Ashok Ogra
ashokogra@gmail.com
Some images travel fast. The reported capture of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores from inside their palace in the capital city Caracas was no exception. Images like these quickly create the feeling that a long and painful conflict has finally come to an end, signalling success. For those who have lived with fear and uncertainty, they offer hope. For others, they raise a different concern-the fear that instability may follow.
History offers a less comforting reminder.
Removing a leader may end one chapter, but it rarely ends the conflict itself. More often, the conflict changes its shape, takes a new direction, or returns later in a different form. The sense of closure is real, but it is often misleading. This is true of most such bloody interventions, stretching across centuries-from imperial conquests to modern drone strikes.
One early example comes from Africa in 1897. British forces stormed Benin City in present-day Nigeria, removed King Oba Ovonramwen, exiled him, and carried away thousands of royal and ritual artworks, later known as the Benin Bronzes. The message was blunt: local power could be destroyed overnight by superior force.
Control was established, but it rested on fear, not acceptance. Removing the ruler did not settle deeper tensions. It simply replaced one order with another imposed from outside.
More than a century earlier in Europe, a similar belief played out in a different setting. In 1809, French troops arrested Pope Pius VII and took him to France. Military power openly overrode centuries-old religious authority. The Catholic Church did not collapse, and the political gains were short-lived. Force humiliated authority, but it did not resolve the deeper struggle.
The Second World War offers a different lesson. In 1943, Italy’s own authorities arrested Benito Mussolini under pressure from the Allies. For many, this appeared to mark the end of Fascist rule. Yet the sense of finality did not last. German commandos freed Mussolini, briefly reviving him as a symbol before his final defeat.
His arrest changed the course of the war, but it did not instantly heal Italy or undo years of damage caused by the dictatorship.
By the late 20th century, capturing leaders became closely tied to regime change. In 1989, US forces invaded Panama and arrested Manuel Noriega, once a close US ally. Officially, the action was presented as law enforcement linked to drug trafficking. Many others saw it as regime change by force.
Noriega’s rule ended, but questions about sovereignty and precedent remained.
Those questions became sharper after the 2003 invasion of Iraq. The capture of Saddam Hussein was shown worldwide as proof that the war had been won. The dictator was gone, his regime dismantled. Expectations of peace were high.
What followed was very different. Iraq slid into prolonged instability. Sectarian divisions resurfaced. Institutions collapsed. Armed groups filled the vacuum. Removing Saddam ended a regime, but it also removed the rigid-if brutal-structure that had held the country together.
Libya followed a similar path in 2011. Col. Muammar Gaddafi was captured and killed after NATO-backed intervention. His fall was welcomed as the end of decades of authoritarian rule. Instead, Libya fractured along tribal and regional lines. Militias replaced institutions. Rival governments emerged. External powers stepped in through proxies.
Again, removing the leader exposed unresolved tensions rather than solving them.
Some leader removals happen long after the wars end. The arrest of Radovan Karadži? years after the Bosnian conflict showed how accountability can be slow but persistent. Serbian authorities captured him after sustained international pressure.
Justice was served, but society did not automatically heal. Legal closure did not mean emotional or political reconciliation.
In the 21st century, technology changed how leaders are removed. Precision raids and drone strikes replaced large invasions.
The killing of Osama bin Laden in 2011 was widely seen as a decisive moment. It removed a powerful symbol of global terrorism. Yet militant violence did not disappear. It became more scattered and harder to track. Remember, Taliban is back in power in Afghanistan
This pattern continued with the killing of ISIS leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi in 2019 and the drone strike that killed Iranian General Qasem Soleimani in 2020. Instead of weakening Iran’s influence, it strengthened nationalist sentiment among his supporters. In death, Qasem Soleimani arguably became an even stronger symbol.
It is important to mention that even the most carefully planned military operations can face unexpected challenges.
One such case was Operation Eagle Claw (Iran, 1980). It was a covert attempt to rescue American hostages held inside the US Embassy in Tehran after the 1979 Iranian Revolution.
The plan involved secret desert landings and helicopters operating deep inside hostile territory. Mechanical failures, poor weather, and coordination problems disrupted the mission early on. It was eventually aborted. During the withdrawal, a helicopter collided with a transport aircraft. Eight US servicemen lost their lives, and the hostages remained captive.
The episode is often recalled as a reminder that high-risk missions, even when driven by urgency, carry inherent uncertainties.
Venezuela offers a revealing contrast between reality and perception. Despite years of sanctions, indictments, covert pressure, and failed mercenary attempts, there has been no officially confirmed foreign military capture of a sitting Venezuelan president. , not even Hugo Chávez who as president of Venezuela from 1999 until his death in 2013 launched the “Bolivarian Revolution,” a socialist movement that reshaped Venezuelan politics and influenced regional leftist governments
Images showing President Nicolás Maduro being kidnapped supposedly from his palace and flown abroad has generated intense debate across the world. Many foreign countries and commentators have observed that the US intervention is a flagrant violation of International Law that prohibits sending troops into another country without consent. Only narrow exceptions apply: self-defence against an armed attack, UN Security Council authorisation, or explicit invitation by the host state. In practice, powerful states often stretch these rules, with limited enforcement.
The major Western newspapers- available online- have stressed that long political crises rarely collapse because of a single dramatic moment. Some commentators have pointed to business and strategic interests behind US actions rather than purely democratic motives.
Writing in the reputed New Yorker, Jon Lee Anderson, who has written extensively about Venezuela and Maduro, sees a business motive in what Donald Trump did in Venezuela. ‘It’s too early to truly say. But as ever with Trump, the possibility of lucrative fringe benefits for his family’s empire, or those of close allies, seems to follow any major foreign-policy initiatives; his vaunted “Gaza Riviera” plan comes to mind. In Venezuela, I suspect-in tandem with whatever notionally sovereign regime is kept in place to keep things stable and get the oil pumping again-it is likely to involve some U.S. oil and mining majors.’
On the other hand, Caracas-based English reporting reflects ‘lived exhaustion.’ Caracas based newspaper El Nacional (English edition available online) has this to say: “The episode is not seen as a turning point, but as another reminder that Venezuela’s crisis cannot be solved by symbolic pressure or headline-grabbing actions alone.”
What has made the images of the capture especially striking is the widespread belief that the president’s inner security ring was extremely tight, with Cuban intelligence advisers said to be playing a significant role.
It is also known that Venezuela has, over the years, purchased military equipment from China, including radar systems and other defence hardware. What remains unclear, however, is whether any Chinese radars were specifically deployed to protect the Presidential Palace.
At the same time, other governments in the region that have had strained relations with Washington-Colombia, Cuba, and Mexico-are watching developments closely. All eyes are now on what Donald Trump chooses to do next.
In all of this what is being overlooked is that conflicts are rarely caused by one person alone. They grow out of history, inequality, exclusion, fear, and unresolved struggles over power and identity.
When leaders are removed without rebuilding institutions, power vacuums appear. Armed groups compete. Loyalties fragment. Violence reorganises itself. In some cases, fallen leaders become martyrs, strengthening the very movements they once led.
In the end, the belief that peace can be achieved by eliminating one individual reflects our desire for simple answers to complex problems. Leaders matter, but societies matter more.
Remove a leader, and you may close a chapter.
Ignore the deeper story, and the conflict continues-under new names, in new forms, driven by the same unresolved forces.
(The author works for reputed Apeejay Education, New Delhi)
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