What Trump's "FAFO Doctrine" means for global business

The arrest of Nicolás Maduro represents more than a dramatic shift in US-Venezuela relations. It signals the emergence of a doctrine that business leaders cannot afford to ignore: a fundamental reordering of American strategic priorities that treats the Western Hemisphere as a sphere of direct enforcement rather than a realm of foreign policy.

Call it the "FAFO Doctrine."

An American unilateralist framework that redefines what constitutes a foreign intervention. When Trump characterizes Venezuelan state dysfunction not as a geopolitical problem but as "domestic policy with a foreign address," he's not engaging in rhetorical flourish. He's articulating a strategic vision with profound implications for how American power will be exercised in the coming years. Trump is shaping a world in which deeply interconnected domestic American issues and foreign affairs intersect, with foreign actions affecting domestic interests.

Echoes of Monroe, reimagined for 2025

This isn't entirely new territory. The intellectual foundations of hemispheric dominance trace back two centuries to the Monroe Doctrine, which declared the Americas off-limits to European intervention. What's different now is the inversion of that logic: rather than keeping others out, Trump is asserting the right to operate freely within this space, treating migration, narcotics, and organized crime as justifications for direct action that transcend traditional foreign policy constraints.

The framing matters enormously. Notice that Maduro wasn't "deposed"—he was "arrested." The operation wasn't wrapped in humanitarian language about democracy and freedom, as Bush did in Afghanistan or Obama did in Libya. Instead, it was presented as law enforcement, a sheriff's takedown announced via social media rather than an Oval Office address. This is border enforcement by other means, and it fundamentally rewrites the rules of engagement for the hemisphere.

The geographic hierarchy of American interests

Trump's confidantes speak of a "hemispheric defense" spanning from Greenland and the Arctic to the Panama Canal, then to Latin America and the Pacific. Under this framework, Europe, the Middle East, and Asia become what strategists call "discretionary theaters"—places the United States might engage or abandon based on immediate calculus rather than strategic commitment.

For business leaders navigating global supply chains and investment decisions, this hierarchy demands attention. The eight-decade stability of containing Moscow, the North Star that organized American foreign policy and, by extension, shaped global economic architecture, has dimmed considerably. If the US treats Ukraine as a discretionary theater while asserting direct enforcement authority in Venezuela, what does that mean for the predictability of American commitments elsewhere?

Alliance uncertainty as a strategic variable

Long-time American allies are asking exactly this question. When the foundation of the postwar order, like say Article 5 commitments, forward deployment, and nuclear umbrellas, becomes uncertain, risk premiums adjust accordingly. Capital flows shift. Defense budgets reallocate. Regional powers make independent calculations about security guarantees.

This isn't abstract geopolitics; it's the operating environment for every multinational corporation. If European allies doubt American reliability, they'll pursue strategic autonomy. If Asian partners question defense commitments, they'll recalibrate their relationships with Beijing. Each of these adjustments cascades through trade relationships, regulatory frameworks, and market access.

Strategic implications for corporate leadership

The business community needs to recognize three immediate implications:

First, regulatory and operational risk in the Americas increases significantly. If the United States treats the hemisphere as a zone of direct enforcement, companies operating from Mexico to Argentina face heightened uncertainty about political stability, governance, and the potential for unilateral American action that disrupts operations.

Second, the reliability of transatlantic and transpacific partnerships faces new pressure. Supply chains built on assumptions of American alliance stability may require hedging strategies. Diversification isn't just about China anymore; it's about the foundational predictability of American commitments.

Third, the distinction between foreign and domestic policy blurs in ways that affect corporate strategy. When immigration becomes a justification for military action, when drug trafficking triggers regime change, the traditional toolkit of international business, maintaining political risk insurance, exercising diplomatic channels, and utilizing multilateral frameworks, this government relations and public affairs playbook requires fundamental reassessment.

Navigating the new "FAFO Doctrine"

We're witnessing the emergence of a post-globalization order where the intellectual consensus that built the modern system—from Bretton Woods to the G20—no longer enjoys White House support.

The question isn't whether this is good policy (reasonable people disagree), but whether business leaders are prepared for the volatility it creates.

The Venezuela operation isn't an isolated incident. It's a declaration of intent about how American power will be exercised in this hemisphere, and by implication, how it won't be exercised elsewhere. For corporate strategists, the task is straightforward: stop planning for the world as it was and start preparing for the world as it's becoming, one

where geographic proximity to the United States matters more than alliance commitments, and where the boundaries between domestic enforcement and foreign intervention have effectively disappeared.

That's not the world many of us would prefer. But it's increasingly the world we're getting.

And in strategy, as in business, wishful thinking is expensive.

Enjoy the ride + plan accordingly.

—Marc

Marc A. Ross

Founder + Chief Strategist @ Caracal Global

caracal.global

In 2013, I banned PowerPoints, panels, and name tags. Here's what happened...

