In the picture
Seizure of a drug-smuggling submarine by the U.S. Coast Guard [USCGC]
Over the past two decades, the vocabulary surrounding international security has expanded significantly. Since the term “terrorism” came into widespread use after 9/11, various nuances have been incorporated, culminating in the term “narco-terrorism,” which combines organized crime with an existential threat.
Although this change might seem purely semantic, the consequences could be numerous and significant, as it opens a window of opportunity for states to reclassify issues related to organized crime as security threats of a much more serious nature. In this way, the governments concerned could considerably expand the range of tools available to address the threat, ranging from economic and political sanctions to the use of military force.
The events of January 2026 under Donald Trump’s presidency serve as a prime example of this phenomenon, as the fight against the cartels was redefined as an extension of the war on terror.
We can better understand this broadening of the concept of threat through the theory of securitization. Rather than assuming that security threats are objective, this theory emphasizes the role of the language through which political actors “declare” something to be an existential threat, thereby enabling extraordinary measures that go beyond ordinary politics. This phenomenon is not politically neutral, even though it may appear to be so, for by securitizing events, states set priorities, justify restrictions, and expand executive discretion, generating what some authors describe as a “spiral of securitization.”
Thus, the categorization of narco-terrorism involves a twofold discursive operation. On the one hand, it shifts the original concept of drug trafficking from the realm of international organized crime to that of international security, thereby associating it with exceptional circumstances and legitimizing the use of armed force. On the other hand, it blurs the boundaries between actors involved in organized crime, terrorist groups, and, in certain cases, governments, uniting this multiplicity of actors into a single semantic field, all of whom are part of the same global threat.
The term “narco-terrorism” is not new; however, the central role it has come to play in modern security policy is indeed a recent development. It is true that, since the 1990s, some governments have begun to portray international drug trafficking as a direct threat to both national and international security, rather than framing it as a domestic public order issue. This trend intensified exponentially after the 9/11 attacks, when the “war on terror” provided a perfect framework—both narrative and legal—to be repurposed against other actors at other times and under different circumstances. The result been the construction of a continuum that begins with the common criminal and culminates in the international terrorist, passing through drug trafficking that finances or replicates methods characteristic of terrorism. In this way, the category of narco-terrorism acts as a ‘hinge concept’ that connects internal security agendas, foreign policy, and the fight against adversarial regimes.
The Trump administration took this logic to a new level by framing its fight against Latin American cartels as a counterterrorism operation, rather than a mere anti-drug policy—which is how these cartels are typically addressed. Following his inauguration in February 2025, President Trump issued Executive Order 14157, designating cartels and other organizations as “Foreign Terrorist Organizations” (FTOs) and “Specially Designated Global Terrorists” (SDGTs).
Furthermore, this order was accompanied by official statements that consistently labeled cartel members as narco-terrorists, thereby framing the relationship between the United States and these groups as a status “armed conflict,” thereby jeopardizing U.S. national security.
In February 2025, the department , in announcing the designation of eight cartels and criminal organizations as FTOs and SDGTs (including the Tren de Aragua, MS-13, the Sinaloa Cartel, and the Jalisco New Generation Cartel), declared that these entities “threaten the safety of the American people, the security of the United States, and the stability of the international order in the Western Hemisphere.” By classifying criminal groups in a category normally reserved for international terrorist organizations, Washington expanded its repertoire of legal tools: financial sanctions (under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act), extraterritorial criminal prosecution (through laws such as the USA PATRIOT Act or other federal provisions subject terrorism), enhanced intelligence cooperation (through bilateral agreements or the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime itself), and even direct options for the use of force.
Although this reconceptualization appears to be limited to non-state actors, this is not the case. The same logic has been applied to relations with Venezuela, which has become the focus of a new war on narco-terrorism. The strategy toward Caracas has combined drug interdiction, pressure for regime change, and rhetoric of the war on terror. Although Venezuela does not produce fentanyl nor is it the main route for entrance United States, the U.S. administration portrayed Nicolás Maduro as a “kingpin” of cartel activity .
Crucially, from the perspective of broadening the concept of threat, the Administration’s doctrine views “the fentanyl trade, violent cartels, and anti-U.S. autocratic governments” as parts of a single, interconnected threat to national security. By merging these dimensions, the executive branch is granted broad latitude to select targets and justify military and covert operations in Latin America, further reinforcing a contemporary reinterpretation of the Monroe Doctrine.
