Regime Change from the Sky: Strategy, Air Power and the Illusion of Control

The government ‘does not believe in regime change from the skies’, declared Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer, offering a justification for Britain’s decision to stay out of the United States and Israel’s strikes against Iran.[1]

Starmer cited the case of the Iraq war, a campaign that opened with ‘shock and awe’[2] from the air, followed by a rapid ground advance that swept Saddam Hussein from power, only to give way to years of insurgency and attrition.[3] That experience, coupled with the long, wearying effort in Afghanistan,[4] has left a lingering suspicion of promises that war can be conducted cleanly at distance, that precision can substitute for presence, and that a regime can be destroyed from above without the burdens of occupation.[5]

Recent events appear to reinforce the point, at least in the short term. After more than a month of sustained strikes against Iran, the core of the regime, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), has not folded. It has absorbed losses, including the targeted assassination of senior figures and leadership cadres, yet continues to function, retaliate and adapt. The system has proved neither brittle nor easily dislodged.[6]

From this, the claim that one ‘cannot have regime change from the air’ presents itself as hard-earned common sense. But it has also hardened into a cliché. The question is whether it is strictly true.

The difficulty lies in what, exactly, is being asserted. The proposition rests on two terms that are rarely examined with care, what does one mean by air power, and what does one mean by regime change. Once those questions are unpacked, the certainty begins to soften.

What counts as air power? A stand-alone bombing campaign, or a broader system of surveillance, targeting, and strikes? And what, precisely, constitutes regime change? The wholesale destruction of a ruling order, the removal of a leadership, or simply the installation of a more compliant arrangement?

Separate these questions and the clarity recedes. In its place comes something more contingent, more conditional, and far less tidy than the slogan suggests.

The following analysis examines the problem from three angles: what air power can achieve, what constitutes a regime, and the conditions under which coercion from the air might plausibly produce political change.

What Counts as Success?

In any serious examination of strategy, one begins with a simple question: what outcome is being sought?

If the aim is constrained, air power can be highly effective. This is neither novel nor controversial. During the 1972 Easter Offensive, North Vietnamese forces advanced in strength across the Demilitarised Zone and into the Central Highlands. The United States responded with a concentrated air campaign, which disrupted logistics, blunted armoured thrusts, and bought time for South Vietnamese forces to stabilise the front.[7] The operation did not end the war, nor did it alter the political trajectory of South Vietnam.[8] It did, however, achieve the immediate aim.

The same logic applies to the current campaign against Iran. If the purpose is to devastate nuclear infrastructure, missile forces, and impose a temporary operational setback, air power may well suffice.[9] If the horizon is measured in years rather than decades, and if recurrence is accepted as part of the cycle, then the method aligns with the aim.

Strategic confusion begins when limited military success is mistaken for political transformation. Degrading a regime’s capabilities is not the same as displacing it. Destroying facilities, killing commanders and disrupting networks may weaken a state’s ability to act. They do not necessarily alter its will, nor do they remove the structures through which that will is expressed.

The Iranian case illustrates this clearly. The IRGC is not a detachable appendage. It is woven into the political, economic and security fabric of the state.[10] Targeting its leadership may produce disruption. It does not dissolve the system that produced those leaders, nor the networks that sustain it.[11]

Air power can therefore achieve success, but it depends on how modest one is prepared to be.

What Is a Regime?

The phrase ‘regime change’ carries a deceptive simplicity. It suggests a discrete entity, a set of individuals at the apex of power who may be removed, leaving the rest to fall into place. In practice, regimes are not so obliging.

A ruling order is an arrangement of institutions, interests and narratives. It is embedded in society, drawing strength from constituencies, patronage networks and structures of control.[12] Removing a leader is not the same as removing a regime, and removing a regime is not the same as remaking a political order.

The historical record offers three cases that might be cited in support of the idea that air campaigns can produce regime change: Japan in 1945, Serbia in 1999 and Libya in 2011. Each is more complex and ambiguous than it first appears.

Japan, 1945

The strategic bombing campaign against Japan, culminating in the dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, produced surrender.[13] That outcome, however, did not produce an entirely clean break with the existing order. The emperor remained on the throne, a condition that was pivotal in Japan’s decision to capitulate.[14] Much of the bureaucratic apparatus remained. What changed was the direction of policy, enforced under occupation. The decisive factor was not air power alone, but the convergence of several pressures: the cumulative destruction of Japanese cities, the strangulation of maritime supply lines, the advance of Allied forces across the Pacific, and the Soviet Union’s entry into the war in August 1945.[15] Air power contributed significantly to the decision to capitulate. But it was not the decisive factor, nor sufficient in itself to reconstruct the Japanese state.

