In the autumn of 2013, three US diplomats were expelled from Venezuela following baseless accusations of allegedly meeting ‘far-right’ individuals involved in anti-government activity. Unusually, the manoeuvre elicited a response from Pyongyang. The then North Korean ambassador to Venezuela, Jon Yong Jin, complimented Maduro’s rejection of the ‘interventionist policy directed by the United States through their embassies’ and assured him of North Korean support should the US attack Venezuela.

Pyongyang issued a brief response to last weekend’s events in Venezuela: the US is a ‘rogue and brutal’ state; the capture of Nicolas Maduro was a ‘hegemony-seeking act’. While details of events remain scant, what can be said with greater clarity is that Washington has sent a clear message to other authoritarian regimes. As was the case with respect to the US’ strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities in June last year, it is important to take Washington at its word: when the US, particularly the second Trump administration, threatens intervention, it is not mere rhetorical braggadocio.

The Venezuelan case is a complex mélange of Washington’s justified fears of adversaries on its doorstep, not least one with a more-than-abundant supply of oil, coupled with the rogue state’s longstanding engagement in facilitating transnational flows of narcotics and criminal gangs. Florida is only 1,000 miles away from Caracas. US intervention in instigating regime change in Latin America is hardly new. The collapse of General Manuel Noriega’s military rule in Panama in 1989 following Operation Just Cause – the last time the US intervened in Latin America – is a rare example of regime change catalysing longer-term democratic consolidation.

At the same time, authoritarian regimes around the world have demonstrated remarkable resilience over time, adopting individual survival strategies to prevent a Venezuela-style situation on their own shores. Some, such as North Korea, have rejected significant economic reform and managed to muddle through leadership transition, famine, and economic downfall, refuting expectations that the end was nigh. Others, such as China, Vietnam, and, to a limited degree, Venezuela, sought to have their cake and eat it, to various degrees of success, by attracting private and foreign direct investment while maintaining strong state control by a ruling socialist party. The banners of ‘socialism with Chinese characteristics’ and its Vietnamese equivalent of ‘socialism with Vietnamese characteristics’ only underscore how true political reform is anything but on these states’ agendas.

Whether in Pyongyang, Beijing, or Tehran – although the latter regime is currently fighting for its own survival – the collapse of authoritarian rule following the end of the Cold War, whether self-imposed or imposed by others, did not go unnoticed. To avoid any Panamanian-style regime change or Soviet-style collapse, despotic leaders clung on harder than ever to the dictator’s handbook: maximising their consolidation of power; silencing critics; weaponising citizens; tightening control over political narratives; and doing all within their power to delay their downfall. In so doing, some have also engaged in cosmetic adaptations.

At the turn of the century, Beijing sought to institutionalise the rule of the Chinese Communist Party through establishing performative political participation while creating stronger, complex state institutions. Two decades later, neither economic downturn nor pockets of post-coronavirus popular dissatisfaction have penetrated Xi Jinping’s tightening grip on power and his determination to ‘reunify’ with Taiwan. While Caracas opted for narcotics as its principal poison of choice, Pyongyang and Tehran, both of which also engage in drug production and trafficking, turned their attention to developing nuclear weapons illegally, a decision which has been far more successful for the former than the latter. Nuclear weapons have granted the Kim regime immunity against external intervention for fear of the catastrophic consequences. Domestic dissent, too, has been kept at bay. Although high-level defectors have recounted to me how, while in North Korea, their support for nuclear weapons plummeted when they realised the immense cost involved, popular revolt against the Kim regime has not materialised.

Time will tell as to the fates of Maduro, his wife, and, more importantly, Venezuela. Whether support from Pyongyang or Beijing will extend beyond comforting platitudes remains to be seen. When, on 8 January, Kim Jong Un celebrates his 43rd birthday, regime collapse will be far from the North Korean leader’s mind. The same cannot be said of his Iranian counterpart, Ali Khamenei, who is twice Kim’s age. Without a doubt, Kim Jong Un has become the most successful leader in the country’s seven decades of history. Through rule by fear, he has dampened elite opposition, reduced defections, and clamped down on ideological noncompliance among the populace. For all the speculation that his daughter will succeed him, the North Korean leader wants to stress that, by hook or by crook, he is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Back in 2013, only two months after articulating his support for Maduro, North Korea’s ambassador Jon would ultimately suffer at the hands of his own regime. Following the killing of his brother-in-law, Jang Song-thaek, the uncle of Kim Jong Un, by his nephew in December 2013, the then new Supreme Leader sought to eliminate any trace of his uncle by killing all of Jang’s family. Inspiring fear and loyalty among ruling elites through such methods remains paramount for the survival of authoritarian regimes; such survival can be prolonged further by an ever-expanding nuclear arsenal. The authoritarian’s handbook evinces how, in a world of great-power politics, a Maduro moment may not be the fate of all despotic regimes – at least for now.