May 30, 2009

BlackBerry Nation

Quico says: So I flew into Maiquetía yesterday and man, what a let down. Not one dirty look, or extra check or even the vaguest hint of intimidation. Buenas noches - stamp - in you go. And that was after I'd announced I was coming, right here on CC!

My Q-Score must really be in the dumps. Or maybe el-que-te-conté's not so scared of the mouse as some would have you think.

First impressions are the usual jarring juxtaposition of an extremely visible consumer society still trying desperately to convince itself that everything's gonna be alright with the just-as-unmissable-signs that it's really not.

At the luggage pick-up area in Maiquetía Airport, a gigantic "Building Bolivarian Socialism" sign looms over the Banco Federal ATM (Maestro & Cirrus welcome.) On the highway into town, massive billboards for Heinz Tomato Ketchup (¡Picante!) jostle for space with others lauding the takeover of transnational corporations' assets by the revolution.

Just to look at it, you can't avoid the sense Venezuela suffers a bizarre case of social schizophrenia: it's half all-encompassing state-control-of-everything, half wannabe-Miami-mall-culture.

The state-control-of-everything part is the one we always hear about, but it takes coming back here to be reminded that, after all these years, bits and bobs of the professional middle class is still here, still rich, still totally weirdly disconnected from the country's problems.

Caracas is still a place where thousands of people wear suits to their offices five days a week and make a comfortable living in investment banking, or corporate accounting, or software consultancy. And they're not the least bit shy about flaunting the money involved, either. Turns out that, per capita, Venezuelans are the second highest buyers of BlackBerries in the world. (If your model is more than 9 months old, you're a nobody.)

It's also a place where the most visible initial sign of the revolution is that the bulbs lighting up the shanty-covered hillsides around Gramoven are now an energy-saving pale blue rather than the traditional yellowish-white. Es que el país cambió...

I should add that, media-wise, the first thing you notice is just how relentless the campaign against Globovisión has gotten on State TV. It's become the new obsession on VTV: just about every other spot is a furious rant against JunkBroadcasting and the dangers to your mental health of watching heterogeneous ideas on the toob. Softening up the base for a manotazo, it seems to me.

Yeeks...

May 28, 2009

Mad with Power Chronicles

Quico says: I swear when I first heard that Chávez wanted to do a 96-hour marathon version of Aló, presidente to celebrate the show's 10th anniversary on the air, I just took it for granted the story was a Chigüire Bipolar-style spoof.

But no. He's really doing it. It just started...runs through Sunday night.

Radicalism and its consequences

Juan Cristóbal says: - In the last few months, the Chávez administration has gone into overdrive radicalism. Whether it's the forced takeover of vast sectors of the economy, the harassment of private opposition media, the passage of draconian new legislation, the attacks on opposition politicians or the massive tax increases recently passed, there seems to be few aspects of public or private life that are safe from the government's scorched-earth approach to governance.

But has it hurt Chávez's standing in public opinion? Yes, to a point.

Alfredo Keller's latest survey shows a couple of interesting trends. One of the most important one is the graph on whether people think things are going well or not. (click on image to enlarge)

For the first time since the middle of last year, more people think things are going badly than well. This is a flip from the first quarter of 2009 of almost 20 points. And lest you think this is not important, remember that the 59-40 margin in the fourth quarter of 2006 roughly coincided with the 63-37 margin of Chávez's election that year. Also worth pointing out that in the fourth quarter of 2007, when the opposition won the Constitutional Referendum, a majority of Venezuelans thought things were going badly, but by the first quarter of 2009 when the government won, a majority thought things were going well.

Is this margin reversible? Certainly. Nothing is set in stone. But the trend is there.

Another interesting result came about when people were asked whether or not their problems had gotten better or worse.


A large majority of Venezuelans think the country's problems have either stayed the same or gotten worse in the last year. Crime is, of course, the main concern, and deteriorating safety conditions are clearly being felt by everyone. The government's bright spots are "poverty", "housing" and "the economy," and even there the percentages of people that actually think things have gotten better are a paltry 27, 35 and34% respectively. Keep in mind those are the issues most vulnerable to the current economic downturn.

One of the arguments being bandied about is that Chávez is much more popular than his government. There may be some truth to that. A slim majority of Venezuelans now think Chávez is becoming a dictator, as can be seen in this graph.


Likewise, a less slim majority think Chávez is doing things the wrong way, mostly because they are starting to realize Chávez wants to mold Venezuela after Cuba's communist system.

The troubling thing about this is that a whopping 47% of Venezuelans don't think Chávez is becoming a dictator, and 45% of them think he is doing things right, even though all the major problems in our society have gotten worse.

Clearly, the teflon effect is still there, though not quite as strong as it used to be.

Finally, people were asked who they would vote for in a hypothetical election - for Chávez, or for someone else.


This is always a tricky question. It's one thing to say "the other guy/gal", it's quite another to actually go and vote for, say, Antonio Ledezma. Nonetheless, there is something to be said about the fact that, for the first time since the IVth quarter of 2003 (six years, though the graph is abbreviated), a majority of Venezuelans would rather vote for a hypothetical other than for Chávez by a six-point margin.

Clearly, the government's radicalism has not gone unnoticed. The challenge (protracted sigh) is for our current opposition leadership to capitalize on this. Will they be able to? Will this even be a possibility? Who knows, but don't keep your hopes up.

May 26, 2009

Cubanization is a process, not an event

Quico says: A year ago, when I went to Caracas, it seemed as if everyone I met had a single thing on their minds - Cadivi. Every conversation seemed to circle back to it: how to get dollars, the latest tips and tricks on how to skirt the bureaucratic hassles and reach that promised land of a greenback for just over dos bolos.

Now, as I get ready to travel back home next month, there's a new obsession in town - getting out. Everyone I talk to seems to be at some stage in the process of getting a visa, or a scholarship, or digging up a Spanish grandparent's birth certificate so they can try to claim citizenship, or find some other subterfuge to allow them to become balseros del aire.

Times have changed. It's no longer "shit, I gotta get my assets out of here". Now it's "shit, I gotta get my ass out of here".

I am, of course, already out. As I stroke my Canadian permanent resident card, I feel enormously lucky. Talking to friends back home, I'm only too aware of the desperate straits they face, the oxygen-zapping sense of living in a place where the future has been canceled, shut down, expropriated. Where the price of entry to anyone still harboring aspirations of a better life is to check his principles at the door, to file away his capacity for independent thought, to just conform.

It puts a knot in my stomach just thinking about it, and I don't even have to live it.

These are the aftershocks of The Barrage, and as Juan puts it, the strategy is practically out in the open. It's taken Chávez 10 years to get to a stage Fidel Castro reached in less than one: crafting a society where most people who dissent feel it a matter of pressing necessity to get out.

Then again, Chávez is doing it all without firing squads, those great expediters of emigratory alacritude.

In the end, the result is not so different. First came the oil professionals, who left en masse following the catastrophic 2002-03 strike. Joining them now is a steady stream of the professional classes, university educated Venezuelans determined to resist assimilation into the revolutionary hive mind.