Serbia, 1999

NATO’s 78-day air campaign against the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia – by that stage, in practice, a state overwhelmingly dominated by Serbia – is often presented as a case of coercion from the air. The president of Serbia, Slobodan Milošević accepted terms, withdrew forces from Kosovo, and was later removed from power.[16] Yet the causal chain is less linear than it might appear. The bombing campaign targeted military assets, infrastructure and elements of the regime’s communication apparatus. It imposed costs and signalled resolve.[17] But the precise mechanism by which it produced compliance remains contested. Internal political pressures in Serbia, economic strain, and the prospect of a ground invasion all seemingly played a role.[18] The regime did not collapse during the bombing. It adjusted, endured and then conceded. Milošević’s eventual downfall in October 2000 came through domestic political processes, catalysed but not dictated by the air war.[19]

Libya, 2011

The NATO intervention in Libya presents the clearest case of a regime falling under the weight of air operations. Muammar Gaddafi’s forces were struck from the air, his ability to manoeuvre was constrained, allowing opposition forces to advance.[20] The regime collapsed, and Gaddafi was killed. Yet this was not a war fought in the vacuum of altitude. It was an intervention into an ongoing civil conflict. Air power acted as an accelerant. The campaign tipped the balance in favour of insurgent forces. The result was regime change of a sort.[21] However, it did not yield the installation of a stable successor order. Libya fractured into competing authorities, militias and external patrons. The regime was removed but the state was not reconstituted in any coherent form.[22]

These cases point to a narrower understanding of what air power can reasonably achieve. Air power can contribute to the removal of a regime, particularly when the leadership is already under pressure. On its own, though, it does not, and in practical senses, cannot construct a new political order. Nor does it reliably produce outcomes that align with the intervening power’s preferences.

Air Power and Its Companions

Air campaigns rarely operate in isolation. They are part of a broader strategic environment, one that may include land forces, internal opposition, geography, economic measures and political dynamics within the target state.[23]

In the Pacific War, the bombing of Japanese cities was inseparable from the broader campaign. The capture of islands such as Saipan and Tinian brought the Japanese mainland within range of B-29 bombers. The submarine campaign severed supply lines. Ground operations in Burma, New Guinea, the Philippines, and the island-hopping campaign eroded Japan’s strategic position.[24] Air power was the visible edge of a larger blade.

In Afghanistan in 2001, US air power worked in concert with the Northern Alliance. Precision strikes disrupted Taliban positions, while local forces advanced on the ground.[25] The regime collapsed rapidly. It did not do so because of air power alone, but because air power was paired with a viable internal opponent capable of exploiting its effects.

Libya followed a similar pattern. NATO aircraft degraded Gaddafi’s forces. Rebel groups, uneven and fractious, moved into the space created by that degradation.[26] The regime fell when these two pressures converged.

The implication is that Air power is most effective when it has something to work with. It requires either a ground component, internal or external, or a political dynamic within the target state that can be pushed towards a tipping point. Without such elements, it tends to produce damage without transformation.

This point bears directly on the Iranian case. There is no organised internal force poised to replace the current regime. There is dissent, to be sure, and periodic unrest. There is not, as yet, a coherent opposition capable of seizing and holding power.[27] Although the U.S administration suggests it is keeping its options open, the prospect for external ground intervention is not, so far, on the table.[28] Air power, in this context, acts against a system that has no immediate successor waiting in the wings.

The Problem of the Tipping Point

The most elusive aspect of coercion from the air is the moment at which pressure produces compliance.[29] Strategists have long sought to identify the ‘centre of gravity’ of an adversary, the point at which applied force will yield decisive effect.[30] In practice, this is often identified only in retrospect.

The Kosovo campaign is instructive in this regard. NATO expanded its target set over time, striking military assets, infrastructure and elements of the regime’s media apparatus.[31] At some point, the accumulation of pressure produced a decision in Belgrade to accept terms.[32] Whether this was driven by damage to military capabilities, concern over economic collapse, fear of escalation, or internal political calculations remains a matter of speculation.[33] There was no single target whose destruction produced immediate capitulation.

This uncertainty has practical consequences. If one does not know in advance what will produce compliance, one must either accept a prolonged campaign or escalate in ways that may carry broader risks. The search for the decisive blow becomes a process of iteration, rather than a matter of design.

In the Second World War, the belief that bombing could break civilian morale proved misplaced.[34] British cities endured the Blitz without collapsing. German cities absorbed extensive damage without producing political upheaval.[35] In both cases, populations adapted, and in some instances rallied around existing authorities.[36] The expectation that suffering would translate into rebellion was not fulfilled.

Modern regimes are often more adept at managing such pressures. They control information, distribute resources selectively, and use coercion to suppress dissent.[37] The Iranian regime has demonstrated resilience under sanctions, internal unrest, and external pressure.[38] It has adapted its methods of control, decentralised certain functions, and embedded itself in economic and social structures.

The idea that a series of air strikes, however precise, will produce a sudden political rupture rests on uncertain ground. Such thinking assumes a vulnerability that may not exist, and a predictability that the historical record does not bear out.

Time, Cost and Consequence

Air campaigns have a tendency to stretch longer than anticipated. Expectations of rapid effect give way to incremental pressure. In Kosovo, the campaign lasted 78 days. In Libya, operations continued for seven months. In the Pacific, strategic bombing intensified over years.

