The Economics of Regime Change: Historical Lessons for Post-Maduro Venezuela and Protest-Riven Iran

In the sweltering heat of Caracas this January, street vendors who once bartered eggs for devalued bolivars now speak cautiously of hope. Nicolás Maduro’s departure from Venezuela’s presidency—confirmed through a negotiated transition involving regional powers and domestic opposition—has unleashed a torrent of speculation about economic renewal. Opinion polls conducted in the capital’s barrios suggest more than 70% of Venezuelans expect their purchasing power to improve within two years, a striking reversal from the fatalism that pervaded the nation during its decade-long economic collapse.

Meanwhile, 2,500 kilometers northeast across the Atlantic, a different drama unfolds in Tehran’s ancient bazaars. Merchants shuttered their shops throughout late 2025 and early 2026, not in religious observance but in protest against a government whose economic mismanagement has rendered the rial nearly worthless and pushed inflation past 50%. What began as scattered demonstrations over bread prices has metastasized into the most serious challenge to Iran’s clerical establishment since the Green Movement.

These parallel crises illuminate one of political economy’s most consequential questions: does regime change deliver the economic renewal that catalyzes it, or does it merely exchange one form of hardship for another? The economics of regime change—the material consequences when one governing structure displaces another through revolution, coup, or negotiated transition—remains poorly understood despite its obvious importance. Citizens topple autocrats expecting prosperity; what they often receive is prolonged stagnation punctuated by false starts.

The scholarly consensus tilts pessimistic. Decades of research document how political upheaval disrupts investment, erodes property rights, and triggers capital flight that takes years to reverse. Iraq’s post-2003 descent into sectarian chaos, Libya’s fragmentation after Muammar Gaddafi’s fall, and Egypt’s economic stagnation following the Arab Spring all confirm this grim pattern. Yet outliers exist—South Korea’s democratic transition preceded its elevation to developed-nation status, Indonesia navigated Suharto’s 1998 ouster without prolonged collapse, and Poland’s post-communist shock therapy became a model others studied. Understanding what separates success from failure has never mattered more. Venezuela stands at a crossroads between rehabilitation and further decay, while Iran’s rulers calculate whether economic concessions might forestall the fate that befell their Venezuelan counterparts.

This analysis examines the economic impact of regime change through comparative historical analysis, extracting lessons for nations experiencing or approaching political rupture. It argues that while regime change creates necessary preconditions for reform, economic recovery depends crucially on institutional quality, external support, and the speed with which new governments establish credible commitments to property rights and macroeconomic stability. The contrast between post-regime change economic recovery in successful transitions and failures offers practical guidance for policymakers navigating Venezuela’s uncertain future and contemplating Iran’s potential transformation.

The Pessimistic Historical Consensus: Why Regime Change Usually Disappoints

The dominant finding in political economy research is unambiguous: regime change typically harms economic performance in the short to medium term. Alberto Alesina and Roberto Perotti’s landmark 1996 study demonstrated that political instability reduces investment rates by approximately 0.8 percentage points for each standard deviation increase in instability measures. This might seem modest until compounded over years. A nation experiencing severe upheaval—multiple coup attempts, revolutionary transitions, or prolonged civil conflict—can see investment collapse by 5-7% of GDP annually, directly translating into forgone growth.

The mechanisms are well-established. Political uncertainty raises discount rates as investors demand higher returns for increased risk. Property rights become ambiguous when governments change hands violently; the new regime may repudiate contracts signed by its predecessor, nationalize industries, or impose retroactive taxation. Capital flight accelerates as those with movable assets—financial wealth, human capital, portable businesses—relocate to more stable jurisdictions. World Bank research on political transitions shows unemployment typically rises 1-1.5 percentage points immediately following regime change, even in relatively peaceful transitions.

