2026年1月31日 星期六

9 How to Topple a Tyrant

 9

How to Topple a Tyrant

History proves that all dictatorships, all authoritarian forms of government are transient. Only democratic systems are not transient.Whatever the shortcomings, mankind has not devised anything superior.1

Vladimir Putin, president of Russia

Few things in politics are as hard as toppling tyrants, but that doesn’t mean all attempts are doomed to fail.

Given that it’s so difficult, what influence do outsiders realistically have? For better or worse, outside influence is often limited. Topplingtyrants mostly falls to the people themselves, and then to a narrow sub-set of the population. The general rule is this: the closer to thetyrant, the more influence that person will have. The minister of defence will usually have more power than a mid-ranking civil servant andthe power of the mandarin will usually exceed that of a shopkeeper on the periphery.

Just as staying in power involves trade-offs for despots, toppling tyrants involves difficult decisions for the people trying to make ithappen. To topple tyrants without creating a catastrophe the dictatorial cycle has to be broken.

There are two principal ways to do this: the first involves chipping away at his pedestal to weaken it over time, so that a strong gust of windis enough to topple him. The second strategy is more immediate, aiming to take out the tyrant more directly.

When it comes to toppling tyrants, not all countries will have the same set of tools. Some, such as the United States, have all of them – somany you can barely find the one you want, from political pressure to economic coercion to force. In 2019, after disputed Venezuelanelections, the United States moved to recognise Juan Guaidó as president, to weaken Nicolás Maduro, who continued to have de factocontrol over the country.2 When President Carter decided that Nicaraguan dictator Somoza had to go in 1978, Washington used itsinfluence over the International Monetary Fund to prevent it from granting the government in Managua credit.3 And Carter, besidessuspending military aid to the regime, blocked others from shipping arms to it as well.4 In the early 1960s, President Kennedy went a stepfurther when he ordered one of America’s fleets off the coast of the Dominican capital. With the threat of invasion imminent, RamfisTrujillo was told that it was time to step down. He didn’t want to take his chances, so he did.5 In 2003 the United States toppled SaddamHussein in Iraq and, in 2011, Muammar Gaddafi in Libya. For a country such as the United States, there are plenty of tools in the box.

Others have access only to specialised tools. Their banks might be where dictatorial cash is stored. Or they manufacture equipment thatkeeps the regime’s jets in the air. Or they might just be in geographic proximity, which can come in handy for opponents of the regimewho are looking for a safe place from which to organise resistance.

If outsiders choose the slower, more subtle method – to chip away and wait for the storm – the first order of business should be carefulanalysis and planning. Who really keeps the tyrant in power? Which are the groups the despot absolutely cannot afford to lose? What getsthem out of bed on a Monday morning? How can their calculus be influenced? Since authoritarian regimes can be so opaque, it can bedifficult to tell – especially in the world’s most closed countries. But despite these obvious difficulties, people are more similar than theyare different. True, cultures differ widely and people have vastly different ideologies, especially if they live in regimes that haveindoctrinated them for decades. That said, a lot of people in these key positions want similar things: power, money, safety for themselvesand their families, respect.

Once this analysis is done, the aim of outsiders should be to damage the pedestal faster than the dictator can repair it. To do that, thereneeds to be not just an analysis of the strengths and weaknesses of the regime but also of the actor now trying to bring it down. What areyou good at? What are you not?

There are three advantages to taking this more cautious approach. Since the tyrant isn’t toppled by the outsider itself, it can becomparatively cheap. And because this approach is about helping people help themselves, the chances of it going catastrophically wrongare much lower than they could be. (It’s theoretically possible for 100,000 people to die because an outside power has held workshopsfor independent journalists – but thus far, it hasn’t happened.) Moreover, if cautious support from outside contributes to the fall of theregime, the outcome has a chance of being sustainable. As we have learned over the course of this book, non-violent transitions, if theysucceed, are more likely to bring about democracy than violent transitions.

Tyrants need money, weapons and people to stay in power. Importantly, the people around them need to expect that they will continue tohave all three in the future. If that’s not the impression they have, elites may recalibrate the support they provide to the leader becausethey don’t want to bet on the wrong horse. When that happens, the tyrant becomes vulnerable, inviting challengers to take him on.Outsiders can have an influence on all three. If they want to contribute to toppling a tyrant, they should aim to weaken the ruler, strengthenalternative elites and empower the masses. The former tactics make the fall more likely, the latter increases the chance that the cycle oftyranny can be broken.

As a first step, outside powers should stop doing all the things that actively keep the tyrant alive. Many a dictator receives militaryequipment worth billions of dollars. These arms exports aren’t all alike, of course. A submarine’s torpedoes are unlikely to be used inthe internal defence of the regime because neither coups nor popular protests tend to happen out at sea. But a main battle tank capable ofkilling dozens of protestors in seconds? That’s a different story altogether. To make life harder for dictators, the export of militaryequipment that can be used by the tyrant against his own people needs to be stopped. Details depend on the regime in question, but itcertainly means no more armoured vehicles, no more small arms, no more helicopters.

The next step is to make it harder for the dictator to find and control opponents. Nowadays, the key to this is digital surveillance ofcomputers, tablets and phones. When it comes to the surveillance of mobile phones, there’s one software that stands out.

In the spring of 2011, executives of the NSO Group, makers of the spyware Pegasus, were sitting in a room used for storing cleaningmaterials on a massive military base outside Mexico City.6 Even though this was already inside a secure perimeter, an armed guard stoodoutside the door. This wasn’t an ordinary engineering team and as few people as possible were supposed to find out about the visit. Aftertheir wait ended and the guard stepped aside, the presentation began. In attendance were the Mexican president Felipe Calderón and hissecretary of defence, Guillermo Galván Galván. The company’s chief technology officer gave attendees a BlackBerry.

The phone looked and acted as normal. There were no warning signs, no flashing lights, no error messages. But as the Mexican officialsused the phone, they could watch on a large screen as data from the phone were transmitted live. It was the perfect attack: not only was thephone completely compromised, the victim wouldn’t know a thing about it.

With the hack completed, the attacker gains access to just about everything on the phone: contacts, text messages, call logs, themicrophone. Shortly thereafter, NSO Group had their first major customer: the state of Mexico. The country had long been fightingpowerful drug dealers, and software such as this would be perfect to fight cartels. If the authorities knew where they were, who they spoketo and what they planned, they could fight back much more effectively.

But over the next couple of years, more and more governments became interested in the technology, and it wasn’t just to fightorganised crime. In 2013, the United Arab Emirates (UAE) was offered access to the software. In the hands of the UAE, the software wasreportedly used as part of a broad and intense campaign to target Ahmed Mansoor, an Emirati engineer who had committed no wrongother than to criticise his government. As the New York Times reported:

His car was stolen, his email account was hacked, his location was monitored, his passport was taken from him, $140,000 was stolen fromhis bank account, he was fired from his job and strangers beat him on the street several times.7

In addition to all this, he was reportedly targeted by the NSO Group’s software. All in all, it was terrifying. As Mansoor himself put it:‘You start to believe your every move is watched. Your family starts to panic. I have to live with that.’8 Eventually, he was also forced tolive with sleeping on the floor of the desert prison into which the regime threw him.9

If you had never heard of this software before, you might assume that it was developed in a dictatorship before being sold to otherdictatorships. Far from it. NSO Group developed their software in democratic Israel before selling it abroad. It’s big business, but morethan that it also became a tool of Israeli foreign policy. Since the government controlled the countries to which the software could andcouldn’t be exported, it could use it to forge new partnerships or cement existing alliances. In the case of the United Arab Emirates, theexport licence was reportedly granted after Israeli foreign intelligence agents assassinated a high-ranking member of Hamas in Dubai.The spy software was an ‘olive branch’.10

If democracies genuinely want tyrants to fall, they shouldn’t make such peace offerings.

Dictatorships collect less information about their opponents when they don’t have access to these tools and as a result, it becomes moredifficult to use repression discriminately. And indiscriminate repression vastly increases the chance of a backlash: if people are punisheddespite not having done anything ‘wrong’, what incentive do they have not to start opposing the ruler?

Next, it needs to be harder for the incumbent to please the selectorate. In theory, one way to do that is sanctions. Sanctions againstauthoritarian regimes are popular with policy makers because they allow them to ‘do something’ when they don’t want to take muchrisk. As a result, the number of sanctions has ballooned: during the 1990s, more than 50 per cent of the world’s population was undersanctions and President Bill Clinton complained that the country had become ‘sanctions happy’.11 Since then, it has only become moreso. When President Trump was in office, the administration reached ‘an average of almost four sanctions designations every workingday’.12

But do they work? That depends what we mean by ‘work’. Sanctions are intended to apply economic pressure on another country sothat it changes its behaviour.13 In practice, that’s almost impossible to do when it comes to incentivising tyrants to step down. ‘Askinga tyrant to step down is like asking him to sign his own death warrant,’ Agathe Demarais, a sanctions expert of the European Council onForeign Relations, told me.14 To the extent that economic coercion does work, it’s not by changing the mind of the dictator but theminds of those around him. Sanctions can work by reducing the ability of the dictator to distribute cash to elites which the regime hasderived through trade or foreign aid. But how much of a difference sanctions make partly depends on the type of regime that is beingtargeted. A 2010 study showed that personalist regimes and monarchies are comparatively more vulnerable to sanctions in that they relyparticularly on revenue from outside – for example, foreign aid – to fund patronage.15

In theory, a collapsing economy should lead to problems for authoritarian regimes by angering both powerbrokers and the masses. Theformer become less rich, the latter poorer. To try to overcome this unfortunate situation, a personalist dictator might be tempted to userepression. But if he attempts it, there’s no certainty that his generals will follow through it because they will probably be aggrieved aswell.

In comparison to personalist dictatorships, both military dictatorships and one-party states have an advantage in this situation.16 Juntas,on average, have an easier time using repression to deal with the fallout of sanctions because their forces are less likely to splinter underthe weight of their own repression. Party-based dictatorships, on the other hand, can often co-opt elites by giving them something otherthan money because they tend to have more functional institutions. So even though this or that important political figure may no longerreceive a steady delivery of wads of cash, they can be promoted to become a delegate to a national congress or the head of a publiclyowned conglomerate.

The effectiveness of sanctions also relates to geography. If a country has significant oil resources, they have a huge advantage.17 Oil issuch a valuable commodity that it will be sold one way or another. If some countries sanction an oil exporter, others will step in to buy theoil. They might get a discount, but money will keep flowing and dictatorships can often stave off threats to the regime by distributing thatmoney around their capital’s villas.

Evidently, a lot of non-democratic states against which sanctions might be imposed with the aim of destabilising their governments fit oneor other of these criteria. Does that mean these states should never be targeted because sanctions won’t work?

Not necessarily. Economic coercion can also make sense when targeting petrostates, for example, because they make life harder forpeople who shouldn’t have it easy. Asked about sanctions against Russia, a political economist recently told the Washington Post: ‘Theway I think about sanctions is that we are shaking the tree on which the regime sits.’ ‘We are not shaking it enough for it to fall down,’he went on to say, ‘but we’re creating problems for them.’18 That’s not perfect, but depending on the situation, it can be better thannothing.

There are other options to keep tyrants on their toes. One way of doing it is to drop external defence guarantees. That’s not necessarilybecause an external actor is likely to topple said tyrant, but because it forces the dictatorship to devote more of its limited resources tomilitary effectiveness, thereby increasing the risk of coups. As that risk increases, so a new problem arises, then another, forming adistraction that invites the tyrant to make unforced errors.

In conclusion, the strategy to weaken the tyrant begins with withdrawing external support. It continues by making it harder to userepression while reducing his ability to redistribute the gains of tyranny to the people that keep him in power. All these measures weakenthe tyrant vis-à-vis others who could replace him.

To increase the pressure, outsiders can then encourage rivals and strengthen their hand while the incumbent struggles. Yoweri Musevenibecame Uganda’s ninth president in 1986, a time when the Cold War was still raging. In the twenty-first century, his biggest politicalproblem has been the activist Bobi Wine. A musician turned presidential candidate, his hallmark a red beret with the outline of Uganda onit, Wine excites people. When he landed at Entebbe International Airport on 5 October 2023, his supporters had planned somethingspecial.19 Since he had been abroad for two weeks, they wanted to march him all the way to his home, some fifty kilometres to thenortheast in Kampala.

But instead of a welcome home party, Bobi Wine was met by unknown men who twisted his arms behind his back as he got off the plane.Instead of marching along with his supporters, he was driven off in a car before being kicked in the head. And when he arrived home, therewas no peace there either because of the dozens of security officers inside and outside the compound. ‘I am surrounded by the military,and nobody is allowed to leave and no one is allowed to come,’ Bobi Wine told a journalist.20

Wine was effectively detained, but at least he wasn’t killed. And, as one activist close to Bobi told me, that was no coincidence. Accordingto him, Wine could be harassed and put under house arrest by the regime, but he couldn’t be killed. Despots might be happy to kill a foe,but no dictator wants a negative headline in the New York Times or the Washington Post. And Bobi Wine, being so charismatic, commandsincredible attention. On Instagram, Bobi Wine has more than 700,000 followers; on what used to be Twitter, more than 2 million. Ugandaisn’t exactly the focus of the world’s media, but when something happens to Bobi Wine, the BBC, CNN and other major mediaorganisations take note. All that makes it significantly more difficult for Uganda’s dictator to eliminate the opposition leader.

