Imagine waking up in a peaceful Caribbean village, only to realize that global power struggles could turn your daily fishing trip into a deadly gamble. That's the terrifying reality facing fishermen in Trinidad and Tobago right now, caught in the crossfire of escalating tensions between the United States and Venezuela. But here's where it gets controversial: are these military actions truly protecting innocent lives, or are they risking them in ways that demand a closer look?
Picture this: On a serene afternoon in a quiet corner of the Caribbean, Kenrick Modie was wrapping up his work with his fishing net in his coastal home. As he relaxed in his hammock with the ocean waves in view, a deep worry gnawed at him—that a U.S. military operation could erase his life and the income he relies on to support his family. Modie calls the twin-island nation of Trinidad and Tobago home, a place now uncomfortably sandwiched between the U.S. and Venezuela, which lies just 11 miles across the water.
He expressed his fears bluntly, saying that U.S. President Trump seems to be authorizing lethal force against suspected drug vessels in the Caribbean, as America increases its military footprint in the area. 'What could we do? We're just a little dot,' Modie lamented, highlighting how small nations like his feel powerless in such a big geopolitical showdown.
The U.S. has executed at least four targeted strikes on boats believed to be carrying drugs in Venezuelan waters over the past few weeks, with two of those vessels reportedly coming from Venezuela itself. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth revealed details of the latest attack on Friday, confirming that 'four male narco-terrorists' were eliminated, though he provided no further information about their identities. For beginners wondering what 'narco-terrorists' means, it's a term used to describe individuals involved in drug trafficking who might also engage in violent or terror-like activities, blending organized crime with potential threats to national security.
President Trump notified Congress, in a document reviewed by CBS News, that the U.S. is engaged in an 'armed conflict' with Caribbean drug cartels, accusing them of attempting to flood American shores with 'deadly poison'—a reference to illicit drugs that can devastate communities. Meanwhile, Venezuela has lashed out at the U.S., accusing it of aggressive military expansion and prompting President Nicolás Maduro to put the country's armed forces and volunteer civilians on high alert.
Trinidad and Tobago finds itself right in the middle of this powder keg. This nation boasts a fishing industry worth millions, providing jobs for thousands who head out to sea nearly every day to catch enough to feed their families and make a living. And this is the part most people miss: while world leaders posture and strategize, everyday people like these fishermen are the ones paying the highest price.
Trinidad and Tobago's Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissessar has acknowledged the harm drug cartels have inflicted on her country, even going so far as to urge the U.S. to 'kill them all violently.' She also offered to allow U.S. forces access to her nation's territory if it helps protect Guyana from Venezuela's territorial claims—Venezuela asserts ownership over two-thirds of Guyana's land, a dispute that's been simmering for years and could escalate into conflict.
Maduro fired back, calling Persad-Bissessar's stance an act of war against Venezuela. Yet, the Venezuelan leader appealed for restored friendly ties with Trinidad and Tobago, while the island nation's government insists there's no animosity between them. As politicians exchange barbs and military leaders flex their muscles, countless fishermen in Trinidad and Tobago feel their safety is hanging by a thread amid the U.S. strikes and rising hostilities with Venezuela.
'If we die, we die, that's how this life is,' Modie resignedly stated. He dreads the possibility of being caught in a U.S. strike while out on his boat, fearing it might be confused for a drug runner. Modie pointed out that he hasn't seen solid proof that the victims of these strikes were actually hauling drugs, and he's concerned about innocent fishermen being gunned down and wrongly branded as narco-terrorists, leaving the deceased with no chance to defend themselves.
Fishing under constant fear has become the harsh new norm. Just seven miles at the narrowest point separate Trinidad from Venezuela, and on a clear day, you can spot Venezuela from the village of Icacos on Trinidad's southwestern edge. Driving through Icacos and the nearby Cedros village, you'll see boats lined up along the shore, underscoring how vital fishing is to these communities.
Local fishermen already deal with threats from pirates, and now the increased naval activity adds another layer of danger. Watching fellow fishermen unload their day's catch at the Cedros Fishing Complex, Kamal Bikeran explained that his team now sticks to shallower waters and avoids venturing far out, thanks to the brewing conflict among the three nations. 'The U.S. has come there, and the Venezuelan military is saying they are more present, so you have to watch out,' Bikeran warned. 'At any point in time, outside there, you could be taken out.'
Staying in safer, shallower areas means fewer fish for Bikeran and his peers, directly impacting their earnings and ability to provide for their families. This situation echoes President Trump's own words after the initial strike on September 2, which he claimed took out 11 suspected narco-terrorists. 'Boat traffic is substantially down,' Trump noted in early September. 'I don't even know about fishermen. They may say, "I'm not getting on the boat."'
He reiterated this at a Navy anniversary event in Norfolk, Virginia, on Sunday, boasting, 'We're so good at it that there are no boats. In fact, even fishing boats. Nobody wants to go into the water anymore.'
At the United Nations General Assembly in late September, Caribbean leaders emphasized their region as a zone of peace. Barbados Prime Minister Mia Mottley called for talks to prevent war between the U.S. and Venezuela, while St. Vincent and the Grenadines' Prime Minister Ralph Gonsalves voiced deep concern over the foreign military presence near Venezuela.
For Shyam Hajarie, a fisherman with over 40 years of experience from Cedros, this fear is now a daily companion. Like many others, he relies on his catches to support his loved ones and wonders if the military escalation might drive up fish prices at the market. 'Just praying that everything works out with this situation with Venezuela and the U.S.,' he shared. 'That they make peace and not war.'
But let's pause and consider the controversy here: Is the U.S. justified in these strikes, or do they risk innocent lives in a region already plagued by crime? And what about Trinidad and Tobago's prime minister's bold call for violence against cartels—does that cross a line, or is it a necessary stance? These actions raise big questions about international law, sovereignty, and the human cost of fighting drugs. What do you think? Do you agree that military force is the answer, or should diplomacy take precedence? Share your thoughts in the comments—let's discuss!
