When U.S. President Donald Trump announced the capture of Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro after American military strikes in Caracas last Saturday, he quickly hinted that Venezuela was not an isolated case. Trump also threatened Mexico, Colombia, and Cuba. Senior U.S. officials echoed this rhetoric. The message was unmistakable: toppling Latin American leaders by force was back on the table as an acceptable tool of U.S. policy in the region. Even countries that cooperate closely with the U.S., such as Colombia and Mexico, can no longer take their sovereignty for granted.

Regional responses to Maduro’s capture have tracked ideology, with right-wing leaders praising Trump and left-wingers criticizing him. Yet irrespective of the ideological orientation of their governments the military establishment in the region—long one seen as free of interstate conflict—has been scrambling to adapt to a transformed security landscape.

In this context, Trump’s belligerent signaling has created a perverse strategic dilemma for Latin American governments. On one hand, every country in the region would benefit from a democratic, stable, and prosperous Venezuela. The country’s economic collapse over the past decade has inflicted tremendous costs on its neighbors—from lost trade to the absorption of millions of refugees in Latin America and the Caribbean. Colombia, Peru, Chile, and others have borne the brunt of this humanitarian crisis, straining public services and budgets. A swift reconstruction of Venezuela’s economy and an end to its refugee exodus would be an undeniable relief for the region.

Yet that very outcome, if perceived as a U.S.-engineered “success,” could carry dangerous implications. A rapid stabilization of Venezuela following an American intervention would validate Trump’s belief that military coercion “works” and risk emboldening Washington to replicate the playbook elsewhere.

For Latin America’s policymakers—few of whom had any love lost Maduro—this creates a grim incentive. Privately, some tell me that the best-case scenario might be Washington getting bogged down in Venezuela, too preoccupied to focus on new targets. A frustrating or costly U.S. engagement in Caracas (however unfortunate for Venezuelans) would at least serve as a cautionary tale, tempering the White House’s appetite for further adventures. By contrast, U.S. success in Venezuela could encourage hardliners in Washington to press their advantage across the region. This paradox is deeply unsettling: the very outcome the region wants for Venezuela—peace and prosperity—could spur outcomes they want to avoid in their own countries.

Compounding Latin American wariness is the stated rationale behind Trump’s Venezuela gambit. Unlike past U.S. interventions justified (at least rhetorically) by spreading democracy or stopping communism, Trump framed the Caracas operation in bluntly transactional terms—chiefly, oil. By justifying an invasion in terms of energy resources and U.S. self-interest, Trump risks eroding trust even among Latin America’s conservative and pro-U.S. governments.

Faced with this new reality, Latin American governments are quietly pursuing strategies to hedge against overreliance on Washington. Notably, each potential hedge comes with significant constraints.

One obvious counterweight to U.S. dominance is deeper alignment with China, which has invested heavily in Latin America in recent years. However, relying too much on China carries its own risks. Many Latin American nations are wary of trading one dependency for another. Europe could be a natural partner to fill the gap, but the E.U. remains divided and slow in its engagement with Latin America—a fact symbolized by the foot-dragging on the E.U.-Mercosur trade deal, which may finally pass next week. Other rising powers like India offer some engagement, but at this stage their regional footprint is far too small to alter the strategic balance. Likewise, Russia and other BRICS partners have limited reach.

No country illustrates the region’s dilemma better than Brazil, Latin America’s largest democracy. Brasília has pursued a strategy of diversifying partnerships to preserve its autonomy—maintaining cordial ties with all great powers while entangling with none. Trump’s Venezuela intervention is putting that doctrine to the test. President Lula was one of the most vocal critics of the U.S. strikes, blasting them as a threat to Latin America’s status as a “zone of peace.”

Brazil remains committed to nuclear nonproliferation—it famously ended a secret nuclear weapons program in 1990, when President Fernando Collor symbolically buried the project’s test shaft. For 35 years Brazilian political elites have viewed nuclear armament as both unnecessary and counterproductive, given Brazil’s peaceful foreign policy, emphasis on multilateralism, and the Tlatelolco Treaty making Latin America a nuclear-weapons-free zone. Yet continued aggressive rhetoric by Trump is likely to strengthen voices on the fringes of Brazil’s strategic community who question old taboos.

While immediate radical shifts are unlikely, Latin America’s leaders, from Brasília to Bogotá, understand that Trump’s bold move in Caracas has upended the strategic landscape. In the end, the “Donroe Doctrine” in Latin America—intervention for oil and influence—is likely to backfire by galvanizing the region to be less dependent on the U.S.