A century of interventions: the US is misreading Latin America

Gone are the days when Washington could wax lyrical about democracy while toppling governments and supporting authoritarians. With Venezuela and others, it needs a new playbook.

A t-shirt worn by a supporter of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro during a rally against US military activity in the Caribbean, in Caracas on 30 October 2025.
Federico Parra / AFP
A t-shirt worn by a supporter of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro during a rally against US military activity in the Caribbean, in Caracas on 30 October 2025.

A century of interventions: the US is misreading Latin America

For more than a century, the United States has attempted to shape political outcomes across Latin America, whether that be backing coups, toppling governments, or supporting authoritarian figures aligned with its strategic interests. Few of these efforts produced the stability sought in Washington. Instead, they have destabilised societies, strengthened autocrats, and entrenched the idea that external threats were a permanent feature of the region’s politics.

With parts of the US political right now reviving anti-regime rhetoric against Venezuelan leader Nicolás Maduro, the past has returned to relevance. The question is not whether intervention is possible, but why it has consistently failed, and why Latin America has learned to distrust it so deeply.

The story begins well before the Cold War. Between 1898 and 1934, the US occupied Cuba, Puerto Rico, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, and Nicaragua, often justifying invasions as moral necessities to restore order. What emerged instead were long periods of military rule, financial controls, and political systems designed to serve US security and economic priorities.

Instability as threat

Some think these early occupations laid the groundwork for a pattern in which Washington came to see instability in the region as a threat that demanded direct political intervention. Historian and Latin America specialist Greg Grandin argues in Empire’s Workshop (2006) that Latin America became a laboratory for interventionist policy, shaping how the US came to understand both the world and its own imperial role. By the 1950s, that logic had hardened into doctrine.

In 1954, the CIA engineered the overthrow of Jacobo Árbenz in Guatemala, a democratically elected leader whose land reforms clashed with US corporate and strategic interests. The coup toppled the government but unleashed four decades of armed conflict and authoritarian rule. A UN truth commission later concluded that the intervention “produced the conditions for genocide.” Guatemala never fully recovered.

The pattern repeated itself across the region. Historian and military regime expert Carlos Fico documents how US support helped install a military dictatorship in Brazil in 1964 that remained in power for 21 years. Using declassified archives, investigative researcher Peter Kornbluh showed the extent of covert US efforts to destabilise Salvador Allende before Chilean generals seized power there in 1973. Augusto Pinochet’s dictatorship, backed diplomatically and economically by Washington, became one of the most repressive regimes in the continent’s history.

Prensa Latina / AFP
In this file photo, Cuban leader Fidel Castro is seen shortly after toppling dictator Fulgencio Batista during the revolutionary triumph in Cienfuegos on 4 January 1959.

El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Honduras became Cold War battlegrounds, the US arming some factions while labelling others as communist threats. The result was not the triumph of democracy but prolonged civil wars, clandestine operations, and widespread human rights abuses. A clear throughline emerges, as interventions that promised stability often produced long-term disruption. Latin America’s political landscape repeatedly defied Washington’s expectations.

Oversimplifying reality

Several key dynamics help explain why intervention so often failed, and why it continues to shape regional reactions today. The US frequently framed conflicts as ideological, rather than social. Agrarian movements demanding land reform were branded ‘communist threats’ while nationalists seeking autonomy were interpreted as ‘Soviet proxies.’

By oversimplifying political realities, Washington backed leaders with little domestic legitimacy while underestimating the grievances that drove uprisings. Once installed, US-supported governments depended on repression, fuelling cycles of resistance and instability. Regime change removed governments but rarely replaced them with sustainable institutions. The fall of Árbenz generated chaos, the removal of Allende empowered a dictatorship, and military rule in Brazil ended with a fragile democratic transition still haunted by its authoritarian legacy.

By oversimplifying political realities, Washington backed leaders with little domestic legitimacy while underestimating the grievances that drove uprisings

A simple principle emerged: toppling a government was easy; building a legitimate alternative was not. Intervention strengthened the very forces it opposed. Perhaps the most enduring consequence was psychological. US pressure often reinforced nationalist narratives used by authoritarian leaders to strengthen domestic control. Leaders from Castro in Cuba to Chávez to Maduro in Venezuela portrayed themselves as defenders of sovereignty under siege. Intervention, whether real or anticipated, became a political resource. Efforts to weaken these governments often helped them survive.

The strongman paradox

While promoting democracy globally, the US consistently supported authoritarian leaders aligned with its strategic interests, backing military dictatorships in Brazil, Argentina, Chile and Paraguay during the Cold War, cultivating personal alliances with Somoza in Nicaragua, Trujillo in the Dominican Republic, and Batista in Cuba. Beyond these examples, Washington quietly supported authoritarian regimes considered reliable on security or markets.

