U.S. Actions in Venezuela Highlight the Complexities of Regime Change

By Dr. Kirkpatrick Williams
January 6, 2026 | Editorial Desk 

Recent U.S. involvement in Venezuela underscores the enduring debate over the role of American power in promoting political change abroad. The removal of President Nicolás Maduro, while hailed by some as a step toward restoring democratic governance, raises broader questions about the benefits and consequences of foreign intervention.

Regime change is often framed as a tool to promote stability, human rights, and economic recovery. Supporters argue that removing entrenched authoritarian leaders can open the door for democratic institutions, reduce corruption, and create opportunities for regional partnerships. In theory, successful interventions can enhance U.S. influence and signal a commitment to defending democratic principles on the global stage.

Yet history demonstrates that such actions carry significant risks. Foreign interventions can destabilize nations, produce power vacuums, and place civilians in harm’s way. The logistical, financial, and diplomatic costs are substantial, and poorly planned operations can undermine both the intended objectives and America’s reputation abroad. Beyond strategy, ethical considerations loom large: U.S. engagement in regime change must balance national interests with the responsibility to minimize human suffering.

The recent events in Venezuela highlight the need for careful deliberation. Congress, the executive branch, and international partners must weigh potential gains against long-term consequences, ensuring that any action is legally grounded and strategically sound. Oversight and transparency are essential to maintain public trust while safeguarding both American and regional interests.

Ultimately, the Venezuela episode is a reminder that power carries responsibility. The United States must consider not only what it can achieve through intervention, but also what it should, and how best to support lasting stability. As policymakers review the aftermath, one lesson is clear: regime change is never simple, and the costs; human, political, and financial, must be considered as carefully as the potential rewards.

By Dr. Carla Buntyn
December 21, 2025 | Editorial Desk 

Mental health can play a role in domestic violence, but it is not the sole cause, and it does not excuse violent behavior. Domestic violence has become the nation’s leading public interest. In the state of Louisiana, domestic violence is spiraling as a controversial crime committed by men. Men make up the vast majority of the state’s prison and jail populations, while women represent a small fraction, around 4–6%.

The Louisiana Department of Public Safety & Corrections’ public data dashboards do not break down incarcerated people by specific charges like “domestic violence.” There is no reliable statewide published number specifically listing how many men are incarcerated in Louisiana for domestic violence alone. If we do not have a published number, how do we know if domestic violence is a leading public interest?

Domestic violence often intersects with other societal issues: homelessness, substance abuse, criminal justice involvement, and mental health. According to the Centers for Disease Control, about 1 in 4 women experience severe intimate partner physical violence, while about 1 in 9 men experience severe intimate partner physical violence. Men are more often the perpetrators of severe physical violence, but women also perpetrate abuse, particularly psychological, emotional, and sometimes physical abuse.

Men are typically the aggressors, while women can be psychologically and emotionally abusive. According to the Louisiana Department of Corrections, as of September 30, 2025, there were 29,947 incarcerated individuals in total: 28,114 men and 1,833 women. National and state criminal justice reports often group domestic violence under broader violent offense categories, making it hard to extract a precise count of people incarcerated for domestic violence in Louisiana. Of the incarcerated population, 96.1% are male, 73.2% are Black, and 62.2% are serving time for violent crimes. The African American community is approximately 31.2% of the population in Louisiana.

There are more men incarcerated for domestic violence than women; however, both play a role in violence, males as the aggressors and females as psychological aggressors. How does the state determine the violent crime committed by both genders and who is incarcerated? There are three forms of crime, aggression, deception, and manipulation, that share convictions according to law. Among women, 6.1% of the incarcerated population are women, 64.38% are Black women, and 55.1% are incarcerated for violent crimes. Once again, domestic violence is reported under violent offense categories.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, an estimated 715,000 Louisiana adults have a mental health condition. According to the Louisiana Department of Health, 28% of incarcerated people have mental health issues, with 10% having serious mental health issues. Mental health is typically assessed three times while incarcerated. The numbers of mental health and violent crimes have no direct correlation; however, mental health conditions can affect anger management, frustration tolerance, impulse control, irritability, emotional volatility, impulsivity, difficulty interpreting social cues, and sensory overload.

Men are typically liable for domestic violence because they can inflict serious physical injury. Women may also be liable through verbal, emotional, and psychological aggression. The numbers of violent crimes comparing women and men based on the three crime types do not correlate. Research consistently shows that, on average, women report higher rates of mental health conditions than men. Domestic violence can be a result of underdiagnoses or diagnoses later in the lives of Black women and men in Louisiana. 

By Dr. Carla Buntyn
December 14, 2025 | Editorial Desk 

In the African American community, conversations about oppression, racism, and systemic inequities remain constant. These discussions echo across social media, in churches, barbershops, classrooms, and political spaces. Yet, despite the persistence of these concerns, membership in the NAACP, once the backbone of organized Black resistance, has steadily declined since its height in the 1960s. The question we must ask is not whether racism exists, but whether traditional civil rights organizations are still meeting the needs of the people they claim to represent.

Generational change is often cited as the primary reason for declining membership. Younger Black Americans tend to organize differently, favoring digital activism, grassroots movements, and decentralized leadership over legacy institutions. But this explanation alone feels incomplete. Many Black Americans are politically aware, socially engaged, and outspoken, just not through the NAACP. That disconnect deserves honest examination.

The tension between activism and economic empowerment is not new. Even W.E.B. Du Bois, one of the NAACP’s founders, grew disillusioned with the organization in his later years. He believed it had become dominated by a Black elite and had lost touch with the common Black worker. Du Bois argued that integration without economic power was insufficient, and that true liberation required self-sufficiency, ownership, and structural transformation. His resignation in 1934 should not be viewed as a footnote in history, but as an early warning.

Today, the NAACP continues to fight legal battles and issue public statements on racial injustice. While these efforts matter, many in the community question whether they translate into tangible improvements in everyday life. Too often, activism feels reactive, designed to provoke outrage rather than build solutions. Meanwhile, economic disparities persist, Black-owned businesses struggle, and working-class families are left without meaningful institutional support.

This raises a difficult but necessary question: Are we facing racism alone, or are we also facing a failure of advocacy to evolve? In 2025, we understand what systemic racism looks like. We can name it, document it, and debate it endlessly. But naming the problem is no longer enough. The focus must shift toward building systems that work for Black Americans, systems rooted in economic development, workforce pipelines, entrepreneurship, and community investment.

The NAACP was founded at a time when Black Americans had little to no legal protection. Today, while some rights feel threatened and others unevenly enforced, we live in a vastly different reality. That reality demands a broader vision, one that prioritizes economic empowerment alongside civil rights litigation, and one that includes not just the educated or elite, but the everyday Black worker.

If the NAACP is to remain relevant, it must reconnect with the people at the margins of its mission. It must move beyond symbolism and return to substance. Fighting the system has its place, but building our own may be the work that finally closes the gaps that activism alone cannot.

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