At the end of April 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of global debates — but not only because of the familiar topic of Washington elections. Attention in Brazil, Ukraine and Israel today is focused on three overlapping storylines: the unprecedented U.S. military intervention in Venezuela and its consequences for Latin America; the war of the U.S. and Israel against Iran and how it affects Ukraine and the global economy; and the transformation of U.S. domestic politics under Donald Trump and its impact on allies. These stories are read differently across the world, but most observers agree on one point: America is returning to a hard, unilateral use of force — and this generates simultaneously hope, fear and a deep sense of dependence.
The first major focal point is the American intervention in Venezuela on January 3, 2026, in which U.S. special forces captured Nicolás Maduro and his spouse inside the Fort Tiuna military complex in Caracas. Brazil’s intellectual and diplomatic circles saw in this not only a “return of Monroe” in the 21st century but also a qualitatively new level of direct intervention. At the OPEU think tank, lawyer Yasmin Abriu characterizes the operation as the largest U.S. intervention in the region since the invasion of Panama in 1989 and a direct violation of the UN Charter, emphasizing that there was neither a Security Council decision nor a clear case of self-defense, and therefore the use of force undermines the very architecture of postwar international law on which Brazil has historically based its foreign policy and its claims to be a “normative power” in the Global South. In her extended piece on the OPEU portal she writes that the attack “coloca em xeque os fundamentos da ordem jurídica global instaurada após a Segunda Guerra Mundial” and fits into a new “Trump corollary” — a Latin American reformulation of the old doctrinal U.S. right to intervene in the hemisphere under the pretext of defending democracy and markets, but now without even the formal cover of multilateralism. The author shows that the operation was planned and effectively managed from the president’s personal political headquarters in Mar-a-Lago, which, from the Brazilian perspective, reinforces the impression of a “privatization” of American foreign policy and of entire countries in the region becoming fields for the electoral strategy of a single U.S. politician. This sentiment resonates in the broader Brazilian public sphere. Research by AtlasIntel, cited by the economic outlet InfoMoney and the magazine Exame, shows a paradoxical picture: most Latin Americans, including Venezuelans themselves, approved of the operation to overthrow Maduro, but in Brazil approval and disapproval levels are much closer to each other than in neighboring countries. An Exame article stresses that while in most countries regional support for the intervention is twice as high as opposition, in Brazil the split is much more even, reflecting a traditional distrust of American interventionism even among those who loathe the Maduro regime. That ambivalent tone also appears in academic analysis: in another OPEU piece on “Venezuela after Maduro,” the authors emphasize that Washington deliberately left a significant part of the old structure in place — from Delcy and Jorge Rodríguez to the military bloc — and preferred not to destroy the existing order, but to take it under a kind of “tutelage,” betting that “managed” authoritarianism would better prevent chaos and ensure oil supplies in needed volumes. Economic and resource motives are visible in Brazil’s domestic debate as well: columnists in Veja and regional outlets link the intervention in Venezuela with growing U.S. interest in terras-has — rare earth metals in the Amazon — hinting that Venezuela is becoming a model for how Washington might deal with states possessing critical resources. In one column José Casado in Veja discusses the purchase by an American company of a strategic rare-earth deposit in Brazil and recalls past statements by politicians close to Bolsonaro promising the U.S. “reliable supply chains” from the Amazon, placing this alongside the Venezuelan story and fueling fears of a gradual loss of sovereign control over natural wealth.
Against this backdrop, bilateral friction between Brasília and Washington has significantly intensified. The Spanish-language but widely read in Brazil El País detailed Brazil’s symbolic response to the U.S.’s unilateral law-enforcement actions: the Federal Police revoked the accreditation of an American police officer working in the capital after the Trump administration announced the expulsion of a Brazilian liaison in Florida who had participated in the capture of fugitive pro‑Bolsonaro politician Alexandre Ramagem. The report emphasizes that this diplomatic exchange of reprisals became a direct consequence of the politicization of law-enforcement cooperation: when the far-right activist arrested in the U.S. was quickly released, he publicly thanked “the highest echelons of the Trump administration,” and the State Department charged the Brazilian officer with “manipulating the immigration system” and “extraterritorial persecution of opponents.” In response, Federal Police Director Andrei Rodrigues announced on GloboNews the immediate revocation of the American colleague’s access to Brazilian databases and working premises, and President Lula, speaking in Hanover, said the country could not “aceitar essa ingerência e esse abuso de autoridade que algumas personalidades americanas querem ter em relação ao Brasil,” stressing the principle of reciprocity as a tool for protecting sovereignty. Brazilians read this episode as a symptom of a broader shift: under Trump the U.S. is increasingly seen not as an abstract “empire” but as an active player inside Brazilian domestic politics — supporting certain right‑wing networks, intervening in judicial affairs, and at the same time demanding privileged access to resources and security. It is no coincidence that the provincial but indicative Folha de Paraguaçu describes the recent refusal to admit a Trump adviser into the country on the grounds of possible interference in the 2026 elections, while President Lula and the left accuse the opposition of being ready to “sell” rare-earth riches to the U.S. in exchange for protection.