Clearly, support for alternative leaders can go way beyond medical care, exile or sympathetic media interviews. High-ranking regimeinsiders can be encouraged to defect or turn against their boss. They can be bribed or given money to build their own power base withinthe country. Maybe they can also be given compromising information at the right time.

But simply weakening tyrants and strengthening their rivals is not enough. The masses have to be empowered, because while the principalthreat to most tyrants comes from other elites and not the streets, popular uprisings can bring down leaders within the blink of an eye. Justas importantly, they can help alternative elites to put pressure on the leader. Even in highly authoritarian regimes, popular support (or lackof it) still matters – if only because it can tell other elites that the current leader might be at serious risk of falling.

The people can also exert pressure on the incumbent’s rivals in the event that they succeed. In that way a change in leadership can, at leastpotentially, lead to a meaningful change in policy. If this isn’t done, there’s the risk that chopping down the tyrant will simply produce anew one – that the cycle of tyranny, chaos, tyranny will simply keep turning.

One of the main difficulties of discussing the utility of outside support with people engaged in trying to promote democracy is that thesegroups face a dilemma. On the one hand, they clearly believe in the work because if they didn’t, they wouldn’t be doing it. It’s not asthough these people drive fancy cars or live in big houses. But on the other hand, they are reluctant to talk up its value too much because itwould take away from the people who have effected change on the ground. That would be all the more upsetting because it’s thesepeople who face the greatest risk. Additionally, tyrants themselves love to talk up foreign influence when they face any opposition. If thepeople trying to promote democracy from abroad are too vocal about their contribution, they risk playing into the hands of the rulersthey seek to weaken.

Nevertheless, there are a few things that can be learnt from talking to people who do this every day. To strengthen the masses in theirconflict with the incumbent and regime elites, outsiders can create networks, train activists, support mobilisation outside the regime’scontrol, allow them to gather force in exile and support the free flow of information.

When activists are struggling against a seemingly omnipotent regime that does everything it can to keep opponents in the dark, it can feelto them as if they are alone; that nobody else thinks the way they do and that the responsibility is theirs to work it out. This, of course, isexactly what tyrants want to achieve because it reinforces the coordination problem that prevents protests from being launched.Outsiders can help to bridge this gap by bringing people together.

In some cases, that also means mediating between people’s conflicting interests. Before the amateurish coup that failed to bring downYahya Jammeh, the Gambian opposition struggled to unite in the face of an overwhelmingly cruel regime. After the attempted coup, theycame together with the support of outside non-governmental organisations after realising that they could no longer go on the way theyhad.21 In an ideal scenario, bringing people together also leads them to learn from each other. How do you mobilise people? How doesone go about organising a nationwide strike? These are questions about which generations of activists have thought so there’s no needto reinvent the wheel.

Every dictatorship is different but they’re similar enough for it to be possible to provide practical advice to people organisingopposition. Outside actors can provide support to domestic groups as they train supporters in strategy and tactics. With the twenty-firstcentury came entirely new categories of things to learn. How does one create viral content for social media? What messengers are safe;which definitely aren’t? These are the practical lessons that activists can learn from each other. Outsiders can help by facilitating networksand training.

The people together are harder to beat than any collection of individuals. For that reason, anything that makes it easy for people to cometogether and mobilise can increase the power of the masses. Where laws don’t yet make it impossible to support civil societyorganisations which are critical of the regime, that should be the focus. Where they do, the next best option is to provide support toorganisations that aren’t directly engaged in holding the government accountable but still allow large groups of people to coordinatewith each other. If that can be done as part of a church, so be it; if it’s a trade union, so be it; if it’s a disability advocacy group, so be it.Anything that allows for coordination and popular mobilisation that isn’t controlled by the government may provide an advantage.

Strengthening opposition movements can also include support of political exile. Political opposition movements don’t just consist offigureheads, they are communities. There are people who organise, raise funds, get the message out to journalists and so forth. Whenthings become too dangerous, not one, but many of them will often be forced to leave. Over the last couple of years, as transnationalrepression has become the norm rather than the exception, a significant number of these communities have come under increasingpressure from their authoritarian tormentors because many democracies have pushed refugees away from their own borders tocountries that are more susceptible to pressure from dictators. Reversing this would undoubtedly create significant political challenges,but if the intention is to make life harder for tyrants, it could well be helpful.22

A further aid must be the free flow of information. The internet, as much as tyrants have attempted to use it for their own ends, continues tobe of use to activists. Not only can they use it to coordinate and spread their message, when the moment comes and it looks as if theregime is staggering, they can use it to mobilise. And existing democracies can help activists help themselves: for example, they cansupport the development of safe messenger applications and help activists circumvent governmental censorship.

If these measures are implemented and the stability of the tyrant’s fiefdom is in serious question, outsiders will then have to decide abouta different kind of exile: that of the despot rather than his opponents. As discussed with reference to Philippine dictator Ferdinand Marcos,this is a difficult problem. If democracies don’t grant exile, innocent civilians will die because the dictator will have an incentive to do all hecan to remain in power. He may give an order to torture, he may give an order to shoot. Those orders might not be followed, but there’salways the chance that they are. If democracies grant exile, a truly vile person will get to live out his days in Hawaii or on the Côte d’Azur.Not only that, but it will also undermine international justice and accountability efforts, and send a signal to others that they are free totorture and kill.

Taken together, these measures will be corrosive enough to destabilise many dictatorships. It might not happen overnight, but it willhappen. Some will fall and most will struggle as soon as even a little opposition arises. In the cases in which tyrants do fall, there’s a decentchance that the dictatorial cycle will be broken.

But there’s a limit to these strategies because many of the most powerful and most damaging despots will have anticipated an attack ontheir rule; they are prepared. As a result, there might not be enough people within the country who, even when supported, could make ameaningful difference. As the historian Rory Cormac noted, ‘covert action doesn’t create opposition groups.’23 That is to say thatyou can only support something that is already in existence because even the most powerful external actors cannot create partners out ofthin air; or it might be that opponents of the current regime could be supported, but they are worse than the people in charge; or finally,the regime itself might also be so established that it is difficult to break even if opponents can be supported. This is more likely to happenafter the regime has already survived for a while; if the machine works better than it initially did.24

Under those circumstances, the best one can realistically achieve as an outsider is to accelerate the fall of the tyrant. An end to tyranny isunlikely. The key problem is that the most destructive regimes are the least likely to fall in ways that are likely to generate a good outcome.To bring down those regimes, the measures outlined above might well be insufficient.

In situations like this, policymakers find themselves at a crossroads. If they take one route, need a different set of tools. If they take another,they will need to wait until the moment arises when they can make a difference.

Changing tools means changing aims: instead of trying to weaken the dictator over time, the goal is now to take him out directly. Out goesthe hammer, in comes the dynamite. The advantage of using dynamite to topple the dictator from his pedestal is that dynamite isexceptionally effective and the effect is quick. But not everybody has access to it and that’s probably a good thing because usingdynamite can result in things going very wrong. In other words, these are measures that are more likely to topple tyrants but less likely tolead to a sustainable outcome if the tyrant does fall. They are also vastly more expensive.

Whereas none of the previous measures involved violence, this one does – at least indirectly. The aim should be to make life as miserableas possible for regime elites while giving them the opportunity to break free. If someone can be found who is willing to remove theincumbent from power, help them. If we are talking about a petrostate, encourage sabotage of pipelines or refineries. Identify armedopposition groups and provide them with the weapons they need to wreak havoc. Tell the generals that you would be supportive of acoup d’état. If an assassin needs a safehouse, provide it.

Is that going to work? In the sense of toppling the tyrant – perhaps; in the sense of creating an outcome that’s good in any sense of theword – unlikely. These measures are hugely destructive and can easily spiral into war. And as we know after discussing the advantages anddisadvantages of covert action, such actions are unlikely to stay hidden. Chances are the information about who provided that safehouseor those weapons will eventually see the light of day, with all the consequences that entails for the party that provided them.

The only thing that’s even more escalatory than putting dynamite in the hands of others and telling them to use it is to light the fuseyourself. As a German who enjoyed freedom from the moment he was born, I am not going to argue that force should never be used totopple tyrants.

The famous cases of Japan and Germany aside, there are other cases in which it has worked. Yahya Jammeh, the man Banka Mannehwanted to bring down when he orchestrated a coup attempt in the Gambia, was eventually deposed through the use of force when aregional coalition marched on the dictator’s home village. The forces – drawn from Senegal, Ghana and Nigeria – met barely anyopposition. The Gambia is not a perfect democracy now, but it certainly became a lot freer after the military intervention. And theintervention itself wasn’t costly precisely because there wasn’t much opposition. But, as we have seen in the last couple of chapters,most foreign regime-change operations are not like that of the Economic Community of West African States in the Gambia. They tend tofail.

Since this is a route few want to go down, the tools are put back in the box as decision makers bide their time until there’s an opening todestabilise the despot at an acceptable cost. This is the ‘monitor and prepare’ approach.

Even the most powerful tyrants cannot prevent crises from breaking out forever. The cleverest leaders can anticipate public grievancesand blunt the effects of recessions and so forth, but something unforeseen always happens. Perhaps a spontaneous protest quickly turnsinto a nationwide uprising; a part of the military mutinies because they haven’t been paid, or perhaps the effects of a natural disaster areexacerbated by the regime’s corruption. Even if none of those things happens, tyrants are still mortal. They will eventually get ill or fallasleep and never wake up. When a narrow window of opportunity arises, outsiders have to be ready to prise it wide open.

Until that happens, efforts must be made to minimise the damage the dictator can do while in office. That begins at home. Authoritarianshave found plenty of suit-wearing allies within liberal democracies. A whole army of accountants, bankers, lawyers and public relationsspecialists in cities such as London or New York are busy turning dictatorial cash into political power. The dictators sell oil to the UnitedKingdom (or the United States or Germany or France . . .) and then invest the proceeds in key industries or relationships with influentialpolitical factions. Ten and a half per cent of Volkswagen, one of Germany’s most important companies, is owned by Qatar Holding LLC.25 The Saudi royal family has reportedly invested hundreds of millions, and in some cases even billions, of dollars in American companiesGoogle, Zoom and Activision Blizzard.26 There’s barely a high-ranking European football club that doesn’t have some involvementfrom shady autocrats. Hostile authoritarians are also hoovering up ports, telecommunications infrastructure and other criticalinstallations on which modern life depends. Is all this good business? Hard to tell. But it’s definitely a good way to buy influence andprotect distasteful regimes from external pressure. Where this is still preventable, it needs to be prevented. Where it has already occurred,democratic states need to roll it back – to find the points of leverage that autocrats can use and systematically reduce the risk.

Now that we are on our way to minimising the damage that these people can do, the next thing we need is a big loud siren. When a relevantregime is in serious trouble, we need to be well prepared. This will involve serious planning.

What would be the warning signs for a falling leader? Who might be next in line if the incumbent falls? What happens when the entireregime collapses, and how might you react? Many developments can be planned for before they happen. When the siren goes off,everyone needs to be at their station, ready to respond.

One of the most curious examples of this was uncovered by journalists at the Associated Press in 2014. Four years earlier, a Cubanjournalism student named Saimi Reyes Carmona at the University of Havana had signed up to ZunZuneo, a social network, under hernickname Saimita.27 Originally small, ZunZuneo (slang for a hummingbird’s tweet) rapidly grew in size over the next couple of months.Before she knew it, Saimita had thousands of followers. When she texted them to let them know that it was her birthday, she got so manyreplies that she excitedly told her boyfriend that it was the coolest thing she had ever seen.28

What neither she nor any of ZunZuneo’s tens of thousands of other users knew was that the entire network had been dreamt up andplanned by a big Washington government contractor and the United States Agency for International Development. Since they obviouslycouldn’t come right out and admit it, the whole operation was made to look as if it was something else. It involved stolen phonenumbers, fake companies in the United Kingdom, Spain and the Cayman Islands as well as a bank account in a tax haven. The purpose ofthis, according to an internal memo, was to ensure that it could not be traced back to America. To fool the users, one proposal went as faras suggesting that fake ad banners should be placed on the website in order to make ZunZuneo look more like a normal business than apolitical influence campaign.29

The aim of ZunZuneo wasn’t to turn a profit or make life easier for its users, but to weaken the Cuban government by mobilising citizensagainst it. At first, it was to be unpolitical. Its users might talk about concerts or their birthday or all their other day-to-day concerns. But if amoment of crisis had ever occurred, the American government could have blasted all of ZunZuneo’s users with messages critical of theCuban regime. Not only that, the same users could have used the site to coordinate with one another. Could that little extra push havemade the decisive difference at a moment of serious instability? We will never find out because the project failed before the plan could beput into action.

