tends to linger. For U.S. households, the effect would be immediate but potentially short-lived: higher gasoline and diesel prices, airline fare pressure, and renewed inflation headlines. For allies in Asia — particularly Japan and South Korea, which rely heavily on Gulf crude — the impact would be more acute. The lesson: even limited conflict raises costs, because markets price uncertainty faster than reassurance. Scenario Two: Regional Escalation — When the Supply Chain Becomes the Weapon The second scenario is more dangerous and more realistic: sustained regional escalation involving proxy forces, repeated maritime incidents, cyber disruptions, or episodic damage to energy infrastructure across the Middle East. In this case, oil does not disappear — but it becomes unreliable. Tankers hesitate. Insurers retreat. Ports slow. Refiners struggle to schedule deliveries. The problem is no longer how much oil exists, but whether it can be moved safely, on time, and at tolerable cost. Here, spare capacity begins to matter - but only partially. Yes, OPEC producers — primarily Saudi Arabia and the UAE — maintain several million barrels per day of spare production capacity. But spare capacity only stabilizes markets if it can be transported. Pipeline bypasses around Hormuz are limited, and alternative routes cannot replace the scale of seaborne exports. Meanwhile, refined product markets tighten faster than crude markets. Gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel shortages emerge not because refineries lack crude, but because distribution systems are stressed. This is when price spikes become persistent rather than episodic. For the U.S., this scenario brings a familiar pattern: rising fuel prices, pressure on consumer spending, and political urgency. For Europe, competition for Atlantic Basin crude intensifies. For Asia, governments turn to strategic stockpiles and emergency coordination. This is the scenario where energy security overtakes climate and transition debates, because reliability becomes paramount. Scenario Three: Sustained Disruption or Hormuz Closure — A True Oil Shock The third scenario — sustained disruption of the Strait of Hormuz or direct attacks on major oil export infrastructure — would represent a systemic shock to the global economy. Even partial obstruction matters. Markets do not require a full closure to panic. The credible threat of interruption is enough to send prices sharply higher, because inventories are finite and replacement routes are insufficient. Iran’s own production — roughly 3 to 3.5 million barrels per day — would likely fall sharply in this scenario. But the real issue is not Iran alone. It is the vulnerability of Gulf exports more broadly. Could spare capacity absorb the shock? Only partially, and only with time. OPEC spare capacity can offset lost production, but it cannot instantly replace lost logistics. Strategic petroleum reserves can smooth short-term shortages, but they are finite and politically constrained. Demand destruction eventually occurs — but only after prices rise high enough to slow economic activity. This is where oil shocks bleed directly into macroeconomic risk: inflation accelerates, growth slows, and policymakers face an impossible tradeoff between energy costs and economic stability. The United States’ Interest: Energy Dominance as Strategic Deterrence Through the lens of a Trump-style corollary to the Monroe Doctrine, this moment is clear. The United States has a vested interest in preventing hostile actors from weaponizing energy chokepoints — whether in the Western Hemisphere or beyond. Energy dominance is not about cheap oil alone. It is about: Keeping trade routes open Preventing coercive pricing Protecting American households from external shocks Ensuring allies are not economically blackmailed When energy flows freely, diplomacy works. When they don’t, instability follows. What to Watch if Tensions Escalate If military risk involving Iran increases, these indicators will matter more than headlines: Strait of Hormuz Flow — Data Confirmed tanker movements and AIS data reveal reality faster than statements. Tanker Freight Rates (VLCC and Suezmax) — Freight spikes often precede price spikes. War-Risk Insurance Premiums — Insurance withdrawal is an early warning of systemic stress. Crack Spreads (Gasoline, Diesel, Jet) — Refined products tighten before crude runs out. OPEC Spare Capacity Signals — Watch actions, not announcements. Strategic Petroleum Reserve Messaging — Credibility and coordination matter more than volume alone. Risk is Already Being Priced Markets are already signaling unease. The question is not whether prices would rise in a conflict involving Iran. They would. The real question is how long the premium lasts - and how well prepared governments, companies, and households are to absorb it. Energy security remains national security. And in a world still powered by oil, deterrence at sea matters as much as diplomacy on land. Rick Westerdale has more than 30 years of experience across the federal government as well as in the global energy industry. As a Vice President at Connector, Inc., a boutique government relations and political affairs firm based in Washington, D.C., Rick advises clients on strategy, investment, and policy across healthcare, hydrocarbons, LNG, hydrogen, nuclear, and the broader energy transition.