Iraq exemplifies these dynamics at their most destructive. The 2003 invasion removed Saddam Hussein’s Ba’athist regime but created a power vacuum that sectarian militias and insurgents rushed to fill. The decision to disband the Iraqi army and pursue aggressive de-Ba’athification destroyed institutional capacity overnight. GDP per capita, which stood at approximately $3,600 in 2002, plummeted to $2,100 by 2005, and Iraq burned through decades of developmental progress. Oil production—the economy’s backbone—collapsed from 2.5 million barrels daily pre-invasion to barely 1 million by late 2003. Even massive American reconstruction spending, exceeding $60 billion in the first five years, couldn’t prevent economic catastrophe when basic security and functioning institutions disappeared simultaneously.

Libya’s trajectory after 2011 followed a similar pattern, though NATO intervention prevented the scale of foreign occupation that characterized Iraq. Muammar Gaddafi’s overthrow unleashed regional militias that the weak central government in Tripoli could never fully control. Oil production, which reached 1.65 million barrels daily in 2010, fell to barely 200,000 barrels at its nadir during the civil conflict. The IMF documented that Libya’s GDP contracted by 62% in 2011 alone, a peacetime economic collapse matched only by the Great Depression in severity. A decade later, Libya remains partitioned between competing governments, its economic potential squandered by political fragmentation that regime change enabled.

Egypt’s experience proved that even relatively peaceful transitions disappoint economically. The 2011 uprising removed Hosni Mubarak with far less violence than Iraq or Libya experienced, and the military maintained basic order throughout. Yet economic performance remained dismal. Tourism—Egypt’s crucial foreign exchange earner—collapsed as visitors avoided perceived instability. Foreign direct investment dried up as businesses waited for political clarity that never fully arrived. GDP growth, which averaged 5-6% in the decade before 2011, barely exceeded 2% annually through 2013. Unemployment rose from 9% in 2010 to nearly 13% by 2013, particularly devastating for the educated youth who had led protests against Mubarak.

The pattern transcends individual cases. A comprehensive analysis by the Brookings Institution examining Arab Spring outcomes across Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Yemen, and Syria found that citizens in all five nations reported worse economic conditions five years post-uprising than before. This wasn’t merely perception—real wages declined, unemployment rose, and fiscal positions deteriorated as new governments struggled with legitimacy crises and inherited debts. Historical regime change economic outcomes suggested a cruel irony: the economic grievances that motivated regime change often worsened precisely because the change occurred.

The economic impact of regime change operates through multiple channels simultaneously. Infrastructure deteriorates when governments focus on political survival rather than maintenance. Brain drain accelerates as skilled professionals emigrate. International sanctions often remain in place during transitional periods, as new governments struggle to establish credibility with global financial institutions. Domestic factions compete for control of state resources, prioritizing redistribution to supporters over efficiency. The combatants in Iraq’s sectarian militias sought control of government ministries not to deliver services but to channel patronage to their ethnic constituencies—a pattern that corroded institutional quality for years.

Moreover, economic reform typically requires unpopular measures that fragile post-transition governments lack the political capital to implement. Subsidy removal, currency devaluation, state-owned enterprise privatization, and civil service restructuring all create losers who can mobilize against governments already vulnerable to accusations of betraying revolutionary ideals. Research published in the Journal of Economic Growth demonstrates that democracies emerging from autocracy postpone necessary macroeconomic stabilization on average 2-3 years longer than established democracies facing similar crises, precisely because new governments fear the political consequences of austerity.

This pessimistic consensus, while empirically grounded, risks becoming self-fulfilling. International financial institutions and bilateral donors often withhold support from transitional governments, citing instability and uncertain reform trajectories. This caution paradoxically worsens the instability it purports to avoid by denying resources needed for early stabilization. Citizens lose faith when immediate improvements fail to materialize, creating political space for authoritarians promising order. The economics of regime change thus creates a negative feedback loop: economic deterioration following political transition undermines the new regime’s legitimacy, inviting further instability that deepens economic crisis.

Success Stories and Conditions for Recovery: When Political Upheaval Enables Growth

Yet the historical record contains enough counterexamples to prove that economic disaster following regime change isn’t inevitable. Several nations navigated political transitions without prolonged economic collapse, and some even accelerated development afterward. Understanding what distinguished these successes from failures offers crucial lessons for contemporary cases.