ZunZuneo involved a number of thorny ethical questions since the people who it supposedly aimed to help were deceived. On a purelypractical level, it was also incredibly risky. It’s one thing to try to destabilise an adversarial foreign government using a foreignintelligence service, but this work was carried out by a development agency and their contractors. If they claim to drill wells but insteadengage in this type of work, even once, everyone working for the agency across the globe is in danger. It was such a ‘bold’ move thatDemocratic senator Patrick Leahy called it ‘dumb, dumb, dumb’.30 But it was creative, at least.

When that siren sounds, governments need to take action. The flashing red should lead to an activation of contingency plans to deal withthe likely fallout of a sudden change in leadership, or the threat of it. These are volatile moments. In the best-case scenario, a strugglingleader simply steps down to pave the way for a better future, but, given everything we know, that’s always unlikely. Perhaps a naturaldeath leads to a vacuum of power as multiple figures present themselves as ‘worthy’ heirs to the tyrant. Maybe an uprising issuppressed as a struggling autocrat manages to retain power. Worst of all, maybe the uprising turns into full-blown civil war. That wouldmean compatriots would have to be evacuated, people would need to flee and sides would have to be picked. When that moment comes,plans already need to be in the drawer, ready to be implemented at a moment’s notice.

But just because we can topple tyrants and we now know how to topple tyrants doesn’t mean that we necessarily should topple tyrants.

There are plenty of good arguments against becoming involved. To start with, there’s the uncertainty.

If you were in the right place at the right time in the continental United States on 4 October 1957, you could have seen an object movingacross the night sky. It wasn’t a shooting star or some other natural occurrence. For the very first time in history, humans had succeededin building and launching something that left the earth’s atmosphere. It was Sputnik, an eighty-three-kilogram satellite, the size of abeach ball, launched from a cosmodrome in the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic. Sputnik wasn’t just visible to the human eye under theright conditions, you could actually hear it ‘beep’ as it went overhead.31 While American intelligence agencies and PresidentEisenhower had known that this was going to happen for quite some time, the wider public was shocked.32 Had the Soviet threat beenunderestimated? Were they now more advanced than the free world? The space race was in full swing.

In a development that probably wasn’t foreseen by the Soviet rocket engineers working on that launch, satellites are now used by socialscientists to get a better idea of the economic strength of authoritarian regimes.33 Looking at a night-time satellite image of the Koreanpeninsula, the contrast between North and South couldn’t be starker. The democratic South is bright, with Seoul and the surroundingarea looking like a giant ball of light. Across the demilitarised zone only a few spots, such as Pyongyang, are visible.

To use that data, economists overlay the images with a grid before recording the light intensity for every square. Factories create light.Once you know how much light is emitted in a given area, you can determine how much economic activity is going on. It’s an impressiveuse of data. And it’s not just data from satellites: the availability of large datasets on everything from civil wars to assassinations tocoup-proofing mechanisms and protests has increased substantially. The advances in methods and computational power have beenhuge, and governments and international organisations have tried their best to capitalise on it. The CIA is sponsoring research on coups,the United Nations is trying to forecast instability and many European states use quantitative analysis to complement their assessments ofelection-related violence. All this has led to a more accurate understanding of the way tyrants fall. On top of these systematic attempts togenerate insights, there’s been an explosion of open-source intelligence. Given the ubiquity of images and videos coming out of evenclosed societies, it can feel as if we see everything and understand everything.

In reality, much remains in the dark – and what feels like perfect vision is really just a fraction of the whole image. Economists only use(inaccurate) satellite data as a proxy because basic indicators about economic activity can’t be taken at face value in many countriesaround the world. Authoritarian regimes, whether they be military juntas, hereditary monarchies or one-party states, are more opaquethan liberal democracies. So much of these regimes is based on backroom deals and informal rules that it’s difficult to work out whomatters and who doesn’t, and how stable the situation is at any given moment. When it comes to understanding authoritarian regimes,not even hindsight is 20/20.

That leads to one of the principal arguments against attempts to topple tyrants: predicting what will happen afterwards is nearlyimpossible. Such falls are rare events, and even experts have a poor track record at predicting them accurately. And while what happensnext could be better, it might also be worse. Almost everything we discussed in the previous chapters is based on probabilities. Is one typeof regime change more likely to achieve sustainable results? Yes. But if that type of regime change has historically had a success rate of twoout of three and the stakes are this high, should we really roll the dice? There’s a good case to be made that we should not.

The practical arguments are perhaps even more convincing. To begin with, overthrowing a foreign leader can be costly. The cost, ofcourse, is dependent on the extent of outside involvement. At the lower end of the scale, it’s not usually too expensive (either financiallyor politically) to provide limited monetary support to non-violent opposition figures in an unfriendly authoritarian regime. To go to warto topple a foreign leader, on the other hand, is extremely costly – both in blood and in treasure.

Then there’s the question of competing interests. In the real world, politicians must juggle a thousand different considerations whendevising policy towards a country. What are the commercial ties to the region? Do they need to maintain supplies of a crucial naturalresource that they cannot easily replace? How about that military base – could they really do without it if things go wrong? On paper,democracy is often at the top of the list. But when it comes to policy, it’s usually trumped by less abstract concerns. And if in doubt,‘stability’ wins out. That this stability is often merely a mirage is of secondary importance.

There are other considerations also – one of them being ethical. Most of us would, it is to be hoped, agree that people everywhere shouldhave a meaningful say in the way they are governed. Nobody deserves to live in a one-party dictatorship, an absolute monarchy or undera military junta. But just as we wouldn’t want a foreign country to choose leaders for us, most are probably not keen to have their politicalleaders chosen (or removed) by us. They might want to get rid of their politicians, but that’s different from having someone else do it –even if things go well.

In the real world, toppling tyrants also involves other challenging moral questions. That becomes clear when we look back at the NorthKorean famine of the 1990s.

The situation was so bad that the Kim regime asked for international aid even though its entire ideology was based on the idea that NorthKorea could be independent from, or even superior to, the countries it was now asking for help. At the same time, the North Koreanregime wanted to ensure that the aid came with minimum strings attached. They wanted food, money and medicine, but they didn’twant aid organisations to monitor how it was distributed. The movement of aid workers was heavily restricted and the regime went as faras banning staff who spoke Korean.34 Sometimes hospital patients, including children, simply disappeared.35

It was a nightmarish problem. Should regimes like North Korea, under those conditions, be provided with aid?

Providing aid to North Korea was a difficult option. Kim Sung-il was working on nuclear weapons and much of the suffering of the Koreanpeople was his fault. He could have opened the economy and prioritised the well-being of his people above his personal power. But hedidn’t, and providing aid to his regime would almost inevitably strengthen it.

Not being able to feed its people was an obvious sign of the regime’s failure that would be mitigated by supplying aid. In addition, aid isfungible. Once food is under Pyongyang’s control, it can be sold. If the aid is not sold, the regime still profits: now that it has to spend lessmoney on feeding ordinary North Koreans, it can spend more money on something else, such as soldiers.

And indeed, some aid organisations eventually decided to withdraw. Médecins Sans Frontières, an international charity providingmedical care, announced that it would no longer work in North Korea. It judged that food was being diverted from people in need andinstead given to the military and other politically important groups.36

It’s an understandable choice. But with millions of North Koreans starving and Pyongyang asking for aid, can democracies turn therequest down and let even more people die? They could and have, of course, but toppling a regime with this tactic is far from assured. Inthe end, hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of aid poured into North Korea to alleviate the effects of the famine the North Koreanregime had created – because sometimes, some things are more important than toppling tyrants.37

But despite all these arguments and the difficulties of going through with an attempt to topple tyrants, there must be a tipping point. Atsome point, despite all the risks that come with it, the price of letting these men run rampant simply becomes too high. Where exactly thattipping point is varies: as the risks of these strategies differ, so do the thresholds at which they become worth pursuing.

Whatever happens, toppling tyrants requires patience. In 1972, when asked about the impact of the French Revolution, Chinese premierZhou Enlai is supposed to have replied: ‘Too early to say.’38 As good as the quote might be, that’s not how it happened. According toan American diplomat in the room ‘there was a misunderstanding that was too delicious to invite correction.’39 Zhou was referring notto the French Revolution of 1789 but the unrest that had erupted in Paris in 1968.40 It’s a popular misquote because it contains a grain oftruth: it is difficult to judge what success looks like in the aftermath of such disruptive events. Something can look like success after a day,failure after a decade and success again a hundred years after it happened.

When former dictator Ben Ali fled to Jeddah less than a month after a vegetable vendor set himself on fire in protest at his regime, theentire world was hopeful. Even as other transitions quickly petered out or went into reverse, Tunisia became the international symbol ofsuccess of the Arab Spring. Then, after a few years, things changed again. A little more than a decade after Ben Ali’s fall, Tunisia’s futuredid not look so bright as the government consolidated power in its own hands once again. The deaths and the bravery of the Tunisianpeople might have been for nothing; wasted.

But who can tell what the situation will be like in the future? Perhaps Tunisia will turn into another dictatorship. It even seems probable. Butthere’s also the possibility that the ousting of Ben Ali, and the subsequent years of freedom, laid the groundwork for Tunisia’s futuredevelopment as a successful and prosperous liberal democracy. For all we know, the Tunisians could surprise us. History isn’t linear. TheFrench Revolution itself (the one Zhou Enlai wasn’t referring to) was not exactly smooth sailing. France experienced violent repressionand even war. During the Reign of Terror, some 17,000 people were executed by guillotine. The whole episode ended with a coup d’étataround ten years after it started. And yet, we now remember it as a pivotal moment on the path to French democracy. Staying engagedunder conditions of such uncertainty doesn’t come naturally to governments, but it’s the reality of the world we live in. There’s nosingle answer to tyranny, no button to press to make the problem go away. Instead, we have to chip away at the institutions that keepdespots in power and be ready to pounce once an opening presents itself. And when it does happen, it might not go from bad to betterbut from bad to worse before it gets better. We have to live with that.

Tyrants are powerful, but they are constantly haunted by the fear of death. And despite all the bluster and seeming insanity, most of theseleaders are rational. Due to the structure of the regimes they depend on, their biggest threat comes from the people around them – thepalace elites, generals and advisors. Sometimes, even members of their own families are willing to destroy them to make it to the top. Tosurvive under such hostile conditions, despots have to manage elites through riches and repression. And to avoid death, jail and exile, theyneed to pay particular attention to the men with guns. Trained in violence and equipped to kill, these men and women need to bemanaged. Everything else that threatens dictators comes from managing these two groups. With the military weakened and the massessystematically excluded to provide benefits for the tiny number of powerbrokers at the top, both military conflict and popular protest area constant threat. And when the masses rise up, tyrants can’t just shoot their way out of the problem because it risks fracturing the regimeto such an extent that it falls apart. Assassination is something of a wildcard: difficult to prepare for and something that is always apossibility. Not just that, it can actually become more likely when dictators are successful at protecting themselves from other risks,because that means there aren’t any other options to effect change. When the dictator is dead or simply out of office, chaos oftenfollows. Most non-democratic systems of government are bad at managing succession – partly because tyrants usually don’t want toappoint a successor.

Democracy hasn’t yet reached every place on earth and perhaps it never will, but the precedent has been set and there is every chancethat it will continue to spread. There remain some cartoonish leaders with seemingly limitless power over their domain, but they havegone from being the norm to being the exception. These tyrants look like strong men, but they are right to be afraid.

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Acknowledgements

Writing a book, especially on a topic as complicated as this, is hard.

I couldn’t have done it without Joe Zigmond, my brilliant editor. It would be a lie to say I was excited when I saw his first feedback, but hiswisdom has made the book immeasurably better. It’s been a privilege working together and I’ve learned a great deal. In the finalmonths of writing, when words seemed to assume a daunting finality, Lauren Howard’s sharp ideas were tremendously helpful. I’malso thankful to Siam Hatzaw for guiding me through the publication process.

Talking to practitioners and activists has been exceedingly useful. To the government officials, thank you for trusting me. To those whohave stood up against overwhelming cruelty at great personal risk: you are the inspiration that allows the rest of us to believe in a betterworld.

The book has benefited hugely from the expertise of many authorities on their subjects, who have talked to me about everything from theeconomics of dictatorship to the Parthian Empire and the proliferation of nuclear weapons. I am grateful to Allard Duursma, Curtis Bell,Seva Gunitsky, Kristen Harkness, Joseph Wright, Daron Acemoglu, Erica Frantz, Nicholas Miller, Jake Nabel, Ian Garner, AleksandrHerasimenka, Clayton Besaw, Agathe Demarais, Anton Barbashin and Larry Diamond.

I’d also like to mention the following, who have provided invaluable advice and encouragement. A special thank you to: SalvatorCusimano, Anchalee Rüland, Jürgen Brandsch, Livia Puglisi, Caspar Schliephack, Dinah Elisa Kreutz, Reid Standish, Julia Zulver, NicCheeseman, Oliver Moody, Imre Gelens, Inga Kristina Trauthig, Rowan Hamill-McMahon, Philip Mühl, Victor Cruz Aceves, Michael Jacobi,Dave Wakerley and my doctoral supervisor Christian Martin. None of this would have been possible without David Landry and Brian Klaas.