Energy debates are usually framed as a battle of preferences: oil versus renewables, gas versus coal, nuclear versus everything. But that framing is increasingly detached from what is actually driving prices, reliability, and household bills. The issue now is simpler . . . and more dangerous. We are running out of fast energy. By “fast energy,” I don’t mean a fuel type. I mean energy systems that can be permitted, financed, built, connected, and operated on timelines that match the real world — political cycles, economic cycles, and the accelerating cadence of electricity demand. The world is not short of ideas. It is short of deliverable capacity. And when energy stops being deliverable on schedule, consumers pay — first in prices, then in reliability, and finally in the quiet erosion of industrial competitiveness. The Mismatch Nobody Wants to Quantify Start with electricity demand. The International Energy Agency forecasts global electricity demand growth of 3.3% in 2025 and 3.7% in 2026, reaching over 29,000 TWh in 2026 — some of the strongest growth rates of the last decade. What is driving this? Not one thing. It’s the stack: electrification, industrial activity, air conditioning, and - yes - data centers. The IEA explicitly notes expanding data centers as part of the demand story. And in its work on energy and AI, the IEA projects global data center electricity consumption nearly doubling to ~945 TWh by 2030, with data center load growing around 15% per year from 2024–2030 in its base case. That demand isn’t theoretical. It’s already showing up in utility forecasts, local permitting fights, transmission queue backlogs, and - most visibly - in the bills paid by households and small businesses. Now compare that demand reality to what we are building. Renewables are expanding rapidly in many markets. But high renewables penetration is not the same thing as fast firm capacity. Wind and solar can be permitted and installed faster than a major nuclear plant, but they still require transmission, interconnection, and balancing resources. Those “system” requirements rarely move at the speed of press releases. Meanwhile, the global system is leaning harder on the kinds of assets that are dispatchable and durable - gas generation, life-extended coal, and diesel backup - because those are often the only tools that can keep pace when new load shows up before the grid is ready. This is the “fast energy” squeeze: the world is pulling demand forward while pushing supply - and especially firm supply - into longer and longer timelines. Energy Isn’t Just Expensive. It’s Cyclical. Energy prices are cyclical for a reason. Underinvestment today becomes scarcity tomorrow - then high prices trigger overinvestment, and the cycle repeats. Even the near-term oil balance illustrates the point. In its Short-Term Energy Outlook, the U.S. EIA forecasts global liquid fuels consumption rising by 1.1 million barrels per day (b/d) in 2025 and 1.2 million b/d in 2026, while global liquid fuels production increases by 3.0 million b/d in 2025 and more than 1.2 million b/d in 2026. That surplus - paired with rising inventories - translates into price pressure. EIA expects global oil inventories to rise through 2026 and forecasts Brent averaging about $55/bbl in Q1 2026, staying near that level for the rest of 2026. That’s the cycle in one snapshot: when supply is ahead of demand, prices soften. But the real consumer risk isn’t “cheap oil forever.” It’s what happens when investment and execution lag long enough that the system flips from surplus to deficit - especially in electricity, where reliability failures are political events and household pain is immediate. The energy industry is the business of long lead times. The problem is that our planning institutions - and our politics - are increasingly operating on short lead times. That mismatch is where volatility