The U.S.’s cartel and organized crime terror designations expand state power while shrinking civil and financial infrastructure.
In February 2025, the U.S. designated eight Latin American cartels and criminal enterprises as both Foreign Terrorist Organizations (FTOs) and Specially Designated Global Terrorists (SDGTs) — one month after President Trump issued Executive Order 14157 calling for this action. In May 2025, the same designations were applied to two Haitian gangs following escalating violence in Port-au-Prince. And in September, the U.S. conducted a military strike on a suspected Tren de Aragua vessel in Venezuelan waters. Days later, several Ecuadorian criminal enterprises were added to the FTO and SDGT lists.
Since then, the U.S. has continued to expand its military operations in the Caribbean, increasingly using narco-terrorist rhetoric that calls for the use of force against Venezuelan vessels in international waters, contrary to U.S. international human rights law. UN experts have named these attacks as extrajudicial killings. The escalation culminated in early 2026, when the world awoke to news that the U.S. had taken extreme military action within Venezuela in an operation to capture Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife.
These efforts by the Trump administration reflect a broader strategy, one with troubling implications. The power to label an entity a “terrorist” is the power to reshape the law around it. These designations criminalize most forms of contact with the entity in question, isolate financial systems, and authorize extraordinary state action. But over the first year of the second Trump presidency, they have taken on a more dangerous character. Rather than operating solely as regulatory tools that trigger sanctions and criminal liability, these designations increasingly frame criminal groups as national security threats—creating the legal and political conditions through which the executive branch can invoke broader authorities, including inherent Article II powers, claims of self-defense against non-state actors, the “unwilling or unable” doctrine for cross-border force, or military assistance to law enforcement operations.
In other words, while a designation is not itself a war authorization, it can supply the legal and political predicate through which other authorities are mobilized. Cartels, gangs, and criminal syndicates, once dealt with through law enforcement cooperation and anti-narcotics strategies, are now being reclassified as transnational terrorist threats to be terminated by state-sanctioned armed force. Furthermore, the broad power that the U.S. national security framework vests in the administration is being weaponized to justify imperialist motives in Venezuela, with Trump publicly stating the U.S. “will run” Venezuela—likely due to its large oil reserves—instead of backing the current opposition leader in the country. This rapid expansion of the counterterrorism framework demonstrates the broad and dangerous power that terrorism laws can enable within the administration.
The Consequences of SDGT & FTO Designations
Under 8 U.S.C. § 1189(a)(1), the secretary of state is authorized to designate an FTO upon determining that an organization (a) is foreign; (b) engages in terrorist activity or terrorism, or provides material support for such activity, or has the capability and intent to do so; and (c) poses a threat to the security of U.S. nationals or to U.S. national security. Under Executive Order 13224 and the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA), the Secretary of State and Secretary of the Treasury, along with the Attorney General, may designate individuals as SDGTs, which have similar criteria.
The criteria for SDGT designation are broadly similar, and there is significant overlap between the two lists. In practice, both designations are used concurrently in the cartel context and they operate through complementary legal frameworks: The FTO designation enables criminal liability for material support, while the SDGT designation, which also carries criminal and civil liability, provides more flexible and immediate tools for financial sanctions, asset blocking, and administrative enforcement through the U.S. Department of the Treasury. Together, they expand both prosecutorial reach and financial restrictions for designated entities and those with whom they are associated. Nowhere in U.S. law, however, are these designations defined as war authorizations.
The repercussions of the FTO regime are enforced through 18 U.S.C. § 2339B, which makes it a federal crime for U.S. persons, and in some circumstances non-U.S. persons, to “knowingly” provide material support to a designated group. The term “material support” encompasses not only funding but also services, personnel, logistics, and even incidental contact such as fees or tolls. As material support is a general intent crime, there is no requirement that prosecutors prove activities are intended to support designated entities or acts of terrorism. Prosecutors need only prove the intent to engage in the activities in the first place.
These acts have sweeping consequences. They are punishable by up to 20 years in prison for each violation and can extend to life imprisonment if they result in a death. They also carry heavy financial penalties. In October 2022, for instance, the French construction firm Lafarge was fined $778 million as part of a plea deal “for providing material support to terrorist organizations.”
