
Republican lawmakers are flirting with a 21st‑century version of licensed piracy, betting that American privateers can do what Washington’s bureaucracy has failed to do: stop fentanyl-laden speedboats before they ever see the U.S. shoreline.
Story Snapshot
- GOP lawmakers want to license armed private vessels to hunt cartel “go-fast” boats in the Caribbean.
- The plan resurrects old-school letters of marque as a workaround for strained Coast Guard resources.
- Supporters frame it as common-sense border defense; critics call it legalized vigilantism at sea.
- The bill’s fate is now tangled up with demands to release secret Caribbean “boat strike” footage.
Republicans move to revive American privateers at sea
Republican lawmakers led by Rep. María Elvira Salazar and Sen. Rick Scott are pushing a bill that would let privately owned, armed vessels intercept suspected drug boats in international waters, then profit from the seizures. The target is the flotilla of high-speed “go-fast” craft running fentanyl, cocaine, and meth from Venezuela and other launch points up through the Caribbean toward Puerto Rico, Florida, and the Gulf. Sponsors argue this is not theory; it is a response to a Coast Guard they say is outgunned and outnumbered.
The proposal borrows directly from America’s own history of letters of marque, when Washington once licensed private ships to hunt pirates and enemy commerce. Republicans contend the same logic applies today: cartels operate like non-state navies, using sheer volume and speed to overwhelm limited federal patrols. If the Coast Guard cannot chase down nine out of ten boats, they argue, Washington should unleash disciplined private firepower to close the gap rather than let cartels enjoy de facto immunity on the water.
Coast Guard strain, fentanyl deaths, and the push for a radical fix
Congressional hearings over the past two years documented hundreds of maritime drug incidents as fentanyl deaths plateaued around six figures annually. Witnesses described go-fast craft that can appear on radar, vanish into squalls, and reappear near U.S. territory before a cutter can even reposition. Coast Guard officials have quietly acknowledged gaps in coverage, aging hulls, and the impossibility of patrolling every mile of blue water from the Yucatán to the Virgin Islands with existing manpower, even with allied help.
Conservative lawmakers interpret those numbers through a simple lens: if Washington will not meaningfully surge the Coast Guard, then Washington must get out of the way and let others help. That is why this bill pairs authority with incentive, allowing licensed operators to claim a significant share of seized assets. From a free‑market conservative perspective, that approach lines up with how we already treat civil asset forfeiture and maritime salvage; if a private tug can legally profit from rescuing a derelict yacht, the argument goes, why should an American security firm not profit from stopping a cartel gunboat?
Critics warn of piracy, escalation, and legal minefields
Democratic opponents and civil-liberties groups look at the same text and see something closer to a state-sanctioned militia at sea. They raise concerns about misidentification, wrongful deaths, and the diplomatic nightmare if a U.S.-flagged privateer fires on a foreign vessel later claimed as civilian. Maritime lawyers warn that, while U.S. law can authorize letters of marque, international law under UNCLOS and related treaties still governs what counts as piracy, excessive force, or unlawful interference on the high seas.
Those objections resonate most strongly where the plan intersects with existing controversy over American boat strikes in the Caribbean. Senate Democrats, led by figures like Adam Schiff, have already clashed with Republican leadership over access to classified or restricted footage of prior operations, with questions swirling around the rules of engagement and whether mistakes were made. If Washington struggles to fully explain government-run strikes, opponents ask, what happens when lethal authority is partially outsourced to profit-driven contractors?
Footage, transparency fights, and a bill stuck in limbo
That transparency fight is not academic; it already stalled the very bill that would license these modern privateers. Senate Republicans recently blocked a Schiff effort to condition the legislation on full disclosure of a controversial “Caribbean footage” package held by Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, described in reports as showing lethal encounters with suspected drug boats. Democrats framed the disclosure demand as basic oversight; Republicans countered that tying operational video to policy reform would effectively kill an urgently needed interdiction tool.
The result is stalemate: the measure advanced out of committee but now sits without a scheduled final vote, its fate lashed to a broader argument over secrecy, wartime authorities, and who ultimately controls the narrative of America’s undeclared maritime shadow war. GOP leaders signal they will revive the privateer plan in future sessions, possibly as part of a border-security or defense-package bargain. Until then, cartels continue to launch boats, the Coast Guard continues to chase a fraction of them, and Congress continues to argue about whether unleashing “pirates of the Caribbean” is genius, madness, or a little of both.
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To stop drug boats, GOP lawmakers want to license pirates of the Caribbean