is born. The Uncomfortable Truth: Timelines are Policy In the IEA’s World Energy Outlook, there’s a revealing detail: it notes that in its stated policies scenario, prices around $75–$80 per barrel imply additional production restraint and an increase in spare capacity - already at around 6 mb/d, described as record levels. Set aside the specific oil price range. The broader message is the same: spare capacity is a shock absorber, and when policy or underinvestment erodes that absorber, prices become more sensitive to disruptions. In electricity, the “shock absorber” is firm capacity plus transmission plus fuel assurance. But we’ve made all three harder to build quickly. Permitting is not a side issue. Interconnection is not a paperwork issue. Transmission is not a “later” issue. These are the practical gates that determine whether new energy is real - or just announced. And the tragedy is that consumers ultimately bear the cost of delay. When infrastructure fails to keep pace, the system compensates in expensive ways: emergency procurement, scarcity pricing, higher capacity payments, diesel generators filling gaps utilities can’t close in time, and rate increases that arrive long after the ribbon cuttings. Politicians love to talk about affordability. But affordability is largely a function of whether the system can add capacity on time. Why “Fast Energy” is Disappearing The world is not short on resources. It is short on things that can be delivered at the speed of modern demand. Consider what is getting slower: Permitting: local resistance, litigation risk, and fragmented authority. Interconnection: queue backlogs and cost disputes. Transmission: multi-jurisdiction routing fights and long construction horizons. Workforce and equipment: tight labor markets and long lead times for transformers, turbines, and grid components. Capital discipline: investors demanding returns after years of boom-and-bust, making “overbuild” less likely. Meanwhile, what is getting faster? Load growth from data centers, reshoring, electrification, and climate-driven cooling demand. When demand accelerates and deliverability slows, prices rise and reliability is strained. That isn’t ideology. That’s physics and finance. What a Plan Looks Like A credible “fast energy” plan doesn’t pick a winner. It builds a portfolio that is actually deliverable on schedule: Treat transmission and interconnection as national infrastructure, not local trivia. If demand is national, the grid can’t be purely local. Rebuild the firm capacity pipeline. Gas with clear standards, nuclear with realistic timelines, storage where it pencils, demand response where it’s measurable. Force transparency on who pays. Ratepayers can’t be the default backstop while large 24/7 loads get socialized upgrades. Stop confusing announcements with capacity. If it can’t be built and connected inside a realistic window, it’s not supply. Build spare capacity intentionally. The cheapest energy insurance is the capacity you already have when the shock arrives. The hardest part of energy policy is saying out loud what everyone knows: the “energy transition” is not a single build. It’s a multi-decade rebuild of the world’s largest machine - while it remains in operation. That is why “fast energy” matters so much. It’s the bridge between ambition and reality. Without it, we get volatility, backlash, and bills that households can’t predict. The world doesn’t need more slogans. It needs a plan that respects time. Rick Westerdale has more than 30 years of experience across the federal government as well as in the global energy industry. As a Vice President at Connector, Inc., a boutique government relations and political affairs firm based in Washington, D.C., Rick advises clients on strategy, investment, and policy across healthcare, hydrocarbons, LNG, hydrogen, nuclear, and the broader energy transition.