Separately, SDGT designations are implemented primarily through sanctions. Under Executive Order 13224, U.S. persons and nonprofit organizations are prohibited from engaging in financial transactions with designated entities or providing them with material support. Violations may result in civil penalties of up to $250,000, or criminal penalties of up to $1 million in fines or up to 20 years’ imprisonment, the latter only being applicable where the conduct is found to be “willful.”
This creates a legally brittle operating environment. Organizations delivering aid, hiring transport, or working in areas under partial or total cartel control risk material support liability, even in good faith, because the boundaries of group membership and control are often opaque. Financial institutions—driven by stringent anti-money laundering and countering the financing of terrorism (AML/CFT) regulations that are especially salient when territories contain designated entities, and exposure to sanctions enforcement—often respond by overcorrecting. They delay transfers, close accounts, or exit jurisdictions entirely. Banks also face the possibility of regulatory penalties or the loss of correspondent banking relationships if transactions are later linked to a designated entity.
These dynamics are already familiar in Somalia, where al-Shabaab’s 2008 designation and the associated compliance risks led banks and money transfer operators to restrict remittance channels, contributing to delays in famine-related aid delivery. In Yemen, where the Houthis’ designation generated uncertainty around the U.S. Department of the Treasury’s Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) licensing and humanitarian exemptions, banks and vendors halted or delayed transactions for organizations operating in Houthi-controlled areas. And in Colombia, earlier FTO designations of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia complicated peacebuilding and humanitarian engagement by exposing intermediaries and service providers to potential material support liability. In each case, civilians bore the cost.
Defining Terrorism
Despite the requirements for FTO and SDGT designations—and the consequences of them—there is little universal guidance in domestic or international law that provides a clear definition of terrorism itself. That definitional gap matters because the national security framework inherently broadens executive authorities in ways that concerningly skirt traditional constitutional safeguards. The U.S. post-9/11 era quickly ushered in legal frameworks, like the USA Patriot Act and Executive Order 13224 under IEEPA, which created unprecedented broad authorities to designate terrorists and prosecute material support to terrorism. These laws lack consistent legal boundaries and allow the U.S. to retain broad discretion to expand who qualifies as a terrorist actor and what legal tools may be deployed in response. Designation processes and national security actions around countering terrorism have been challenged in the U.S. courts—but the courts have hesitated to curtail governmental authority on national security issues, citing “political question” exceptions, and even allowing the use of “secret evidence” during trials prosecuting material support..
Recognizing this danger, several attempts have been made to articulate clearer legal parameters. Among the most recent is the model definition of terrorism posited by the United Nations Special Rapporteur on Counter-terrorism and Human Rights, which attempts to provide a narrow definition of terrorism and, notably, defines what does not constitute terrorism. Furthermore, the Special Rapporteur has continued to call for a distinction between terrorism and organized crime.
Terrorism must be politically or ideologically motivated and intended to spread terror among civilians, while organized crime is driven primarily by profit rather than ideology. This distinction is critical and, if integrated and enforced in domestic regimes, would prevent the expansion of the application of overbroad national security laws and penalties to the narcotrafficking framework, as seen by the U.S. in the Caribbean context. Indeed, experts at American University have warned that the designations of the cartels by the U.S. risk being “legally redundant” and “strategically ineffective,” noting that the groups in question lack the ideological motivation historically associated with terrorism frameworks.
In the absence of such principled approaches, justifications rooted in counterterrorism and operationalized through designations will remain a viable impetus for military expansion and armed force. This is evident in the U.S. Office of Legal Counsel’s (OLC’s) justification for the Maduro operation in a memorandum to the National Security Council, titled “Proposed War Department Operation to Support Law Enforcement Efforts in Venezuela.” The public version of this memorandum, though highly redacted, frequently cites the regional history of cartels, Maduro’s U.S. indictment for narcotics-related crimes, and governmental corruption surrounding cartel operations to justify the operation to capture Maduro. The OLC memo notes prior occasions where the executive branch authorized the military to assist the FBI in arresting individuals abroad under U.S. indictment, therefore supporting the argument for Maduro’s capture and extradition under U.S. domestic law. The memo notes, however, that this action would constitute an act of armed conflict under international law—which, as previously noted, cannot be justified using either the FTO or SDGT framework.