South Korea’s 1987 democratic transition stands as perhaps the most impressive example of political upheaval enabling rather than disrupting economic dynamism. The authoritarian developmental state constructed under Park Chung-hee and sustained by Chun Doo-hwan delivered rapid industrialization but at considerable cost to civil liberties. When massive street protests forced democratic reforms in 1987, many observers feared economic disruption. Foreign Affairs analysis from that era worried that labor militancy freed from authoritarian constraints would erode the export competitiveness that underpinned Korean growth.

Instead, South Korea’s GDP growth accelerated to over 10% annually in 1987-1988, driven partly by democratic legitimacy enhancing international economic relationships and partly by unleashed entrepreneurial energy no longer constrained by political favoritism. Real wages rose substantially as newly empowered unions bargained effectively, yet productivity gains kept pace, preventing competitiveness losses. The chaebol—Korea’s family-controlled conglomerates—adapted to greater political accountability without losing efficiency. By the mid-1990s, South Korea had joined the OECD, cementing its developed-nation status. The 1997 Asian Financial Crisis temporarily interrupted this trajectory, but Korea’s recovery proved more robust than authoritarian neighbors like Indonesia precisely because democratic accountability forced painful but necessary restructuring of the banking sector.

Indonesia itself provides another instructive case. Suharto’s 1998 resignation amid economic crisis and street protests created conditions for catastrophic state failure—ethnic tensions simmered across the archipelago, the military’s political role remained unclear, and GDP had already contracted 13% from the Asian Financial Crisis. Yet Indonesia navigated the transition with surprising resilience. The IMF’s program, though initially poorly designed, eventually stabilized the rupiah. Decentralization reforms transferred power from Jakarta to provinces and districts, relieving pressure on the central government while allowing local adaptation. Crucially, the military accepted a diminished political role without staging a coup, and elections in 1999 produced a legitimate government that could implement reforms.

Indonesia’s post-regime change economic recovery wasn’t immediate—GDP growth remained below 5% until 2000—but the trajectory was positive and sustained. By 2004, growth exceeded 5% annually and continued at that pace through the commodities boom of the 2000s. Democratic institutions deepened rather than collapsed under pressure. The contrast with Iraq and Libya is striking: Indonesia faced comparable challenges—ethnic fragmentation, uncertain democratic traditions, economic crisis—yet avoided their fate primarily through rapid establishment of credible institutions and inclusive political processes that gave diverse groups stakes in the new system.

Eastern Europe after 1989 offers perhaps the richest laboratory for understanding variation in post-regime change economic outcomes. Poland’s “shock therapy”—the rapid implementation of macroeconomic stabilization, price liberalization, and privatization beginning January 1990—remains controversial but broadly successful. Analysis by The Economist documented that Poland’s GDP per capita, which stood at barely 30% of Western European levels in 1990, reached 70% by 2019. The initial pain was severe: inflation hit 585% in 1990, industrial production fell 25%, unemployment rose from effectively zero to 16% by 1993. Yet credible commitments to property rights, rapid integration with Western European markets, and eventually EU accession created conditions for sustained growth averaging 4-5% annually over three decades.

Not all post-communist transitions succeeded similarly. Russia’s chaotic privatization enriched oligarchs while impoverishing ordinary citizens, creating a crisis of legitimacy that eventually enabled Vladimir Putin’s authoritarian restoration. Romania and Bulgaria lagged Poland economically throughout the 1990s, victims of slower reform and greater corruption. The variation illustrates that regime change creates opportunities but doesn’t guarantee outcomes—institutional quality and policy choices matter enormously.

Several factors distinguish successful from failed transitions. First, successful cases established credible property rights rapidly. Poland’s shock therapy, whatever its other faults, created clear legal frameworks for private ownership within months. South Korea’s democratic transition didn’t disrupt existing property arrangements, and Indonesia’s decentralization actually strengthened local property rights. In contrast, Iraq’s Coalition Provisional Authority made property rights ambiguous through poorly designed de-Ba’athification, while Libya never established functioning courts capable of adjudicating disputes.

