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On the December 3, 2025 edition of MSNOW’s Last Word, host Lawrence O’Donnell made a striking allegation: that President Trump’s recent moves toward a potential conflict with Venezuela are part of a deliberate effort to divert public attention from what has become the most politically explosive vulnerability of his administration—the Epstein files. As dramatic as that claim sounds, the idea that a president might reach for military action to overshadow damaging domestic troubles is far from unprecedented in American politics.
History offers several examples of presidents facing crises at home while initiating or escalating military operations abroad. In 1999, as the Monica Lewinsky scandal and impeachment fight threatened his presidency, Bill Clinton authorized U.S. and NATO airstrikes in Kosovo. While the Kosovo intervention had legitimate humanitarian and geopolitical motivations, critics at the time argued that its timing conveniently shifted the national focus away from the turmoil engulfing Clinton in Washington. Similarly, George W. Bush’s 2003 invasion of Iraq—authorized with congressional approval and publicly justified as a necessary step to eliminate weapons of mass destruction—has long been viewed by some political observers as a campaign that also helped neutralize criticism of the administration’s intelligence failures surrounding 9/11 and other mounting domestic issues. In both cases, military action absorbed media bandwidth, elevated presidential authority, and stirred a sense of national unity that could blunt domestic scrutiny.
The pattern, then, is an old one: foreign conflict can serve as a political reset button, even if the strategic and humanitarian stakes are genuinely complex. It is also a risky gamble, because wars rarely unfold according to plan. setbacks can deepen public dissatisfaction instead of alleviating it, and the use of military force for political cover remains one of the most controversial charges that can be leveled against any commander in chief.
Against this backdrop, if President Trump were to sidestep Congress and launch a military operation in Venezuela under the banner of fighting “narco-terrorists,” it would not emerge in a historical vacuum. It would more closely resemble a familiar—and troubling—pattern in presidential behavior. Yet recognizing a pattern does not mean the public should accept it as inevitable. Trump campaigned in 2024 on promises of “no more foreign wars” and “no more regime change,” commitments that resonated deeply with voters weary of costly, open-ended U.S. interventions. Many of his supporters viewed him as the candidate who would finally break the cycle of manufactured or opportunistic foreign entanglements that so often coincide with moments of domestic political stress.
That alone should give the president pause. If he truly intends to differentiate himself from past administrations, he must resist the temptation to use military force as a political distraction. The public—and especially the voters who backed him on the promise of a different foreign-policy era—deserve a leader who resists the cynical logic of war as domestic cover, not one who repeats it.