My biggest debt of all is owed to friends and family. Thank you for everything.

OceanofPDF.com

8 Be Careful What You Wish For

 8

Be Careful What You Wish For

There are dictators a bit worse than me, no? I’m the lesser evil already.1

Alexander Lukashenko, president of Belarus

After close to half a century in power, the tyrant has fallen. He seemed to be immortal to many, but his rule and life have finally come to anend. At the hastily arranged funeral, the regime’s flags fly everywhere and even though half of the attendees despised the old man for hisimpulsiveness and cruelty, they do their best to hide it.

Out on the streets and in front of the nation’s television screens, the dictator’s enemies rejoice – those that had been tortured, those thathad been harassed. It hadn’t just been a rumour; the decades-long nightmare was over.

But is it? Sometimes, the answer is yes. The bad dream ends and as the tyrant no longer has a grip over the country, there’s a chance thatdemocracy may get a foot in the door. But more often than not, the answer is no. When tyrants fall – whether they are exiled abroad, are ina coffin or a jail cell – things frequently stay the same or get even worse. Most are replaced by new dictators. Only 20 per cent of fallenautocratic leaders from 1950 to 2012 were followed by democracy.2

In the worst case, the result of a fallen tyrant isn’t just another tyrant but violent conflict and chaos. But if the dictator is the source of acountry’s suffering, shouldn’t his removal from power be a step in the right direction?

Not necessarily. Islam Karimov, the Uzbek dictator who became infamous for a regime that boiled people alive, reportedly liked to say‘no man, no problem’.3 When it comes to dictatorial succession, the opposite is often true: no man, many problems. That’s becausethe reality isn’t ‘no man’: it’s many men now fighting to become the man.

When a democratic leader dies in office or loses an election, everybody knows what happens next. There’s a process; there are rules andinstitutions that oversee both. Immediate successors might be chosen in backroom deals, but sooner or later new leaders must face votersat the ballot box. If they manage to persuade a majority of voters, or at least the voters that matter, the successors then stay in power for alimited amount of time – until, that is, the next election, when, the democratic cycle is repeated.

In political systems with limits on the time any one person can govern, such as the United States, where presidents can serve a maximum ofeight years, the rules are even more stringent and frequent turnover is not just the norm but a legal requirement. In personaliseddictatorships, none of this exists. There might be some rules on paper that are supposed to matter when a dictator is on his way out, butthey don’t matter when it actually happens.

Tyrants, power permitting, aim to create a system that revolves entirely around themselves. Functioning institutions, for example in theform of an effective civil service or independent judiciary, are merely a hindrance. To the extent that other centres of power continue toexist, tyrants try to insert themselves into their disputes as the adjudicating force.4 Instead of forging a compromise that different groupscan live with, the tyrant picks winners and losers and enforces his judgement though repression. That doesn’t mean that the interests ofcompeting power centres have gone away, but there’s a lid on top of it all that prevents the intrigues and the scheming from descendinginto shooting.

When it looks as if the dictator could fall, that lid is blown off, tensions boil over, and everyone starts conspiring to make sure that theirinterests come out on top. Conflict behind the scenes turns into fighting in the palace – or on the streets.

And when tyrants fall, euphoria can turn to tragedy. Shouts of victory quickly become screams for help.

In the spring of 2019, people were dancing in the streets of Khartoum.5 Women were singing, civilians were riding on tanks alongside menin uniform to celebrate their freedom and the promise that things could get better. What started as a peaceful uprising over the price ofbread had, through twists and turns, led to the end of the rule of Omar al-Bashir, who had been in charge of the Nile dictatorship for morethan three decades. It was a moment of triumph.

But even though peaceful protestors had caused Bashir to stagger, it was the military that brought about his fall. And now that the militarywas in charge, they weren’t going to give up power easily.

Young Sudanese men and women, hopeful for their country’s future, decided to stage a sit-in on Buri Road in central Khartoum, rightnext to the headquarters of the Sudanese military. There were protestors there at all hours of the day for weeks on end; the demonstratorshad even set up tents. It was intense, but also cheerful. The protestors sang, danced, played instruments. Sometimes the soldiers joined in.At one point, a man in khaki could be seen playing a saxophone.

But then, on 3 June, darkness fell over the camp as the power cut out. Armed men on pick-up trucks started arriving and the rumoursstarted flying. Then, the violence started. With the chaos that day, it was difficult even for people in the vicinity of Buri Road to work outwhat was happening, but open-source intelligence researchers at the BBC have reconstructed the day’s events.6 The men who arrivedon pick-ups were part of the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Under the control of Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, the RSF grew out of militiaforces that were used by al-Bashir to put down rebellions on Sudan’s periphery. With Omar al-Bashir gone, Dagalo and his men werenow part of the Transitional Military Council (TMC) whom the protestors wanted to push towards accepting civilian control.

As the security forces advanced, they took aim at unarmed protestors. ‘Kill them! Kill them,’ they shouted. As the TMC’s forces movedforward, they started beating and looting. Some of the tents that protestors had erected were burned down.7

In the footage livestreamed that day, a man films the ground as gunfire can be heard. As the camera moves, it comes across the lifelessbody of a young man, lying with his face on the ground. ‘Somebody has been shot,’ the cameraman shouts. ‘They killed someone!They killed someone here, people,’ he goes on. While he shouts, a third man in a blue shirt attempts to drag the body away, but he quicklylets go. And although the cameraman keeps shouting at the top of his voice, nobody seems to pay him any attention.

As the camera pans again, it becomes clear why not: the lifeless young man wasn’t the only one being shot. In this new camera angle,another person is being dragged away by two protestors while others flee in panic. Perhaps realising that there was nothing he could do tohelp, or because he knew that he himself could get shot at any moment, the camera-man begins to run. With the camera shaking from hislong strides, he runs shouting: ‘They are killing us, people.’

As the protestors ran for their lives, the security forces continued to shoot. Some ‘lucky’ protestors were able to get to a clinic, wherethe doctors and nurses saw serious injuries caused by gunshot, whipping, beating with metal and bayonets.8 Even a doctor treating theinjured was shot.9 Unfortunately, the horror didn’t end there. In a city famous for the confluence of the White and Blue Nile, protestors’corpses were later retrieved from the river – in some cases, with concrete bricks tied to their feet.10

As if this was not bad enough, things in Sudan then got even worse. After a brief period in which the military men agreed to share powerwith civilians, they took full control of the country on 25 October 2021, shattering the dream of democracy.11

Even then,  the generals didn’t deliver stability. Instead, the men in uniform fought each other with increasingly devastatingconsequences for the rest of the country. In the spring of 2023, conflict between the general in charge of Sudan’s ruling council and hisdeputy turned deadly as their forces clashed with each other in the centre of the capital, where protestors had once danced to celebratethe end of the al-Bashir dictatorship.12 Only this time, the fighting wasn’t limited to small arms fire. Instead, Dagalo’s Rapid SupportForces and the regular military fought each other with rocket launchers and artillery. Even airstrikes started to rain down on Khartoum. Theopen warfare between Dagalo, the man in control of the RSF, and Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, the military’s top general, dragged an entirecountry down with them. It is likely that thousands of civilians were killed and more than five million fled.13

Dictatorships have a tendency not simply to collapse upon themselves but to go up in flames, burning everyone and everything along theway. And even though countries could theoretically emerge from the chaos like a phoenix from the ashes, chaos is frequently followed bymore of the same. The tyrant might have come to an end, but tyranny has not. It’s not a linear transition, but a cycle that simply seems torepeat itself. In this way, many countries live under constant tyranny, only interrupted by the brief moments when one dictator walks outof the back door of the palace only for another to walk in through the gates shortly after. A large part of this dictatorial succession problemis due to the interests of the incumbent. Left to their own devices, dictators are rarely keen on designating a successor or deciding on ameaningful process to find one once they are no longer around. As we have learned above, the survival of autocrats depends on theperception of their strength. Once they designate a successor, they risk weakening themselves while empowering someone else who nowhas a strong interest in replacing them.

If done badly, planning for succession can be the equivalent of handing the murder weapon to an opponent who wants to stab the tyrantin the back. Tyrants, then, often resist organising the succession because they believe it will accelerate their fall. Whether the country goesup in flames or not after they’re no longer in office is, at best, of secondary importance.

When tyrants lose power, it’s a chance for those who were a part of the regime but who were previously kept down to improve theirposition. Perhaps they even want to take the lead themselves? These challengers want change, but they only want it insofar as it advancestheir interests. That means they don’t want democracy or to give power to the people. They aren’t opposed to the system itself, simplyprotective of their position within it. Then there are elites that already occupy the apex of the regime’s system. These people, enjoying thefavour of the previous ruler, seek to defend their position in order to maintain access to power and money. Their priority isn’t changingthe system, it’s preventing it from collapse so they can continue to enjoy its benefits.

When the despot is unseated, the interests of the masses will be diametrically opposed to those of the old guard and the challengers withinthe regime. The masses don’t want a redistribution of power and money within the regime, but from the regime to its citizens. The bestway to achieve this is through democratisation, for as the country becomes more democratic, the size of the winning coalition expands.And the more people are required to maintain power, the more resources must be devoted to keeping them happy.14

Finding a compromise is all but impossible and the stakes are high. Under those circumstances, any group that thinks it can gain an upperhand by using violence will be tempted to do so. And at once, backroom conflict can turn into real-world shooting. When that happens,the masses tend to lose out because their competitive advantage doesn’t lie in the use of violence.

A version of this dictatorial succession problem is also what derailed the transition in Sudan. Plenty of people wanted Omar al-Bashir to go– the protestors, the military generals, as well as the RSF leaders, all wanted him to go. What they couldn’t agree on was what wassupposed to come next. The former wanted a transition to democracy, the latter wanted a man in uniform to be in charge – although eventhey couldn’t agree which man it should be.

As a general rule, the more personalised a regime is, the more disruptive the fall of the tyrant will be.15 If the system revolves around asingle leader, his being out of the picture can easily bring the entire machine to a halt.

That stands in contrast to one-party dictatorships, which have built-in mechanisms for succession. One-party dictatorships systems arealso geared towards keeping the leader in power, but there are institutions other than the leader himself that can stabilise the regime whenthe leader is gone. And in many cases, these party-based systems have mechanisms to deal with the inevitable disputes that will arise whena new leader has to be chosen.

Whether or not effective succession rules are in place depends in large part on the power of the palace elites versus the incumbent. Thedictator, king or sultan might not be keen on naming a successor, but palace elites often are. They don’t care about the individual tyrantso much as about the continuation of tyranny, because it is the affiliation with the regime rather than the despot himself that gives themtheir power. Their nightmare scenario is a free-for-all in which challengers openly fight it out for the top position, thereby causing a civilwar that threatens the survival of the entire political order. The fear is justified.

Back in the European Middle Ages, autocratic succession substantially increased the risk of civil war.16 But then, over time, successionrules in these absolute monarchies became more codified and rigid. Around the year 1000, it was perfectly normal for European kings tobe succeeded by their brothers.17 This system, known as ‘agnatic seniority’, and is a nightmare for tyrants because it means that time isagainst them: the age difference between the king and his brother tends to be small and the younger brother, knowing that he will be nextin line to the throne, has a huge interest in seeing the monarch die so he can succeed him. From the perspective of the king, that’scertainly suboptimal.

A better system for the king, and one that more and more of these monarchies moved to, is ‘primogeniture’. Under that system, theperson to succeed a ruler after death is his eldest son rather than his brother.18 Because the age difference between crown prince and kingtends to be large, the crown prince can afford to remain loyal until his father’s death in the confidence that he will outlive him.19

But if that’s the case, why not just pass the throne to the youngest rather than the eldest child to maximise the age difference? That systemis called ‘ultimogeniture’ and it has one big flaw that is connected to the elites who keep the machine running. Unlike the oldest son,who has had more time to build his own power base over time, the youngest son cannot guarantee that he will be able to reward the eliteafter he comes to the throne.20 These little tweaks as to who gets left out in the cold and who gets to ascend the throne, make a giganticdifference to the survival of leaders and regimes. The main beneficiary of this are the palace elites who can continue to reap the benefits oftheir position as the country avoids a devastating struggle for the throne. Moreover, if the succession is properly organised, it can alsoincrease the tenure of the tyrants themselves.

