Words matter. Especially when they come from the most powerful office in the world.
When a U.S. president refers to Greenland as part of “our hemisphere,” follows a military incursion into Venezuela with threats toward Mexico, Colombia, and Cuba, and prefers to brand this posture as the “Donroe Doctrine,” this is no longer tough talk or isolated policy. It is imperial language. And history tells us where that leads.
Imperialism is the belief that power creates entitlement—that strength justifies domination. It treats sovereignty as optional, allies as expendable, and international law as an obstacle rather than a guardrail. It replaces cooperation with coercion and calls it security.
The Western Hemisphere has lived this story before. From U.S.-backed coups to military interventions framed as “stability,” Latin America bears deep scars from imperial thinking. Those actions did not create peace or prosperity. They created trauma, resentment, and long-term instability that still shapes the region today.
Reviving this posture now does not make Americans safer. It makes our neighbors less trusting and the world more dangerous.
It also threatens America’s legacy.
The United States has claimed—sometimes imperfectly, but powerfully—to stand for self-determination, the rule of law, and restraint over conquest. That claim is what allowed the U.S. to build alliances, shape global norms, and lead without ruling. When we abandon those principles, we lose moral authority. And moral authority is the foundation of real leadership.
Congressman Abe Hamadeh has not remained silent. He has echoed the language of imperialism outright—praising the administration for “defending our backyard,” framing the hemisphere as something the United States owns, controls, and polices through force.
That is not constitutional language. That is imperial language.
Calling other nations our “backyard” reduces sovereign countries to property. Framing military incursion as “peace through strength” normalizes domination while bypassing constitutional limits, international law, and democratic accountability. This is not conservatism. It is not patriotism. It is the worship of power is gained at the expense of those without it.
As a veteran, Hamadeh swore an oath to defend the Constitution—not a president’s doctrine, not a party’s ambition, and not an imperial vision of American dominance. By mirroring this rhetoric, he is not honoring that oath. He is undermining it.
Arizona voters deserve leaders who defend democracy, not redefine it to justify force.
The hemisphere does not belong to the United States.
And Abe Hamadeh should decide whether he stands with the Constitution—or with imperialism.