Today, we are once again in what I like to call the “bad leadership trap.” This is a recurring pattern in international politics, where the downfall, or sometimes illegal removal, of a demonized ruler is treated as a victory for freedom, while the deeper political realities that produced that ruler remain largely untouched.
The trap is deceptively simple. Leaders anywhere in the world develop reputations for being authoritarian, corrupt, or oppressive. Their record has become widely known, democratic institutions have been hollowed out, critics have been silenced, protests have been suppressed, and independent media outlets have been condemned. When such leaders are challenged, removed, arrested, or killed, the moment is framed as a victory for freedom.
The story’s moral clarity is captivating. A bad leader has fallen. It appears that justice has been served.
However, this clarity often blinds us to far more complex questions about international law, geopolitical implications, and the long-term future of the societies involved.
Consider the recent killing of Iran’s second supreme leader, Ayatollah Khamenei, during a series of attacks on Iran by the United States and Israel. Few would dispute the repressive nature of his 36 years of leadership.
The brutality of the Iranian state has been evident for decades. Since late December, authorities have violently suppressed nationwide protests calling for “fundamental and structural change, including a full transition to a democratic system that respects rights and human dignity.”
Human Rights Watch reported that Iranian security forces used tear gas, batons, and metal bullets fired from shotguns against unarmed protesters, as well as lethal force, including military-style weapons. Security forces raided hospitals to arrest injured protesters and seize the bodies of the deceased.
The world saw this repression firsthand in 2022, when 22-year-old Martha Amini was detained by Iran’s morality police on suspicion of violating the compulsory veiling law. She was detained, beaten, and later died. Her death sparked the “Women, Life, Freedom” protests in Jin, Ziyan, and Azadi, which once again faced deadly violence and the use of the death penalty as a tool of political repression.
There is no objection to this. Khamenei’s record fits the familiar profile of a “bad leader.”
But the question is what happens next.
In Western political discourse, bad leaders, especially those from the Global South, serve a very specific purpose. If politically expedient, they can be used as symbols of any problem in the world beyond the West. Their oppression provides a convenient counterpoint to the narrative of who “we” are: defenders of democracy, freedom, and human rights.
Even when bad leaders emerge from the West itself, they are often treated as outliers.
Take Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, for example. His steady erosion of democratic institutions and press freedom is often described as inconsistent with “European values,” as if Europe’s own political history had not repeated similar illiberal shifts. Or consider Donald Trump, whose xenophobic rhetoric and attacks on democratic norms are consistently framed as an anomaly in American politics rather than as part of a long tradition of xenophobic politics in the United States.
In other words, stories of bad leaders aren’t just about condemning authoritarianism elsewhere. It’s also about maintaining a pleasing image of ourselves.
When it comes to political opportunity, this same narrative makes bad leaders easy and legitimate targets.
In March 2003, U.S. President George W. Bush launched the invasion of Iraq with the stated goal of removing Saddam Hussein from power. The Bush administration spent months rallying public support by claiming that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction and had ties to terrorist groups involved in the September 11 attacks.
Neither claim is substantiated.
But when those arguments collapsed, another justification remained readily available: Saddam Hussein was undeniably brutal. Footage of his toppled statue in Baghdad’s Firdos Square and President Bush’s carefully staged “Mission Accomplished” speech aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln reinforced the idea that a great moral victory had been achieved.
However, victory was not what it seemed. What followed was not the democracy that had been promised, but years of instability, conflict, and violence. This invasion created conditions conducive to the birth of ISIS (ISIL) and contributed to the deaths of over 200,000 civilians.
A bad leader has fallen. The geopolitical impact is just beginning.
A similar logic has recently surfaced.
After the Trump administration launched a military offensive in Venezuela earlier this year, abducting President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, from Caracas and transporting them to New York to face narcoterrorism charges in federal court in Manhattan, many officials questioned the legality of the move and the precedent it might set.
But many were quick to point back at Mr. Maduro’s record as a bad leader.
One critic described him as “a combination of arrogant incompetence and ruthless oppression.” British politician Priti Patel declared: “We haven’t shed any tears.”
Probably not. However, a lack of sympathy does not solve the legal or geopolitical problems raised by such actions.
A similar reaction emerged after the strike that killed Khamenei and several members of his family. Once again the focus quickly returned to the catalog of abuses committed under his rule.
My point is not to question that record.
Rather, the problem lies in the euphoria that often surrounds the “overthrow” of bad leaders, and how that euphoria blinds us to the broader context of norms, ethics, law, and geopolitical implications.
It’s easy to assert that bad leaders are really bad. It’s much harder to ask what happens next.
What does it mean for Venezuela’s democratic transition if the regime’s bureaucracy and security structures remain intact while external powers appear primarily interested in securing oil interests and economic influence?
If military operations begin with airstrikes and reportedly attacks on civilian infrastructure, what does that mean for the future of Iranian democracy? Can a transition to democracy really be achieved from campaigns planned and carried out primarily by foreign military powers? To what extent can we truly believe that such campaigns are about freedom and democracy?
And when Western leaders suddenly discover human rights concerns abroad, how seriously should we take those claims?
Donald Trump is portraying himself as a champion of the opposition as he encourages Australia to grant asylum to members of Iran’s national women’s soccer team who were labeled “traitors” by Iranian state television for refusing to sing the national anthem.
However, the same administration has overseen immigration raids, visa bans, and harsh asylum policies within the country.
These contradictions are no coincidence. These play a central role in how the bad leader trap works.
Focusing attention on the misdeeds of individual rulers often obscures the broader regimes that surround them and the interests that shape international responses.
Removing a leader does not automatically dismantle the security apparatus, rebuild institutions, or create a democratic culture overnight. In many cases, it simply creates a power vacuum, new instability, and a new cycle of geopolitical competition.
This pattern is repeated in the Middle East and beyond.
Recognizing the trap does not mean defending authoritarian rulers or ignoring the suffering they cause. It means rejecting the comforting simplicity of the story.
If the international order truly claims to be governed by values, democracy, human rights, and the rule of law, it cannot selectively invoke these principles only when confronting geopolitical rivals.
Otherwise, the traps of bad leadership will continue to repeat themselves. The familiar cycle of anger, intervention, and celebration is followed sooner or later by instability and geopolitical fallout.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.
