The Trouble With Regime Change

For at least a decade, the conventional wisdom has been that direct attempts at regime change by the United States have ended in disaster. And for good reason. In Afghanistan, the very same Taliban that was dislodged in 2001 returned to power in 2021 after two decades of futile U.S. efforts. In Iraq, U.S. forces succeeded in permanently ending Saddam Hussein’s regime, but in no way was the result commensurate with the human, economic, strategic, and political costs. Then, in Libya, a U.S.-led NATO intervention intended to prevent the dictator Muammar al-Qaddafi from carrying out a massacre that may or may not have materialized wound up leading to his execution and the collapse of his regime. But there was no follow-up, and the regime’s demise produced chaos and what can best be described as a failed state.

This dismal recent track record lends a surprising, even head-spinning quality to the sudden revival of talk about regime change. And the longer history of such U.S. policies and operations sheds even more light on the promise and risks they involve. At the same time, it offers some lessons. What is clear is that regime change is easier to call for than to bring about. To lack a plan for what happens after a regime’s ouster is to court disaster. Finally, and perhaps most important, Washington must distinguish between regime change as a phenomenon that requires a reaction, and regime change as a deliberate policy meant to bring about a particular outcome.

It is also important to recognize that the passage of time, faulty memories, and domestic politics can conspire to obscure the reality of past efforts at regime change. As the Trump administration contemplates a number of options for Venezuela after seizing its ruler, Nicolás Maduro, many observers are pointing to the 1989 U.S. operation to extract and overthrow another Latin American dictator, Manuel Noriega of Panama, as an example of how such a policy can succeed. In reality, the two operations were different in fundamental ways. In addition, the Panama operation was far more risky and costly than many seem to understand. (At the time, I was serving on the National Security Council in the George H. W. Bush administration.) A full appreciation of those risks and costs was one reason that the administration chose not to pursue regime change two years later after defeating Iraq in the Gulf War—a decision that was at least partly vindicated by all that unfolded when George W. Bush made the opposite choice as president in 2003.

A CHANGE IS GONNA COME

Regime change can take a number of forms. It can be promoted by internal or external forces or both. When regime change is induced from the outside, it is often paired with nation building, a focused effort to bring about a preferred alternative. Perhaps the most successful instances of such an approach took place in the aftermath of World War II, when the United States, in concert with its allies, decided to pursue fundamental reform in the governance and orientation of both Germany and Japan. The aim was to ensure that neither would again threaten its region and the world. The brewing Cold War added another objective, namely, to transform them politically and economically (and, over time, militarily) so that they could contribute meaningfully to meeting the challenge posed by the Soviet Union.

The efforts were striking successes. Both Japan and Germany became robust democracies and economic powerhouses embedded in the U.S.-led Western alliance system. Over time, they were also allowed and even encouraged to field modern militaries. It helped that both countries were largely homogeneous, well-organized entities that had been decisively defeated. Still, their successful transformation required prolonged American military occupations and Washington’s intimate involvement in their political reconstructions.

At around the same time, the United States rejected calls for regime change in the Soviet Union. Successive administrations deemed that proposal—dubbed “rollback” by its advocates, who sought to replace the communist system with something democratic and capitalist—too risky to pursue in the nuclear age. Instead, Washington settled on a more cautious policy, one described by its principal architect, the diplomat George Kennan, as the “long-term, patient but firm and vigilant containment of Russian expansive tendencies.” The purpose of U.S. foreign policy was to shape Moscow’s foreign policy rather than to transform the Soviet Union itself.

Containment worked well during the four decades of the Cold War. The Soviet Union’s reach was kept in check. In fact, containment exceeded expectations, in that it set the stage for regime change in the Soviet Union. In a sense, rollback was achieved, albeit less through direct Western efforts than indirect ones, including NATO’s solidarity and the example of U.S. economic and military superiority. Even more, however, regime change resulted from forces within the Soviet Union, above all the rise of nationalism and the policies of Mikhail Gorbachev, whose acceleration of political reform and unwillingness to use force to crush dissent at home or in so-called satellite countries spelled the end of the 70-year experiment in Soviet communism.

There were many other attempts at regime change during the Cold War, many of them carried out by the CIA. Perhaps the most famous (or infamous) was the ill-conceived and poorly executed effort mounted at the Bay of Pigs to overthrow the communist regime in Cuba in 1961. It was an early, humiliating lesson that efforts at provoking regime change can fail spectacularly—especially if the target is determined and well entrenched.

A PANAMA PARALLEL?

A subsequent attempt at regime change in Latin America, the 1989 U.S. intervention in Panama, is receiving a good deal of attention of late, in part because of the perceived parallels to recent events in Venezuela. At the time, the George H. W. Bush administration moved to oust (and subsequently arrest) Noriega, the strongman ruling Panama. Noriega, like Maduro, was involved in drug smuggling and had annulled the result of an election in which he was defeated. But in the case of Panama, Bush was also reacting to the killing of an American serviceman there and concerns that Noriega would put other U.S. personnel and the Panama Canal at risk—a worry heightened by the declaration of a state of war by Panama’s National Assembly.