As over the centuries more and more European monarchies switched from the medieval system of agnatic seniority to primogeniture,their ability to handle the succession massively increased. A study of 960 monarchs reigning in forty-two European states from 1000 to1800 found that monarchs operating under the rule of primogeniture were more than twice as likely to survive in power as those whoruled in states with other systems of succession.21

Powerful members of the court want to benefit from supporting the regime for as long as they can. If they feel that the king’s death couldlead to the end of their privileges since it will also lead to the end of the regime, they are less likely to continue providing that support andmore likely to support moves against the monarch. But if they think that the chance of a (potentially devastating) civil conflict is reducedthrough the existence of a designated successor, the incumbent might be in less peril. Obviously, this also extends to the successor itself.Now that he or she is appointed to become the next ruler there’s a sizeable incentive to maintain the current system as opposed tosubverting it. All they have to do is wait in order to ascend to the throne. And indeed, appointing a successor can extend the ruler’s reignby virtue of creating someone to shield the regime from its opponents.22

Many rulers of non-democracies thus see clear succession rules as a way to make their rule more stable.23 In Syria, Hafez al-Assadplanned to pass power to his eldest son Basil.24 When Basil died in a car crash, Bashar, Basil’s younger brother, became the chosen one.The circumstances were unusual. Whereas Basil had long been groomed to take over, Bashar was training in ophthalmology at a Londonhospital and was said to have little interest in politics. Nevertheless, Syria’s Baath Party leaders agreed to support Bashar as the best wayof preserving the system and avoiding internal feuding.25 Bashar might not have been perfect, but he was viewed as the least bad option.As it was, all the other serious contenders were systematically removed from the political scene by Hafez al-Assad in the years before hisdeath.26

There’s another factor that has a big influence on what happens after a tyrant falls: the manner of his fall. The consequences of varyingforms of ‘leadership exit’ differ hugely.

When a journalist asked a fruit seller a year after Armenia’s Velvet Revolution how things had changed, she replied that only an idiotwould think a revolution would change everything. The white-haired woman, sitting in front of cardboard boxes full of onions, apples andtomatoes, added: ‘A revolution is like getting an empty new house; you still have to fix it up and furnish it.’27 That woman was right. Apeaceful uprising is a chance to create something better, but it doesn’t solve every problem at once. It doesn’t give teachers theresources they need to educate the next generation; it doesn’t bring back factories that have long disappeared; it doesn’t bring downthe price of bread or milk.28 And indeed, life in Armenia remained difficult after Nikol Pashinyan brought down the previous governmentin 2018. To some, it might have even felt worse. But after years of authoritarian rule in Yerevan, it was at least an opening, a chance for anew beginning.

Generally speaking, there’s the best chance of breaking through the cycle of tyranny if tyrants can be toppled through non-violentprotest. In their book Why Civil Resistance Works, Erica Chenoweth and Maria Stephan found that a full 57 per cent of successfulnon-violent campaigns led to democracy. Of the changes that involved violence, it was less than 6 per cent.29 The reasons for this arevaried – among them, legitimacy. Toppling an entrenched authoritarian regime that may have survived for many decades by non-violentmeans necessitates the involvement of a large segment of the population. Now that the old regime has fallen, the new regime has apopular mandate to do things differently.

Because such a large number of people are involved, peaceful ways to adjudicate conflict have to be established. In power, they can usethat precedent to deal with other political actors without resorting to violence. That’s essential for the functioning of a democracy and itmeans that movements that have come to power through non-violence tend to be good at the business of politics.30 Because they are,they have an incentive to keep operating in a system in which those skills are valuable. That differentiates them from groups that takepower by force. They have the opposite skillset: they are good at using violence, but not negotiating. Since that’s where they have theiradvantage, why should they stop now that they have power? They won’t. They’ll keep wielding the sword rather than sheathing it.

In more autocratic regimes in which it is harder for the masses to mobilise, coups d’état tend to pose the biggest threat to dictators.When the men with guns take power, there are three main options: military dictatorship, a military-backed ruler, or democratisation. Indictatorships, about two out of three coups lead to a collapse of the entire political system and the birth of a new one.31 Now, that couldmean democracy, another dictatorship or something in between. Interestingly, the numbers on this have seen a significant change: only14 per cent of coups against dictatorships led to democracy during the Cold War, but during the next twenty-five years, that number shotup to 40 per cent.32

Another drawback to coups, though, is that they rarely come in ones. There’s a tendency for countries to become caught in a ‘couptrap’ once they experience even a single coup. In Thailand, for example, there were attempted coups in 1981, 1985, 1991, 1992 (twice),2006 and 2014.33 In part, this can be explained by societal norms. In a liberal democratic society such as Norway, a coup is almostunimaginable. Power matters in politics, but so does legitimacy – and the Norwegian government has plenty. Not only has it provided theNorwegian people with a high standard of living, it has also been elected in free and fair elections. And since there’s no recent history ofcoups, the soldiers of the Norwegian armed forces are unlikely seriously to consider the possibility of taking power. By contrast, a militaryjunta, having recently come to power through a coup d’état, has very little claim to it.34 Because a coup d’état can be carried out by asmall number of armed men and women, it’s difficult to tell whether the junta has popular legitimacy. In addition, the junta doesn’t yethave the advantage of being accepted simply because it has been in place for a long time.35 In combination, this makes the junta (andtheir successors) much more vulnerable to yet another coup, and then another. Escaping from the coup trap is not easy.

Nevertheless, there is an argument to be made that some coups against some types of leaders might not be so bad.36 Coups are one ofthe few viable ways to get rid of some of the world’s worst dictators. They are unlikely to lead to a flourishing democracy but there aresome contexts in which there simply aren’t a lot of other options. Moreover, aren’t there situations in which getting rid of a particulartyrant would be desirable even if the country doesn’t turn into a democracy thereafter? It’s not difficult to imagine some scenarios inwhich that’s the case.

Benjamin Disraeli claimed that ‘assassination has never changed the history of the world.’37 Anecdotal evidence (the outbreak of theFirst World War, for example) aside, there’s some hard evidence to suggest that he was wrong. Killing tyrants can be fruitful. In a study onthe effect of assassinations on institutions and war, the economists Benjamin Jones and Benjamin Olken found that killing non-democraticleaders can increase the chances of democratisation in a given country. Killing democratic leaders, on the other hand, madecomparatively little difference.38 It’s an intuitive finding. In a personalised dictatorship, the death of a single man makes a much greaterdifference than it does in a mature liberal democracy.

Whereas assassinations are targeted only at the dictator or perhaps also his immediate circle, civil wars can be all-encompassing – oftenleading to hundreds of thousands, sometimes even millions, of deaths. The destructive force of these conflicts is in a league of its own. Andoften, the fall of the tyrant in a civil war is not even the end of the war (or tyranny). For example, when Idriss Déby died at the hands of rebelsin Chad in 2021, the regime didn’t fall and the war didn’t end. There wasn’t even a dictator with a new last name; histhirty-seven-year-old son simply took over, so Chad continued to be ruled by a Déby.

Like coups, civil wars have a tendency to repeat themselves. Some two out of ten civil wars flare up again within five years.39 So the tyrantfalls, a new leader comes in and the destruction continues. Often, this is because the underlying reason for the conflicts tends to persist.When the disaffected population on the periphery of a country rises up because the inhabitants are poor and without opportunity, theirgrievances don’t simply disappear when a ceasefire has been agreed.

But also, the new leader will will be tempted to keep fighting because he has a strong incentive not to be the leader who loses the war,especially if he is also part of the ruling elite which had a hand in starting it in the first place.40 Nobody wants to be responsible for losing,so they just keep fighting.

But even if the new leader did want to make peace with the rebels, he would have a hard time doing so. One of the reasons why it’s sodifficult for authoritarian regimes to make peace with rebels, even after one dictator has died, is that they struggle to make a crediblepromise to their opponents.41

To illustrate this, we have to travel to the northern shore of Africa’s second largest lake, Tanganyika. On the night of 13 August 2004, theresidents of Gatumba, a Burundian settlement on the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo, heard something unusual.42 To thewest, from across the marsh, there were sounds of drums, bells and whistles. As the sounds came closer, singing became audible. ‘Godwill show us how to get to you and where to find you,’ the shadowy figures sang.

Some, but not all, of the figures who were coming closer, wore military uniforms. Unbeknown to the residents of Gatumba, many ofwhom were refugees, the drummers and singers belonged to the Forces Nationales de Libération (FNL). Most of them were men, butsome were just children, so small that their weapons dragged along the ground.43

The FNL was a Hutu rebel group active in the Burundian civil war which began after the assassination of Melchior Ndadaye, Burundi’s firstdemocratically elected president. By August 2000, after countless Burundians had lost their lives to the violence, the government ofBurundi signed a peace treaty with most of the country’s armed groups – but not with the FNL. The FNL, under the leadership of thenforty-nine-year-old Agathon Rwasa, kept fighting.

That night in Gatumba, the FNL’s fighters started firing. Most of their victims were Banyamulenge, an ethnic group from the Congofrequently categorised with Tutsi. Between the shots, the fires and the screaming, it was utter chaos. But despite the violence, some peoplethought they were going to be saved since the attackers shouted ‘come, come, we’re going to save you.’44

But nobody came to help. Instead, the rebels shot people who left their tents. Many of those who did not take that chance died insidethem, burned to death. The Washington Post later reported that one sixteen-year-old girl saw her mother die from a gunshot to the head,her brother decapitated and her father burned alive.45 In total, FNL fighters slaughtered more than 150 Congolese civilians and another106 were wounded. According to the United Nations most of the victims were women, children and babies; they were shot dead andburned.46

When I talked to Agathon Rwasa about the massacre in Gatumba, he refused to admit responsibility and said the way he’d been treatedas a result of the accusations had been an injustice. But despite maintaining his innocence, he made a point of saying that he was aChristian. ‘I believe in the strength of forgiveness,’ he added.47

The case of Rwasa demonstrates why it can be so difficult to put an end to civil wars. In 2004, Burundian authorities issued an arrest warrantfor him over the massacre.48 But for someone like that who is accused of war crimes, to stop fighting, he needs to believe not just thatmilitary victory is impossible, but also that the government will not go after him once he lays down arms. That isn’t easy, because notgoing after a rebel leader whose troops created so much suffering is an outrage. Two decades later, Rwasa hadn’t spent a single day injail over the Gatumba massacre. Instead, he managed to become deputy speaker of the Parliament of Burundi and even ran for thepresidency.49 He is far from being an outcast.

Democratic leaders are heavily constrained when it comes to cooperating with people like Rwasa because they need to keep voters ontheir side but tyrants can promise rebel leaders just about anything. They want amnesty? Sure. They want their soldiers to be integratedinto the regular military? Not a problem. They can make all the promises. However, laying down arms in exchange for a promise from adictator can be suicidal – it means nothing. Idriss Déby is a good example of this. When a rebel leader signed an accord and returned fromexile because he thought he was safe, he was killed in his N’Djamena home.50 Civil wars are not just extraordinarily deadly anddestructive, they are also difficult to end – especially for dictators.

That brings us to a change of regime imposed from abroad. In late March 2003, George W. Bush said: ‘These are opening stages of whatwill be a broad and concerted campaign.’51 Three weeks later, civilians and American soldiers pulled down a statue of Saddam Husseinin Baghdad’s Al-Firdos Square. Later that year, a dishevelled Saddam Hussein was found hiding in a hole near Tikrit. A vicious, brutaldictator was toppled, found and executed.

But at what price? Thousands of American soldiers and contractors were killed. The war cost the American taxpayer billions. Moreimportantly, it cost tens of thousands of Iraqi lives and the country was devastated by the war and an ensuing insurgency. Not only that, itdestabilised the entire region and contributed to the rise of the Islamic State (IS) as a serious military risk. So why did the operation fail?Was it about America and Iraq in particular, or is there something about foreign-imposed regime change more generally that alwaysmade failure likely? Both.

One of the big problems of replacing a foreign regime through force from abroad is that the attacker needs to decide what to do with theremnants of the old regime. Do you purge? If you do, you destroy the people who know how to govern and you give them an incentive totorpedo the transition to a new system of government. If you don’t, the transition is at risk because the loyalty of those who havepreviously worked for the dictator cannot be taken for granted.

In Iraq, the Americans decided in favour of purging. Between 12 May 2003 and 28 June 2004, Paul Bremer was the man in charge of theCoalition Provisional Authority (CPA).52 In that role, he was something of a governor for the country, except that he wasn’t elected bythe Iraqi people or held accountable by any type of Iraqi legislature. Bremer issued his first order as CPA administrator within four days ofbeing in the role. In section 1, paragraph 2 and 3, it stated that many members of the Baath Party and government officials were to beremoved from their positions. Some of them were also banned from being employed in the public sector in the future.53 In a secondorder, issued later that month, Bremer formally disbanded the Iraqi security forces.54

At first, both of these orders might sound like a good idea. The Baath Party had been responsible for human rights violations in Iraq fordecades. Surely nobody who had been close to them should now have access to the levers of power?

It’s more complicated than that. The order on de-Baathification might have affected around eighty-five thousand Iraqis, manythousands of whom weren’t enthusiastic supporters of Saddam Hussein, but had simply joined the party to keep their work. Some ofthem were teachers, others crucial to keep the lights on or the water flowing.55 The CIA station chief in Baghdad at the time warnedBremer: ‘By nightfall, you’ll have driven 30,000 to 50,000 Baathists underground. And in six months, you’ll really regret this.’56

With the disbandment of Iraqi security forces, hundreds of thousands of Iraqis with previous military training went from being someoneto being unemployed. Now without income and angry, many of them had no incentive to accept the new status quo. A later report wouldfind that ‘these two orders severely undermined the capacity of the occupying forces to maintain security and continue the ordinaryfunctioning of the Iraq government.’57

And so it turned out. Some of Saddam Hussein’s former soldiers quickly began to organise armed resistance and by the autumn of 2003,the occupying forces had a serious insurgency on their hands.58 In October 2006, the Pentagon assessed that US forces were losing.59 Bythe following year, the situation had become so dire that President Bush decided to deploy an additional 30,000 troops to Iraq to try tocontain the violence.60

It’s a problem that’s difficult to solve more generally. After defeating Nazi Germany in the Second World War, for example, some of theAllies took the opposite course. Instead of trying to weed out everyone who had been involved with the Nazi regime, the occupiers west ofthe Elbe deliberately let former generals, judges and administrators continue working because they were more worried about adysfunctional Germany than one that contained remnants of the former regime. This had an impact on German politics all the way to thetop: in 1969, the chancellor of the Federal Republic was a man who had joined the National Socialist German Workers’ Party in 1933. Itwould be an understatement to say that denazification was incomplete.