Second, successful transitions typically involved significant external support—financial, technical, and political. Poland received debt relief and preferential access to European markets. South Korea benefited from existing American security guarantees and trade relationships. Indonesia obtained IMF financing that, despite program flaws, prevented complete currency collapse. The Marshall Plan’s role in Western Europe’s post-1945 reconstruction remains the template: external resources provide breathing room for painful reforms while demonstrating that the international community supports the transition.

Third, commodity-dependent economies face particular challenges requiring specific policy responses. Indonesia’s success partly reflected deliberate efforts to avoid “Dutch disease”—the phenomenon where resource booms appreciate currencies and hollow out manufacturing. Research from the World Bank demonstrates that resource-dependent nations experiencing regime change need especially strong institutions to manage commodity revenues transparently. Norway’s sovereign wealth fund model represents the gold standard, but even less sophisticated mechanisms like Indonesia’s revenue-sharing arrangements between central and local governments can prevent the worst outcomes.

Fourth, inclusive political settlements that give diverse factions stakes in the new system prevent the zero-sum competitions that plagued Iraq and Libya. Poland’s Roundtable Talks created negotiated transition rather than winner-take-all. Indonesia’s decentralization accommodated regional diversity. South Korea’s democratic institutions channeled labor-management conflict into bargaining rather than violence. Exclusionary transitions—where victors monopolize power—invite resistance that undermines economic recovery by forcing governments to prioritize security over development.

The conditions for post-regime change economic recovery thus extend beyond technocratic economic management to encompass political settlements, institutional design, and international support. Political upheaval and economic growth can coexist, but only when deliberate policy choices mitigate the inherent uncertainties that regime change creates.

Venezuela’s Post-Maduro Crossroads: Pathways to Recovery and Risks of Relapse

Venezuela’s January 2026 transition—negotiated through regional mediation involving Colombia, Brazil, and the United States, with Maduro accepting exile in exchange for immunity—creates the most significant opportunity for economic recovery in a generation. The optimism is palpable and, in many respects, justified. Oil production, which collapsed from 3.2 million barrels daily in 1998 to barely 400,000 by 2024, could theoretically return to 2 million barrels daily within three years if investment flows and technical expertise returns. The lifting of American and European sanctions removes a major barrier to financial normalization. Venezuela’s opposition coalition, fractious during resistance, now faces the sobering responsibility of governing a shattered economy.

Yet cautious observers note troubling parallels with previous failed transitions. The Venezuela economy after Maduro faces challenges that dwarf most historical cases. Hyperinflation—which peaked at an estimated 130,000% annually in 2018 before dollarization partially stabilized prices—destroyed domestic currency credibility and created habits of speculation over production. Capital stock deteriorated catastrophically during two decades of underinvestment and maintenance neglect; Petróleos de Venezuela (PDVSA), once Latin America’s premier oil company, resembles a hollow shell, its equipment corroded, its reservoirs damaged by poor extraction practices, its expertise scattered across continents as engineers fled. The Financial Times reported that restoring PDVSA to even 60% of previous capacity requires $150-200 billion in investment over a decade—capital that won’t materialize without credible political stability.

The new government’s early actions will determine whether Venezuela follows Poland’s recovery path or Libya’s fragmentation. Several policy priorities stand out. First, macroeconomic stabilization remains incomplete despite dollarization. The transitional government must establish a credible central bank, address public debt (estimated at $150 billion, much of it in default), and create budgetary discipline after years of fiscal chaos. Bringing the IMF into a monitoring role—politically sensitive given nationalist opposition—would signal commitment to orthodox management while unlocking multilateral financing.

Second, property rights require urgent clarification. Chavismo’s nationalizations and expropriations left ownership disputes affecting billions in assets. A credible arbitration mechanism that balances restitution for victims of expropriation against need for social stability could unlock frozen capital. Chile’s post-Pinochet model offers guidance: the democratic governments that followed military rule didn’t reverse privatizations entirely but created social safety nets that legitimized market economics among previously skeptical constituencies.