It's now possible to envisage a Venezuela where the bulk of the dissidence has thrown in the towel, run off to the safety of Weston, or Madrid, or Montreal. I am, obviously, in no position to judge. Still, it makes me terribly sad.

These are the worst of times, the vindication of Maria-Alejandra-Lópezismo. The moment when we're forced to confront the reality that what we saw as the shrillest, most reactionary, most unhinged of Chávez's critics got to core truths that the rest of us couldn't bear to see. That cubanization - the endlessly-abused C-word, for so long the province of whacked-out, unhinged reactionary fears - really was the logical end-point of the chavista onslaught.

Por ahora, we can still say that Venezuela is no Cuba. Not yet, anyway.

I am, for instance, still able and willing to travel there, and reasonably assured I'll be left alone to get on with my business in Caracas. Which is why I'm spending most of June in my home town - hopefully meeting some of y'all, and getting on with some projects I've been cooking for some time.

That kind of thing is still possible. Just. But my confidence that it will remain possible indefinitely into the future has crumbled.

There's a new urgency to my trip, this time. A desperate sense that this kind of happy-go-lucky, get-on-a-plane-and-go travel may or may not be possible for me a year or two for now.

May 24, 2009

The Buffoon Meme

Quico says: Here's a sobering thought: it's a good bet that this month worldwide many more people have heard about Hugo Chávez giving a state-produced cel phone a vaguely cock-associated name than about his moves to silence dissenting broadcast media, strip most elected opposition politicos of any real power, steal dozens of private businesses ("nationalize" is such a spineless euphemism) and declare people who criticize him "un-human."

Not that it's surprising. The Buffoon Meme is highly contagious. Stories about Chávez doing totally ridiculous stuff are much more "email-this-story"-friendly than reporting about dictatorial moves. When Chávez calls a gringo president an illiterate donkeys, breaks out into song in the middle of addresses to the National Assignments or demands an urgent coroner's investigation into a 180 year old death, he makes natural water-cooler fodder: the kind of stuff an editor for a regional newspaper looking to plug a hole in an inside page will be irresistably drawn to.

No matter how much or how well we write about it, the looming-dictatorship stuff just can't compete. Sober-minded accounts about the rise of an ideologically extreme authoritarian regime in the heart of the Western Hemisphere are just no fun.

But the buffoonery beat? Everybody wants in on that game.

The Buffoon Meme has warped international perceptions of the Chávez era. I'm often surprised, when writing in international fora, at how large the Meme looms in readers' minds. First world lefties who are not taken in by the temptations of PSFery too often come to see chavismo as one big joke, a light hearted rump at the hands of a zany Apatowcrat too bumbling to really harm anyone.

None of which is to imply that Chávez isn't a buffoon. Of course he is.

What I mean, instead, is that the Buffoon Meme conceals much more than it reveals. It impedes the rise of a clear-eyed understanding of chavista autocracy in international public opinion. It makes the whole macabre experiment seem fun and harmless and wacky, rather than scary and mindlessly destructive and atavistically oppressive. It doesn't help.

May 21, 2009

Oligarcas Temblad!

Quico says: So, there's an earthquake. It wakes you up. You turn on the TV and see a report about it. What do you think is more likely to leave you feeling alarmed, fearful, anxious or panicky? The earthquake, or the news story about it?

Gah...it's like fish in a barrel, this story...except we're the fish.

As I think about it, I can't shake the feeling that the very ridiculousness of the charge tells its own story. There's a message in it; a conscious decision to go after Globo on the most self-evidently ridiculous grounds possible, precisely as a way of flaunting the government's arbitrary power.

After all, if you go after Globovision on grounds that someone could imaginably mistake as being rooted in the law, you might not quite get your message across. But go after them on grounds as transparently nonsensical as "you talked in public about something literally everyone in Caracas had felt minutes earlier", and you make it perfectly that, no matter how vanilla the channel's reporting gets, you're still going to go after them...just cuz you can.

May 20, 2009

Crafting a Chavista Court

Quico says: Five years ago today, the court-packing Organic Statute of the Supreme Tribunal of Justice came into effect. As I've recently discussed, I think that event should be recognized as the moment when Venezuela ceased to be a constitutional democracy in any recognizable sense.

To continue our commemoration of the event that made our justice Simply Red and our democracy Simply Dead, I've asked a Venezuelan legal scholar - who comments here as Capablanca - to contribute his thoughts on the state of Venezuela's legal system.
Capablanca says: On January 26, 2006, in the opening act of the Judicial Branch’s activities for that year, Venezuelan Chief Justice Omar Mora Diaz, speaking in front of Chávez and other prominent political figures, proudly stated that the Venezuelan judiciary was, at last, free from external political interference. The AD & COPEI era of judicial submissiveness was gone, and a new time of true judicial power had arrived. Shortly afterwards, several judges started spontaneously singing “Uh, ah! Chávez no se va!” showing everybody what judicial independence meant in Chavista jargon.

We know our judiciary –especially the Supreme Court – has always been weak compared with other political actors, especially the cogollos of the AD & COPEI era and their acolytes in the Judicial Council (Consejo de la Judicatura). But we have reached new lows in the current regime: the old tribes at least had the minimum sense not to chant political slogans in their robes. How did it come to this?

It would be too easy to just blame Chávez. In public, he has never showed too much deference to Dos Pilitas. From the (in)famous letter sent to the Supreme Court justices back in 1999, to his public use of expletives to refer to decisions that didn’t go his way, Chávez frequently showed contempt for the idea of leaving justices alone to do their job and interpret the law as they see fit (or to freely express their policy preferences, as judges arguably do in established democracies). These open interventions can only psych-out judges, usually threatening and constraining them from reaching any decision that would not match the regime’s (a.k.a. Chávez’s) preferred outcome.

However, Chávez’s public Court bashing probably is not all – or even most – of what this is about. Chavismo uses other tools to manipulate the courts. Like everywhere else, the most important mechanism is the appointment of sympathetic judges. In a democracy, this takes place following institutional rules that allow for the meaningful participation of a variety of actors, and respecting the rules of judicial tenure, probably the most important guarantee of judicial independence. Conversely, in non-democracies or dysfunctional democratic regimes, these rules are changed or completely bypassed: Judges are dismissed, forced to resign, or the court’s size and composition is changed to reflect the rulers’ wishes (a.k.a. court-packing).

Under Chávez, the Supreme Court has been reshuffled three times - late-1999, late-2000 and 2004 - and all three episodes have aimed to create Chavista majorities. But some majorities have been more Chavista than others. After the first two tries, the Chavista majority crumbled as soon as the ruling coalition responsible for its appointment broke apart.

Take, for example, the late-2000 appointees. Many of those justices people used to call "Chavista!" were really Miquilenista judges who understood that they owed their appointment not to Chávez but to their political boss, former Interior Minister and Chávez-mentor turned opposition Luis Miquilena. As a result, as soon as Miquilena flipped on Chávez, the justices did the same and, coupled with the very few judges who had connections with other parties, formed a solid 10-judge group strongly committed to the opposition cause. This group went far as stating, in a majority decision of the Court's entire roster, that the events of April 11-14, 2002 were not a coup. The feeble Chavista majority in the Constitutional Chamber was barely able to overcome this deadlock through their controversial use of that chamber’s alleged pre-eminence over other Chambers in the Court and over the Court in its entirety, reliably voting 3 against 2 in favor of the government in every major decision, including those that paved the way to the 2004 recall referendum.