When we examine foreign-imposed regime change more generally, the track record is abysmal and not only because it’s difficult to dealwith former elites. A study published in 2013 found that around 11 per cent of United States regime-change operations over a centuryended up creating democracy;61 barely more than one in ten. Despite democracy often being stated as the priority of the interveningstate, it usually isn’t.62 Democratic leaders want to stay in power and using force against another state is a massive risk. To most, it’ssimply not worth taking that risk unless national security is at stake. Advancing democracy is seen as a bonus, but it’s not reason enoughto go to war. And if democracy is not even the primary reason to go to war, why would democracy result from war?

President Kennedy understood these dynamics perfectly. During the Cold War, when Washington wanted to remove Ramfis Trujillo frompower in the Dominican Republic, Kennedy said:

There are three possibilities of descending order of preference: a decent democratic regime, a continuation of the Trujillo regime, or aCastro regime. We ought to aim at the first, but we really can’t renounce the second until we are sure we can avoid the third.63

When democratic leaders go on television and the news anchor asks them about their motivations for intervening, that’s not whatthey’ll say – but back in the situation room, that’s how they’ll act.

On top of that, there are cases where democracy isn’t just seen as less important than national security, but where it is seen as a netnegative.64 If a tyrant is replaced with a democratic leader, that democratic leader will have more of an interest in winning elections than indoing the bidding of a foreign power. Indeed, democracy exporters could end up in a situation in which they expend blood and treasureto install a democratic government only to find that government turns around and acts against them.

There’s something of a paradox here. If foreign-imposed regime change is (partly) about creating a sustainable democracy, there aretwo main factors to consider. The first is the likelihood of success, which differs greatly since some countries are vastly more likely to turninto democracies than others. All else being equal, it’s much easier to turn a rich country with a history of democratic rule into ademocracy than it is to transform a poor personalised dictatorship in which no popular vote has ever been held.65

The other factor to consider is the complexity of the military intervention necessary to bring down the regime. Deposing leaders at the topof stable countries with functioning institutions (such as Imperial Japan), which have the best chance of democratising, tends to be costlybecause those institutions generate military effectiveness. Deposing leaders at the top of poor personalised dictatorships might be easier,but the chances of success are lower because there’s no foundation for a democracy.66 Democracy exporters can thus either win an‘easy war’ for a low chance of a sustainable outcome or a ‘hard war’ with a high chance of more positive results. Since hard war canmean hundreds of thousands of deaths, it’s rarely worth it.

So given the terrible odds, why do attempts to change a regime through force happen as often as they do? It’s partly hubris. Politicianstend to believe that this time round, things will go differently. Perhaps they think they are particularly intelligent, that they won’t fall intothe traps to which their predecessors succumbed.

But also, the alternatives are often dire. In the abstract, you might know that the use of force is unlikely to create a flourishing democracy.But in that moment, when the head of foreign intelligence tells you that a dictator is about to barrel-bomb hospitals and street markets,would the numbers really guide your decision-making? Or would you take a chance and try to destroy the dictator’s attack helicoptersbefore they lift off? Even with all the data in the world, it would be an impossible decision.

All these scenarios envisage dictators being toppled, but there’s also the option that they go to bed, never to wake up again. And indeed,this happens not infrequently because plenty of dictators are long-lived. Cameroon’s Paul Biya was still in power at the age of ninety; inEquatorial Guinea next door, Teodoro Obiang, at eighty-one. Fidel Castro died aged ninety. Robert Mugabe made it to the ripe age ofninety-five before dying in a Singaporean hospital.

Oddly enough, not much tends to happen when dictators ‘just fall asleep’. In a report that analysed the aftermath of seventy-ninedictators dying in office, it was found that only 8 per cent of these deaths led to a collapse of the previous regime.67 And democracyalmost never follows. Some might consider these numbers surprising. The dictator is dead. Surely that’s the best opening there couldpossibly be to take the country in a different direction? By and large, that’s not what happens.

Speaking of soldiers, people sometimes say: ‘Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.’ What applies towarriors also applies to dictators. Despots who die in office have usually staved off their fair share of threats throughout their rule. Whenthey fall asleep in their golden bed, the regime is not likely to collapse because the system is entrenched and ready for the change.Everyone knows their place and the machinery hums along under these extraordinary circumstances. In comes the new leader.

Even if the new leader wants to make drastic changes, it will be difficult for him to do so because ruling without the old guard will be next toimpossible. And why would the men and women who surrounded the old leader want to dismantle the system that has served them sowell? They usually don’t, so they will pick someone who doesn’t want to rock the boat. If, contrary to expectations, their choice tries todo things differently, he is unlikely to get far.

A researcher at Harvard University recently argued that leaders are only ‘allowed’ to die in their sleep if the elites are already set on asuccessor.68 If they weren’t, someone would try to get the advantage by moving against the incumbent while he was still alive. Since thathasn’t happened and the dictator has been allowed to die in peace, it’s likely there’s been some agreement between regime insidersthat makes drastic changes less likely.

There’s one more angle to this. The way a new leader comes to power doesn’t just tell us what type of political system we can expect, italso gives us a clue as to how stable it will be. When a new leader takes power, he is often in a comparatively vulnerable position.69 Thesituation is in flux and people don’t yet know their roles – they might even be tempted to challenge the new leader if they believe he isweak. But some modes of ‘leadership entry’ create much more stability than others.70

Assassinating someone is comparatively easy and it doesn’t telegraph much strength. Dismantling an entire political order through aregime-changing coup, a rebellion or massive protests, on the other hand, requires a much higher degree of support. When new leaderscome to power through those means, everyone understands that they are comparatively strong. As a result, those new leaders are lesslikely to face serious, immediate challenges to their rule because nobody wants to start a fight they will lose.

When tyrants fall and regimes collapse, the outcome is often catastrophic. Tyrants maintain power by picking winners and losers, andwhilst intrigue and backroom scheming do occur, all-out conflict is unlikely while they are firmly in the saddle. But as soon as they struggleand it looks as if they might fall, the situation escalates. Regime elites want to keep the regime alive to maintain their benefits; challengerswant to rise to the top, expanding their power and access to stolen money; the masses want to redirect resources from the regime to thepopulation at large, but they are usually too weak to compete with the insiders.

When the dust has settled and the bloodletting has stopped, people are often left to wonder whether it has all been worth it, given that thetyranny has not ended but merely assumed another name. This cycle of dictatorship–conflict–dictatorship is difficult to break, butsometimes it does happen if tyrants have been toppled the ‘right’ way. Now that we know how tyrants fall and what happens when theydo, how do we make it happen? And is it wise to try to make tyrants fall?

OceanofPDF.com

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7 No Other Option

 7

No Other Option

I know that there are scores of people plotting to kill me, and this is not difficult to understand. After all, did we not seize power by plottingagainst our predecessors?1

Saddam Hussein

Assassinations have been around forever. The word ‘assassination’ entered the English language after Crusaders returned home withstories about the Nizaris, an eleventh-century movement in the mountains of modern-day Iran. The Nizaris, lacked the military strength togo to war with their local enemies, so would instead hunt them down and murder them. According to the stories, real or imagined, theyconsumed hashish before setting out, and, at some point along the way, ḥashīshī (consumer of hashish) turned into ‘assassin’.2

The debate around the morality of ‘tyrannicide’ – the killing of a tyrant – is as old as the practise itself. To fight out in the open, to admitto the enemy that you mean him harm, is something that can be seen as honourable. But assassinating anyone, even a cruel leader, hassomething about it that makes many people shudder. Perhaps it’s because operating in the shadows seems cowardly or eventreacherous, whereas fighting people head on can be seen as brave.

As times have changed, so have views on tyrannicide. In parts of ancient Greece, tyrannicide was celebrated. When Harmodius andAristogeiton tried to kill the local tyrant Hippias during a festival in 514 bc, Athenians erected statues in their honour. Since they failed andwere subsequently executed, Harmodius and Aristogeiton didn’t get to enjoy the songs that were written about them, but theirdescendants were given special privileges. Their families received free food and tax-exemptions. They even got to sit in the front row at thetheatre. To avoid their names being blemished, slaves could not be named after them.3 Harmodius and Aristogeiton had tried to kill acruel leader for the benefit of the entire community, and they were heroes for it.

There were multiple ways in which ancient Greeks justified tyrannicide. Broadly speaking, tyrannicide was acceptable because everycitizen was seen as having equal standing under the law and a tyrant would destroy that bond.4 The Greek philosopher Aristotle arguedthat tyrannicide was not just defensible, but that the act could bestow great honour on those who did the killing.5 Plato consideredtyranny ‘an errant condition of the soul’. The Greek outlook carried over into Roman thinking.6

In the Middle Ages, justifying tyrannicide became significantly more difficult because kings and queens were seen as having divine right.They ruled on earth not because they had the support of their subjects but because a deity had chosen them. If you believe that to be thetruth, how do you justify killing monarchs given that they stand in direct line to God?

It’s not an easy argument, but some did try. One way out was to argue that the killing of God’s king could be justified if the king clashedwith God. The Christian thinker Augustine, for example, generally took issue with previous justifications of killing tyrants but he made anexception for cases in which a tyrant infringed on God’s worship.7 If that was the case, God’s king was no longer aligned with God,thereby making it easier to justify his death.

John of Salisbury, a twelfth-century bishop of Chartres, carefully distinguished between king and tyrant. In John’s view, the king workstowards the well-being of the polity. The tyrant, on the other hand, turns his subjects into slaves of his own private desires.8 And whileprinces are appointed by God, their subjects also have a ‘responsibility to God to act for the well-being of the body politic’.9‘Wickedness is always punished by the Lord,’ John says, ‘but sometimes He uses His own sword and sometimes He uses a sort ofhuman sword in the punishment of the impious.’10 Acting as God’s sword to kill a tyrant would therefore not be a sin but an act ofdivine inspiration;11 a duty.12 Theological arguments are now less relevant in much of the world, but the questions these thinkers soughtto answer persist. Is the killing of tyrants defensible? Is it perhaps even desirable?

Multiple factors make the question of tyrannicide complicated. First, ‘tyrant’ can have two meanings. One is the meaning that is mostcommon: a tyrant is a leader who uses his power not for the collective good of the community but for personal gain. The second is ameaning that used to be more widespread: the tyrant is not a tyrant by virtue of his cruel rule but because he has taken power withouthaving a right to it. He is a ‘usurper-tyrant’.13 This distinction is not purely academic because, depending on the definition, tyrannicidecan mean totally different things. It has come to mean the killing of a cruel leader, but as it used to be understood, it may even mean a cruelleader wielding his power to murder a challenger whom he sees as a potential usurper and therefore potential tyrant.

If the assassination of a cruel leader is morally permissible, it raises several other difficult questions. How do you separate those who kill atyrant because he is a tyrant from those who do it for personal gain? If it isn’t for personal gain, how do you differentiate betweentyrannicide and terrorism? Terrorists use violence not just because violence itself achieves their aim, but because they want to instil fear inpeople who aren’t directly implicated. Is that also the case for tyrannicides? It depends. Tyrannicide can be about sending a signal toothers to let them know that comparable behaviour will not be tolerated. But it can also be purely about removing one despot to returnthe country to its constitutional order.

Historically, assassinations have not been rare. According to one study there have been 298 assassination attempts on national leaderssince 1875. Of those, just under one in five have succeeded.14 Looking only at dictators, another study found that thirty-three dictatorswere assassinated between 1946 and 2010, with another 103 failed assassination attempts.15

The puzzle for tyrants is this: if a large segment of the population despises them, how do they avoid being killed?

The twenty-first century is familiar with two main types of assassination: the complex, highly coordinated attack and the attacks made bylone wolves.