The second major focus is the U.S. and Israeli war against Iran, which began on February 28, 2026 and for nearly two months has been dominating the agenda in Israel and indirectly in Ukraine and Brazil. In Russian-language analytical publications, which are read attentively in Ukraine, the conflict is described as a prolonged campaign without a clear outcome: EX‑PRESS writes that after massive strikes on Iran there is no real peace, yet few visible results, and by autumn 2026, when the U.S. holds midterm elections, the war could become a serious domestic political burden for Trump. The author reminds readers that both the U.S. and Israel chose a strategy of complex escalation: on one hand, they aim to weaken Iran’s missile potential and the infrastructure of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, on the other — they are unwilling to wage a full-scale ground war and attempt to combine pressure with the closure of the Strait of Hormuz and an economic blockade. Referring to Axios, the commentator notes that Tehran has already signaled willingness to reopen the strait in exchange for lifting part of the American blockade and shelving the nuclear issue, placing Washington before a dilemma: either partly ease up to stabilize oil markets and domestic politics, or risk a protracted conflict with growing economic consequences.
In Israel’s public sphere this war is first and foremost perceived as a matter of survival and restoring deterrence after years of confrontation with Iran and Hezbollah. The official narrative stresses that it is about destroying infrastructure that threatened Israel and exercising the right to self-defense after attacks from the Iranian side. At the same time, even in friendly right-wing media a debate is intensifying over whether close alignment with the U.S. in this war strengthens or, conversely, limits Israel’s freedom of action. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu promises “strikes on thousands of targets” in Iran and insists that the current operation is a test of the whole architecture of regional deterrence built around the U.S.-Israeli alliance. But in the shadow of official statements anxiety grows: dependence on American military logistics and a diplomatic umbrella makes Israel more vulnerable to shifts in Washington mood, especially in light of upcoming elections and polarization in the U.S.
For Ukraine this war is a dangerous distraction. Ukrainian analysis increasingly argues that the United States cannot physically and politically conduct two major campaigns simultaneously without reducing attention to one of them. Russian‑language and pro‑Russian outlets like InoSMI happily broadcast the thesis that Washington has allegedly “crossed Ukraine off the priority list” and is shifting its center of interest to the Middle East. In an interview recounted by that resource, former CIA analyst Larry Johnson claims that for the American public the war in Ukraine has long ceased to be the main storyline, and in Washington it is largely seen as a tool of European policy and a NATO matter, while Iran and the Strait of Hormuz directly affect energy security and global markets. The decision of the EU to allocate €90 billion to Kyiv for the purchase of American weapons “you don’t have,” for an army “they don’t have either,” is commented on ironically, suggesting exhausted resources. This view, however, strongly contrasts with Ukrainian and pro‑Western experts’ positions. In a column on Ukrainska Pravda, Irwin Redlener, an American physician and Columbia University expert, points out that according to Economist/YouGov polling, 61% of Americans still sympathize with Ukraine, and only 3% with Russia, and that this support is only weakly dependent on party affiliation. He warns: the real danger is not that U.S. public opinion will sharply turn away from Ukraine, but that certain loud statements and diplomatic steps creating the impression of “fatigue” and willingness to strike a deal with Moscow cause anxiety among Ukrainians and increase feelings of vulnerability. For Kyiv the U.S.-Israel war with Iran is dangerous precisely as a “tug-of-war” for attention and ammunition, which is especially painful after the recent massive Russian missile‑drone strike on April 15–16 and the growing need for air defense and long-range missiles. In Kyiv’s expert debates a pragmatic, disillusioned formula is increasingly voiced: the U.S. remains an indispensable source of military and economic aid, but Ukraine can no longer rely on automatic prioritization and must find ways to fit its requests into a broader American strategic puzzle, competing for attention with Iran, China and America’s domestic problems.