To (re)create a majority, the 2004 Chavista majority in the National Assembly decided to expand and pack the Court, using the excuse of needing to pass the pending Organic Statute of the Venezuelan Supreme Court (LOTSJ). At the time, this proposal gained even more steam, since there was some fear among Chavistas about the prospects of losing the recall referendum against Chávez or achieving a narrow victory. Basically, they needed the Court as insurance in case of trouble.

The main culprit in this second packing-plan is clear: Luis Velásquez Alvaray. Velásquez had an agenda of his own - to reach the Supreme Court and, specifically, the Comisión Judicial, a body in charge of appointing Venezuela’s judges, to create a new judicial network or tribe that responded to his will.

We remember well how far Velásquez Alvaray and his buddies were willing to go to get the new Statute passed - they ended up modifying the National Assembly’s Rules of Order to get the Statute approved, steamrolling all opposition, even if that involved turning the statute into the messiest, most inarticulate piece of legislation in Venezuela’s contemporary history. Possibly even more than the crude political hatchet job it represents, it’s the amazing amateurishness of the LOTSJ’s drafting that makes serious lawyers cringe.

The Law passed and the new justices were appointed, Velásquez Alvaray among them. Ironically, Velásquez would last just a short time in the Court. Picking a fight with the wrong people and being blatantly corrupt at the same time was probably too much a stretch for someone with such little juridical credentials!

Now, what did they achieve with the last wave of court-packing? This time, the court apparently turned more Chavista than ever before, right?

That’s one plausible interpretation - especially since every magistrate is now absolutely clear that the only boss around is Chávez. Only a handful of justices with ties to the opposition dare to vote against the government line - among them, former Miquilenistas like Rondon Haaz at the Constitutional Chamber. Moreover, since the new justices arrived in the Court, the judiciary as a whole has been more willing than ever to stretch or trespass the boundaries of acceptable legal interpretation to favor the regime, tearing down a minimal image of legitimacy that is necessary to perform its role. Just think about the Supreme Court’s endorsement of the closing of RCTV last year, the use of criminal prosecution against political opponents, and a very long “etc.”

On the other hand, some things have not changed. Beyond the evident commitment that most Supreme Court justices have to Chávez’s cause lies an ever-divided court. Justices still compete, sometimes bitterly, for business, favors and to secure judicial appointments for allies in the lower courts. More importantly, since the 2004 law, many of them became tokens of prominent legislators in the National Assembly. Additionally, despite a decline in the court’s willingness to protect plaintiffs’ rights against the government – a phenomenon that several Venezuelan legal scholars have already highlighted – the opposition still goes to the courts.

This might sound puzzling, but it is also reasonable: the courts, especially the Supreme Court, are a highly visible venue for opposition politicians to keep showing that they are fighting for their constituency – in our case, that they are challenging the tyrant and his servants by all possible means, even if this is otherwise absolutely useless, even when their claims are constitutionally plausible.

So, on the one hand, the Court fails to control both the President and the Legislature, ceasing to do what is most important in a liberal democracy. That is probably fine with Chavismo, since they are already clear that their regime is not liberal-democratic. But many things have not changed. As in the past, networks of justices, judges, politicians and lawyers work to exploit the court for rent-seeking and personal benefit. In the legal world in Venezuela, everybody knows that several judges (not all of them) are willing to sell decisions to the highest bidder, and even guarantee that the decision will not be overturned on appeal by sharing the profits with their superiors. Everyone knows that many attorneys work as ruling-brokers, and not as legal practitioners; this used to be the case before Chavez and it essentially remains the same. And everyone knows that justices of the Court and politicians struggle to get judges appointed who then pledge loyalty to them – just like they once did with their old-regime designators.

In fact, the judiciary changed for the worse without addressing any of the underlying problems. Judges without tenure or a sense of it are less secure than ever that they will be in the bench tomorrow. Every time you see a discussion about ‘improving the courts’ and whatnot in the National Assembly, bear in mind that what we are really witnessing is a fight between different factions to control the judicial goldmine. So, in addition to being politically dependent, and sing songs to praise Chávez their noble leader, many of them know that even this is not enough, because the day somebody else is powerful in the legislature or the court, their post is at greater risk than ever. Making money while you are in the court all of the sudden starts making a lot of sense..

That is Chavista justice in a nutshell - a judiciary that remains politically dependent, not only on Chávez, but on rapacious politicians inside and outside the Venezuelan court system. But not everything is bleak. As in the past, there are a few real heroes that work as justices, judges, lawyers and public defenders with the goal of building the rule of law in Venezuela. Quietly, they believe that wearing red T-shirts, going to demonstrations or singing Chavista songs in the court is inappropriate for honorable public servants. And they are worthy of our utmost respect, and at least a bit of hope.

May 19, 2009

Así, así, así es que se gobierna...

Quico says: So you want to know how a minimally responsible petrostate elite might manage the oil industry's boom-and-bust cycle?

Go ask the Norwegians.

Facing a worldwide slump that has seen energy prices tumble dramatically, the government has just announced a big boost in public spending. And how will they pay for it, you ask? Are they going zillions of kroners into debt to finance it all? Not a chance. They're spending just a fraction of the billions upon billions they saved up during the oil boom.

If it's macroeconomic coordination you want, they got that too. Their Central Bank is aggressively cutting interest rates to boost aggregate demand and head off a slump. And, guess what? They can do that without worrying too much because they face an inflation rate under 3%. Why? Because they were careful not to overheat the economy by overspending when oil prices were high. And how did they manage that? By saving up a bunch of the excedent . . . you know, the part they're spending now, when they actually need it.

Which, to be fair, doesn't mean Norway will manage to avoid a recession altogether...just that the recession they're having will be incomparably shorter, shallower and less traumatic for Norwegian families than the one they would've had if they hadn't taken all those precautions.

None of this is rocket science, people. It really isn't.

May 18, 2009

Government eats itself

Juan Cristobal says: - The Chávez administration has been gobbling up everything in sight at such a pace, it's actually nationalizing itself now!

The Banco Industrial de Venezuela (BIV) was Venezuela's original state-owned bank: one of the few holdovers of the puntofijista Import Substitution Industrialization strategies of the 1960s and 70s to remain in state hands through the 90s. The BIV has a long, dysfunctional track record. It hasn't made a profit since the Welsers were around.

So in the latest display of chavista coprophagia, the government has decided to "intervene" it, which basically means taking control of the BIV.

What's not really clear is why the government has to go through this whole convoluted rigamarole to intervene a bank it already owns.

In fact, whatever ails the bank is the government's own fault. So it's not clear what this "intervention" is really after, other than the latest round of chavista musical chairs, quítate tú pa’ ponerme yo.

It can't be the BIV's losses and its severe under-capitalization that prompted this. If making a loss was the kind of thing to trigger an "intervention", every state owned company in the coiuntry would be "intervened." Besides, this profit-and-loss stuff is so unrevolutionary to begin with

There has to be something else at play here. Perhaps the government is setting the stage to merge the BIV with the Banco de Venezuela, once Chávez gets his fat, dirty paws on it. Perhaps this is the first step to justify a massive nationalization of the banking sector. Or perhaps somebody in the BIV wasn't giving loans to the right people and this is a way to send a strong signal.