This selective approach became known as 'the strongman paradox,' whereby Washington condemns authoritarianism in adversaries while relying on similar regimes in allied states. This contradiction has long shaped Latin America's distrust of US intentions. Many regional scholars argue that US foreign policy favours stability over democracy, unless democracy aligns with US preferences.

Brendan Smialowski / AFP
US President Donald Trump shakes hands with El Salvador's President Nayib Bukele during a meeting in the Oval Office on 14 April 2025.

This paradox helps explain why leaders like Maduro can still rally domestic support by invoking the spectre of US interference. The narrative resonates because it reflects lived history rather than abstract ideology. Today, with US aircraft carriers off the coast, Venezuela faces a new crisis with familiar patterns. Washington has not executed a regime change operation in Venezuela, but the rhetoric surrounding Maduro echoes earlier interventionism.

White House officials says "all options" are on the table, including military force. Sanctions designed to increase internal pressure have only strengthened Maduro's narrative of siege and victimhood. He uses US hostility as proof of imperial aggression, portraying his government as the last line of defence for national sovereignty, a strategy seen in Cuba, Nicaragua, and elsewhere. External pressure helps to consolidate authoritarian power, rather than dissolve it, even though Maduro's government is deeply unpopular and presiding over economic collapse.

Venezuelan opposition groups could not agree over whether external pressure would aid or harm their cause, so they fractured, while international actors disagreed on whether sanctions should be tightened or lifted. The logic of regime change continued to sound persuasive but failed to present a viable path ahead.

Misunderstanding Venezuela

Venezuela today reflects many of the same structural problems that historically weakened US interventions in Latin America. The roots of the crisis are political, social, and security-related, rather than purely ideological. Venezuela's collapse stems from corruption, mismanagement, and institutional erosion. Reducing this trajectory to a clash of doctrines overlooks the broader social dynamics that help sustain Maduro's rule and the networks that enable the state to function.

Cristian Hernandez / AP
Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro takes part in a government-organised civic-military rally in Caracas, Venezuela, on 25 November 2025.

Removing Maduro would not automatically restore democracy. As past interventions have shown, ousting a leader without rebuilding institutions risks intensifying instability. The Venezuelan state is fragmented, heavily militarised, and entangled in illicit economies. US President Donald Trump has been at pains to emphasise the regime's involvement in drug trafficking, something Maduro denies.

Any credible transition would require long-term internal consensus, a reconstructed institutional framework, and coordinated regional diplomacy, yet threats of intervention strengthen the government's narrative that Venezuela is under attack, a story Maduro has repeated for years. This message continues to resonate among those who distrust the United States, or recall earlier interventions across the region, reinforcing the very dynamics external actors hope to change.

Lessons from history

After more than 100 years of trying to remake political outcomes in Latin America, US interventions have produced lessons that continue to inform how the region interprets Washington's actions today. First, regime change rarely produces the democracy it promises. Military pressure or covert action may remove a leader, but they almost never build legitimate or durable political institutions, and the result is often prolonged instability, weakened governance and cycles of conflict that outlast the original intervention.

Second, the strongman paradox undermines the credibility of democracy promotion. The US condemns authoritarianism in adversaries but supports it in allies. This contradiction erodes trust, complicates diplomacy, and reinforces the belief that Washington's priorities are geopolitical, rather than democratic. Third, authoritarian leaders exploit external pressure to consolidate control. Threats of intervention, sanctions, or isolation feed the narrative of siege, strengthening the very actors that such pressure seeks to weaken.

Martin Bernetti / AFP
People watch and take pictures of the USS Gravely, a US Navy warship, departing the Port of Port of Spain on 30 October 2025.

Together, these lessons reveal why the current crisis in Venezuela cannot be understood in isolation. It fits into a much longer regional pattern in which external pressure frequently generates unintended consequences. Moving into 2026, Latin America is no longer the geopolitical battlefield it was during the Cold War, yet the US still confronts the legacy of its past interventions, especially with Venezuela.

The region remains highly sensitive to any language resembling regime change, not because Maduro enjoys regional sympathy, but because memories of past failures remain vivid. For Washington, the challenge is to recognise that the old playbook does not work.

Military threats, covert pressure, and sanctions designed to collapse regimes have historically backfired. Stability in the region depends on legitimacy, rather than force. The US can support democratic actors, strengthen regional institutions, and help address humanitarian needs, but history shows that the decision to change governments must belong to Venezuelans themselves.

After a century of interventions, the US faces a reckoning with its own history in Latin America. As calls for anti-regime strategies resurface, the region remembers what such strategies produced before. The real question is no longer whether Washington can topple a government, but whether doing so has ever delivered the democracy it claimed to defend.

font change