The indictment of former Cuban leader Raúl Castro over the 1996 shootdown of two Brothers to the Rescue aircraft is being presented in Washington as a triumph of delayed justice. Nearly three decades after four men died over the Florida Straits, the United States has decided that history still deserves a courtroom. Perhaps it does. The victims’ families certainly deserve answers and states should never casually escape accountability when civilians are killed.
But there is another question hovering uncomfortably over this moment, one that American officials rarely ask themselves because great powers almost never do: what happens when the logic is reversed?
Imagine Venezuela indicting Donald Trump for the killing of Venezuelan soldiers during the American operation that seized Nicolás Maduro. Imagine Caracas announcing murder charges, issuing arrest warrants and declaring that justice transcends borders. One can already predict Washington’s response with absolute certainty. The White House would call it illegitimate, politically motivated and an attack on American sovereignty. Cable news would erupt in patriotic outrage. Congress would likely pass resolutions condemning the “dictatorial abuse of international law.”
And yet that is precisely why the Castro indictment matters beyond Cuba. It exposes the asymmetry at the heart of global justice. The United States insists that its courts possess universal reach when American citizens are harmed, but it rejects the very same principle when Americans stand accused abroad.
That double standard is not unique to Republicans or Democrats. It is embedded in the DNA of American power. Washington supports international tribunals when adversaries are in the dock and undermines them when American officials might face scrutiny. The language changes depending on the target. When enemies are accused, the phrase is “accountability.” When Americans are accused, it suddenly becomes “politicization.”
None of this absolves Castro or the Cuban government. The 1996 shootdown remains one of the ugliest episodes in modern U.S.-Cuba relations. Even international investigators concluded that the aircraft were destroyed in a manner impossible to justify under international norms. But justice loses moral force when it appears selective, especially when delivered by a superpower that often exempts itself from the rules it imposes on others.
The deeper issue is that modern geopolitics increasingly resembles legal warfare dressed in moral language. Indictments are no longer merely judicial acts; they are instruments of foreign policy. Washington knows perfectly well that Raúl Castro, at 94 years old and living in Cuba, is unlikely ever to stand trial in Miami. The practical effect of the indictment is limited. The symbolic effect, however, is enormous. It signals that the Trump administration intends to intensify pressure on Havana and continue framing regime change as a legal and moral crusade rather than simply a geopolitical objective.
That should concern anyone who believes international law must apply consistently or not at all.
The danger begins when justice becomes indistinguishable from power. Smaller nations quickly learn that indictments issued by powerful countries carry weight because they are backed by sanctions, military influence and financial leverage. Meanwhile, accusations against powerful nations rarely travel beyond press conferences and diplomatic protests.
In theory, international law was meant to restrain raw power. In practice, it too often mirrors it. Americans may applaud the Castro charges because the victims were Americans and because Cuba remains an easy villain in domestic politics. But if Washington truly wants a world where leaders can be prosecuted across borders for deadly state actions, then it must accept that principle universally, including when the accusations point back toward the United States itself.
That is the test of whether this is justice or merely jurisdiction with an aircraft carrier behind it.