Whatever it is, it makes no sense in the real world. But this is the Chávez government we're talking about, so it makes perfect sense.

May 14, 2009

Periodization

Quico says: My guess now is that when the historians of the future come to periodize the Chávez era, they'll settle on something like:
December 1998 - November 2001: Ascendent Chavismo
January 2002 - August 2004: Acute Polarization
August 2004 - February 2009: Competitive Authoritarianism
from March 2009 : The Chávez Dictatorship

Comments worth reading

Quico says: One of the great joys of blogging is when a post sets off a really good debate. The comments thread following my previous post was one of those: substantive, serious, and by turns heartfelt and piercingly insightful. Thanks to all who've been taking part.

May 12, 2009

The Barrage

There are missiles coming from every direction. In just a few weeks, it was the comisarios, the ports and airports, Rosales, Ledezma, the Miranda clinics, the oil service companies, farm expropiations, laws challenging private property, el Ateneo, Globovision and the list goes on. After the February referendum they suddenly went into over drive, with the government shooting in every direction. It's impossible to have a proper response to any particular attack. Sitting abroad you are left stunned every time you venture into the Venezuelan news-sites. And, I imagine, if you are inside the country you'd be exhausted even before you wake up. That is Chavez's tactic, to stun you into submission.
Quico says: That thought by LaLucca in the comments section struck me as especially apt. The reality is that, when I sit down to blog, my standard operating procedure is to look through the news sites for an especially revealing item of news and then try to write some not-too-cliched comment about it. But that methodology has its own drawbacks, and they're especially visible in the current climate.

The one-topic-at-a-time approach misses what's felt most distinctive about the Venezuelan political scene since the February referendum: the barrage. Not this attack or that attack, but the whole heady mix of 'em; the sense that, by the time you've worked through the implications of any one of the things they're doing, they've run off and done three more, each more alarming than the last.

What we've seen these last few months is Chavez on full attack mode on all fronts. Newly reassured that he can keep on seeking re-election indefinitely, the audacity, speed and scope of the government's authoritarian offensive is just unprecedented.

The guy's doing it all at once, taking on the challenge of creating a country safe for his lifelong rule with a gusto and determination that leaves any attempt to resist simply gasping for air.

What we have now is the worst case scenario. Even a couple of months back, I really couldn't believe that the descent into traditional dictatorship could unfold at the pace we're now seeing.

Denying Plausible Deniability

Quico says: What I find most significant about Chavez's announcement that he has decided to shut down Globovision is, precisely, that he announced it.

Think about it: if the guy was at all concerned to maintain even a minimal kind of legal window dressing in place, he easily could have. Nothing was stopping Chavez from preserving at least a bare-bones plausibility to the inevitable subsequent claims that the decision to close down the station had nothing to do with him. He could've just given the order to Conatel, or the Supreme Tribunal, or whatever, then claimed the decision had been theirs all along.

Granted, nobody with the slightest sense for the way power flows through Venezuelan society these days would've bought it. Still, doing it that way would've shown that Chavez remains minimally aware that he is, at least theoretically, supposed to be the constitutional leader of a legally constituted republic rather than the owner of an hacienda.

No such luck. Just as with the RCTV shutdown and the decision to throw the book at Manuel Rosales, Chavez wasn't content merely to piss all over the rule of law...instead, he made a point of putting himself on theatrical display, exuberantly pissing all over the rule of law under neon lights, live on national TV...just to make extra-special sure nobody is left in any doubt about who has this particular chupetin by the palito.

Which strikes me as being as much the story here as the actual decision to shut down of a key dissident opinion outlet: not just the illegality of it all, the rampant intolerance of it all, the blatant authoritarian meanness of it all - that stuff is periodico de ayer - but the sheer, morbid refusal even to pay lip service to the notion that the 1999 constitution is ontologically distinct from toilet paper.

May 7, 2009

Apocalypse Now

Quico says: Gah! I really don't have time to blog about it properly right now. But Chavez's move to seize the oil sector's private contractors is a catastrophe of almost unimaginable proportions. The contractors have been undergoing death-by-a-thousand-cuts for some time now, but the consequences of this final kamikaze move are hard to overstate.

Some kind of economic incompetence rubicon is being crossed here. Watch and shudder.

Les Misérables

Juan Cristobal says: - This from the Annals of Dadaist Dictatorship Chronicles:

Two bakers in the city of Guanare, in central Venezuela, were arraigned today. Their crime? Selling bread for a price higher than the regulated price.

Noticias 24 reports that Lucitano Da Conceicao Pereira and Wu Guang Quan were caught selling loaves of sandwich bread at BsF 6 (US$0.92 at market rates) when the maximum legal price, arbitrarily set by the government, is BsF 5.30 (US$0.81).

They are being charged with speculating, a crime described in the Law for Defending People's Access to Goods and Services.

Going to jail for a loaf of bread - where do chavistas get this stuff?

May 6, 2009

The fictional 2.15

Juan Cristobal says: - The government likes to boast about how it has kept the exchange rate fixed at Bs.F. 2.15 for a number of years. They make it sound like this is some smart revolutionary achievement, a sign of the robustness of our economy and our immunity from the growing economic crisis circling the globe.

It's all posturing. As we know too well, framing and spinning are about the only thing they do well.

Fact is, the government has already devalued the bolivar. It just hasn't admitted it.

Let's review the facts.

Yes, it is true: Cadivi still claims to sell dollars at the official rate of 2.15. However, there are fewer dollars available to travel overseas, and the rules change frequently. Even when you jump through all the hoops to get your travel dollars and manage to use them overseas, Cadivi refuses to hand the dollars over to the banks that are actually paying the merchants where you shop.

The result is that more and more banks are announcing that their credit cards will no longer be usable outside of our borders.

Dollars for imports are equally scarce. Just this week, Toyota announced it was close to shutting down its operations because of a lack of dollars to import parts. I guess that's payback for Chavez coming back from Japan empty-handed.

So, on the heels of the government's announcement that there will no longer be dollars available to import vehicles, we have a policy whereby domestic producers can't get cars made. So much for the government boasting about Venezuela's car boom.

The stories on the tightness are a dime a dozen. When it isn't the government imposing new rules and regulations, it's the customs agents at Puerto Cabello. Restrictions sprout up so quickly, there is now a blog trying to keep track of it all.

The end result? Everyone is going to the black market, where dollars trade at about Bs.F. 6.50 and climbing.

In fact, the main supplier of dollars in the black market is probably PDVSA. The government has very few savings and it needs more and more bolivars to finance its ever-increasing spending. But its dollar flows are but a fraction of what they were. The temptation to go to the black market is simply too big for the government to ignore, and everyone knows that is what they are doing. Not that PDVSA would ever admit to it.

So whenever you hear the government boasting about how it's not going to touch the official exchange rate, remember that 2.15 is a mere bureaucratic decision that has less and less meaning each day. The government has already devalued.

