Maduro Falls, Cuba Next? Trump Team Accelerates Monroe Doctrine Crackdown

Paul Riverbank, 1/24/2026Trump reignites Monroe Doctrine, topples Maduro, eyes Cuba, and flexes U.S. military might globally.

From the outset, administration officials wasted little breath on ambiguity. The updated National Security Strategy spelled it out with sobering clarity: America’s days of sitting on the sidelines were over. The explicit promise to “reassert and enforce the Monroe Doctrine” is no longer just a talking point. Real actions followed—soldiers in the street, covert alliances with pivotal figures inside Venezuela’s security forces, and Maduro driven out of power, his rule finally stilled after years of international wrangling.

It didn’t take long before all eyes fell toward another longstanding rival ninety miles off the Florida coast. If you tuned in to Cuban state-run media, you’d find awkward silences and veiled allusions to current troubles. But the mood among Cuban-American exiles was electric; you heard it in the buzz of Miami coffee shops and saw it in late-night TV debates. One State Department official, speaking off the record, remarked dryly that “every phone line to Havana is hot” these days, as rumors swirl about would-be reformers within the Cuban government testing the waters for American backing.

There are stark, practical reasons why Havana can no longer ignore this pressure. The Cuban economy, battered and brittle, lurches dangerously close to collapse. Without the oil lifeline once supplied by Venezuela—a relationship already strained before Maduro’s exit—the island faces a grim winter. Rolling blackouts are now commonplace, and the bread lines, never fully absent, snake longer than they have in decades. Pavel Vidal, with his background at Cuba’s central bank, didn’t bother with diplomatic hedges: “If the oil stops altogether, the engines of daily life in Cuba just stall out.” One could almost hear the exhaustion in his voice during interviews.

Donald Trump, never one for subtlety, opted for blunt instruments over quiet diplomacy. Scrolling through his Truth Social feed, you’ll find a statement in all caps: “NO MORE OIL OR MONEY GOING TO CUBA—ZERO! I strongly suggest they make a deal, BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE.” Rhetoric like this hits differently when the cupboard is bare.

Elsewhere, Secretary of State Marco Rubio—well-known for his family ties to Cuba—has adopted a tone part admonition, part overture: “Cuba is a failing nation right now… and we want to help the people there.” Whether his message is reaching anyone with authority in Havana remains a tense question.

But let’s be clear: The Trump administration’s revived assertiveness isn’t strictly focused on the Caribbean. In the Middle East, U.S. strategy has entered a sharper phase. The USS Abraham Lincoln, flanked by cruisers and destroyers, now cleaves through blue water with a purposeful destination: Iranian shores. The public was barely done digesting news of Venezuela when the White House released images of the carrier strike group preparing for contingencies near Iran. President Trump told gathered press bluntly, “I’d rather not see anything happen, but we’re watching them very closely.” That message was for Tehran as much as for any American voter.

Recent events on the ground in Iran illustrate the stakes. Shocking images leaked showing hundreds of mourners after protests were crushed. Trump’s comments—delivered with characteristic bravado at Davos—explicitly warned against mass executions of dissidents. "If you hang those people, you're going to be hit harder than you’ve ever been hit…” he said. In an unexpected reversal, Iranian authorities called off a planned series of hangings—a fact the administration was quick to claim as evidence of American deterrence at work.

Against this backdrop, talk of expanding the U.S. fleet has gained renewed urgency, though not without controversy. The president’s call for a new “Trump-class” warship—a “battlecruiser,” technically, if you go by the design specs—touched off widespread debate inside the Pentagon and beyond. Rear Admiral Derek Trinque, unwilling to mask his surprise, was quoted saying, “I did not expect to be told to build a battleship.” The Navy’s prevailing wisdom for years has favored smaller, modular platforms and high-tech submarines, not massive surface combatants reminiscent of World War II.

Cynics—and there are many—note that modern warfare punishes vanity projects. The Zumwalt-class saga, with its staggeringly expensive munitions and limited mission profile, looms as a recent cautionary tale. Each round for its main gun reached nearly a million dollars, leading the Navy to abandon the system. Now, with price tags for the proposed Trump-class creeping toward $22 billion per ship, even defense hawks admit the real fight may be over budget priorities.

And while flexibility in warfare is, if anything, valued more today than ever—drones, cyber operations, and underwater robotics outpace the utility of lumbering steel giants—one can’t discount the symbolism of American steel, visible over the horizon, as political theater.

Still, for all the bluster emanating from Washington, the on-the-ground reality for those in Havana or Tehran is anything but abstract. In Cuba, government insiders reportedly weigh exile options, fearing a playbook just tested in Caracas could replay on their doorsteps. Meanwhile, in Iran, the cancellation of mass executions—while no panacea—offered a fleeting glimpse that foreign pressure needn’t be all saber-rattling and sound bites, but can sometimes forestall the gravest outcomes.

So, what does this mean for the rest of us watching from afar? There’s no small uncertainty as to how long this phase of muscular American intervention will last, or what the ultimate results will be. The removal of Maduro, for all its swiftness, launches a wider ripple—a test not only for those seeking freedom but for the architects of U.S. foreign policy now gambling on hard power and high-voltage signals.

At minimum, a new tone has been set—a statement of intent that American influence, long proclaimed in doctrine but inconsistently enforced, is once again in motion. For allies and adversaries, the signal is clear enough. What happens next, as ever in politics, will hinge as much on shadows and backchannels as on the thunder of headlines.