On 7 July 2021, the president of Haiti, his wife and children were asleep at their private residence in a hilly suburb of Port-au-Prince.16 Butthen, calm turned to panic as shots rang out. This wasn’t a random robbery gone wrong out in the street; instead it was gunmen, comingfor the family themselves. Dozens of officers should have been outside, guarding the president. Where were they now, and why weren’tthey doing their job? Worried for their survival, Mrs Moïse went to tell the kids to hide. In desperation, Jovenel Moïse tried to get someone,anyone, to come and help. Eventually, the president told his wife to lie down on the floor. ‘That’s where you will be safe,’ he said.17 Itwas the last thing she ever heard from her husband. Shortly afterwards, a death squad executed President Jovenel Moïse with twelvebullets.18

According to court documents, the whole operation was based on a double deception. (This is an unfolding case and new informationcontinues to come to light. As a result, there is some uncertainty.) The Colombian mercenaries who did the killing were initially told thatthey were going to Haiti to provide protection to the president of Haiti, not kill him. Then, as the necessary weapons and equipment weredistributed on the day before the mission, they were told that this was a ‘C.I.A. operation’ to kill Moïse.19 When the killers arrived at theresidence and faced the prospect of having to fight the president’s guards, they pretended to be from another arm of the United Statesgovernment: the Drug Enforcement Agency. ‘DEA operation, everybody stay down,’ they shouted.20 Given that none of the guardsdied, many of them seem to have followed the order.

Clever leaders with a functioning security apparatus can prevent such complex attacks on their life. Since so many people were involved,intelligence agents had a realistic chance of finding out about the attempt before it happened. The weapons could have been interceptedand the presidential compound could have been fortified. And indeed, this is something states have got better at over time: the overallchance of being assassinated has dropped. In the 1910s leaders had roughly a one in a hundred chance of being killed every year. Nowit’s less than 0.3 per cent.21

That’s low, but it’s not nothing. And a large part of the reason for this is that it’s extremely challenging to stop less complexassassination attempts, especially if they don’t come from within the regime. In many countries, weapons are relatively easy to come by.Combined with enough zeal, all it takes is being in the right place at the right time. Stopping attacks like this is incredibly difficult, even forrulers who concentrate significant political power in their hands.

The tyrant’s chances of being assassinated are related to his success at insulating himself from other threats to his leadership. Oddlyenough, the better he gets at preventing the other threats, the more attractive assassinations become because there are simply no otheroptions – even for those who are part of the regime. That’s because assassinations, unlike coups or rebellions, don’t require a largedegree of coordination. As the tyrant concentrates power in his hands and makes other threats to his rule less viable, rivals are forced toturn to assassination as their only option.

When elites are comparatively powerful vis-à-vis the tyrant, they can hope to change the leader while maintaining their own power withinthe system. As the tyrant becomes more powerful, elites may no longer have the opportunity to reshuffle the leader while keeping thesystem as it is.22 Instead, they have to try to dismantle the entire system. At some point, when the despot has consolidated yet morepower in his hands, even that can become impossible. When it does, assassination can be the elites’ only way out.23

The problem, seen from the presidential palace, is that it only takes one. And unfortunately, there are many who could be in the right placeat the right time. The pool of potential assassins is as large as the number of people who can carry a rifle or a blade. That makesassassination a pervasive threat to every tyrant.

It’s an unfortunate situation to be in. However, tyrants have some options.

Since democratisation (or weakening their protection against other threats) isn’t attractive to most dictators, they must find othersolutions. One of the more common strategies they choose is to protect themselves with bodyguards. These bodyguards serve much ofthe same functions as bodyguards in democratic systems: they scout locations to make sure no assassins are hiding in them, work out howto flee in the event of an attack and, if need be, they catch a bullet for the president. But since this isn’t just a normal president but apresident for life, these men and women need to have some extra qualifications.

The method commonly used is to assemble a force of elite fighters who can defend the dictator against the public at large and also againstattacks from within the regime. The issue with this approach is that those elite fighters can easily become political actors in their own right,for example by supporting coup d’états against the leader. In ancient Rome, the Praetorian Guard ‒ supposed to protect rulers –regularly helped to overthrow them, the most notorious example being probably the Emperor Caligula, who was assassinated by hisGuard during a festival in 41 ad.

The Praetorian Guard were eventually dismantled by one of Caligula’s successors. However, the possibility of a personal bodyguardturning traitor is a constant threat to modern rulers. Because of it, some leaders have resorted to recruiting foreigners. By virtue of theirbeing foreign, such guards are seen as less of a coup risk because they have neither the same level of interest in domestic politics nor thelegitimacy that is required to run a government.

Today, demand for this ‘service’ has allowed the Russian government to turn itself into an insurance salesman for autocrats, especiallyin Africa. In the Central African Republic, the Russian paramilitary group Wagner, which had close ties to the Kremlin, was used by theregime to protect itself against assassinations. During the country’s 2020 election campaign, for example, Russian paramilitaries couldbe seen protecting Faustin-Archange Touadéra, the country’s president. In return for protecting the ruler against threats from within,the mercenaries get mining concessions and lucrative business opportunities in the host country. The Russian government, in turn, gets afoothold in Africa that can be used not just to make money, but also to advance political objectives – for example, getting African countriesto vote alongside the Kremlin’s interests at the United Nations.

To Central African President Touadéra and leaders like him, the deal is so attractive because the paramilitaries serve a triple function: notonly do they protect him without posing as much of a coup risk, they also provide an active deterrent against others who might be plottingagainst him. What’s more, they can also be used against other domestic enemies such as rebels. That’s particularly attractive becausethese ‘bodyguards’ can make up for at least some of the battlefield effectiveness that a dictatorship loses when it coup-proofs itsmilitary. When a special advisor to President Touadéra was asked what he made of Wagner’s mutiny against Vladimir Putin’sgovernment, he said: ‘Russia gave us Wagner, the rest isn’t our business . . . If it’s not Wagner anymore and they send Beethoven orMozart, it doesn’t matter, we’ll take them.’24

But even though the regime is keen on Wagner (or any other ‘composer’), there is a price to pay: Touadéra isn’t just losing miningrevenue, but also autonomy. For as foreign fighters become more entrenched in the regime’s security apparatus, they increase theirinfluence in the country’s economy and politics. Wagner’s increase in control has been so vast in the Central African Republic that someanalysts have started to refer to it as ‘state capture’.25 And since these fighters are ultimately loyal to Moscow (if even that) and not theregime they are protecting, they might not present a direct coup risk, but they aren’t exactly trustworthy either. If the Kremlin finds aleader who gives them better conditions than Touadéra, the Central African strongman won’t survive in power for long.

For that reason, many dictators prefer fighters who are seen as possessing a special loyalty to the leader. But, as we’ve seen already, alldespots face the dictator’s dilemma: they don’t know who around them is genuinely loyal and who is just pretending. Given thatstructural constraint, banking on the loyalty of subjects is always a gamble.

When Laurent Kabila rebelled against Mobutu Sese Seko to take control of the Democratic Republic of Congo, he made extensive use ofkadogo – child soldiers.26 He trusted them. Talking to a foreign businessman, he once said: ‘They will never do anything against me.They have been with me since the beginning.’ ‘They are my children,’ he went on to say. But then one day, when Kabila was discussingan upcoming summit with an advisor, one of his ‘children’ walked in, pulled out a revolver and shot him four times.27

Evidently, there’s no truly good option here. When dictators pick foreign fighters, they put themselves at the mercy of anothergovernment. When they pick compatriots, they become more vulnerable to coups because in dictatorships, nobody’s loyalty to theregime is assured.

Instead of putting bodyguards between the tyrant and others, there’s also the option of isolating the dictatorship using space, fencesand guard towers. That can be effective because most assassination attempts occur during the leader’s public appearances at speeches,rallies or parades, or when he is travelling by car, helicopter or plane.28 If there are fewer public appearances and the tyrant spends mostof his time in the remote fortress constructed specifically to guarantee his safety, he is less likely to be killed.

For democratic leaders, isolating themselves is extremely difficult. Because they need to win (fair) elections, they need to campaign and beseen among the people. It’s impossible not to be. Moreover, many of them genuinely enjoy meeting people and listening to theirconcerns. If they don’t, they are probably in the wrong profession. But what makes the work so enjoyable to them makes life hard forthose tasked with protecting them.

Dictators have an advantage here because there’s no need for them to go out and meet real voters. They can be more isolated thandemocratic leaders and some have taken this to an extreme, isolating their entire country out of fear for themselves.

Landlocked and difficult to access due to mountains and deserts, Paraguay was always more isolated than Chile, Brazil or Uruguay.29 Butwhen José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia became the country’s ‘Perpetual Dictator’ in 1814, he took matters to extremes. Paranoidand fearing that colonial forces or large neighbouring states could undermine Paraguay’s independence, he turned his nation into ahermit kingdom. Trade with neighbouring states was reduced and foreigners were barely let into the country. If foreigners did enter deFrancia’s Paraguay they could soon find themselves in danger. When the celebrated French botanist Aimé Bonpland settled near theParaná River to cultivate the plant yerba mate, things initially seemed to be going well. Bonpland’s connections, and the labour andwisdom of local workers were a winning combination.30 Then one morning, Bonpland’s colony was attacked when hundreds ofParaguayan soldiers, who had crossed the river under cover of night, struck at daybreak. Nineteen men were killed, dozens takenprisoner.31 For Paraguay’s dictator, Bonpland was a problem twice over: first, his cultivation of yerba mate threatened El Supremo’sown position in the lucrative trade, and second, the French plant expert was an untrustworthy figure who might be working with foreignpowers to undermine the regime.32 Perhaps the botanist might even try to kill him? To neutralise the threat, de Francia took Bonplandhostage.

Bonpland wasn’t the only foreigner treated in this way. Johann Rudolf Rengger, a Swiss doctor, was also taken hostage. Renggerdescribes what it was like to have an audience with the supremo himself: ‘When you meet the dictator, you are not allowed to comecloser than six paces until he gives a signal to step forward,’ he wrote. Even then, he went on, ‘you have to stop at a distance of threepaces.’ De Francia was so worried about being killed that those meeting him were required to let their arms hang loose with their handsopen and facing towards him so he could make sure they didn’t carry a weapon. In fact, not even the dictator’s own officers or civilservants were allowed to approach him if they had a blade on them. And just in case, de Francia always made sure that he had his ownweapons within reach wherever he went.33

Following in de Francia’s footsteps and turning an entire country into a hermit kingdom is difficult to do in the modern world, but thepoint persists: unlike democratic leaders, dictators can afford to isolate themselves. If they can’t do it with their entire country, they can atleast isolate themselves from the people they rule.

In the winter of 2022, Russia’s president, Vladimir Putin, was not just isolated but also disconnected from the lived reality of the Russianpeople. The regime’s future was in question. With Ukrainians bravely resisting Russia’s war of aggression, the Russian armed forceswere slowly running out of soldiers. Since there weren’t nearly enough voluntary recruits, young Russian men were forced into the fight.Conditions for these soldiers were horrendous. For tens of thousands of families, the war that they had previously seen on slicklyproduced propaganda shows had now become reality as sons, fathers and husbands were sent to get killed in Ukraine’s cold,unforgiving mud. Some of the conscripted soldiers were so poorly equipped that their families had to buy them medical kits. And if theyever dared to retreat, away from the enemy’s artillery shells or anti-tank missiles, they might have to face so-called ‘barrier troops’,deployed by Moscow (or Grozny) to shoot soldiers who simply wanted to escape from the carnage.34

The aunt of one young Russian man from the western region of Lipetsk said her nephew was sent to the frontlines in Ukraine eight daysafter being mobilised. There weren’t even any commanders there. ‘They were hit by mortar fire,’ she said. ‘Why, after one week oftraining, were they thrown into the woods and left there to die?’ she wanted to know.35

On 25 November 2022, Putin was sitting in a cream-coloured chair in front of television cameras at his luxurious estate west of Moscow.He spoke to seventeen mothers with sons fighting in Ukraine. ‘I want you to know that me [sic] personally and the country’s leadershipshare this pain,’ Putin said. ‘We understand that nothing can replace the loss of a son, a child,’ he added.36 It finally looked as if Putinhad been brave enough to meet popular dissatisfaction head on. But instead, the whole thing was staged. All the mothers werehandpicked by the regime: one was a former government official; another the mother of a senior military official from Chechnya; severalof them were active in pro-war NGOs financed by the state.37

To add insult to injury, Putin didn’t just fake the meeting to make it seem as if the war had more public support than it did. He told thewomen (and more importantly viewers at home) that they shouldn’t trust anything he hadn’t faked. ‘It is clear that life is morecomplicated and diverse than what is shown on TV screens or even on the internet – you can’t trust anything there at all, there are a lot ofall sorts of fakes, deception, lies,’ Putin said.38 Obviously, the chance of one of those handpicked women getting up and stabbing Putinwas extremely low. But if he hadn’t faked the meeting and had met with real mothers instead, could one of them have attempted to killthe man who had sent her beloved child to his death in Bakhmut? Maybe, but Putin will never have to find out because, unlike democraticleaders, he can avoid meeting real people.

Another avenue despots can pursue is an intense cult of personality coupled with extreme repression. This can create an atmosphere ‘inwhich the assassination of a leader is not even contemplated, let alone planned or executed’.39 There are tyrants in history who havemade their people believe that they can literally read minds, that they are a deity. And if the man on the poster in the classroom, on thebillboard and in the little book everyone has to carry around with them is no man but a God, challenging him would be madness.

A deity would know about it even before it happened. Even if he were to get fired at, he’d undoubtedly survive. Sitting where we do, thismight seem rather strange, but from the perspective of the people in those countries, it makes at least some sense. These are people whohave witnessed dictators put up giant golden statues of themselves that rotate to follow the sun, or who have created entire cities in themiddle of nowhere, seemingly out of thin air. In schools, on television shows and on the radio they are told that the supreme leader sees alland hears all. Why shouldn’t they believe that it’s true?

