Nicaragua is today the most authoritarian regime in the Western Hemisphere and a family dynasty. For nearly twenty years in power, President Daniel Ortega and his wife, Rosario Murillo, have transformed the state into a tightly controlled apparatus, consolidating authority over all branches of government and the security forces. The result is a highly personalized regime structured around Mr. Ortega’s identity. He has been the system’s central arbiter, balancing competing interests within the regime and maintaining cohesion among the de facto powers.
However, his increasing absences and the persistent questions surrounding his health have fueled speculation about the course Nicaragua might take in the event of his sudden death.
Along with these developments, Mrs. Murillo hopes that her succession to power is both automatic and legal and has relied on a series of constitutional reforms to ensure her success. Yet, in highly personalized systems such as Mr. Ortega’s, succession is not necessarily determined by constitutional design.
It is plausible that, once Mr. Ortega is gone, regime actors—wary of Mrs. Murillo’s ruthlessness—may reassess her ability to preserve the system’s cohesion and stability. History shows important lessons.
A revealing, though imperfect, parallel is China in 1976. When Mao Zedong died, his widow, Jiang Qing, had risen from a career in the arts to become one of the most powerful figures in the country. She exercised significant influence, positioning herself as the supreme leader’s voice and his potential successor. Yet her authority depended heavily on her proximity to the Great Helmsman.
Jiang Qing was backed by the party’s radical faction, which controlled the propaganda apparatus and elements of its ideological machinery. However, for many within the military and the ruling party, she represented the prospect of intensified radicalism, instability, and risk at a moment when system preservation was urgently needed.
The response was swift. A coalition of military and party actors moved to detain Jiang Qing and accused her of counterrevolutionary conspiracy. The operation was rapid, coordinated, and bloodless. It was an internal correction designed to preserve the system by removing what key insiders had come to view as a liability.
Mrs. Murillo’s trajectory presents important similarities and risks. She began her career in the arts and joined the Sandinista National Liberation Front. She was briefly detained in the mid-1970s for her political activities and went into exile. During that period, she became Mr. Ortega’s partner, whom she would later marry. She returned to Nicaragua following the overthrow of the Somoza regime in 1979 as the partner of one of the Sandinista revolution’s leading figures.
Like Jiang Qing, Mrs. Murillo initially operated through cultural channels. But her real political ascent took place after Mr. Ortega returned to power in 2007. She became his principal spokesperson, insider within the party’s political machine, and later vice president. More recently, with Mr. Ortega’s backing, she constitutionalized her position as co-president, reinforcing the perception of an orderly succession and institutional continuity.
Yet her authority remains fundamentally derived from Mr. Ortega. Her political capital is rather limited.
Because power within the system depends less on formal constitutional frameworks but on the alignment of those who control the instruments of coercion, Mr. Ortega’s historical authority, command over the party, and effective subordination of the military have ensured such an alignment to himself and cadres.
Mrs. Murillo lacks these attributes. She knows it. To hedge against this, she has constructed her own circle of power, terminated political opposition, while systematically and almost entirely purged Ortega’s former inner circle.
But this has not been enough. The recently announced elimination of elections is part of her succession manual.
It is therefore plausible that, if Mr. Ortega were gone, Nicaragua would not necessarily follow a constitutional script. Instead, it could enter a period of regime recalculation among various forces.
This possible development may result due to several conditions. One is that Mrs. Murillo would have to be perceived by key insiders not as a stabilizing successor but as a risk multiplier. This is warranted. Insiders secretly acknowledge that she is someone whose continued dominance will intensify repression, provoke more internal fractures, and deepen international isolation. Moreover, many within the inner circle realize that she is highly unpopular and her own kin are neither prepared nor convinced to follow her footsteps.
At the same time, the regime’s coercive elements, namely the military and the police, would need to align in favor of containing her. In China, Jiang Qing’s arrest was possible because key individuals acted in concert. In Nicaragua, any comparable shift would depend on the coordination of an equally decisive group. Although the military and police appear publicly loyal to Mrs. Murillo, numerous senior officials are said to harbor private misgivings about her leadership.
Most importantly, there must be a viable alternative around for which coordination can occur. China had Hua Guofeng, Mao Zedong’s appointed successor—an individual with limited personal leadership but politically useful in a moment of extreme uncertainty. In Nicaragua, although Mrs. Murillo has managed to imprison many comparable figures, allowing some of them to die in custody or forcing them into exile, others remain who could serve as a coordination mechanism.
In this context, the international community can shape regime actors’ incentives. First, as with Cuba, the United States should intensify targeted actions not only on those directly responsible for repression but also on non-regime actors who facilitate sanctions evasion and help sustain the regime. This would ensure that the costs of supporting the system are not distributed uniformly, sharpening the choices as they assess their own interests and the risks of continued alignment.
Second, rather than merely signaling disapproval, concerted hemispheric actions that significantly alter the regime’s cost-benefit calculations are needed. Democratic governments should consider coordinated trade restrictions, replicating the prevailing sanctions adopted by Canada, the European Union, and the United States; financial measures directed at key state institutions and state-owned enterprises that sustain the regime; and greater use of legal accountability mechanisms, including criminal investigations and prosecutions under universal jurisdiction. These measures will increase pressure and convince regime insiders that continued support for the existing succession plan carries greater political, economic, and legal risks than supporting an orderly transition.
Finally, credible off-ramps should be articulated. Regime actors should believe that, if escalation is avoided and a controlled political transition is achieved without Mrs. Murillo, external pressure could be significantly reduced—and reversed—as measurable steps toward transition are taken.
In this context, it is highly probable that Nicaragua’s future will not be determined by constitutional provisions alone. It will be decided when those who control the state’s coercive machinery determine whether continuity represents stability or chaos. China in 1976 demonstrated how rapidly such calculations can shift.
In Nicaragua, the outcome will not hinge on formal titles or legal frameworks alone. It will depend on whether those closest to power conclude that self-preservation requires following the script or rewriting it, and international engagement can help steer the writing of a new chapter for democracy in Nicaragua.
The authors: Luis A. Rivas is a consultant, a member of the Advisory Board for the Latin America Program at the Stimson Center, an economist, and a banker; Manuel Orozco is Director of the Migration, Remittances, and Development Program at the Inter-American Dialogue and a Fellow at Harvard’s Center for International Development. This article was originally published in “The Dialogue.”