As dawn broke over Caracas in early 2026, few in the region could have predicted just how swiftly the political winds would shift. The spectacle of Nicolás Maduro’s departure wasn’t just the top story out of Venezuela—it ricocheted across the hemisphere, rattling old assumptions. For years, discussions about the Monroe Doctrine seemed almost academic, a relic debated among foreign policy historians. Now, in the hands of a determined Trump administration, it’s been yanked from the archives and thrust into living history.From the outset, administration officials wasted little breath on ambiguity. The updated National Security Strategy spelled it out with sobering clarity: America’s days of sitting on the sidelines were over. The explicit promise to “reassert and enforce the Monroe Doctrine” is no longer just a talking point. Real actions followed—soldiers in the street, covert alliances with pivotal figures inside Venezuela’s security forces, and Maduro driven out of power, his rule finally stilled after years of international wrangling.It didn’t take long before all eyes fell toward another longstanding rival ninety miles off the Florida coast. If you tuned in to Cuban state-run media, you’d find awkward silences and veiled allusions to current troubles. But the mood among Cuban-American exiles was electric; you heard it in the buzz of Miami coffee shops and saw it in late-night TV debates. One State Department official, speaking off the record, remarked dryly that “every phone line to Havana is hot” these days, as rumors swirl about would-be reformers within the Cuban government testing the waters for American backing.There are stark, practical reasons why Havana can no longer ignore this pressure. The Cuban economy, battered and brittle, lurches dangerously close to collapse. Without the oil lifeline once supplied by Venezuela—a relationship already strained before Maduro’s exit—the island faces a grim winter. Rolling blackouts are now commonplace, and the bread lines, never fully absent, snake longer than they have in decades. Pavel Vidal, with his background at Cuba’s central bank, didn’t bother with diplomatic hedges: “If the oil stops altogether, the engines of daily life in Cuba just stall out.” One could almost hear the exhaustion in his voice during interviews.Donald Trump, never one for subtlety, opted for blunt instruments over quiet diplomacy. Scrolling through his Truth Social feed, you’ll find a statement in all caps: “NO MORE OIL OR MONEY GOING TO CUBA—ZERO! I strongly suggest they make a deal, BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE.” Rhetoric like this hits differently when the cupboard is bare.Elsewhere, Secretary of State Marco Rubio—well-known for his family ties to Cuba—has adopted a tone part admonition, part overture: “Cuba is a failing nation right now… and we want to help the people there.” Whether his message is reaching anyone with authority in Havana remains a tense question.But let’s be clear: The Trump administration’s revived assertiveness isn’t strictly focused on the Caribbean. In the Middle East, U.S. strategy has entered a sharper phase. The USS Abraham Lincoln, flanked by cruisers and destroyers, now cleaves through blue water with a purposeful destination: Iranian shores. The public was barely done digesting news of Venezuela when the White House released images of the carrier strike group preparing for contingencies near Iran. President Trump told gathered press bluntly, “I’d rather not see anything happen, but we’re watching them very closely.” That message was for Tehran as much as for any American voter.Recent events on the ground in Iran illustrate the stakes. Shocking images leaked showing hundreds of mourners after protests were crushed. Trump’s comments—delivered with characteristic bravado at Davos—explicitly warned against mass executions of dissidents. "If you hang those people, you're going to be hit harder than you’ve ever been hit…” he said. In an unexpected reversal, Iranian authorities called off a planned series of hangings—a fact the administration was quick to claim as evidence of American deterrence at work.Against this backdrop, talk of expanding the U.S. fleet has gained renewed urgency, though not without controversy. The president’s call for a new “Trump-class” warship—a “battlecruiser,” technically, if you go by the design specs—touched off widespread debate inside the Pentagon and beyond. Rear Admiral Derek Trinque, unwilling to mask his surprise, was quoted saying, “I did not expect to be told to build a battleship.” The Navy’s prevailing wisdom for years has favored smaller, modular platforms and high-tech submarines, not massive surface combatants reminiscent of World War II.Cynics—and there are many—note that modern warfare punishes vanity projects. The Zumwalt-class saga, with its staggeringly expensive munitions and limited mission profile, looms as a recent cautionary tale. Each round for its main gun reached nearly a million dollars, leading the Navy to abandon the system. Now, with price tags for the proposed Trump-class creeping toward $22 billion per ship, even defense hawks admit the real fight may be over budget priorities.And while flexibility in warfare is, if anything, valued more today than ever—drones, cyber operations, and underwater robotics outpace the utility of lumbering steel giants—one can’t discount the symbolism of American steel, visible over the horizon, as political theater.Still, for all the bluster emanating from Washington, the on-the-ground reality for those in Havana or Tehran is anything but abstract. In Cuba, government insiders reportedly weigh exile options, fearing a playbook just tested in Caracas could replay on their doorsteps. Meanwhile, in Iran, the cancellation of mass executions—while no panacea—offered a fleeting glimpse that foreign pressure needn’t be all saber-rattling and sound bites, but can sometimes forestall the gravest outcomes.So, what does this mean for the rest of us watching from afar? There’s no small uncertainty as to how long this phase of muscular American intervention will last, or what the ultimate results will be. The removal of Maduro, for all its swiftness, launches a wider ripple—a test not only for those seeking freedom but for the architects of U.S. foreign policy now gambling on hard power and high-voltage signals.At minimum, a new tone has been set—a statement of intent that American influence, long proclaimed in doctrine but inconsistently enforced, is once again in motion. For allies and adversaries, the signal is clear enough. What happens next, as ever in politics, will hinge as much on shadows and backchannels as on the thunder of headlines.