In Minneapolis and far beyond, what the national media are dutifully labeling “protests” are in truth coordinated campaigns of disruption, intimidation, and — in too many cases — outright violence against the men and women of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and their federal partners. If this were merely a matter of civilians exercising free speech, none of us would be talking about blocking federal vehicles, attempting to dox agents, denying basic services such as shelter and food, or endangering lives during enforcement actions. But this is not peaceful dissent. This is organized obstruction of justice, mob intimidation, and a dangerous erosion of the rule of law — egged on, emboldened, and normalized by elected Democratic officials who should instead be de-escalating tensions and upholding public safety. The spark for this latest round of unrest was the fatal shooting of 37-year-old Renee Nicole Good by an ICE agent in Minneapolis on January 7, 2026, during an immigration enforcement operation. Federal authorities have stated unequivocally that Good tried to weaponize her vehicle against ICE personnel — a claim which multiple videos online seem to support — attempting to strike officers with her SUV. This prompted the ICE agent’s use of defensive force in the face of a clear threat. Federal sources have likened Good’s actions to domestic terrorism. Yet within hours, the narrative was seized upon and repacked by political leaders who should know better. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, a Democrat, has stoked division and fortified anti-law enforcement fervor. In the immediate aftermath of the shooting, Mayor Frey publicly rejected the federal account of the incident and blasted the notion that the ICE agent acted in self-defense as “bulls---,” accusing federal authorities of “hiding facts” and undermining public trust. From the steps of Minneapolis’ City Hall, the mayor didn’t call for cooler heads to prevail. He didn’t encourage cooperation with the ongoing investigation. He didn’t emphasize due process or the presumption of innocence. Instead, he told ICE unequivocally to “get the f--- out of Minneapolis” — a blunt political statement from a municipal leader that, in context, amount to urging federal law enforcement to withdraw under pressure. Make no mistake Mayor Frey’s incendiary rhetoric was a rallying cry that effectively painted ICE agents — sworn officers tasked with enforcing the law — as unwelcome outsiders whose presence “causes chaos and distrust.” Not to mention, he lacks the authority to kick federal law enforcement out of Minneapolis. That is not leadership. It is demagoguery. And it has consequences. Prior to reports of agents being physically attacked and their operations interfered with, there were voices in power deliberately misframing the situation. Minnesota’s attorney general and governor echoed similar sentiments, casting Good as a “legal observer” and immediately demanding ICE depart the state. The problem, of course, is that law enforcement does not operate in a vacuum. When “legal observers” hinder, interfere, or disrupt law enforcement they’re committing a crime and are no longer passive watchers. When political leaders publicly challenge the legitimacy of federal operations and characterize trained agents as villains (before the ink is dry on an official investigative report), they are stoking the very environment in which people feel justified in obstructing justice. These elected officials are signaling to radicals and agitators that pushing, block, surveilling, heckling, and even attacking agents isn’t just permissible . . . it’s righteous. And once that signal is sent, the predictable happens. In cities where ICE has been carrying out enforcement operations (not just Minneapolis), there have been verified reports of protestors, surrounding and blocking law enforcement vehicles, standing between agents and their duties, and, most alarmingly, creating physical obstructions that endanger officers and civilians alike. These are not public statements of grievance or the actions of “legal observers” . . . these are acts of interference with federal law enforcement. These actions have legal consequences and place officers at risk. The law is clear: obstructing an enforcement action is not protected speech; it is a violation of federal law. This is not semantics. It is reality. And the intolerant left wing protestors are learning it the hard way. Every law enforcement officer — whether a local cop or a federal immigration agent — swears an oath to uphold the Constitution, and enforce the law impartially and without fear or favor. But that oath also binds government to protect those who serve. There is no nobility in sending officers into harm’s way while political leaders casually dismiss their safety as a secondary concern. Let’s be clear: law enforcement has the legal and moral authority to protect themselves and others. When a suspect attempts to run down a trained federal agent, when hostile crowds block vehicles and create combat conditions, officers are legally justified (and required) to take necessary action to neutralize the threat. That’s not brutality. It is survival. Considered precedent, both legal and practical, affirms that law enforcement may use force to ensure their own safety and the safety of others when confronted with imminent physical danger. The duty to return home at the end of each shift uninjured is not a privilege, but a fundamental human right. This is nonnegotiable. And yet, what do we hear from certain elected Democrats? Rhetoric condemning agents, calls for withdrawal, and narratives that implicitly encourage radicals to step between an officer and the law they are sworn to enforce. The contrast could not be starker. One the one hand, we have federal law enforcement officers acting under the rule of law, attempting to execute an operation rooted in statue passed by Congress. On the other hand, we see protests that go far beyond peaceful expression: coordinated efforts to follow agents, harass them at hotels and restaurants, and undermine their ability to function as officers. There have been reports of ICE agents being turned