Furthermore, this broadening of the concept of threat has significant implications for international law and the principle of state sovereignty. To the extent that drug trafficking is securitized as “narco-terrorism,” arguments presenting extraterritorial attacks against cartels or extreme pressure tactics against governments linked to them as forms of self-defense or “protection of the international order” become far more plausible. The designation of cartels as FTOs and SDGTs reinforces a legal framework that legitimizes measures such as asset freezing, increasingly aggressive intelligence operations, and the imposition of harsher sanctions, while blurring the distinction between military and criminal responses.
However, this has significant implications under international law, as these trends strongly conflict with core principles that form a fundamental part of the UN Charter, such as the prohibition on the use of force (article , paragraph 4), respect for sovereignty (article , paragraph 1), and non-intervention (article , paragraph 7). The military campaign in the Caribbean against targets linked to Venezuela, carried out on an unclear domestic legal basis (to the point of prompting an attempt in the Senate to invoke a resolution on war powers), sample fragility of domestic checks and balances in the face of the expansion of the language of threat. From the perspective of securitization, the declaration of an “armed conflict” against narco-terrorists opens the door to long-term operations with unclear conditions for termination, replicating the patron saint the global war on terrorism.
From a legal standpoint, the term and its implications are extremely problematic. The operation against Venezuela in January 2026 has been presented as a legitimate response to an extraordinary threat, but its compliance with international law is questionable. It is important to emphasize that neither drug trafficking nor “narco-terrorism” on their own meet the threshold of an “armed attack”required by article of the UN Charter to invoke the right to self-defense, and that the kidnapping of a head of state on foreign territory violates both the prohibition on the use of force (article (4) of the UN Charter) and the principle of non-intervention (article (7) of the UN Charter).
The rhetoric of a war on narco-terrorism thus seeks to redefine what constitutes an armed threat, shifting the focus from objective facts—such as an armed attack attributable to a state—toward narratives of diffuse and permanent risk linked to transnational organized crime. To the extent that this expansive interpretation becomes normalized, the framework the UN Charter ceases to function as a clear limit on the use of force and approaches an “à la carte” security regime, defined by the actor rather than by shared rules.
Attempts to find alternative grounds to justify intervention—for example, through broad notions of extraterritorial jurisdiction or universal jurisdiction—are also unconvincing.Universal jurisdiction has historically been developed for crimes considered a threat to the international community as a whole (genocide, war crimes, torture), and the doctrine remains cautious about automatically extending it to drug offenses or the “crime-terrorism nexus” category. Even those who explore the possibility of employing universal jurisdiction against drug trafficking frame it in terms of criminal prosecution and judicial cooperation, not as a carte blanche for unilateral military operations or the capture of foreign heads of state. By selectively invoking arguments about jurisdiction while ignoring the classic limits on the use of force, one contributes to blurring the distinction between the logic of international justice and the logic of preventive war.
As for the various Latin American countries most affected, they face a twofold risk. First, they fear the potential precedent that could take hold in the region, justifying direct intervention as a method that could be used against other governments under the pretext that they tolerate drug trafficking. On the other hand, leaders’ speech external threats can be exploited to bolster their own domestic legitimacy and as a means of repressing opponents under the simple label “collaborators with terrorism.” The erosion of the boundaries between internal security, the fight against crime, and power politics creates a landscape where international norms become blurred and flexible in the hands of leaders, and the exception to the rule risks becoming the new normal.
The shift from terrorism to narco-terrorism as a central category in security strategies is not merely a terminological adjustment, but a political move that redefines who can be targeted, with what tools, and under what justification. The Trump administration offers a revealing case of how the discursive expansion of the threat enables new courses of action: designating cartels as FTOs, military operations in the Caribbean, intensified pressure on governments such as Venezuela’s, and the articulation of a new war in the hemisphere presented as a continuation of the war on terror.
Because the category of narco-terrorism is so flexible and vague, it risks becoming a catch-all term that legitimizes far-reaching interventions, thereby undermining the principles of sovereignty and the use of force that underpin contemporary international law and order. The challenge for international law and democratic societies will be to set limits on this expansion of security before the exception becomes the rule.