The article compares Henry Morton Stanley's brutal 19th-century expedition to the Trump administration's lethal boat strikes, arguing both leaders mistook brutality for strength. It highlights how the public often rejects needless killing, urging transparency and moral accountability in government actions.
Key Takeaways
•Leaders like Stanley and Trump have historically justified extreme measures as strength, but public reaction often condemns such brutality as unnecessary.
•The Trump administration's boat strikes, involving killing survivors in open water, violate long-held standards of justifiable force and raise moral concerns.
•Democracies expect governments to distinguish between necessary force and needless killing, with citizens valuing humanity even in firm actions.
•Transparency, such as releasing video footage, is crucial for public judgment and accountability in leadership decisions.
Americans may disagree on many things, but they still distinguish between necessary force and needless killing. Robert Rieger / Connected Archives In the late 19th century, the British explorer Henry Morton Stanley set out on what he believed would be his greatest achievement: the Emin Pasha Relief Expedition. He imagined himself crossing Africa, rescuing an isolated provincial governor, and returning home to the applause of a grateful empire.
The expedition he led, however, was anything but noble. Stanley’s caravan pillaged some villages for food, burned others that resisted, and killed many Africans who resisted his advance. Disease and starvation claimed many of his own porters. What he saw as necessary resolve looked, even to some of his contemporaries, like something far more troubling.
When Stanley published In Darkest Africa, in 1890, he recounted these episodes with a confidence that now seems astonishing. He assumed the British public, which had initially welcomed him home to great acclaim, would admire his firmness. Instead, they recoiled at his brutality. Attitudes had shifted since the seemingly genial days of Stanley’s earlier expedition to Lake Tanganyika, of “Dr. Livingstone, I presume” fame.
Those who had once celebrated imperial adventure now saw needless killing and a man who appeared unmoved by the suffering he caused. Stanley had mistaken brutality for strength, and the public recognition of his error marked the beginning of his fall from national hero to cautionary tale.
I thought about this history as new information emerged about the Trump administration’s campaign of boat strikes in the Caribbean and eastern Pacific. Under this program, small vessels suspected of carrying drugs were hit with military-grade munitions, often without any attempt to detain or even warn those aboard. In at least one case, the strikes didn’t end when the boat was destroyed. Survivors adrift on the wreckage in open water were killed in a second attack, a “double tap” designed to finish the job.
During my 18 years in the House and Senate, I sat through countless briefings on when and how lethal force could be used. Later, as ambassador to Turkey, I saw how closely the world watches when we choose to honor those limits—or choose not to do so. That perspective makes these boat strikes impossible to wave off as routine. They reflect choices that fall well outside the standards we have long claimed to uphold.
The administration has resisted releasing full video of these incidents, citing national security. But the more plausible concern is political and moral. It knows what the public reaction would be. Americans have strong feelings about drug trafficking, but few believe that killing people as they attempt to stay alive in the ocean fits within the bounds of justifiable force. Once confronted with the footage, most Americans would question not only the legality of the operation but the instinct behind it.
This is the thread that links President Donald Trump to Stanley. Both believed their missions were righteous enough to justify whatever means were employed. Both assumed that the public, deep down, would admire their toughness. But democracies have never fully embraced that logic. Citizens can support firm action while still holding on to their humanity. Death inflicted on the helpless is never an act of strength; it is what remains when strength forgets its purpose.
That recognition seems to exist even among some in the administration. The reluctance to release the footage suggests an awareness of the moral intuition that they fear the public will follow. Americans may disagree on many things, but they still distinguish between necessary force and needless killing. They expect their government, even in dangerous work, to understand the difference.
Stanley misread the public of his time. He thought it would see heroism where it saw cruelty. The question now is whether our own leaders are making the same mistake.
The public deserves the chance to judge for itself. Release the video, Mr. President.