away from lodging because local establishments, under pressure from activists, refused service due to their enforcement actions . . . a tactic designed to isolate, shame, and demoralize agents. There have been unverified but widely circulated claims online about posting personal information, a tactic understood colloquially as “doxing,” that puts agents and their families at risk. And all too often this harassment and intimidation is encouraged or excused by sympathetic public officials and media personalities. Nowhere is this more reckless than when elected leaders portray enforcement actions as inherently illegitimate, even criminal. It is a foundational principle of American law (even in Minneapolis) that guilt must be established based on evidence, not emotion. Yet in Minneapolis, we’ve seen a troubling inversion: immediately after the unfortunate shooting, local leaders and activists groups leapt to demonize the agent involved. Statements lobbed at federal authorities from City Hall accused them of hiding facts and spreading misleading information, all while downplaying the violent context that precipitated the use of defensive force. No one is above scrutiny. No agency should be exempt from honest and transparent investigations. But there is a glaring difference between demanding facts and weaponizing tragedy for political advantage — especially when that political advantage is a rallying cry that further endangers officers and deepens societal divides. What is happening in Minneapolis is part of a broader national pattern. Protests that begin as seemingly peaceful gatherings against federal enforcement — like the events reports across other cities after immigration operations — have repeatedly devolved into clashes with police, disruption of lawful activity, and obstruction of legal authority. Similar flare-ups have occurred in places where federal agents have attempted enforcement actions, with protestors blocking entrances, challenging officers, and in some cases engaging in violence. And every time, there are local and state politicians ready to provide rhetorical cover, framing federal efforts as unjust or illegitimate, while placing blame for unrest squarely on the officers whose lawful duties were being impeded. It has previously been reported that George Soros and his Open Society Foundations have funneled significant sums of money into left-wing advocacy and activist networks, including groups that have been visible at high-profile demonstrations and disruptive protest campaigns across the country. Public reporting from outlets such as the New York Post highlights that organizations like Indivisible Twin Cities — identified as a driving force behind Minneapolis’ anti-ICE actions — trace millions of dollars in past grant support to Soros-linked philanthropy, and that similar progressive coalitions have received sizeable funding from Soros-backed entities and allied “dark money” networks in recent years. Given this documented flow of philanthropic dollars into activists infrastructures that frequently organize, coordinate, and sustain large-scale protests that often utilize tactics that stray from from peaceful assembly, it is reasonable to ask a hard question: could the current spate of immigration and ICE-related confrontation be part of that same pattern of organized, well-funded left-wing protest activity? As Americans watch federal agents be targeted and harassed, that question is not merely academic, it is a necessary part of understanding who is driving and sustaining today’s unlawful protests. This is a destabilizing dynamic that must be called out for what it is: an assault on the rule of law itself and a stain on the fabric of our Republic. Leadership demands more than sound bites and social media posts. Real leaders seek to calm tensions, uphold the law, and work towards solutions that respect both the rights of citizens and the safety of those charged with enforcing the law. When an officer is attacked with a vehicle, it is the time for unequivocal defense of law enforcement and the institutions that keep our society functioning. Anything less emboldens radicals who see violence and obstruction as viable tools for political ends. Let’s be clear: this is not a debate about immigration policy writ large. This is a debate about whether the law means anything at all in America. ICE agents don’t create or enact federal immigration laws; they enforce them. They do so under statutory authority, with due process procedures in place, and with the expectation that officers will act judiciously and proportionately. And when hostile individuals escalate into physical threats, the agents are legally entitled (and morally justified) to protect themselves and others. What we are witnessing from far too many Democrat elected leaders is a discouraging repudiation of this basic principle. Demanding accountability is not the same as excusing obstruction. Defending constitutional rights does not mean endorsing intimidation. And questioning federal authority does not mean telling federal law enforcement to pack up and go home while mobs patrol the streets. Democratic officials who stoke the fire of political unrest are complicit in the degradation of lawful order. The United States of America is not a failed nation state. We have a Constitution, a system of laws, and a justice system designed to handle disputes — including those that involve federal enforcement actions — that are the envy of the entire world. But these systems rely on cooperation, discipline, and respect for process. They do not function when elected officials reduce complex situations to catchy slogans and inflammatory sound bites. If our national debate descends into a contest of who can vilify the other side more effectively, then we have lost far more than an immigration enforcement operation — we have lost the rule of law. It is time for serious leaders, regardless of party, to stand up for that principle rather than tearing it down for short-term political gain. Rob Burgess is a national Republican strategist, and Chief Executive Officer at Connector, Inc. – a boutique government relations and political affairs firm with offices in Washington, D.C.