Official news about how the rock-solid 2.15 isn't going anywhere have about as much relevance as them saying they will start issuing speeding tickets to mermaids. It's all an illusion.

May 5, 2009

Apologies


Quico says: I really should apologize for the light posting recently. Over the last two weeks, I've been in the middle of a hideously complicated international move, not to mention a nearly uninterrupted maple sugar high.

I'm told ojalá te mudes ("may you have to move") is a traditional maracucho curse. Now I know why.

May 1, 2009

Everything you ever wanted to know about April 11th and weren't afraid to ask

Quico says: Following our Skype Interview last month, Aprileleventhologist extraordinaire Brian Nelson kindly agreed to answer some of your questions about his six years of research into the 2002 April coup.

Brian's very-soon-to-be-published book The Silence and The Scorpion, is the most comprehensive account of the April Crisis written to date.

[If you haven't had a chance yet, listen to our original "Skypecast" here and here. Both are MP3 files.]



Brian Nelson writes:
Thank you for taking the time to respond to and debate my interview. As the comments showed, April 11-14th is still a very controversial and emotional topic and I don’t think anyone feels like justice has been done.

Many of your questions or comments were about my analysis of the violence on April 11th—what is my opinion on who started shooting? what is my opinion on who is responsible?

As I mentioned in the interview, adding my opinion was in many ways contrary to the spirit of the book; rather my goal was to give the perspectives of the people who were actually there (both pro- and anti-Chávez) and let the reader figure it all out. In other words, I tried to convey the experiences of people like Omar as well as people like Carlos. Therefore, if you come to the book with a set position on Venezuela, then you will find many chapters that follow characters that support your viewpoint; but you will also find many chapters that go against it.

I intentionally avoided using my own voice in 90 percent of the book, only stepping in when I felt it necessary to avoid confusion. The timing of events on Baralt Avenue was one of those few instances when I felt I had to stop and explain to the reader what I believe really happened. If I had not done this, it would have been too confusing for English readers who are not familiar with the events.

It should be noted that even when I did use my own voice, I still let characters contradict me. If their testimony belied what I said, I did not simply edit it out, I left it in. This, I hope served as an indication to the reader that these events were disputed.

Timing of violence on Baralt Avenue—Part I
“LaLucca” wrote: How does Nelson's book compare and contrast with Wilpert's version of events? ….if I remember correctly the whole of Wilpert theory was based on a very late timing for Tortoza's killing ….Wilpert puts it at 4.20pm and then develops this whole business with the CNN journo Otto Neusttad, the generals announcing the killings before they took place, etc,etc…

Greg Wilpert has done some very good work on the coup. In fact, his blow-by-blow of events is remarkably similar to mine and many of our conclusions (including the extent of U.S. involvement) are very similar, too.

I do, however, differ on the timing of the violence, which ends up being very important. As you mentioned, Greg Wilpert wrote that Jorge Tortoza was shot and killed at 4:20 pm. (This was the timing given in the documentary La Cadena.) My research shows that he was actually shot and killed right around 2:30 pm. Jesús Arellano was shot a few minutes before Tortoza (shots of the dying Arellano are the last pictures on Tortoza’s camera), and undercover DISIP officer Tony Velásquez (the first gunshot victim on Baralt) was shot even earlier than that, farther up the street.

I am confident that my timing is correct because it was confirmed by six eyewitnesses I interviewed — four opposition marchers, a journalist, a police officer and one Chávez supporter. They all saw Tortoza, they were all interviewed separately, and they all agreed on the time.

Other bits of information also support this earlier timing:
  1. Responding to reports of shots fired on Baralt Avenue, the metropolitan police that were blocking the march on 8th Street moved to Baralt. This happened at just about 2:30 too.
  2. In his testimony before the National Assembly, General Eugenio Guitiérrez, who was in charge of the National Guard troops that day and was on the back patio of Miraflores, said that by 3:00 pm he saw wounded coming from Baralt Avenue.
  3. Two pro-Chávez gunshot victims on Baralt that I interviewed told me they were shot at about 3:00 p.m. The bullet that struck them was at street level—likely fired by police.
  4. Doctors at nearby hospitals also confirmed that the wounded began to arrive around 3 p.m. or earlier. The plastic surgeon who did the reconstructive surgery on Malvina Pesate said he got the call to come to the hospital at 3:30. In other words, Pesate was shot (moments after Tortoza), was taken on a motorcycle out of El Silencio, was put on a truck and taken to the Red Cross center, then driven to Hospital de Clínicas Caracas, given preliminary first aid and X-rays, and then someone contacted the plastic surgeon—all by 3:30 pm.
  5. At 3:30 Carlos Ortega called General Rosendo to say that there were six dead.

Concerning Otto Neustaldt’s Account
Now that we know the shooting started earlier, Otto Neustaldt’s story that Admiral Hector Ramírez Pérez knew about deaths before they occurred becomes problematic. Recall that Meza and La Fuente report in “El Acertijo de Abril” that the supposed first taping of the Admiral’s announcement came right around the beginning of Chávez’s special broadcast, which we know started at 3:45 pm—about 75 minutes after the first deaths (Tortoza and Arellano). That’s plenty of time for the officers to learn of the killings. Meza and La Fuente also reported that someone called out Tortoza’s name as one of the dead before the taping began.

I am not saying this to exonerate Admiral Héctor Ramírez Pérez of wrong doing. On the contrary, my research showed that he had been conspiring against Chávez for many months—he did want to have a coup. What I am not convinced of is that he said people had been killed before they were—something that would imply that he had a hand in those killings.

I tried to reach Otto Neustaldt a couple of times to clarify exactly what happened, but received no response. Since I could not confirm the story, I decided not to include it in my book. And, as I mentioned above, I had shown in one of my first chapters that Admiral Héctor Ramírez Pérez was indeed conspiring against Chávez, so it became something of a moot point.

Timing of Violence- Part II – To address Berto and Carlos’s questions
Carlos is right about a few things here. I agree with him that many of the opposition victims were not shot by the Puente Llaguno gunmen. One of the things I quickly realized from talking to the people who were there was that what happened on Baralt Avenue spanned more than three hours (a lot can happen in 3 hours of shooting) and during that time the different groups (Chávez supporters, marchers, and police) were all moving around quite a bit.

I’m afraid that too many people want to match the videos of the shooting of Arellano, Tortoza and Pesate with the video of the Puente Llaguno gunmen. But these events took place two hours apart. The gunmen were not shooting from Puente Llaguno until about 4:30 (and were 3 blocks away), while Arellano, Tortoza and Pesate were shot at about 2:30.

My research shows this sequence of events:
The first round of casualties was suffered by the opposition at about 2:30 p.m. near the Pedrera intersection. These people (Arellano, Tortoza, Pesate, et al.) were shot by gunmen on the street (not by snipers and not from Puente Llaguno and not by the National Guard). They were shot by gunmen who were very close to marchers, perhaps as close as 20 meters, shooting Southward. Arellano—shot in the chest while looking North; Tortoza—shot behind the left ear while jogging East; Pesate—shot though the cheek while facing North.