Third, oil sector restructuring must avoid both extremes of complete nationalization and wholesale privatization. The Norwegian model—maintaining state ownership while professionalizing management and creating transparent revenue distribution—suits Venezuela’s political culture better than selling PDVSA outright. Analysis from the Brookings Institution suggests mixed ownership, with international oil companies taking minority stakes in joint ventures while the state retains majority control, could attract necessary capital without triggering nationalist backlash. Critically, oil revenues must fund broader economic diversification rather than simply enriching new elites—the “resource curse” that plagued Venezuela under both Chavismo and its predecessors.

Fourth, institutional reconstruction must proceed rapidly. Venezuela’s judiciary, legislature, and bureaucracy suffered systematic politicization under Chavismo. Rebuilding credible institutions requires purging the most compromised officials while retaining enough continuity to maintain basic state functions—a delicate balance Iraq failed catastrophically. Technical assistance from Chile, Colombia, and Spain could accelerate this process while demonstrating regional commitment to Venezuela’s recovery.

The political economy challenges are equally daunting. Chavista remnants retain support among perhaps 20-30% of Venezuelans, concentrated in certain regions and sectors. Exclusionary policies that strip Chavistas of political voice invite resistance that could turn violent. Yet accountability for corruption and human rights abuses can’t be entirely sacrificed to reconciliation. Truth and reconciliation mechanisms—South Africa’s post-apartheid model—might thread this needle, though Venezuela’s polarization exceeds even South Africa’s during transition.

External support will prove crucial. The United States has indicated willingness to provide $5 billion in reconstruction assistance if Venezuela meets governance benchmarks. The European Union and multilateral development banks could contribute similar amounts. China, Venezuela’s largest creditor with perhaps $60 billion in outstanding loans, seeks repayment but might accept debt restructuring if Venezuela’s new government maintains oil shipments. Regional powers like Colombia and Brazil have strong interests in Venezuelan stability given migration pressures—over 7 million Venezuelans fled during the Maduro years, creating humanitarian and political challenges for neighbors.

Yet historical regime change economic outcomes suggest tempering optimism. Even under favorable scenarios, Venezuela’s recovery requires a decade of sustained effort. GDP growth might reach 5-7% annually if conditions align, but from such a depleted base that per-capita income won’t return to 2013 levels until the mid-2030s. Unemployment, currently estimated at 40% including underemployment, won’t normalize without years of investment in productive capacity. The professional class that fled—doctors, engineers, teachers, managers—won’t return immediately, creating human capital constraints that slow recovery.

The first 18-24 months prove critical for any transition. If Venezuela’s new government can stabilize prices, restore basic services, and demonstrate inclusive governance, a virtuous cycle becomes possible: returning confidence encourages investment, investment creates employment, employment reduces desperation that fuels extremism. Conversely, if early missteps—hyperinflation resurgence, political score-settling, corruption scandals—discredit reformers, cynicism and polarization deepen, inviting either chaos or authoritarian restoration. The economics of regime change places Venezuela at a crossroads where every policy choice resonates far beyond its immediate impact.

Iran’s Simmering Crisis and Regime Fragility: Economic Drivers and Uncertain Futures

While Venezuela navigates post-transition challenges, Iran’s regime confronts mounting pressures that could eventually produce similar upheaval. The Iran protests economic causes that erupted in late 2025 and accelerated into early 2026 reflect deep structural problems that episodic repression cannot resolve indefinitely. The rial, which traded at approximately 32,000 to the dollar in 2015, collapsed past 600,000 to the dollar by December 2025—a currency crisis that vaporized savings and made imported necessities unaffordable for ordinary Iranians. Inflation, officially reported at 52% annually but likely higher in practice, reflects both monetary mismanagement and economic sanctions that constrict trade.