For U.S. policymakers, Iraq is often viewed through the rear-view mirror: a country defined by the blood and treasure spent after 2003, by unfinished business, and by a lingering question of whether Iraq ultimately tilts toward Washington or Tehran. That framing is understandable but increasingly outdated. As Iraq struggles through another difficult government-formation process, the United States faces a narrow but consequential window to re-engage Iraq as a partner in formation, not a problem to be managed from a distance. The recent failure in parliament to elect a Second Deputy Speaker - an outcome that triggered public accusations of “betrayal” among governing coalition partners - highlights Iraq’s chronic political fragility. Disputes between Kurdish blocs, particularly between the KDP and PUK, and tensions within the ruling alliance led by Prime Minister Mohammed Shia’ al-Sudani underscore a familiar reality: in Iraq, elections are only the opening act. Power is forged afterward, through bargaining under the muhasasa system, where sectarian and ethnic balance often overrides party discipline or voter intent. For Washington, this dysfunction is often cited as a reason for caution. It should instead be seen as a reason for engagement. Iraq today is not choosing between stability and chaos; it is choosing between external dependence and internal consolidation. Iran understands this well. Its influence in Iraq thrives in moments of paralysis; when fractured coalitions, weak institutions, and delayed reforms create space for militias, patronage networks, and informal power. The question for the United States is whether it will remain a passive observer during government formation, or whether it will help tip the balance toward Iraqi sovereignty at precisely the moment institutions are being shaped. Despite the political headwinds, Iraq is quietly laying the foundations of state capacity. Baghdad has implemented a sweeping digital transformation across more than 850 government entities, enabling the electronic exchange of millions of documents. This is not a cosmetic reform. Digitization directly attacks corruption, limits document fraud, and reduces the discretionary power that has long fueled patronage politics. For a country seeking independence from foreign influence, bureaucratic transparency is not technocratic - it is strategic. Iraq is also signaling ambition beyond survival. Preparations to host the 2026 Arab Conference on the Peaceful Uses of Atomic Energy reflect a deliberate effort to reclaim scientific credibility and regional standing through civilian, internationally compliant pathways. This is scientific diplomacy - an assertion that Iraq intends to lead through institutions and expertise, not proxies or militias. Economically, the picture is similarly mixed but promising. The launch of a new national airline, renewed railway links with Syria, and continued investment in oilfield development all point toward a country rebuilding connective tissue - internally and regionally. Oil will remain Iraq’s economic backbone, but how those revenues are managed during the next government’s tenure will determine whether Iraq strengthens its state or perpetuates its vulnerabilities. Even in the Kurdistan Region, often portrayed solely through political infighting, there are signs of structural progress. Large-scale investment licensing and job creation demonstrate that, when governance aligns, Iraq’s regions can deliver tangible economic gains. At the same time, challenges like prison overcrowding and justice reform reveal why sustained institutional support, not episodic crisis diplomacy, is essential. For the United States, the strategic logic is clear. Iraq that is economically connected, digitally governed, scientifically engaged, and politically supported during coalition formation is far more likely to resist Iranian overreach than an Iraq left to negotiate its future alone. Influence vacuums do not remain empty, and Tehran has proven adept at filling them. Engaging now does not mean ignoring history or writing blank checks. It means recalibrating U.S. policy from withdrawal management to state reinforcement. That includes diplomatic presence during government formation, targeted technical assistance on governance and transparency, support for energy and infrastructure modernization, and clear signaling that Iraqi sovereignty - not proxy alignment - is the basis for partnership. Iraq will not become a regional leader overnight. But disengagement all but guarantees it will remain a battleground for others’ ambitions. Engagement, especially during moments of political uncertainty, offers a different outcome: an Iraq that is imperfect, contested, but increasingly capable of standing on its own. For U.S. policymakers, the choice is not whether Iraq has baggage. It does. The choice is whether to let that baggage define the future - or to recognize that moments of formation, not moments of crisis, are when influence matters most. Rick Westerdale has more than 30 years of experience across the federal government as well as in the global energy industry. As a Vice President at Connector, Inc., a boutique government relations and political affairs firm based in Washington, D.C., Rick advises clients on strategy, investment, and policy across healthcare, hydrocarbons, LNG, hydrogen, nuclear, and the broader energy transition.