All three of these killings were captured on video and in each one we can see that the victims are facing northward (with the slight exception of Arellano who comes back on camera the second after he is hit—his right hand coming up reflexively to the wound in his chest). These videos also show how close the marchers are to the Chávez supporters—fluctuating between about 20 and 50 meters apart as they throw rocks at each other.

In response to this first round of casualties, the Metropolitan Police—who were concentrated a block away on Eighth Street—came and tried to separate the two groups. However, the pro-Chávez crowd perceived this separation as an attack by the police; they thought the police were helping the march get through to the palace, so they turned their weapons increasingly on the police.

Over the next hour and a half or so the distance between the march and the pro-Chávez crowd steadily increased to about 3 city blocks with the police in the middle. There was still a lot of firing, but the number of casualties was smaller. Still, more and more Chávez supporters were being shot as the police returned fire on the gunmen (and hit unarmed people, too).

A bit after 4:30 the gunfight between the police and pro-Chávez gunmen reached its apex and Luis Fernandez captured one side of it in his (in)famous video.

You might ask how I know it was 4:30. In the original Luis Fernandez video we can hear Chávez’s special broadcast over the loudspeakers outside of Miraflores in the background. Because we know what time the broadcast began and ended [and because Chávez occasionally mentions the time], the video becomes a kind of clock.

This is the time when the pro-Chávez side suffered most of its casualties. Indeed, my research shows that during this last 45 minutes of the violence the pro-Chávez side suffered all of their fatalities.

It is clear that the Metropolitan Police shot many of them—by this time the police had called in SWAT-type units with high caliber rifles to “neutralize” the gunmen. They likely shot several of the armed gunmen like Erasmo Sánchez—a man who can be seen in one of the videos firing at police moments before he was shot in the head. Others were possibly hit by misses by the police and there is a good possibility that others might have been hit by friendly fire from the Chávez supporters’ haphazard shooting. It was very chaotic.

In the book, I often let characters contradict the things I said or other characters said so that the reader would know that things were disputed. This is one of those cases. I let several characters say that the Metropolitan Police started the violence, even though my research doesn’t support this, because this perception has become (a) part of the reality of the coup.

About the Title and Cover
“Firepig” very eloquently asked about the origins of the title and cover. Actually, the original title of the manuscript was simply “The Silence,” but my agent and the marketing department at Nation Books were afraid that this would not work as a title because American readers would not know that it referenced the area in Caracas where the violence and the coup began. So I went back to the manuscript and began looking for alternatives. “The Silence and the Scorpion” won out, in part because my editor and I both really wanted to keep “The Silence” in the title.

But why Scorpion? Near the end of the book, I recount my first interview with General Usón in 2003 (before he was arrested and imprisoned). In that interview he described Chávez as a scorpion—someone who might have good intentions, but who is, by his nature, militant.

The story of the cover is similar. I initially wanted a cover that showed the split television screen that many people saw on April 11th. This depicted Chávez’s special broadcast on one side and the violence on the other. (I thought that made a nice metaphor: A split screen for a split nation. It would also have suggested the book’s balancing of perspectives.) However, it was difficult to find actual images of the split screen and these were often of poor quality. In the end we had to scrap the idea.

Luckily, Brent Wilcox at Nation Books was able to create the final cover from one of the archival photos. My editor, agent, and I all loved it so we went with it. I like this cover because it is somewhat ambiguous—it is not clear if the man holding the flag is for or against Hugo Chávez. It is only clear that he is patriotic.

Snipers
Responding to Santiago Garcia’s question about snipers. The appendix of my book is called “The Sniper Riddle,” and in it I try to make sense out of all of the reports of snipers. I must admit, I was only partially successful in clarifying this.

There were three “zones of violence” where the presence of snipers was alleged:
  1. Baralt Avenue from The National Building to Hotel Eden
  2. Between El Silencio Metro and El Calvario
  3. Urdaneta Avenue from Miraflores to the Central Bank.
In the appendix I take a look at each zone individually.

Here’s a quick summary

Zone 1 —Baralt Avenue
Contrary to accepted wisdom, I actually don’t believe there were snipers in this zone. Instead I think that the confusion of the situation, low visibility and echoes in the streets gave people the impression that there were snipers. Imagine for a moment standing in a crowd and suddenly seeing people collapse from bullet wounds, this would likely make you think there were snipers. However, the forensics and photographic evidence suggest that those who were shot in this zone were shot by other people on the street with low caliber handguns. For example, Malvina Pesáte, Jorge Tortoza, and Jesús Arellano were all shot at street level. The Chávez supporters injured or killed in this zone appear to have all been shot by police or friendly fire and/or ricochets.

Zone 2 — El Silencio Metro to El Calvario
It is likely that in this zone there were National Guardsmen and members of Chávez’s Honor Guard working as snipers to support the Guard’s effort to turn back the march. One witness saw the barrel of a FAL sticking out from the Miraflores parking garage and believed that this was the weapon that killed Jhonnie Palencia, an opposition marcher. Another saw a man dressed in black with a FAL shoot a man sitting on the steps of El Calvario. It is important to remember that for the National Guard and the other security forces around Miraflores, Plan Avila was in effect—these soldiers had been given orders to hold back the march and maintain the security perimeter around the palace. (This is also the zone where a National Guardsman was videotaped firing his pistol at the march.)

Zone 3 —Urdaneta Avenue from Miraflores to the Central Bank
This is where things get particularly complicated and where there is a great deal of conflicting evidence. I am able to reach some interesting hypothesis in my book, but in the end I cannot conclusively say who these alleged snipers were or who they were aligned with.

About funding/allegiences
Given all of the spin surrounding April 11th and that many of the facts have been distorted and manipulated for political ends, it is important to ask about the origins of any article, book, or movie about the coup. I was aware of all of the spin and polarization from the beginning, so one of my primary tasks was to depict the events independently and without outside influences.

As the original interview explained, I unilaterally changed the idea for my book from a novel to literary journalism. Then I researched it on my own, I conducted the interviews on my own, and I wrote it on my own. I was very adamant about being independent, which is why it took six and a half years to finish (my grant only covered a portion of the initial research; all subsequent research and writing, including another trip to Venezuela, I paid for myself).

More important, however, is who is actually printing and distributing the book. As I mentioned earlier, my publisher is Nation Books, which is the book division of The Nation Magazine—the largest leftist weekly in the United States. Current releases by Nation Books include “Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army;” “Collateral Damage: America’s War against Iraqi Civilians;” and “Sweet Jesus, I Hate Bill O’Reilly.” In other words, it is hardly a mouthpiece of the U.S. State Department and neither am I.

Unfortunately, Venezuela has become so polarized that any book written about it will be criticized as being biased in some way, whether it be towards the opposition, the government, the military, the media, the Church, or the United States. While I know that some will surely disagree with my conclusions, I have allowed every side to give its perspective on the events.

In The Silence and the Scorpion government supporters say they were attacked by police on Baralt Avenue, while opposition members say that they were ambushed by Bolivarian Circles. The book tells the stories of journalists being harassed and assaulted as well as the stories of how the media manipulated and failed to cover Chávez’s return. It shows how Chávez’s advisers feared the president would be handed over to the United States (à la Manuel Noriega) as well as the White House reaction to the coup. It shows human rights violations but it also shows Venezuelans helping other Venezuelans in need, even when they knew that the person was in the “enemy” camp.