If ordinary Haitians had met their president during the 1960s, they would probably have seen a man wearing a black top hat, thick blackglasses and black suit. With his hands rarely visible, he talked slowly and in a high-pitched voice. He almost looked as though he was fromanother world, and that was no coincidence. François Duvalier, known as ‘Papa Doc’, due to his background in medicine, deliberatelymodelled his image on Baron Samedi, a voodoo spirit of the dead.

Knowing that millions of Haitians had strong connections to voodoo, he used it to his advantage. At one point he allegedly ordered hismen to cut off a rival’s head and bring it to him because he wanted to talk to his ‘spirit’.40 Duvalier cast himself as a seeminglyomnipotent being out of the reach of mere mortals. ‘My enemies cannot get me,’ he used to say. ‘I am already an immaterial being.’41

And to drive home the point of his God-like status, he relentlessly bombarded the population with images of his omnipotence. He evenwent so far as to introduce a Papa Doc version of the Lord’s Prayer: ‘Our Doc, who art in the National Palace for life, Hallowed be Thyname by present and future generations. Thy will be done at Port-au-Prince and in the provinces.’42

If that wasn’t enough to achieve compliance, Papa Doc still had his bogeymen. The Tontons Macoute would often wear dark uniformsand sunglasses while they killed and tortured Haitians who stepped out of line. As was intended, some of Duvalier’s opponents came tobelieve that Duvalier knew where they were and what they did.43 He stayed in power for more than thirteen years until he died a naturaldeath.44

But even if tyrants manage to keep their own people from killing them, that’s not the only actor they have to worry about.

In September 1990, United States Air Force chief of staff Michael J. Dugan gave an interview to a Washington Post reporter named RickAtkinson. This was a time of high tension, as Iraq, under the control of Saddam Hussein, had just invaded and occupied neighbouringKuwait. The Gulf War was about to begin. In the interview, Dugan suggested the United States would target Saddam Hussein and thoseclose to him, including his personal guard and his mistress. Since Saddam Hussein was ‘a one-man show’, Dugan said, ‘if and when wechoose violence he ought to be at the focus of our efforts.’ A little later in the interview the general went on to say that he didn’t expectto be concerned with political constraints.45 As it turned out, Dugan was wrong. Shortly after his comments, he was fired byVice-President Dick Cheney.

His firing was related to a 1976 executive order which stated: ‘No person employed by or acting on behalf of the United StatesGovernment shall engage in, or conspire to engage in, assassination.’46 It was issued by President Gerald Ford, after Americanintelligence agencies were found to be implicated in several plots to assassinate foreign leaders. Most notable of these was the supplyingof weapons to dissidents trying to kill Rafael Trujillo in the Dominican Republic, and also the attempts to kill Fidel Castro, which went on foryears. Less well-known is the case of CIA operatives tasked with assassinating the Congolese nationalist Patrice Lumumba in Zaire.47

The commission reporting on the matter had argued that assassination was ‘incompatible with American principles, international orderand morality’.48 But it also left a loophole by saying that this only applied outside war – meaning that the assassination of foreign leaderscould be acceptable if their nation was at war with the United States.

The United States isn’t the only country that allows for the assassination of foreign heads of state. The Democratic People’s Republic ofNorth Korea, one of the countries against which the United States might attempt targeted killing in the future, has a history ofassassinations.

In early 1968, twenty-seven-year-old Kim Shin-jo was in the mountains. It was January when, in the mountains of Korea, it is desperatelycold. Sent by Pyongyang, he and his comrades were on their way to Seoul to kill South Korea’s President. Whether by mistake or purechance, Shin-jo was spotted by some villagers. He knew what he had to do: kill them and bury them. He had a mission and if he didn’t killthem now, the whole plan could be imperilled. But the ground was frozen. If he had to bury them here, he would be at it forever.

After some deliberation, he told them not to tell anyone who they had encountered. As Shin-jo left them, they immediately contacted thepolice, which informed the military. South Korean soldiers were now on the lookout for Shin-jo and the other infiltrators. Against all odds,they continued advancing towards South Korea’s presidential palace, where they were to assassinate President Park Chung-hee. In theend, they made it to within 100 metres of the Blue House. And although the attack itself failed, it took more than a week and hundreds ofsoldiers to find and deal with the North Korean death squad. Even then, one of the commandos somehow managed to make it back acrossthe border to North Korea alive. Only discovered by chance, the killers had come very close to achieving their object, which was a majorembarrassment to the South Korean regime.49

Three months later, the South Korean government’s answer was being prepared on an islet named Silmido in the Yellow Sea. Thirty-onemen, the ‘type that often got into street fights’, were being trained by South Korean security forces.50 The most important lesson theywere being taught, as one of their trainers put it, was that you must kill to live.51 The men’s mission was to go up to North Korea, acrossthe demilitarised zone, to kill Kim Il-sung. It was time for payback for the Blue House raid and they were about to slit Kim Il-sung’s throat.52

On the islet of Silmido, life was hard. Isolated, Unit 684 had to battle not just their training routines and the sea, but also their superiors.After a few months on the island, they simply stopped getting paid. The food they were getting was poor. On top of all that, contact withthe outside world was strictly prohibited. When two of them tried to escape in June 1968, they were beaten to death. Another recruit diedduring sea-survival training.53

Early in August 1971, Yang Don-soo, one of the trainers on Silmido, was getting ready for his regular supply run off the island. He heardgunfire. Confused, he thought that it could be North Korean special forces out to attack them. Before he knew what was happening, he wasshot in the neck. But it wasn’t the enemy, it was his own men. ‘When I woke up, I was bleeding from my neck and everywhere the trainerswere being killed by the recruits or running away, or were being shot again by recruits who were making sure that they were dead,’ hesaid.54 Bleeding heavily, he crawled to the beach. He prayed to God, hoping that his recruits wouldn’t find him.

Luckily for him, they had bigger plans. After making their way off the island in their paratrooper uniforms, the death squadcommandeered a bus and made their way to Seoul armed with carbines and grenades.55 Instead of going to Pyongyang to kill KimIl-sung, they were now on their way to the Blue House to kill South Korean dictator Park Chung-hee whom they held responsible for theirsuffering.56 In the capital, they fought South Korean security forces that had been gathered hastily to intercept them.57 When it becameclear that they were outgunned and with no chance of escape, some of the recruits blew themselves up with hand grenades.58 Of the initialtwenty-four recruits who had taken part in the rebellion, only four survived – until 1972, when they were executed.59

But why did Unit 684 crack? The harsh conditions in the Yellow Sea undoubtedly played a role, but there was also speculation that theSouth Korean government, then still a military dictatorship, was about to murder the death squad to make sure nobody ever knew theyexisted in the first place. But according to one of their trainers, the real reason why the assassins acted the way they did is because theywere without hope.60 The communist North and capitalist South had recently and unexpectedly improved their ties, so the attack onPyongyang was called off. Because of that, the killers seemingly thought that they would never get off Silmido. As one observer put it, thetrainees increasingly saw themselves as ‘prisoners with indefinite sentences’.61

Yet, despite this experience, ‘decapitation’ of North Korea’s leadership is still part of South Korea’s strategy. ‘The best deterrencewe can have, next to having our own nukes, is to make Kim Jong-un fear for his life,’ a former South Korean general said in 2015.62 Tothat end, South Korea pursues a double strategy: if conflict with North Korea were to escalate, the South Korean military would unleash aflurry of precision missiles to target the North Korean leadership. In addition, a special military unit would be dispatched to find and killKim Jong-un before he was able to order the launch of North Korea’s nuclear weapons.63

Nuclear weapons expert Ankit Panda, author of Kim Jong Un and the Bomb, describes the logic behind this strategy:

As a personalistic dictatorship whose nuclear forces and military are under control of one person, North Korea may be undeterred fromnuclear escalation in the course of a limited conflict by threats of damage against military or economically valuable targets. Accordingly, itmust be deterred by threatening to punish the leadership directly.64

In other words, since Kim Jong-un is not greatly concerned with the destruction of North Korea, South Korea has to find something else hecares about. And that is his own life.

Though this strategy is logical, it is also highly dangerous and there are many ways it can go wrong. To illustrate just one, imagine thefollowing scenario. Tensions between South and North Korea escalate.65 Unaware of Kim Jong-un’s exact whereabouts, South Koreanmissiles target a North Korean munitions dump that happens to be close to one of the dictator’s many hideouts. Kim Jong-un is in there,cowering, and he misinterprets the attack on the military facility as an attack on his life. In that scenario, he now has a huge incentive to usenuclear weapons before he gets killed.

Beyond that, it gives the dictator a reason to change the way the use of nuclear weapons is authorised, and that creates a massive structuralrisk. The South Korean strategy is based on the idea that the threat of North Korean nuclear weapons can be averted if Kim Jong-un iskilled before they can be launched. In democracies, there would be an easy solution to this problem. If the president of the United States,who ordinarily controls the launch of nuclear weapons, were to die, that power would automatically be transferred to the vice-president.66 This model of command structure is called ‘devolution’ and for democracies, it works well.

But for dictators, this is not an attractive model because establishing a line of succession risks creating alternative power centres.67 Andsince the principal threat to most tyrants, including Kim Jong-un, is internal rather than external, the North Korean dictator did somethingelse. In 2022, the North Korean regime declared:

In case the command and control systems over the state nuclear forces is placed in danger owing to an attack by hostile forces, a nuclearstrike shall be launched automatically and immediately to destroy the hostile forces including the starting point of provocation and thecommand according to the operation plan decided in advance.68

Faced with the threat of foreign assassins, Kim Jong-un had put things on nuclear autopilot and that autopilot brought all kinds of risks.69What if it malfunctioned, for example because Kim was alive but could not be reached? Would the officers panic and assume that Kim wasdead? Nuclear war could easily break out despite neither side wanting it. Questions of morality and law aside, that’s precisely theproblem with threatening dictators with assassination from abroad: the moment ‘decapitation’ becomes a realistic threat, every formof conflict risks becoming existential for the dictator. And when that’s the case, the stakes immediately become so high that the risk ofall-out war drastically increases. That’s a massive problem for all of us, especially when the dictator doesn’t just have access toconventional forces but also weapons of mass destruction.

Whilst the threat of assassination has been a problem with which tyrants have had to deal from time immemorial, the nature and severityof the threat has recently changed.

At 5:41 in the afternoon local time, Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro was standing on a stage, giving a speech, when suddenly hestopped speaking and looked up. He was nervous because something in the sky above didn’t look quite right.70 Nevertheless, he stayedwhere he was and, two minutes later, he was talking about economic recovery. Its time had arrived, he said. In front of him were thousandsof soldiers marching along Avenida Bolívar, one of Caracas’ grandest thoroughfares.

Suddenly, a loud explosion was heard above. In the blink of an eye, an explosive charge on a drone went off, leading to dark clouds ofkinetic energy being released below and above the aircraft. Obviously confused by what was happening, Maduro stopped his speech andthe state broadcast cut away from the stage. Shortly after, the tyrant’s bodyguards scrambled to get in front of him. Just fourteenseconds after the first explosion, another drone crashed and exploded within audible distance.

Whereas the first explosion was met by confusion, this one was met by utter panic. Instead of defending Maduro against whatever enemythis was, the uniformed men and women who had marched on Avenida Bolívar were now running for their lives.

Maduro wasn’t harmed, but the way the attack was carried out should serve as an alarm signal to all tyrants. The Venezuelan presidentcould have been killed using a commercial drone that can be bought on Amazon. As these drones proliferate, they solve one of the bigproblems that non-state actors have when planning to kill a tyrant: the need to be in physical proximity to their target to poison, stab orshoot him.71 Because of the need for physical proximity, such attacks are extremely risky for the tyrant and for the attacker.

Seconds after a shot is fired, the tyrant may be dead or dying, and the attacker will probably die as well, or at least be on their way to prison.Think of famous assassins: John Wilkes Booth, the man who killed United States president Abraham Lincoln, was shot; Gavrilo Princip, whoassassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, died a horrible death in prison. With modern drones, it doesn’t have to be that way:attackers can be kilometres away, waiting for the perfect opportunity to launch their shot. And when they do so, they might now get awaywith it. To dictators, who stake their survival on fear, it’s a horrifying prospect.

Assassination is something of a wildcard. Tyrants can do everything ‘right’ to stay in power: manage elites, weaken the men with gunsand deal with the masses while deterring foreign powers so they don’t ‘decapitate’ their regime. But no leader can control everything,and that’s precisely the problem when it comes to tyrannicide. Complex assassination attempts can often be prevented, but lone wolvesare hard to stop. How well tyrants can respond to the threat depends in large part on the extent of their power. The more powerful, themore of an attractive target they are, but the power they hold also means that they can protect themselves better.

But let’s say things go wrong and the leader dies. A new dawn begins. With the tyrant out of the way, what happens next? Will things getbetter? Will they get worse? We will find out in the next chapter.

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