The third shared layer of discussion is U.S. domestic politics under Donald Trump and its international consequences. In Brazil this theme has been taken up not only by academics but also by more journalistic platforms. The investigative outlet Agência Pública published in late April an analysis discussing the assassination attempt on Trump during the White House Correspondents’ Association dinner and its possible impact on the November 3, 2026 midterms. The authors note that the assassination attempt is unlikely to change the fundamental polarization of American society, and sociological data from CNBC/All America Economic Survey point to very low approval of Trump’s economic policy — only 39% support his course, 60% disapprove. The paradox, the journalists emphasize, is that on the foreign track Trump appears in Latin America as a decisive and successful leader who toppled an odious Maduro and secured potential inflows of investment into Venezuelan oil, while at home he faces serious skepticism and disappointment, especially if the war with Iran drags on and drives up fuel prices. The analyst notes that if the Middle Eastern conflict continues, Trump could lose support among some “America First” Republicans and independent voters opposed to dragging the U.S. into new wars — and this would be immediately felt in Kyiv, Jerusalem and Brasília, which closely monitor signs of American domestic fatigue with the role of “world policeman.”
Ukrainian and Israeli observers, unlike many Brazilians, view American domestic politics primarily through the lens of allied reliability. Ukrainian expert discourse maintains a clear distinction between structural support for Ukraine from American society and institutions, on the one hand, and the unpredictability of a particular president, on the other. Redlener and other commentators stress that even with high sympathy for Ukraine within the U.S., the issue is becoming increasingly politicized, and individual statements by Trump about the possibility of “quickly ending the war” through negotiations with Putin provoke concern in Kyiv because they are perceived as a willingness to trade Ukrainian interests for domestic political gain. For Israel a similar worry is the prospect of changing American priorities after elections: the current tight coordination in the war with Iran strengthens a sense of embrace, but at the same time raises the fear that if circumstances change or isolationist moods grow, Washington may sharply narrow its support, leaving Israel alone with the regional coalition the U.S. helped awaken.
Particularly indicative in Latin America is how observers discuss the international dimension of U.S. domestic polarization. CNN Brasil analysis, published even before the intervention, stressed that Trump’s policy toward Venezuela combined tough rhetoric against the dictatorship with the simultaneous rollback of humanitarian programs such as Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for hundreds of thousands of Venezuelan refugees in the U.S., reflecting an internal priority of immigration restriction. Now, after the January 3 operation, Brazilian experts warn: the combination of domestic populism, a hardline migration stance and a willingness to use force abroad creates a new type of American leadership, much less sensitive to international law and reputational costs. From the Brazilian perspective this means that even formally friendly governments in the region cannot feel safe from pressure if their resources or political positions suddenly become important to America’s domestic scene.
Beyond these three themes — Venezuela, Iran and U.S. domestic politics — there are other, quieter but important issues. Brazil’s economic circles continue to discuss how U.S. tariffs and regulations affect steel exports and other goods, comparing the current administration with Trump’s first term and with the Biden period when many tariffs against China were maintained. In Israeli and Ukrainian debates much attention goes to the technological dimension of U.S.-China confrontation — from semiconductor controls to restrictions on 5G and artificial intelligence equipment — since both Israel and Ukraine are trying to integrate into new value chains without falling under crossfire from sanctions. But all these stories are subordinated to one big question: how to live in a world where the United States again readily and demonstratively uses force, placing its interests above the formal norms and institutions it once created.
The uniqueness of the present moment is that different regions see different faces in this new-old America. For a significant part of Venezuelans and many Latin Americans, according to AtlasIntel, Trump is associated with relief from a lifelong autocrat; for a significant part of the Brazilian elite — with a dangerous return to the era of the “big stick,” when the fate of governments and borders was decided in Washington. For Ukraine the U.S. remains the key guarantor of survival in the face of Russian aggression, but at the same time a source of constant tension: any wavering of attention, any shift of focus to Iran or domestic scandals is immediately felt in Kyiv as a threat. For Israel the alliance with the U.S. is the foundation of national security, and the current joint war against Iran is the culmination of decades of strategic convergence; however, the closer these embraces, the more painful the thought that tomorrow’s America could suddenly tire of its role as guarantor of Middle Eastern order.
All these perspectives are united by one thing: almost no one any longer believes in an abstract, universalist America that acts “in the name of democracy and human rights” in a global sense. Brazilian jurists speak of a gross violation of the UN Charter, Ukrainian analysts — of competing fronts and the risk of being a “forgotten war,” Israeli commentators — of the need to rely on the U.S. while being ready for the day Washington decides its interests have changed. In the world of 2026 the U.S. is perceived less as the “leader of the free world” and more as a superpower whose decisions must be constantly monitored, balanced and, where possible, insured against — whether through regional alliances, diversification of economic ties or accumulation of one’s own military and technological resources. In this sense Brazil, Ukraine and Israel, despite their differing experiences, converge on one point: living next to America today means both relying on it and making plans for the possibility that tomorrow’s Washington will wake up with entirely different priorities.
