A second Trump administration was sure to come down hard on whichever Latin American country first defied it—few in the region expected otherwise. But Colombia was perhaps the United States’ most steadfast friend in South America, and the speed with which a 100-year relationship seemed to crumble last night was frightening.

Or perhaps exhilarating, if you were a Chinese diplomat in Latin America observing the presidential spat.

First, Colombia’s president, Gustavo Petro, refused to allow U.S.-military deportation flights that were already airborne to land in his country. Petro balked at reports of migrants arriving handcuffed and said that Colombia would allow such flights only if deportees were treated with “dignity and respect.” President Donald Trump’s response—grossly disproportionate—was to threaten tariffs, visa restrictions, and even banking sanctions against a strategic U.S. ally. The two countries worked out a late-night deal that seems to have averted a crisis, but the speed of escalation left much of Latin American unnerved.

[From the September 2024 issue: Seventy miles in hell]

If Americans are under the impression that Trump’s penchant for reckless, heat-of-the-moment policy making is unique, they don’t have the measure of Gustavo Petro. Colombia’s radical left-wing president has appalled friends and foes alike with X tiffs and stunts such as repeatedly tagging a parody account for his defense minister and amplifying false rumors that Colombian kids lost in the Amazon jungle had been found. Some of his posts come across as just plain bonkers—such as the one he wrote to Trump in the middle of yesterday’s crisis.

At 4:15 p.m. on Sunday, diplomats were working furiously behind the scenes to smooth over the rift between the two presidents when Petro hit back with a long, incoherent rant. Starting with a curt dismissal of tourism in the U.S. as “boring,” the missive went everywhere: Petro slammed American racism, asserted his refusal to “shake hands with white slavers,” and celebrated Walt Whitman. He also recalled the U.S. involvement in the 1973 coup against Chile’s leftist president Salvador Allende, celebrated Colombia’s putative roots in the caliphate of Córdoba, and protested the execution of Sacco and Vanzetti, a Coolidge-era U.S. scandal involving the supposed racial profiling of two Italian American anarchists. In other words, at a moment of peril for his country, Colombia’s president posted a word salad—and then pinned it to the top of his X account.

The moment called for careful diplomacy, not a fit of pique. In Brazil, where the mistreatment of deportees on U.S. military flights had already caused controversy, Colombia’s spat narrowed the Brazilian government’s room for maneuver still further. And throughout the region, governments struggling to figure out what to do with large numbers of deportees found themselves staring into the abyss: Most Latin American governments do not like how the U.S. government is behaving but cannot afford a trade war with Uncle Sam.

Or can they? Zoom out a bit and one might wonder. The era of uncontested U.S. leadership in the region is fading fast in the rearview mirror. These days, China provides an obvious alternative to the United States in the realms of trade, finance, and technology. In fact, most of South America—including big countries such as Brazil, Argentina, Chile, and Peru—now trades more with China than with the United States. If you exclude Mexico, Chinese trade now dwarfs American trade in the region.

[Juliette Kayyem: The border got quieter, so Trump had to act]

After Trump was reelected, discussion in the region centered on how to balance growing Chinese influence with existing ties with the United States. Most countries were of a mind to try to stay neutral between the two powers and maintain good relations with both Washington and Beijing. Countless university seminars agonized over what a war in the Taiwan Strait would mean for Latin America: No country in the region would want to take sides, though many recognized that they might not have a choice. All along, the assumption tended to be that a crisis that started outside Latin America would have repercussions within it. What few at the time foresaw was that the region could be delivered to China through Trump’s sheer impetuosity, or his inability to think before posting.

For now, Trumpian aggression has won the day: U.S. and Colombian diplomats—who know each other well and are used to collaborating closely—had little trouble finding a compromise to de-escalate the crisis. That de-escalation can be expected to last about as long as the two countries’ intemperate presidents manage to stay off X.

But for excellent historical reasons, Latin Americans hate being dictated to by gringos and won’t support leaders who meekly allow it. Trump’s hyper-aggressive approach to Latin America risks tying up the region with a bow and leaving it on Beijing’s doorstep. Most Latin American leaders will resist a decisive break with Washington—the U.S. is still too important a trade and diplomatic partner to antagonize just for kicks. But Latin American leaders will not wish to be seen submitting passively to the United States in full imperialist mode. Not when the Chinese embassy is just one phone call away.

Sometimes politics resembles one of the weirder branches of modern physics or a fantasy version of biology. Time may seem to run backwards; solid things turn out to be insubstantial; black holes swallow up the light; the dead may walk the Earth, ghouls crawl out of cleft rocks, velociraptors not only reappear but learn to speak and, alarmingly, open doors.

That is how American politics feels at the moment. By and large, however, Newtonian physics and traditional biology still apply, and that is worth remembering as we watch the Trump administration’s circus of transgression, vindictiveness, and sometimes mere folly.