This piece is a continuation of our earlier posts on Venezuela and President Donald J. Trump’s approach to dealing with the Maduro regime. If you’ve read those pieces, consider this the next chapter. Let’s step away from abstract debates and speak plainly about power, consequences, and what it actually looks like when the United States decides to use the military capability it spends an enormous amount of money to maintain. One phrase the keeps coming up in conversations about Venezuela is “drug kingpin.” It is often thrown around casually, but under U.S. law it carries real weight. In the federal system, capital punishment is extremely rare and tightly limited. The United States government can only seek the death penalty for a narrow set of crimes: certain forms of first-degree murder under federal jurisdiction, treason against the United States of America, and specific high-level drug trafficking offenses ties to massive criminal enterprises. That last category is the one most people misunderstand. These are not street dealers or even mid-level traffickers. The law targets the leaders of sprawling drug empires that operate across borders, command violence as a tool, and destabilize entire regions. Congress made a conscious decision decades ago that these figures pose a threat on the same level as enemy combatants. When killings, command responsibility, and large-scale conspiracy are involved, the federal government treats them as something closer to hostile actors than ordinary criminals. This is why President Trump’s choice of words matter. When he referred to Nicolás Maduro using the term “drug kingpin” following the operation in Venezuela, he was not just insulting him or using tough language for political effect. He was signaling a specific legal and moral framing. The implication is simple: if a regime leader is effectively running a transnational criminal organization, then the usual protections of sovereignty start to look a lot thinner. The operation itself marked a shift in how warfare is conduted and how power is applied. For years, American military strength has existed in a strange limbo. We either overcommitted with long occupations or limited ourselves to distant strikes that solved little. What happened in Venezuela showed a different model. Go in, accomplish the mission, and leave. Very similar to what we saw a few months ago in Iran against their nuclear assets. There was no attempt to occupy territory or reshape a country. There was no open-ended deployment. The United States used the most capable military on earth exactly as it was designed to be used. Elite forces, precise intelligence, overwhelming control of the air, and clear objectives. The most important part of this story is also the simplest. No American service members were killed. That is truly extraordinary. This was a mission that went deep into hostile territory that apparently had air defenses and troops publicly showing shoulder-fired anti-air weapons in propaganda videos. Yet no U.S. aircraft were lost. No helicopters went down. No pilots or operators were killed or captured. That outcome is not an accident. It is the results of training standards that are brutally selective, planning that is months long, and exhaustive, and a military culture focused on mission success with minimal loss of life. American taxpayers spend roughly one trillion dollars a year on defense — a number that critics often frame as wasteful. This is what that investment looks like when it is actually used properly. What has been rare is not the capability, but the willingness to use it. President Trump demonstrated that he is willing to deploy American power decisively, narrowly, and without apology. The message sent by this operation goes far beyond Venezuela. Leaders of cartels, terror networks, pirates, militias, and criminal syndicates around the world now have to think very carefully about their assumptions, and where the “line” actually is. For a long time, many of these groups operated under the belief that the United States would hesitate, debate itself into paralysis, or confine its response to sanctions and statement. That assumption is now far less safe. When the United States shows that it can reach out, eliminate a problem, and disengage without losing lives, deterrence suddenly becomes very real again. This brings us to international law. There has been a lot of fiction surrounding this topic in the mainstream media since the successful operation. In practice, international law only matters when powerful countries