Building the Socialist Commune in Rural Venezuela
The small farming community of Hato Arriba doesn’t appear on most maps of Venezuela. About three hours drive from the small city of Tocuyo in the western state of Lara, the agricultural settlement is tucked away in the Andes mountains and boasts a population of approximately 500 families. Public transportation to the settlement leaves only once a day from the nearest urban center and has the capacity to accommodate about six people.
Yet, despite its emphatically rural character and its lack of a steady Internet connection, Hato Arriba, like many of the agrarian caserios in this part of Venezuela, is an example of the kind of 21st century socialism that the government of Hugo Chavez has been promoting since 2005.
With one major dirt road that traverses its modest geography, Hato Arriba is home to no less than ten community councils - grassroots organizations of popular democracy created by the Chavez administration to facilitate greater access to political power for the country’s population.
Community councils in Venezuela have the constitutional right to petition the national Executive for development projects and services in order to improve the quality of life for those represented by the neighbourhood organization. It is through the community councils that the inhabitants of Hato Arriba have been able to attain agricultural credits, greater electricity services, literacy programs, a subsidized food market, and a number of new grammar schools.
“Since about seven years ago, one of the advances that we’ve seen from the revolutionary process is the decentralization of power through the formation of community councils. We’re seeing a break with the model where the [urban centers] control development. There is a new kind of horizontalism where every space has its own importance, particularities and necessities”, explained Carlos Bastia, a community leader of farming community.
Currently, a major project of the residents of this hamlet and its neighboring villages has been the consolidation of what is denominated as “the Commune in Construction”, an umbrella organization that attempts to link the different community councils of any given region under a single banner.
In the case of Hato Arriba, the Commune in Construction is attempting to join together with six other nearby settlements in order to amplify residents’ voice, satisfy local needs, and achieve greater autonomy from the bureaucratic structures that can obstruct progressive change at the regional level.
This, according to Bastia, is the final objective of the communes - foster local, democratic self-governance that empowers communities and lessens the role of the state over time.
Breaking the Sound Barrier
Last Sunday, Hato Arriba took a further step towards consolidating its commune when the community celebrated the launch of a new grassroots radio station that that has the capacity to reach all six of the surrounding caserios.
The initiative is part of a community media movement in Venezuela, which over the past ten years has seen a profound democratization of the airwaves.
Sunday’s inauguration in Hato Arriba took place in a local grammar school and was the site of a festive environment that saw the performance of local music groups, traditional dancing, raffles, and the cooking of a community stew known in Venezuela as sancocho.
“For us, it’s a great pleasure to see this radio operational because through it we’re going to be able to communicate and let the people know everything that is happening politically socially and culturally in this area”, said Norkys Dugarte, a community member and spokesperson for Hato Arriba’s community council.
One of the fundamental aspects of the new radio station, as explained by Dugarte, is the emphasis that it places, not only on the construction of the commune, but also on the political and social role that women are playing in the communities.
Yanahir Reyes, a gender activist working in popular education in the caserio, commented on the heightened need for media programming in areas such as Hato Arriba that deals specifically with the issues faced by women and girls. “The beautiful thing about this community is that we’re linking different struggles. All of this has been a process that has taken time and the radio is a tool that is going to help us change paradigms”, Reyes said.
Reyes, who works with mothers and children as part of a Ministry of Education program mentioned that initiatives like the new station have the potential to break with traditional, male-dominated practices and empower women to take a more active role in shaping the politics of their communities.
“The women of this community have been underestimated and have been told that we aren’t capable of putting together a radio station, that we don’t know how to use microphones or a transmitter. We believe that this radio is fundamental for us to be recognized and valued so that people understand that we aren’t these kind of women that appear in magazines or beer commercials”, she asserted.
Although the radio inauguration could be considered a small development in light of the wider revolutionary process taking place in Venezuela, the residents involved in the erection of the new station see the event as another important advancement towards the building of a new ideal for their community.
It is their contribution, or “grain of sand” as is commonly said in Spanish, to a greater vision that sees Venezuela and Latin America moving further away from an externally-imposed development model and closer to the local communities and heritages that make up the essence of the country’s character.
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Chávez Forces Venezuela to Contemplate a Void
By Tatsuo, Miyachi at Jun 27, 2012 21:14 PM
CARACAS, Venezuela — President Hugo Chávez is the undisputed, 24-7, one-man show of Venezuelan politics, its be-all and end-all. He makes laws on his own, with the stroke of a pen. He expropriates buildings and businesses with the wave of a hand. His face smiles from billboards and posters. He posts his thoughts on Twitter. He talks on television for hours on end. He even sings and dances.