Like most administrations, including those of considerably more sedate chief executives, that of the 47th president has decided to way overinterpret its mandate. The brute facts remain: Donald Trump received a plurality of votes (albeit a decisive majority in the Electoral College); the Republican Party is holding on to the House of Representatives by a hair and has a slim majority in the Senate. The administration may hate civil servants and seek to undermine their job security, but it will discover that it needs them to keep airplanes flying safely, the financial system functioning, drugs safe for use, and food fit for consumption.

Gravity still works—if somewhat unreliably. Politicians who overinterpret narrow wins in a divided country get pulled back to Earth, usually by the midterms. But not just that—the federal system of government gives a lot of power to the states, and although Congress has become anemic and irresponsible, most state governments have not. And so the governor of Florida has declined to appoint the president’s daughter-in-law to a vacant Senate seat, and the governor of Ohio has passed on one of the president’s more socially awkward tech billionaires for another. These are small but interesting indications of gravity reasserting itself.

Lawyers, by the thousand, in and out of state governments, create their own gravitational field. The poorly paid lawyers of the Justice Department can sue only so much, and the Supreme Court will turn out to be—as it did during the previous Trump administration—less reliably Trumpist than the president would wish. (The most pro-Trump justices are Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito, two of the conservatives he did not appoint.) Even the appalling sweeping pardons of the January 6 rioters and insurrectionists have their limits. If any of those people attempt violence in Maryland or Virginia or anywhere else outside of D.C., they will discover that assault and other crimes there are tried in state, not federal, courts. And the presidential-pardon power does not reach state prisons, which means that some ghouls will go back to their cleft rocks if they go out looking for revenge.

Newtonian physics also has it that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Precisely so. Pardon every criminal who clubbed a police officer, and police unions will be unamused. Impose high tariffs, and working-class voters will encounter higher prices and possibly unemployment. Blow up the national debt to cut taxes, and sooner or later the markets will react. Give way to vaccine skepticism, and epidemics will break out. Turn the intelligence community and military upside down by purging women and other undesirables, and you will produce not only big, embarrassing, consequential failures but also pushback from those large populations, their families, and those politicians who still care about national defense.

And then there is retribution. Political physics runs along the lines of the lyrics composed by Johnny Cash: “That old wheel / Is gonna roll around once more / When it does / It will even up the score.” Or, as Shakespeare has Shylock put it rather more pointedly: “The villainy you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.”

The reckless, violence-feeding mass pardons of the January 6 insurrectionists were evidence of Trumpian lawlessness. The orders to end the security clearances of scores of former senior intelligence officials who criticized Trump, and the stunning decision to remove security protection from John Bolton, Mike Pompeo, and Brian Hook—three former senior officials of the first Trump administration—were pure personal meanness. Suspending clearances was intended as a humiliation and a blow at pocketbooks (many of those targeted serve on corporate boards where clearances are a prerequisite), and cutting security protection against Iranian death threats was even worse.

But Trump’s appointees, who will carry out this and other acts of payback, should consider that before very long they, too, will be out of government. They, too, will want to keep their clearances. And they, too, may incur the wrath of state and non-state enemies who want to kill them. They will wish to consider just how exposed they will inevitably be, once their triumph, like all others, passes into memory. If decency and respect for norms do not motivate them in the right direction, fear may have to serve its place.

Biology also will have its say. Inebriation—with power and success, in this case—invariably leads to hangovers, no matter what family remedies or magical cures one imbibes. That usually hits at the midterms, as the Obama and George W. Bush administrations found out the hard way. More to the point, certain biological realities, including age and its accompanying physical and mental decline, will operate during Trump’s 80s. The flunkies and toadies who surround the president will seek to deny this elemental reality—the Biden team was egregious in this regard—but sooner or later it will take hold too.

Primatology, in this case, offers a useful guide. In most troops of baboons, an alpha male dominates all the others, who exhibit submissive behavior if they know what is good for them. The dominance may be so pronounced that all the alpha male has to do is bare his fangs and snarl to get the behavior he wants. But baboons age, and although he may not notice, the alpha male’s muscles will atrophy, his fangs will fall out. He may continue to snarl, but the younger male baboons will notice and begin to sense the possibility of a succession crisis. And then they pounce.

So, too, here. Donald Trump is already a lame duck. He is, by any measure, old, which is one of many reasons that comparisons with Hitler or younger contemporary European authoritarians such as Viktor Orbán are misplaced. He will be an even lamer duck in two years, at which point the troop of Republican politicians will begin to struggle for the succession. Former friends—Donald Trump Jr. and J. D. Vance, for example—may fall out, and the coalition of differing subclans may fight more openly. Republican unity in several years is highly unlikely.

It’s a bad time in American politics, to be sure. But we need to remember that natural laws still apply, and things could get better if even just one piece of fantasy biology were to hold true: a large class of political invertebrates were to grow spines.