agree that it matters. There is no real global police force . . . there is no international court that can compel a superpower to comply against its will. The United States does not submit itself to international criminal courts in the way other states do, and it never will. This is not because of arrogance for its own sake, but because power creates its own rules. A country with the largest economy in the world, the most capable military ever assembled, and economic influence in nearly every nation on Earth does not answer to abstract legal bodies that it did not empower. When a dominant power decides that a situation has crossed a line, it acts. Treaties, resolutions, and norms exist only as long as the hegemon finds them useful. When they stop being useful, they stop being relevant. This is uncomfortable to admit, but it is how the world actually works. On the domestic political side of things, predictably, Democrats and their allies in the media have responded to the Venezuela operation with hyperbole, alarmism, and a performative sense of moral panic. Words like “escalation,” “recklessness,” and “international crisis” are being thrown around with abandon, not because they are accurate but because they are politically useful. This is the same reflex we have seen time and again. When President Trump applies American power with clarity and restraint, Democrats respond as though the sky is falling. They did it after the strike on Soleimani. They did it after decisive action against ISIS, and turning Iran’s nuclear apparatus to rubble. And now they are doing it again, insisting that strength itself is destabilizing, while weakness somehow preserves peace. What Democrats refuse to acknowledge is that this operation was neither impulsive nor indiscriminate. It was narrow, intentional, legally grounded, and successful. No prolonged deployment. No occupation. No American casualties. No drift into nation-building or endless conflict. Democrats are not reacting to what actually happened. They are reacting to the fact that it worked, and that it exposes how hollow their own approach to foreign policy has become. Deterrence was the point . . . and it always was. One of the most important takeaways from Venezuela has little to do with Venezuela itself. It is the reassertion of real deterrence. In Rob Burgess’ most recent piece on the Trump Doctrine, deterrence is not built through speeches, summits, or symbolic resolutions. It is built when adversaries understand — clearly and unmistakably — that crossing certain lines carries immediate and unavoidable consequences. President Trump’s approach has always been straightforward: define the line, communicate it plainly, and enforce it decisively. Venezuela now stands as a case study in what that doctrine looks like in practice. This wasn’t about regime change. It wasn’t about occupation. It was about demonstrating that when a so-called “leader” operates as the head of a criminal enterprise, particularly one tied to narcotics trafficking and regional destabilization, they do not enjoy infinite insulation under the guise of sovereignty. That message didn’t just land in Caracas. It landed in cartel safe havens, terror finance hubs, and capital cities where leaders have grown far too comfortable assuming American restraint is permanent. Venezuela now stands at a decisive crossroads. There is a clear path toward rebuilding legitimacy, reintegration into the international system, and serving its people, but it requires abandoning criminal-state behavior and accepting that the United States will not tolerate regimes that operate as hostile syndicates. Continued defiance leads only to deeper isolation, sustained pressure, and (when necessary) decisive action. A future without U.S. involvement is not realistic, a reality President Trump has made unmistakably clear. The remaining leadership must determine whether Venezuela will leverage its vast natural resources, capable population, and geographic advantages to rebuild and stabilize the nation, or continue making choices that push it further into a corner. Ryan Parada is a Partner and the Chief Government Affairs Officer for Connector, Inc. where he oversees both domestic and international portfolios. He is a policy expert for our clients in numerous areas, including national security, energy, and the tobacco industry. Rob Burgess is a national Republican strategist, and Chief Executive Officer at Connector, Inc. – a boutique government relations and political affairs firm with offices in Washington, D.C.