All these perspectives are part of April 11-14th and all of them show another facet of the truth that we are all looking for.

Thank you again for your questions and comments.

Brian Nelson



Click here to order the book from Amazon.

April 30, 2009

The number cruncher

Juan Cristobal says: - In recent days, Hugo Chavez named former Finance Minister Nelson Merentes to head Venezuela's Central Bank. The move would not be chavista if it wasn't controversial, as there was no public hearing on Mr. Merentes' nomination.

Most of the criticism stems from the fact that Merentes is not an economist - he is a mathematician. To me, this seems curiously off-base, specially considering how economics and mathematics have a lot in common, more so each day.

It's not the training he lacks that is the problem, it's what he's willing to do with what he has.

The real danger comes from the fact that Merentes is not only a yes-man but a particularly clever one. As Daniel chronicles, his rise to fame came from devising a voter cheat-sheet that ensured that chavismo, with 60% of the votes, got 97% of the seats in Venezuela's Constitutional Assembly. He was also allegedly involved in numerous shady dealings while at the head of our Treasury.

Merentes left the government to start a "polling firm" that was so closely linked to chavismo, he named it "Grupo de Investigacion Siglo XXI," which practically mirrors the government's pledge to take us to "Socialismo del Siglo XXI."

The polling firm's track record was pretty bad. For example, Merentes predicted the opposition would win two states in last year's regional elections, when in fact they won 5 plus the race for the now-defunct Caracas Mayor's position. He also predicted Chavez's candidates would win Libertador by 37 points (they won it by 12); Petare by 7 points (they lost by 12), and Miranda by 19 points (they lost by 7 points).

Yet in spite of his spotty track record, Merentes gained a reputation as a loyal number cruncher. You would think a number cruncher would be a good fit for the Central Bank, right? Think again.

It's common knowledge that most of what the government publishes is not to be believed. At the same time, BCV figures are, for the most part, still relied upon by economists in Venezuela and abroad. This will probably change.

Putting Merentes at the top of the BCV can only mean the BCV Statistics Office, which has so far escaped relatively unscathed from day-to-day politics, will become the statistical arm of the government.

The implication is that we can kiss the days of reliable economic indicators goodbye. Just like in Cuba, where government statistics make the claim that its GDP per capita puts its population's purchasing power somewhere between that of Brazil and Colombia, so too will we begin to see Kirchnerian number fudging.

Inflation is a problem? Merentes will take care of it. Recession? He'll wipe that off too. International reserves dwindling down? Just add a couple of zeros.

I hope I'm wrong, but I'm probably not. As Hurricane Feces makes its way to our shores, the number cruncher will be there to convince us that everything is "excessively normal."

April 27, 2009

Thoughts on the Eve of the Fifth Anniversary of 1M

Now also on Huffo.

Quico says:
Some events are so momentous, so history shaking, all you need to refer to them is a date. 911 is, I suppose, the grand-daddy of them all, not to mention the main reference point American readers will have for the whole idea of the History Changing Date.

In Venezuela, we have a bunch of them. Our convention, though, is to name them by the day of the month, followed by its initial letter.

So say "27F" and everyone knows you're talking about February 27th, 1989, the day violent rioting swept through the country in response to a fuel price hike. "4F" is February 4th, 1992, the day Chávez attempted to violently overthrow the elected government of Carlos Andrés Pérez, while "11A" is its mirror image: the date of the coup attempt against Chávez 10 years later, on April 11th.

A number and a letter is all you need to conjure up these events because they're the turning points of our national narrative, key junctures when Venezuela's historical trajectory shifted in ways that are still hotly disputed today.

But not every turning point gets the number-and-a-letter treatment. A date like "1M", for instance, means nothing at all to Venezuelans. Which is ironic, because it was on May 1st, 2004 that Venezuelan democracy died, only to be replaced by one of the new breed of "Competitive Authoritarianisms" - regimes where electoral competition coexists with the openly autocratic use of state power.

On Friday, it will be five years since Venezuela's National Assembly voted narrowly to approve a new Framework Law of the Supreme Tribunal. The law expanded the number of sitting magistrates from 20 to 32 and, in direct contravention of the constitution, enabled the National Assembly to both appoint and remove magistrates by a simple majority vote, effectively ensuring a permanent chavista majority.

The twist is that, in Venezuela, the Supreme Tribunal is more than a court of final appeal: it's also the ruling body over the entire court system. The procedures for appointing all first instance and appeal court judges are defined and implemented by a Supreme Tribunal committee - the so-called Dirección Ejecutiva de la Magistratura - which also controls the process for removing judges. Which means that, in Venezuela, controlling the Supreme Tribunal means controlling not just the highest court in the land, but all lower ranking courts as well.

Thing is, 1M wasn't much of a media event. Just a bunch of parliamentarians parliamentating. It didn't yield an image, never produced the kind of footage TV stations could show again and again. It never made it onto the front pages of foreign newspapers...hell, it barely made it onto the front pages back home!

Within days, it was overshadowed by flashier news that seemed more alarming at the time but would soon fade. The whole episode got filed away under the category of "outrageous things chavismo does that we can't do anything about" and forgotten; but its importance would not fade. On the contrary.

Now more than ever, we live under the shadow of 1M. It was then that chavismo put an end to the pretense that any part of the state could curb the president's power. The move heralded the era of the robed magistrate chanting pro-Chávez slogans inside the Tribunal chamber and of Supreme Tribunal chairmen openly declaring that the justice they were there to implement was "revolutionary justice" - openly partisan justice unabashedly dedicated to furthering the political needs of the leader.

The 2004 Supreme Tribunal Law did away, at a single stroke, with society's most important means for protecting itself from the authoritarian inclinations of its rulers, ensuring a subservient justice system that would never again dare to act as a check on the power of the powerful.

1M was the day when all the credibility drained out of our judicial system, the day any possibility that citizens could again use the law to seek redress against the abuses of the powerful was closed for good.

So as we approach its 5th anniversary, lets take a moment to reflect on the grim legacy of the day democracy died.

April 23, 2009

The problem with the hero theory

Quico says: I do realize there's one fairly basic problem with the "hero" theory of Venezuelan redemption: it relies, ultimately, on power's sense of shame. Ghandi's campaign, in India, had power because London could be shamed into changing its actions. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. relied on northerners' sense of shame about what was happening down south. Mandela succeeded by shaming even the apartheid regime in the eyes of the world. But what can a hero do against a government that is, in quite literal terms, sinvergüenza?

Not a lot, I'm afraid...

Heroes

Quico says: Juan Forero's report for the Washington Post on the growing crackdown against the opposition paints a dismal picture of the extremes to which the government's strategy to criminalize opposition is going. It's worth a read, in part, to get a feel for the way the tone of US coverage on Venezuela is shifting these days, even from reporters who have long gone through great lengths to give the government a fair shake.

Personally, I find it hard to suppress a rather naughty thought about all this. Given that the Opposition establishment has proven unable to renew itself, to build the institutional mechanisms it takes to discard failed leaderships and serve as a conveyor belt for new leaders to emerge, isn't the government, in a really twisted way, doing us a favor here?