But after nearly 14 years as Venezuela’s president, Mr. Chávez is battling cancer as he enters a heated re-election campaign, leaving many of those who love him and many who loathe him to wonder who will take his place if failing health forces him from office, either before or after the Oct. 7 election.
Such a sudden transition would be difficult in any country but would be even more so here, where Mr. Chávez has built a state that revolves around his outsize personality and where no clear successor has emerged.
“Here I am before you again!” Mr. Chávez, 57, told a large crowd of supporters on Monday after formally registering as a candidate. He has been seen little in recent months because of his illness, but he dismissed what he called “necrophiliac” rumors that he was near death and searching for a successor, and predicted that he would win re-election by a knockout.
A day earlier, Mr. Chávez’s opponent, Henrique Capriles Radonski, 39, led a throng on a six-mile march through Caracas that seemed intended to emphasize the contrast between his youth and vigor and Mr. Chávez’s fragile health. Mr. Chávez rode to his speech on a platform atop a campaign truck — but then, in a show of stamina, spoke energetically for more than 2 hours 45 minutes.
“They have a big problem,” said Armando Briquet, the campaign manager for Mr. Capriles, who stepped aside this month from his post as a state governor. “Chávez is like one of those family businesses in which the head of the family won’t let any of his children grow up professionally and surpass him.”
All of that feeds an air of mystery and uncertainty, which some say works to Mr. Chávez’s advantage, reinforcing the notion that only he is in control.
Just as Mr. Chávez has refused to disclose details of his illness, he has avoided naming a political successor, which has led to feverish handicapping, especially among his critics, of who is next in line.
“We’re all in the dark,” said Carolina Fontalvo, 33, a waitress who previously supported Mr. Chávez but now plans to vote against him. “It’s as if they want to keep people guessing.”
Pedro Díaz, 63, an accountant, said the unsettled political situation made him feel powerless and anxious. “I feel it in my stomach,” he said.
But for the true believers in Mr. Chávez’s movement, which is known as Chavismo, any talk about possible successors is dismissed out of hand. “We’re going to have Chávez until two thousand-forever,” asserted Edelio Rebolledo, 76, a retired government employee. “Chávez will be the candidate. Forget about it.”
Political observers divide Mr. Chávez’s inner circle into two or three main groups, each containing a contender for his mantle.
One group is led by two Chávez appointees, Foreign Minister Nicolás Maduro and Vice President Elías Jaua. Both men are longtime leftists in harmony with Mr. Chávez’s most hard-core socialist supporters, the true believers in what he calls his Bolivarian Revolution.
Another group is led by Diosdado Cabello, the president of the National Assembly and the No. 2 man in Mr. Chávez’s United Socialist Party of Venezuela. Mr. Cabello is a former soldier who took part in the failed 1992 coup led by Mr. Chávez, which thrust the future president onto the national stage. Mr. Cabello has close ties to the military, an all-important power base, and to the business community.
And then there is Mr. Chávez’s family. Some see his older brother, Adán, the governor of Mr. Chávez’s home state, Barinas, as a possible choice. Two of Mr. Chávez’s daughters, Rosa Virginia and María Gabriela, are also sometimes mentioned as candidates who could keep the family name on the ballot. But all of them lack Mr. Chávez’s charisma and visceral connection to voters. That is especially true of Adán Chávez, whose public appearances have a somnolent quality evocative of the vast plains of the state he governs.
Mr. Cabello is sharp-tongued and fiery with a Machiavellian reputation, but not popular — a kind of socialist Newt Gingrich. He is often referred to as part of what Mr. Chávez’s followers call the endogenous right, a more conservative wing within Mr. Chávez’s movement. Despite his red shirts and flame-throwing pronouncements, Mr. Cabello is widely associated with the country’s nouveau riche, the entrepreneurs who have grown fabulously rich by doing business with the socialist government, often by tapping into its vast oil wealth or securing government contracts.
All of these men have risen and fallen by Mr. Chávez’s word. Mr. Cabello was out of favor until late last year, when Mr. Chávez suddenly returned him to prominence. Mr. Maduro and Mr. Jaua seemed comfortably ensconced until Mr. Chávez announced that they would leave their positions to run for governor in states controlled by the opposition.
But all of that was before Mr. Chávez learned in February that his cancer, which first appeared last year, had returned. He began shuttling to Cuba for surgery and a series of radiation treatments, which ended last month.
The treatments left him weakened and sent him into seclusion, which has spurred a new round of speculation about what would happen if he was too sick to continue running for re-election.
The need for a Plan B seems obvious, but it is hard to find anyone among Mr. Chávez’s supporters willing to discuss it.
“Today in the mind of Venezuelans this is not something that is present,” said Jesse Chacón, a former cabinet minister who runs a polling firm that is close to the government. Mr. Chacón cited surveys showing that a majority of Venezuelans believe Mr. Chávez will regain his health, and that they plan to vote for him.