Iran’s economic crisis stems from multiple failures compounding over decades. American sanctions reimposed in 2018 after Washington withdrew from the nuclear agreement devastated oil exports, Iran’s primary foreign exchange earner. Oil shipments, which exceeded 2.5 million barrels daily in 2017, fell to perhaps 500,000-800,000 daily by 2024, much of it sold surreptitiously to China at discounts. Analysis published in Foreign Affairs documented that sanctions reduced Iranian GDP by approximately 12% between 2017 and 2020, a peacetime economic contraction matched only by Venezuela’s collapse. Unemployment, particularly among educated youth, exceeds 25%, creating a frustrated demographic that fills protest movements.

Yet sanctions alone don’t explain Iran’s dysfunction. Systemic corruption, with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps controlling perhaps 40% of the economy through opaque networks, stifles entrepreneurship and diverts resources from productive investment. Subsidies consuming nearly 15% of GDP prevent budgetary rationalization while enriching smugglers who exploit price differences. Water scarcity, exacerbated by misguided agricultural policies, threatens livelihoods across rural provinces. The regime’s response to economic crisis—alternating between brutal repression and tactical concessions that never address root causes—has exhausted its legitimacy among large segments of Iranian society.

The bazaar shutdowns that began in November 2025 carry particular significance. The Washington Post reported that merchants historically provided the regime with crucial social support, funding revolutionary causes in 1979 and tolerating economic difficulties in exchange for Islamic governance. Their defection signals crisis comparable to the Shah’s final years, when economic mismanagement and corruption alienated even conservative religious constituencies. When traditional supporters join opposition movements, regimes lose their social foundations.

What happens economically if Iran’s regime falls remains deeply uncertain. The optimistic scenario draws on Indonesia’s experience: a negotiated transition that preserves state continuity while opening political space for reform. Iran possesses considerable human capital—high literacy rates, substantial technical expertise, entrepreneurial traditions dating centuries. Sanctions relief following regime change could unleash pent-up economic potential, particularly if a new government credibly committed to property rights and market economics. Oil production could increase to 4 million barrels daily within two years if investment flowed freely. GDP growth might reach 8-10% annually in early recovery as capacity utilization normalized.

Yet pessimistic scenarios draw on Iraq and Libya. Iran’s ethnic diversity—Persians, Azeris, Kurds, Arabs, Baloch—creates centrifugal pressures that weakened central authority might not contain. The Revolutionary Guard commands substantial military force with interests in preserving its economic privileges regardless of civilian government preferences. Regional powers—Saudi Arabia, Israel, Turkey—have conflicting interests in Iranian stability that could manifest through proxy support for favored factions. American policymakers debate whether supporting regime change risks creating another failed state on a larger, more strategic scale than Libya.

The economic impact of regime change in Iran would likely dwarf Venezuela’s transition given Iran’s larger population (85 million versus 28 million) and more complex economy. Brain drain could accelerate dramatically—millions of educated Iranians already live abroad, and political chaos would trigger further exodus. Supply chains dependent on Revolutionary Guard networks might collapse without replacement mechanisms. Agriculture, already stressed by water scarcity, could fail without state intervention that new governments might lack capacity to provide.

International support structures for Iranian transition would differ significantly from Venezuela. The United States would likely provide assistance, but regional complications and domestic political constraints might limit scale. European nations have economic interests in Iran but limited budgets for reconstruction. China and Russia, traditional partners with the current regime, would approach any successor government cautiously. Unlike Venezuela, where regional consensus supports transition, Iranian regime change would occur amid great power competition that complicates economic recovery.

The most likely scenario involves neither smooth transition nor complete collapse but extended crisis—periodic protests met with repression, incremental reforms that prove insufficient, deepening economic dysfunction that radicalizes opposition while strengthening hardliners. This “muddling through” prevents both regime change and genuine economic reform, leaving Iranians trapped in declining living standards without clear pathways to improvement. Historical regime change economic outcomes suggest this intermediate state—stable enough to resist collapse, dysfunctional enough to prevent growth—might persist for years.