A Dangerous Precedent With Dangerous Consequences
To date, there is no public evidence that the Executive Order 14157 designations have reduced violence or degraded the capacity of the targeted cartels and gangs. While it may be too early to assess the impact of the executive order, it contains no requirement for an impact evaluation to measure improvements in security from these designations, though one can anticipate the designations’ widespread impacts to civilian populations and civil society based on historical case studies like Somalia.
What these designations have produced, instead, is precedent.
The executive order stretches the scope of the global war on terror into contexts shaped not by insurgency, but by state fragility, migration flows, and social inequality. Labeling criminal violence as “terrorism” activates national security tools that have historically been used in states of emergency and been targeted at ideological groups, while bypassing the governance and rule-of-law measures actually needed to address those crises. This is not countering terrorism with the aim of stopping the unlawful use of force against civilians. Rather, it is the selective deployment of national security laws to justify militarized responses and regulatory deterrence without adequate legal safeguards and accountability.
That reclassification has already been used to rationalize the extraterritorial use of force. The September 2025 strike on the Venezuelan vessel and the January capture of another head of state were carried out without a new U.S. war authorization or congressional debate. The administration cited national security concerns and cartel-terrorist linkages. In turn, these linkages exist only because the administration crafted them earlier through designation. The law becomes its own rationale.
In Haiti, the consequences have been more diffuse but no less significant. Local and international organizations are struggling to determine whether routine engagement, such as paying informal tolls, contracting vendors, or distributing aid, could expose them to prosecution. Banks have begun reassessing relationships with nongovernmental organizations. And while there have been no indictments to date, the threat of enforcement alone is enough to drive hesitation, withdrawal, or program shutdowns.
None of these impacts are unprecedented. Indeed, FTO designations have long had a detrimental impact on civic space and humanitarian, human rights, and peacebuilding activities. For instance, more than a decade of conflict has left the Houthis in control of approximately one-third of Yemen’s territory, encompassing an estimated 70 to 80 percent of the population. The reestablishment of the FTO designation on the Houthis in March 2025 therefore carried significant legal consequences for civil society, particularly through expansive prohibitions on providing “material support.” Previous FTO designations of the Houthis showed that these designations sharply constrained the operating environment for nonprofit organizations engaged in humanitarian assistance, human rights work, and peacebuilding in Houthi-controlled areas, where incidental contact is often unavoidable.
At the same time, financial institutions tend to avoid processing transactions linked to regions where FTOs operate, creating additional barriers for aid groups working in complex conflict settings. This designation has consequently exacerbated one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises in Yemen, where around 21.6 million people, or more than half the population, require aid.
This is how legal risk translates into operational paralysis for civil society, journalists, critical financial institutions, and human rights defenders: Not through active targeting, but through the silent weight of liability.
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There are alternatives to FTO designations. The U.S. could invest in community-based violence interruption or development programs that expand livelihoods and social services—tools that have demonstrated consistent results in reducing violence. Instead, the administration has chosen an approach that maximizes risk without accountability and offers no safe path for civilian actors to comply.
There is no question that the communities affected by cartel and gang violence need protection. But collapsing the legal distinction between organized crime and terrorism will not provide it. It will only limit the space in which others can act. Further, it will export a model of counterterrorism defined not by precise legal frameworks, but by political scope—where the enemy is defined by the politics of the moment or opposition to the country’s leadership, and where the consequences are felt by those our legal system should most protect.
If terrorism can be defined at will, counterterrorism becomes an open-ended mandate, expanding executive power while contracting the operating environment for civil society. That is not security. It is the normalization of legal overreach, and it corrodes the very rule of law it claims to defend.
– Poorvika Mehra, Katherine Tomaszewski, Published courtesy of Lawfare.