Once Noriega was in U.S. custody, Washington successfully put in power the winner of the annulled election, Guillermo Endara. But it is important to recall that by that point, the United States had more than 25,000 troops on the ground, a strong diplomatic and business presence in Panama, and thanks to the U.S.-built canal, a long-established and widely accepted role in the country. Also worth bearing in mind is the fact that Panama is less than one-tenth the size of Venezuela and had less than one-tenth the population that Venezuela currently has. Panama’s armed forces were weak and few in number and included many anti-Noriega factions.

Nevertheless, regime change in Panama proved to be neither cost-free nor easy. There were hundreds of U.S. casualties, including 23 servicemen killed. The difficulty encountered in capturing Noriega and properly ending the operation proved frustrating and embarrassing. The experience also revealed the military challenges of operating deeply inside another country, even one as familiar, relatively friendly, and small as Panama.

All this left the Bush administration wary of such projects. As Colin Powell, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, would constantly remind his colleagues, regime change was not a military mission. Armed forces could be tasked to destroy things and possibly capture or kill a foreign leader, but they could not be called on to replace an existing political system with something more to Washington’s liking. That would require the use of all the instruments of American power and depend in large part on the nature of the target country and the strength of alternatives to the regime. What is more, asking the military to operate away from battlefields and in proximity to the general population in built-up areas would lead to high casualties and uncertain results. This caution in no small part led Bush to hold off marching on Baghdad in 1991 as the battlefield phase of the Gulf War wound down.

ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER

Over time, however, this caution faded. After the 9/11 attacks, the CIA and U.S. armed forces joined with Afghan tribesmen to oust the Taliban government following its refusal to hand over the al-Qaeda leaders responsible for the terrorist assault. The United States then played a large role in cobbling together a successor government, reconstructing the country, building a military, educating girls and women, and more. It was a classic case of nation building.

Working against that undertaking was the revival of the Taliban and the corruption and divisions that characterized Afghanistan’s government and society. After 20 years, over 2,000 American fatalities, another 20,000 U.S. casualties, and the expenditure of several trillions of dollars, the United States reversed course because the Taliban could not be defeated and peace could not be negotiated. The first Trump administration signed a deal essentially handing the country back to the Taliban, and the Biden administration carried it out. Two decades after being ousted from Kabul, the Taliban pulled off a regime change of their own.

Iraq offers another painful example of regime change gone wrong. The George W. Bush administration was guilty of far too much optimism about prospects for a peaceful transition to democracy in a deeply divided society that had long been ruled by a brutal dictator. It also underestimated how cheered liberators can quickly morph into unwelcome occupiers. And the administration simply made too many mistakes. It created a vacuum of authority by disbanding the Iraqi military and barring too many former regime administrators and staffers from working with the successor government. As in Afghanistan, nation building proved costly in lives and dollars. (It is worth noting, however, that unlike in Afghanistan, the United States has something to show for the effort: today, Iraq is a functioning country with distinguishable democratic features.)

In 2011, the intervention in Libya proved to be a textbook case of a different lesson: don’t take steps that might bring down a regime without a plan for what will follow. If the George W. Bush administration was guilty of doing too much in Iraq, then the Obama administration was guilty of doing too little in Libya after deposing Qaddafi. Today, Libya is a quasi–failed state. Regime change can make a bad situation worse—or simply bad in a different way.

MEET THE NEW REGIME, SAME AS THE OLD REGIME

After these catastrophes, it seemed safe to assume that Washington would steer clear of regime change for a long time. But today, unfolding situations in three places have put it back on the table: Venezuela, Gaza, and Iran. Cuba has the potential to be a fourth.

Venezuela is garnering the most attention, which is ironic, since what the Trump administration is pursuing there is decidedly not an example of regime change—at least not yet. Indeed, the Trump administration appears to be following a path that in many ways is the polar opposite of what the George W. Bush administration did in Iraq. There has been no U.S. troop deployment, no disbanding of the armed forces, no mass firing of those who work with the government. Also absent is any effort to do what the George H. W. Bush administration did in Panama: install in power the rightfully elected government. Promoting democracy tends not to be a priority for the Trump administration, although it may also have calculated (not without reason) that any attempt to do so now in Venezuela would trigger large-scale civil conflict.

What there has been in Venezuela is a leadership change (Maduro has been swapped out for his vice president, Delcy Rodríguez) and a push to ensure access to its oil for American companies and allow the U.S. government to oversee the sale of that oil. The Trump administration is also pressuring Venezuela to wean itself from its close ties with China, Cuba, Iran, and Russia.