Conclusion: Necessary But Insufficient—The Political Economy of Transitions

The economics of regime change reveals a paradox that policymakers and citizens must confront honestly: political transformation is often necessary for economic revival in failing states, yet transformation alone guarantees nothing. Economic recovery requires deliberate choices that mitigate the inherent uncertainties political upheaval creates. The contrast between successful transitions—South Korea, Poland, Indonesia—and failures like Iraq and Libya illustrates that institutional quality, policy competence, external support, and inclusive political settlements determine whether regime change enables growth or prolongs suffering.

Venezuela’s transition and Iran’s potential upheaval pose distinct challenges that historical experience can inform but not determine. For Venezuela, the immediate priorities are macroeconomic stabilization, property rights clarification, oil sector reconstruction, and inclusive governance that prevents exclusionary impulses from triggering civil conflict. The resources for recovery exist—educated diaspora, oil reserves, regional support—but must be mobilized through credible institutions that inspire confidence. The first 24 months will establish trajectories that persist for decades.

For Iran, assuming regime change eventually occurs, the challenges multiply given greater complexity, regional complications, and ethnic fragmentation. International support—financial and technical—will prove crucial, yet geopolitical rivalries complicate coordination. The Indonesian model of inclusive transition preserving state continuity while opening political space offers the best template, but Iran’s Revolutionary Guard poses institutional obstacles Indonesia’s military never presented. Planning for potential transition now, rather than reacting to crisis, could mitigate worst outcomes.

Several policy prescriptions emerge from comparative analysis. First, international financial institutions should prepare contingency frameworks for transitions rather than waiting until crisis deepens. Early disbursement of reconstruction funds contingent on governance benchmarks—not delayed years while new governments prove themselves—can stabilize situations before they deteriorate irreversibly. The Marshall Plan succeeded partly through rapid deployment when credibility mattered most.

Second, technical assistance in institutional reconstruction deserves equal priority with financial support. Venezuela’s new government needs experienced bureaucrats, judges, and regulators to rebuild state capacity. International secondment programs, drawing on successful Latin American democracies like Chile and Uruguay, could transfer expertise rapidly. Similarly, Iran’s potential transition would require extensive technical assistance in areas from central banking to local governance.

Third, realistic timelines must temper public expectations. Post-regime change economic recovery unfolds over decades, not months. Public diplomacy that honestly acknowledges difficulties while maintaining commitment to long-term support can prevent premature disillusionment. Overselling transition prospects—as occurred in Iraq and Libya—creates backlash when immediate improvements fail to materialize.

Fourth, political settlements must prioritize inclusivity over efficiency. Excluding groups from political processes invites resistance that undermines economic stability regardless of policy competence. Venezuela’s treatment of residual Chavista constituencies and Iran’s hypothetical management of Revolutionary Guard elements will substantially determine whether transitions consolidate or fragment.

The economic impact of regime change ultimately depends less on the change itself than on what follows. Political upheaval and economic growth can coexist when governments establish credible institutions rapidly, implement painful reforms with social safety nets that maintain legitimacy, attract external support through demonstrated commitment to inclusion and accountability, and manage commodity revenues transparently when applicable. These conditions are demanding and rarely achieved completely, explaining why successful transitions remain exceptional rather than normal.

Yet the alternative—indefinite toleration of failed regimes—imposes its own costs that compound over time. Venezuela’s economic collapse under Maduro destroyed two decades of development and displaced millions. Iran’s dysfunction under clerical rule squanders the potential of 85 million people while fueling regional instability. Regime change, whatever its risks, creates possibilities for renewal that stagnant autocracy forecloses.

The citizens celebrating in Caracas and protesting in Tehran deserve honest assessments rather than false promises. Regime change is necessary but insufficient for prosperity. The economics adjust slowly, institutions reconstruct painfully, and recovery requires sustained effort that exhausts nations already depleted by years of misrule. Yet history demonstrates that success, while difficult, remains achievable when deliberate policy choices address the specific challenges political transition creates. The lessons from South Korea, Poland, and Indonesia offer roadmaps; whether Venezuela and potentially Iran follow them depends on choices being made now, as old orders collapse and uncertain futures unfold.