Prolonged campaigns carry accumulating costs and wider consequences. Damage to infrastructure affects civilian populations, while economic disruption can generate instability beyond the immediate theatre. In the case of Iran, strikes on energy infrastructure or any disruption to the Strait of Hormuz clearly have effects far beyond the battlefield with oil prices, shipping routes and global markets becoming part of the strategic equation.[39]

There is also the question of what follows success. Libya offers a cautionary example. The removal of Gaddafi did not produce a stable, cooperative state. It produced fragmentation, conflict, and a space in which armed groups and external actors could operate with relative freedom. The intervention achieved its immediate aim. It did not secure a favourable long-term outcome.

Strategic judgement requires a willingness to weigh these factors. It is not enough to ask whether a regime can be removed. One must ask what replaces it, how that replacement will be secured, and at what cost.

Technology and the Return of Old Questions

Advances in technology have altered the conduct of air operations. Precision-guided munitions, unmanned systems, real-time surveillance, and the integration of data from multiple sources, have increased the reach and responsiveness of air power.[40] Targets can be identified and struck with greater accuracy. Command structures can be disrupted more effectively and individuals located and killed with a level of precision that would have been unimaginable in earlier conflicts.[41]

These developments have revived the belief that air power may achieve what it could not in the past. If one can remove key figures, disrupt communication and degrade capabilities with minimal collateral damage, perhaps the need for ground operations diminishes.[42]

The evidence does not support such optimism. Precision improves efficiency, but it does not alter underlying political dynamics. Removing leaders can create disruption.[43] Such actions induce succession, but often in ways that reinforce a regime’s internal cohesion.[44] Decapitation strategies have a mixed record. In some cases, they have weakened organisations. In others, they have hardened them.[45]

The integration of unmanned systems and artificial intelligence adds a further layer. These capabilities allow for sustained pressure at lower risk to the attacker.[46] They do not, though, resolve the problem of what constitutes success, nor does it guarantee that pressure will translate into political change.

The persistent questions remain: what is the objective, what are the means, and how do the two align?

Air Power Meets Reality: The Iranian Case

The current conflict involving the United States, Israel and Iran brings these issues into sharp focus. The targeting of nuclear facilities, missile infrastructure and elements of the Revolutionary Guard reflects a clear military logic, seeking to degrade capabilities and to signal determination.[47]

Whether the U.S. and Israeli air campaign will ultimately bring about regime change is less clear. The initial rhetoric of the Trump administration gestured in that direction, suggesting that damage inflicted on the Iranian state might stimulate a popular uprising.[48] In practice, as has been noted already, the removal of senior figures, including long-standing leaders, demonstrates reach, but does not, in itself, dismantle the system.[49] The operational design and subsequent course of hostilities now point to a more limited aim: to secure a favourable negotiating position.[50]

Within that logic, Iran has responded with a combination of resilience and escalation. The potential closure of the Strait of Hormuz is not merely a tactical move. Rather, it serves as a strategic signal,[51] one that seeks to impose economic costs on the broader international system.[52] The use of the Strait as leverage reflects an understanding that the conflict extends beyond the immediate effects of the exchange of air strikes.

The resort to economic and strategic pressure beyond the battlefield does not inherently resolve the question of regime durability. That question turns on the regime’s capacity to absorb losses, replace leadership and maintain control over key institutions. Additional military pressure, in the form of renewed aerial assaults, may shape behaviour, but is unlikely, on its own, to induce internal collapse.

That judgement, however, should not be mistaken for a prediction delivered in advance of events. Regimes have, at times, appeared stable until they were not, and the cumulative effects of sustained pressure are often visible only in hindsight. The point is not that regime change from the air is impossible, but that it is contingent on factors that air power alone does not control. Where such factors are absent, the more plausible outcome is not sudden collapse but continued adaptation.

In the Iranian case, those enabling conditions remain limited. There is dissent, and periodic unrest within the country, but no coherent opposition capable of seizing and holding power. Nor, thus far, is there any indication of an external ground component designed to exploit the effects of aerial attack. Air power, in this context, acts against a system that has no immediate successor waiting in the wings.

Under such conditions, air campaigns can degrade, disrupt and coerce. Whether they can translate those pressures into regime change remains an open question, one that will be answered over time rather than settled in the opening phases of the campaign.

Conclusion

The notion of regime change from the air persists because it promises a form of control that war rarely grants. Such a vision holds out the prospect of decisive effect without the burdens of occupation, of transformation without entanglement. The appeal is obvious. The reality is less accommodating.

Air power can coerce and degrade; under certain conditions, it may contribute to the removal of a regime. By itself, however, it does not construct a new order, nor does it reliably produce outcomes aligned with the attacker’s preferences. Instead, it operates within a field of uncertainty in which the point of decision often becomes visible only in retrospect.

The lesson is not that air power is impotent, but that its utility remains subject to the enduring questions of strategy: the clarity of the objective, the presence of complementary forces, and the structure of the target state.[53] In this sense, air power remains a tool rather than a solution.

In the end, force applied from the air can impose pressure but cannot determine what grows in the ground beneath it.