Trump has been inconsistent when it comes to describing his aims in Venezuela; at times, he has spoken as if regime change were the goal. “We’re going to run it, essentially, until a proper transition takes place,” he said on the day Maduro was captured. But the United States doesn’t just lack the means to run Venezuela; it lacks the appetite. Trump has a long-standing aversion to regime change and nation building; indeed, public dissatisfaction with Afghanistan and Iraq is partly responsible for his political rise.

Still, it is unclear what might happen if the desired policy changes do not materialize because of resurgent nationalism or infighting, either between regime elements or between the regime and the opposition. Trump initially threatened a second wave of attacks, but he would face a dilemma: how to get the benefits of regime change without the risks and costs associated with it. A wiser path would be to link all forms of U.S. assistance to Venezuela’s government introducing desired policy changes, including bringing the opposition into the political process.

MORE DOMINOS TO FALL?

Gaza is another place where a policy of regime change has emerged, even if it is not normally described that way. The shared goal of Israel and the United States is to bring an end to Hamas’s domination of Gaza. In the two-plus years since Hamas’s October 7, 2023, terrorist attacks, Israel has used considerable military force to bring this about, with Washington’s backing and assistance. Israel has also occupied large parts of Gaza.

As a result, Hamas is far weaker militarily. But it is still stronger than any other competing military or political force. Put another way, Israel has been pursuing a one-dimensional strategy of attacking Hamas and requiring it to disarm before politics can advance. It has refused to introduce an alternative political entity in Gaza that people in the territory might rally around. On the contrary, Israel has blocked the Palestinian Authority from assuming a meaningful role lest it give momentum to Palestinian nationalism. Israel has also failed to introduce anything meaningful in the way of a political initiative to incentivize Palestinians willing to live in peace with a Jewish state. In this instance, a regime ouster is failing in part because no nation building has been introduced. Regime change is unlikely to materialize in such circumstances. The Trump administration would do well to rethink its near-total support of Israel’s approach.

Iran is a curious case. The current political system came into power in 1979 via regime change when the secular authoritarianism of the shah was replaced by a political-clerical leadership. The dynamic was internal: those loyal to (or allied with) Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini gained strength until the state’s security forces were no longer prepared to put themselves at risk to save the shah’s regime. The Carter administration, for its part, sought to prevent regime change but was uncertain and inconsistent and in the end ineffectual.

Regime change as a chosen policy ought to be embraced rarely.

Nearly half a century later, it is the Islamist regime that is facing pressure from below as protests have broken out throughout the country, mostly as a result of a deepening economic crisis exacerbated by U.S.-led sanctions. The regime is responding with token reforms and an increasingly harsh crackdown; Trump has stated that if the regime “violently kills peaceful protesters, which is their custom, the United States of America will come to their rescue. We are locked and loaded and ready to go.” That redline has been crossed, but so far the Trump administration has held back from making good on its threat.

Regime change would be welcomed by a majority within Iran and by many of its neighbors. It is possible that attacks on targets associated with Iran’s military and clerical regime by the United States would increase the chances of the regime falling, but they could also trigger a nationalist reaction. There is also the danger that U.S. words and actions could increase clashes within the country, putting those in the opposition at heightened risk without any American ability to directly protect them. Providing technical aid so the opposition can use the Internet despite regime efforts to block access would help. All that said, it should be acknowledged that it is far from clear whether regime change is about to happen and what would follow if it did. Even so, the United States would be wise to articulate a policy that would apply to any Iranian government and would incentivize the desired change: namely, that Washington would be prepared to reduce sanctions in exchange for Iran agreeing to end its nuclear weapons program, its use of violent proxies throughout the region, and its repression of its own citizens, with the degree of sanctions relief depending on the extent of Iranian behavioral change. (If the regime in Cuba were to collapse, the United States could offer a similar set of economic inducements to any postcommunist leadership that emerged, tying them to the new rulers’ meeting various political, economic, and strategic conditions.)

TO ACT OR REACT

In the months ahead, Washington must make a crucial distinction between reacting to a change in regime that is underway and a policy of proactively pursuing regime change. Going forward, the United States might need to react to the internally generated collapse of regimes in Iran and Cuba, as it did in Iran in 1979 and the Soviet Union in 1991. When this happens, the question is how best to use traditional foreign policy tools to influence the outcome. The best approach is to offer substantial economic help if specified conditions are met, although in Iran the United States should also be prepared to provide support to the opposition and weaken the government given the many threats posed by Iran to U.S. interests.

Regime change as a chosen policy is something fundamentally different. It ought to be embraced rarely, and then only after a number of questions are answered. Is it possible? Is Washington in a position to support it given other priorities? Are political alternatives likely to emerge that are preferable and viable? Is the United States prepared to be involved for a long time at considerable cost to itself, and would that involvement be decisive and welcomed by the target country?

These questions will rarely be answered in the affirmative. For that reason, Washington should focus more on reacting to and supporting transformative change within other countries when the opportunity arises than on acting to create it. The good news is that opportunities for supporting far-reaching changes in policy or even changes of regime may be at hand in multiple venues if the United States acts with a mix of discipline and determination.

Loading…