The five-year presidency of Hugo Chavez has given Venezuela, long one of the most reliably conservative and pro-United States countries in the hemisphere, an unlikely reputation for political radicalism and social upheaval. Chavez, himself a former military coup-leader (in 1992) turned populist politician, was elected president of Venezuela in a landslide victory in 1998 (reconfirmed in another election in 2000 after Chavez introduced a new constitution). But his flamboyant attempts to set the country on a new economic and social course, allied to his radical rhetoric and grandiose political gestures, have mobilised both passionate loyalty and bitter hostility among the Venezuelan people.
In April 2002, the political and business establishment which dominates Venezuela’s opposition tried to unseat Chavez in a coup led by a group within the military. For a time it seemed to have succeeded, with Chavez himself being bundled into exile; but his supporters took to the streets in huge numbers, and two days later, he was back in power. Fourteen anti-Chavez demonstrators were shot dead and 200 injured during the crisis.
A key factor behind the coup attempt lay the centrepiece (and some would say curse) of Venezuela’s economy, namely oil. Chavez had been trying to take control of the oil industry, the world’s sixth largest with 4.8% of world production. But what makes Venezuela’s crisis more complicated and interesting has been the way it has been played out not just at elite level, but through popular involvement – including new forms of representation and mobilisation on both sides of the barricades.
Throughout the fifth, tense year of its life, the Chavez government has been making an all-out bid to consolidate its power at the grassroots through an ambitious exercise of participatory democracy. It has encouraged people to create and elect local councils, to improve neighbourhoods and participate in cooperatives, women’s organisations and new groups called Bolivarian circles – the latter a reference to Chavez’s original power base, the clandestine revolutionary Bolivarian Movement formed by a group of army officers in the 1980s.
The opposition has alleged that the latter groups are being systematically armed by the government and mask a long-term plan to introduce Cuban-style socialism. When I ask people about this in the sweltering heat of Caracas the most common response is laughter. After all, why would he need their support? The military has been purged of those involved in the 2002 coup and is now largely pro-Chavez. Meanwhile, despite the president’s strident and confrontational rhetoric, journalists and political parties continue to enjoy freedom of expression.
Between fear and disillusion
Luis Montiel is a junior minister responsible for encouraging and coordinating the growth of grassroots groups. The aim, he says, is “to move from a representative democracy towards a participatory one”. Some circles are purely intellectual and meet to talk about the implications of new laws, to analyse the 1999 constitution or argue about the progress of the Bolivarian revolution; others take on an active role within their communities in various projects such as repairing schools or roads and organising cultural events.
An example of the former is Circulo La Espiga, situated in the midst of the middle-class (and anti-Chavez) neighbourhoods of Colinas de Bello Monte in south-east Caracas. The community seethes with tension and fear. Jose Parella, a member of La Espiga, observes: “People are buying candles and stockpiling food as a precautionary measure for the event of an attack from the Chavistas. They have even cut the trees down in their neighbourhood so that they can see them coming.” The group meets to discuss current events and distributes a newsletter.
While in this case fears of a physical attack from Chavez’s supporters seem far-fetched, some “Bolivarian” organisations have indeed taken the law into their own hands, as I discovered after choosing the wrong taxi on the way to Caracas. Two men relieved me of what they called a “revolutionary tax” at gunpoint. They claimed to belong to a Bolivarian circle and said that they needed the money for surveillance equipment. They said they had become disillusioned with Chavez’s government.
Such disillusion is not uncommon. Many of the government’s election pledges remain unfulfilled. A flagship policy to reduce the number of homeless children on the street has faltered and with the worsening economic situation, the numbers are rising. The daily reality of the 80% of Venezuelans who live in poverty has not improved; the unemployment figure is 17% and rising, and the government has been forced to freeze the exchange rate at 1600 bolivares to one US dollar.
Yet much of the responsibility can be attributed to the opposition, as its continuing destabilisation of the country – particularly the halt in oil production by Petróleos de Venezuela, S.A. (PDVSA), the state-owned oil company and the country’s main source of income – has caused untold economic damage. In the month prior to the April 2002 coup, after all, the Bolivar was averaging 920 to the dollar.
Yuraima Vega, a market worker, is from La Guaire – one of the shantytowns made up of poorly-constructed houses that scramble up the hills surrounding Caracas. Sitting in a cheap café, she complains: “Our situation is not improving, things are getting worse and worse.” The long-term unemployment, crime and drug use afflicting her barrio mean that efforts to set up grassroots projects have either proved abortive or foundered in their early stages.
A stake in the future
Despite these deep social problems, Hugo Chavez retains the support of many of the poorest people of Venezuela. For all her disillusion, Yuraima Vega says: “I will vote for Chavez. There is no other option.” Chavez’s support stems from the belief that his desire to ease poverty and combat corruption is genuine. People also feel that they have been given some dignity. Loans from the Bank of the People and the Women’s Bank have allowed ordinary citizens to set up small businesses; the government has enrolled tens of thousands of previously excluded schoolchildren, and schools now provide at least a meal a day.
In areas like La Vega the government is granting property titles to residents of the shantytowns of Caracas, allowing them for the first time to sell their house or raise a bank loan. Arnaldo Tavio, a leading official at Venpres, the government press agency, claims that granting property rights is part of a wider plan to give people a stake in the system and that the new constitution and the Bolivarian circles are all part of an attempt to channel the political force of the people. “We have to remind people everyday that we must keep forging ahead,” he says.
The vibrancy of political debate is striking. Along the streets there are stalls selling paperback copies of the constitution for less than a dollar, alongside cheap pamphlets detailing new laws. Impromptu political arguments flare up in the squares and parks across Caracas.
It is perhaps this tapping of the political power of the Venezuelan underclass, rather than any material benefits, that represents the success of participatory democracy in Venezuela. Luis Montiel, elaborating on the role of the Bolivarian circles, states: “It is vitally important that people know their duties and their rights and what guarantees they can expect from the constitution.”
In a country that has been run by powerful vested interests for forty years, this can be seen as progress. The opposition is right to be worried, though not so much of armed revolt as of raised expectations. After the April 2002 coup, the mass mobilisations of the poorer barrios were instrumental in returning Hugo Chavez to power. Their inhabitants were empowered by these events; it will prove very difficult for the forces of conservatism and reaction in Venezuela to turn back the clock.