Brigadoon exists because I was frustrated spending too much time with the same people, thinking the same way.

So in 2013, I started something different.

I began gathering entrepreneurs and thought leaders from different industries, different geographies, different perspectives—united only by curiosity and a belief in the power of conversation. A venture capitalist sitting next to an architect. A tech founder learning from a doctor. A journalist trading insights with a retail executive.

Thirteen years later, it's become something larger than I imagined.

But the core remains: connect people who are shaping commerce and culture, create space for real dialogue, see what emerges.

Why Brigadoon works?

The magic happens when you remove people from their areas of expertise.

Put a successful founder in a room full of other successful founders, and you get pattern recognition. Everyone's solving similar problems, facing similar challenges, speaking similar languages. It's comfortable. It's validating. And it's limiting.

Put that same founder in conversation with someone who thinks completely differently, a designer, an athlete, a scientist, and something shifts. The questions change. The assumptions get challenged. The insights come from unexpected angles.

I've watched a private equity executive rethink his entire approach to talent after a dinner conversation with a cardiologist. I've seen a robotics founder completely reframe a product strategy based on insights from a restaurateur about how people move through spaces.

These aren't networking moments. They're perspective shifts.

What makes Brigadoon different is that I have broken every conference and curation rule.

No PowerPoints. If you can't have the conversation without slides, you're not ready to have the conversation.

No panels. No one is sitting on stage while everyone else passively watches. Everyone participates equally.

No name tags. Your title or organization doesn't matter here. Your ideas do.

No recordings. Brigadoon operates under the Chatham House Rule. So, you can share what you learned, but you can't attribute it. This simple agreement creates permission for radical honesty. People say what they actually think, not what they'd say if it might end up on LinkedIn.

Deliberately small. This Brigadoon gathering will have a max of 100 people. Not because I can't fill more seats, but because intimacy is the point. At 100 people, you can't hide in the crowd. You can't perform networking theater. You're actually there.

Cross-disciplinary by design. Brigadoon curates for diversity of perspective, not similarity of background. About the only thing everyone has in common is that they're all doing something meaningful in their field.

The format is simple. Three days at Sundance Mountain Resort with constantly burning fires, family-style dinners, mountain and wellness activities, and conversations that start at breakfast and continue through the evening. No agenda beyond creating conditions for connection.

Who attends?

Past attendees include VCs, founders, journalists, doctors, designers, attorneys, architects, lobbyists, diplomats, marketing strategists, and athletes, all united by the belief that engaging with different perspectives enhances your work and thinking.

Why Brigadoon matters?

We live in a moment of increasing specialization and tribal sorting. It's easier than ever to spend all your time with people who validate your existing worldview. To build networks of people who already agree with you.

That's why gatherings like Brigadoon are more critical than ever, offering a space to challenge your worldview and address complex problems beyond industry boundaries.

The problems worth solving—in business, in society, in your own work—don't respect industry boundaries. They require perspectives you don't have, questions you haven't asked, frameworks you haven't considered.

Brigadoon creates space for that.

I invite you to be part of this exclusive gathering at Sundance Mountain Resort on February 22-24, 2026, to connect with diverse thinkers and expand your perspective.

If you're building something meaningful and believe in the power of perspectives different from your own, I'd love to have you join us.

Brigadoon isn't for everyone.

It's intimate by design, cross-disciplinary by intention, and we maintain high standards for who participates, making you feel valued and respected.

More at www.brigadoon.live/utah.

—Marc


The Turkish football scandal isn't about football

Turkey's football gambling crisis is unprecedented. 300 players banned, entire leagues suspended, and 150 referees implicated. This looks like a sports story, but it is an economic story.

It's actually a case study in institutional collapse under economic pressure. When inflation erodes purchasing power and trust in institutions weakens, informal economies flourish. 

Turkish referees and lower-tier players weren't simply greedy. They were responding rationally to a cost-of-living crisis that made side income essential. The betting site at the center of the scandal, Misli, was itself a league sponsor controlled by associates of the football federation's former head.

This pattern extends beyond Turkey. 

MLB pitchers now face charges for pitch manipulation tied to sports betting. US prediction markets have seen sports contracts surge past political and financial categories. The common thread: legalized gambling creates systemic vulnerabilities in institutions already strained by economic and political pressures.

For global companies, the lesson isn't about sports integrity, it's about recognizing when economic stress transforms institutional risk. When employees, contractors, or partners face financial pressure in markets with weak governance, compliance frameworks built for stable conditions fail predictably.

Executives should audit exposure in markets where three factors converge: high inflation, weakened institutions, and newly legalized vice industries. 

The question isn't whether your sector faces gambling-specific risks. It's whether economic pressure is creating incentives for institutional participants to operate outside formal rules—and whether your compliance architecture can detect it before prosecutors do.

Moral crises are usually economic crises first.

—Marc