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Al-Ahram Weekly 27 Jan. - 2 Feb. 2000 Issue No. 466 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 27 Jan. - 2 Feb. 2000 Issue No. 466
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Features Profile Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Swimming against the current
By Hisham El-Naggar
Venezuela -- literally "little Venice" -- has always been a special case: Part Latin American (it is, after all, the birthplace of Simon Bolivar, the great hero of Latin American independence) and part Caribbean (with gorgeous beaches to prove it), Venezuela has managed to trudge along, avoiding the worst excesses of military rule and one-party dictatorship.
Oil certainly helped. Venezuela is not only a prominent member of the Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Companies (OPEC); it also has the distinction of being rather close (geographically) to the US market. Because of its apparent immunity to political instability, Venezuela seemed an ideal supplier when the US was jittery about access to Middle East oil in the 1970s and early 1980s. The country thus secured an outlet for its major export, and oil revenues enabled Venezuela to start laying the foundations of a modern economy.
Above all, the oil bonanza gave rise to a middle class that grew to take a certain measure of prosperity for granted. With the decline of oil prices toward the mid-80s, Venezuela suddenly realised that it was heavily dependent on a resource whose price fluctuated wildly. With the drastic reduction of oil receipts came the need for the ubiquitous "structural adjustment", which was to become the standard International Monetary Fund prescription for countries in economic difficulty. As usual, the burden was passed on to those least able to afford it.
The public response was not slow in coming. The years that followed saw strong protests against retrenchment, led by the highly-politicised middle class. Not surprisingly, though, the furore involved above all the sizeable segment of the population that still lived in poverty. As economic difficulties and rising political instability implied that the poor could only get poorer -- and a good deal more numerous -- disenchantment with a democracy seemingly dominated by corrupt politicians was inevitable.
Slowly, and without the country's traditional leaders realising it, the country's social structure was undergoing a transformation. "The masses", long taken for granted, were getting fed up with the usual litany of corruption, exclusion and "reforms", which somehow never failed to victimise them. The political echelon of society were decidedly short on ideas but nonetheless intent upon preserving themselves as a class. Prosperity, while it lasted, had benefited a relatively small minority, though a somewhat larger one than in most other Latin American countries -- a circumstance made possible, for a while, by the ample demand for oil.
Now that there was need to retrench, who was being asked to tighten their belts and make sacrifices? Certainly not the big winners; those with their money safely tucked away in Miami, Panama and Switzerland. For the first time, it became apparent that the system was alienating not only the very poor, but also the beleaguered lower stratum of the middle class.
The combination of these two groups, the sagging end of the less prosperous and the legions of the poor, constituted an overwhelming majority that became more vociferous as the "retrenchment-recession-more-retrenchment" cycle continued to swell their ranks and increase their misery. Anger against the system erupted in strikes, demonstrations and a well-nigh cataclysmic social explosion; a phenomenon dubbed the Caracazo (literally, the mass eruption in Caracas, Venezuela's capital city).
At the same time, an obscure military officer of modest background chose to test the system. In 1992, the mighty democratic system of Venezuela was threatened for the first time in living memory, as Hugo Chavez led a putsch that came surprisingly close to overturning the country's political structure. But the coup's failure did not spell the end for the ambitious military man (soon retired from active service), for Chavez was more tuned in to the popular discontent than anyone was willing to admit. Though he served some time in jail, Chavez emerged as the hero of the oppressed; resentment against continued corruption and the government's insensitivity to popular demands buoyed him up as the leader of a growing struggle.
If the pattern sounds familiar -- for Latin America -- that's because it is. Chavez was on his way to becoming yet another caudillo: a strongman, almost invariably of military background, who courts popularity by appealing to the masses and posing as a national hero; a would-be father of his country, ready to (metaphorically) enfranchise the hitherto downtrodden poor, who quickly become his power base -- by no means a flimsy one.
But before one dismisses Chavez as an anachronistic reminder of bygone times -- a mere curio in the era of globalisation and inevitable structural adjustment -- a few observations are in order. Chavez, having failed to gain power by force, successfully converted himself into an anti-establishment political candidate and soon won power by thwarting the desperate coalition of traditional parties arrayed against him. Second, unlike the caudillos of yesteryear, who tried to form alliances with at least some part of the establishment, Chavez has led a frontal attack against the powers that be -- even at the risk of alienating (horror of horrors!) foreign investors. Chavez has gone so far as to refer to clergymen who spoke up against him as "degenerate priests", a shocking statement in a country that is almost entirely Catholic.
The fact is, Chavez is a novel phenomenon of sorts; a product of precisely the forces of globalisation that have reduced politics in much of Latin America (and, indeed, the world) into a boring contest between candidates insisting that they don't differ much at all on the content of their rhetoric. Whatever one may think of Chavez, his struggle against his enemies (always at the polls, after the failure of his coup) is far from boring. Chavez emasculated the country's parliament (which he did not control) and sacked an impressive number of "corrupt" judges. This month he held a referendum to ratify changes in the constitution that will broaden his powers; limit press freedom to "the truthful press"; and will enable him to run for two more terms in addition to the current one: as close to a blank cheque as anything in a continent accustomed to term limits that curb ambitious politicians.
And guess what? The new constitution was approved by over 70 per cent of those who voted. It seems that Venezuela -- or most of its citizens, at any rate -- has sized up the direction of the current in world affairs (especially in the economic sphere); taken its measure, so to speak, and decided to swim against it with all its might; all the while led by a young ex-officer who clearly sees himself as a visionary. The constitution Chavez has proposed goes so far as to change the name of the country to the "Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela"; a tribute to Bolivar, whom Chavez sees as a kind of precursor. Chavez is a leader who dares to give his country a new name.
Whether he can give Venezuela a new future remains to be seen. The challenges that face him are formidable. Oil prices have started climbing, but it is doubtful whether a future can be built on such flimsy foundations as the robustness of oil prices, which depend on discipline within OPEC ranks. Meanwhile, the country is burdened with a heavy debt and its access to capital markets has become dubious, to say the least. The new constitution denies foreign investors the right to international arbitration -- a nationalistic posture that is enough to horrify prospective investors in a country where judges prove so easy to eliminate.
Furthermore, Venezuela is located in a dangerous neighborhood. One of its next-door neighbours (with whom it has pending territorial disputes) is Colombia, a country virtually trapped in civil war. Its beaches face the sunny Caribbean, a region whose deluxe tourist seasons alternate with climatic disasters. As luck -- very bad luck -- would have it, the news about the constitutional referendum was quickly eclipsed by devastating floods that literally washed away the whole of the waterfront of Caracas, leaving over 10,000 dead and extensive property damage, which will require billions of dollars to make good.
There is one thing, however, that Chavez has already achieved: he has become the bogeyman of the Brave New (Globalised) World. Leaders of other Latin American countries have already taken to reminding the IMF's stern economists that too much structural adjustment can give rise to charismatic ex-military men who seize power by legal means and proceed to junk the very foundations of globalisation. Though they do not seem to realise it, this amounts to saying that the programmes they themselves are implementing could prove to be on a collision course with democracy. Once the middle class has been decimated, what does the bulk of the population have to lose? Not everybody, it seems, appears convinced that there is no alternative.
