The latest polling data out of Latin America has arrived, and it serves as a grimly hilarious testament to the terminal velocity of human desperation. It appears that a majority of our neighbors to the south, having watched the slow-motion car crash of the Venezuelan state for a decade, have decided that the best way to extinguish a grease fire is by tossing a crate of orange-tinted dynamite into the kitchen. The data suggests an endorsement of Donald Trump’s brand of interventionism—a shift from the high-minded rhetoric of 'sovereignty' to the raw, atavistic pragmatism of 'literally anyone else, please.'

For decades, the Latin American political identity was forged in the fires of anti-imperialism. The collective memory of Cold War meddling was supposed to be a permanent vaccine against the charms of Washington. Yet, here we are. The 'Bolivarian Revolution,' once the darling of every undergraduate Marxist with a trust fund, has managed the impossible: it has made the ghost of United Fruit Company look like a minor clerical error. Nicolás Maduro, a man whose primary contribution to political science is proving that you can indeed run a country like a bus with no brakes, has so thoroughly gutted the concept of domestic stability that the populace is now looking at a Queens-born real estate developer as a viable alternative to existence.

Let’s be clear about the players in this tragicomedy. On one side, we have the Venezuelan regime—a kleptocracy masquerading as a social safety net, where the only thing being redistributed is misery. They have successfully transformed one of the most resource-rich nations on the planet into a place where the currency is more useful as wallpaper than as a medium of exchange. On the other side, we have the American Right’s vision of intervention, led by Trump—a man who treats foreign policy like a licensing deal and likely couldn’t find Caracas on a map if you promised him a gold-plated steak. The irony is so thick it’s practically structural. The people endorsing this intervention aren't doing so because they believe in the sanctity of the Monroe Doctrine or the inherent benevolence of the American State Department; they are doing it because they have been broken by the spectacular failure of the Left’s most cherished 21st-century experiment.

The pollsters call this a shift toward 'pragmatism.' That’s a lovely, sanitized word for 'organized panic.' It’s the kind of pragmatism a drowning man exhibits when he realizes the only thing floating nearby is a hungry shark. You don’t check the shark’s voting record; you just hope it’s not hungry yet. The 'pragmatic' Latin American voter has looked at the performative posturing of the regional Left—the group that offered nothing but flowery speeches about solidarity while the electricity flickered out—and decided that the crude, blustering interventionism of the Trump era is at least a change of scenery.

But let’s not ignore the hypocrisy emanating from the North. The American Right, which screams about 'sovereignty' and 'non-intervention' the moment a global health body suggests wearing a mask, suddenly finds its inner colonialist when there’s a chance to posture against a socialist boogeyman. They don’t care about the Venezuelan people; they care about the optics of the 'tough guy' routine and the electoral math in South Florida. Conversely, the American Left remains trapped in a recursive loop of self-flagellation, so terrified of being called 'imperialist' that they would rather watch a population descend into medieval poverty than suggest that maybe, just maybe, Maduro is a common thug with a sash.

This poll is the ultimate indictment of modern political options. It suggests that humanity has reached a point where we no longer choose between 'good' and 'bad,' but between different flavors of catastrophe. The Latin American endorsement of Trumpian intervention isn't a victory for democracy; it’s a eulogy for it. It is a confession that the local institutions are so corrupt, and the ideological alternatives so bankrupt, that the only remaining hope is a deus ex machina wearing a red hat. It is a cyclical nightmare. The region spends fifty years trying to get the Gringos out, only to spend the next five begging them to come back and fix the mess they made while trying to keep the Gringos out.

In the end, this isn't about policy; it’s about the sheer, grinding boredom of suffering. The people of Latin America are tired of the same revolutionary slogans that haven't put bread on the table since 2005. If Trump represents the wrecking ball, then so be it. At least a wrecking ball moves fast. The tragedy, of course, is that once the wrecking ball finishes its work, the people are still left living in the rubble, waiting for the next grifter to promise them a palace. We are a species that refuses to learn, doomed to keep the same three idiots in power until the sun finally burns out and grants us the sweet, silent mercy of extinction.