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 after defeating Iraq in the Gulf War two years later—a decision that was at least partly vindicated by all that unfolded when George W. Bush made the opposite choice as president in 2003.
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........