But Mr. Chávez’s opponents have dedicated countless pages of newsprint and hours of television time to discussing the what-ifs. They delight in the imagined power struggle. And they relish the thought that Mr. Capriles may run against one of Mr. Chávez’s less charismatic disciples.
Mr. Chávez has a comfortable lead over Mr. Capriles in nearly all polls. But opposition politicians contend that polls taken by Mr. Chávez’s camp show that Mr. Capriles would beat any of the likely successors to Mr. Chávez if he does not run.
On a recent morning, large posters mysteriously appeared on one of the main streets of Caracas, showing Mr. Cabello with a raised fist and purporting to promote him as a presidential candidate.
Although widely supposed to be the work of opposition provocateurs, the posters underscored the sensitivity of the subject within Mr. Chávez’s camp, prompting a quick reply by Mr. Cabello. “Our only candidate is Chávez,” he said on his Twitter account. And he blamed members of the opposition for the posters, saying, “They believe that by putting up posters with my name they are going to win votes” or divide Mr. Chávez’s followers.
Most analysts agree that Mr. Chávez probably will remain his party’s candidate and the favorite to win in October. But speculation has also focused on what would happen if he died or stepped down after starting a new term early next year.
Under the Constitution, if a president leaves office or dies in the first four years of the six-year term, the vice president takes his place and new elections must be called within 30 days. That means Mr. Chávez’s choice of a vice president, an appointed office, may give the clearest indication of whom he wants to follow him. The biggest obstacle may be the highly personalized political reality he created.
“There is no one either in the opposition or within Chavismo who can equal his leadership,” Mr. Chacón, the pollster, said. “He is one of these human beings who comes by once every century.”
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/12/world/americas/hugo-chavez-forces-venezuela-to-contemplate-a-void.html?smid=fb-share&pagewanted=all
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The Possum Ate My Cable
By Tatsuo, Miyachi at Jun 27, 2012 21:13 PM
Venezuelans are pretty jaded about the news these days, and for good reason. Newspapers often read like a magic-realist novel: the president's daughter redesigns national symbols on a whim; the government might mess with the time on your watch and the remains of independence-era heroes. But the bizarreness reached a new height this week when the Venezuelan government announced that the major blackout Ciudad Guayana had suffered the day before was to be blamed, not on years of mismanagement and underinvestment, but on a wily possum that had chewed through cables at a local substation.
People in Ciudad Guayana, an industrial city of just under one million inhabitants on the northern edge of the Venezuelan Amazon, are used to flickering lights by now. Blackouts hit them several times a week, seemingly at random, and can last anywhere from a few minutes to a half day. In fact, most of Venezuela suffers from erratic power supply, with the attending burned-out appliances, slowed-down factory lines and interrupted shopping trips. Only Caracas, the politically sensitive capital, is spared.
It's crazy in the first place that Ciudad Guayana should be having trouble getting electricity into people's homes, and not just because Venezuela is a major energy exporter. Ciudad Guayana is also home to the Lower Caroní River hydroelectric system, which includes the Guri dam, the world's third-largest. This network of dams is supposed to generate 17.7 gigawatts once it is fully operational, toward the end of this decade. That should be enough electricity to supply the whole country, especially considering its backup network of diesel- and gas-fired power plants. How could a possum bring such a system down?
It couldn't. The possum story was the latest sign that the government is running out of likely excuses for the blackouts. An earlier propaganda onslaught implicated shadowy saboteurs from the opposition -- with a handful of hapless power utility workers trotted out for the cameras as saboteurs. And two years ago the government pioneered the use of wildlife as scapegoat, blaming a loose iguana for a 20-hour blackout in the city of Lechería. The humble iguana has since become the unlikely mascot of protesters decrying the blackouts.
Venezuela's chronic electric shortage has nothing to do with pesky beasts, and everything to do with economics. Electricity prices have been frozen for 10 years. Chávez's populist government doesn't dare put its popularity on the line with a price hike. But inflation runs at 16-32 percent a year, which means that the real cost of electricity has fallen by 16-32 percent annually for the past decade.
This might not sound so bad for users until you flick on a light switch and nothing happens. For the industry, frozen electricity rates are a double-whammy. With power so cheap, utilities can't raise the capital they need to invest in maintenance for all those dams and power plants. Meanwhile, virtually free electricity means demand continues to rise far too fast. Neither the Caroní River dams nor the diesel and gas-fired plants are operating anywhere near full capacity because turbines keep breaking down and there's no money or technical know-how to fix them.
As every first-semester economics student learns, when you set the price for something too low, people will want more of it than the market is willing to supply. , political sabotage or worse. That's an ironclad law not even a possum can chew through.
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