For years I've been dismayed by the realization the opposition doesn't seem up to the task of ridding itself of its deadwood. It might just take an assist from Chávez to, for instance, break the Blanca Ibañez-appointed Barboza-Rosales axis's deathgrip over Zulia politics.

It's the kind of thing you're not supposed to say in polite company, I realize, but hell, we all know this here ain't polite company.

Luis Vicente Leon, the Datanalisis pollster and Pundit of Pundits, caused a bit of a stir recently saying a leadership like Chávez's calls for a "hero" to face it down: some truly extraordinary personality willing to act with complete disregard for his or her own safety to challenge the regime in a symbolically loaded way.

I can't help but think that the new batch of leaders that will come up to take the places of those now being exiled or jailed are much more likely to play that kind of role. They'll be people coming into it fully aware of the risks, and fully cognizant that opposition, from here on out, is likely to be a semi-clandestine affair. For my money, if Venezuela is to find its hero, it's much more likely to come from the ranks of the up-and-comers, to be someone whose name you've never heard, than one of the established oppo figures.

April 22, 2009

Email delivery news

Quico says: I've just realized for the last who-knows-how-long, the little sign-up form on the right for Email delivery hadn't been working. It's now fixed.

If you want to get each day's new posts delivered to your inbox, just enter your email address and follow the confirmation instructions.

Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.

[Hat tip: Charlie.]

Corruption? What corruption?

Quico says: How can it be that the government only prosecutes corruption cases when the accused are Chávez opponents? It drives me batty. Nothing chavismo does makes my blood boil like the partisan use of anti-corruption legislation. Considering ours is a government virtually specialized in coming up with innovative ways of making my blood boil, that's quite a claim.

Thing is, for political scientists, the determinants of corruption aren't much of a mystery. The profession is pretty unified on the idea that people in the public sector respond to the incentives they face, pretty much like people in the private sector do. They weigh the expected benefits and expected costs of actions and, if the former outweigh the latter, they go for it.

In the case of corruption, in particular, the calculus isn't especially hard to make. It goes something like:

There are, of course, variations on this theme. But the basic view of bureaucrats as calculating agents responding to incentives basically holds. Give officials more discretion over regulatory decisions worth important sums of money and, ceteris paribus, you'll get more corruption. Alternatively, cut back on official oversight, or make it more difficult for regular citizens to see what's actually going on in an administrative setting, and you can certainly expect more corruption.

It's when you've grasped this that the Chavez regime's deliriously partisan application of anti-corruption laws comes into sharpest relief.

We all know that, in Venezuela today, the vast majority of public sector jobs are in the hands of chavistas while the vast majority of anti-corruption probes target the tiny spaces regime opponents have carved out through state and local elections. But even that realization doesn't come close to giving a full picture of the regime's manipulation of anti-corruption statutes.

Go back to that equation. It's not just that chavistas hold more offices than anti-chavistas, it's that, from a racketeering point of view, they hold all the good offices. Controlling the entire national bureaucracy, they hold all the key posts with discretional power over regulatory decisions that make or break businesses. Controlling the vast bulk of the state's oil revenues, they rule over disproportionate amounts of the money the state has to play with.

By comparison, the rump opposition is utterly dependent on central government transfers, transfers they do or don't get depending on the central government's - wait for it - discretion.

But it's not only that. It's that the rump opposition-run public sector faces far, far greater scrutiny than the chavista controlled bits of the state, with the comptroller's office devoted nearly exclusively to picking over the minutiae of their transactions. And the Chávez-controlled public sector is not just an oversight-free zone, but a transparency-free zone as well, with public accounts barely audited and key financial reports simply not filed for months and months after their deadlines are reached.

The government's claim, in effect, is that the opposition is more corrupt than the government, even though it has more to lose from corruption, and less to gain from it. Opposition supporters, for whom trouble in the event of even minor indiscretions is nearly guaranteed, nevertheless choose to steal, while government supporters, who are nearly guaranteed to get away with it no matter how brazen their graft, choose not to.

How can that be?

The only way to sustain a belief in this storyline is to posit that chavistas and anti-chavistas are fundamentally different kinds of human beings.

They're not both rational decision-makers responding to the balance of expected costs and benefits they face, they're fundamentally different forms of humanity. Chavistas are, deep down, good people, who won't steal even when they can get away with it. Whereas we are so immanently, deeply, incorrigibly crooked we'll steal even in the full knowledge of what's coming.

For chavismo, it's not even that we're stupid. It's that we're evil. And here we get to the essentialist nub of the Chávez era, a style of engaging opponents that refuses recognize in them even the rudiments of rationality, seeing our behavior as ruled by a deep well of sheer horribleness that no rational calculus could deter or curb.

It's this essentialist nub of chavismo's engagement with the world that's really alarming. Because so long as I believe that my opponents are merely cynical, or wrong, or stupid I can imagine coming to some sort of accommodation with them. But from the moment I convince myself - and my followers - that my enemies are fundamentally evil, it's only a minuscule step to advocating their physical elimination.

Es dramática la vaina...

April 21, 2009

Ledezma Making Sense

Quico says: No, I can't believe I'm writing this either, but we need to face up: Caracas's embattled mayor, Antonio Ledezma is turning out to be a far smarter, saner, and far, far more effective opposition politician than many of us ever dared to dream.


Ledezma's concept of "neo-dictatorship" is pretty much the same as what I've been calling "autocracy". The specific word used to describe it doesn't matter to me as much as the realization that what Chávez does is conceptually distinct from dictatorship as traditionally understood. In the academic leadership, this kind of state system seems to go by the name "competitive authoritarianism" more and more. Coined by Steven Levitsky and Lucan A. Way, the system seems to be gaining more and more currency:
Competitive authoritarianism must be distinguished from democracy on the one hand and full-scale authoritarianism on the other. Modern democratic regimes all meet four minimum criteria: 1) Executives and legislatures are chosen through elections that are open, free, and fair; 2) virtually all adults possess the right to vote; 3) political rights and civil liberties, including freedom of the press, freedom of association, and freedom to criticize the government without reprisal, are broadly protected; and 4) elected authorities possess real authority to govern, in that they are not subject to the tutelary control of military or clerical leaders. Although even fully democratic regimes may at times violate one or more of these criteria, such violations are not broad or systematic enough to seriously impede democratic challenges to incumbent governments. In other words, they do not fundamentally alter the playing field between government and opposition.

In competitive authoritarian regimes, by contrast, violations of these criteria are both frequent enough and serious enough to create an uneven playing field between government and opposition. Although elections are regularly held and are generally free of massive fraud, incumbents routinely abuse state resources, deny the opposition adequate media coverage, harass opposition candidates and their supporters, and in some cases manipulate electoral results. Journalists, opposition politicians, and other government critics may be spied on, threatened, harassed, or arrested. Members of the opposition may be jailed, exiled, or—less frequently—even assaulted or murdered. Regimes characterized by such abuses cannot be called democratic.

Competitive authoritarianism must therefore be distinguished from unstable, ineffective, or otherwise flawed types of regimes that nevertheless meet basic standards of democracy, and this includes what Guillermo O'Donnell has called "delegative democracies." According to O'Donnell, delegative democracies are characterized by low levels of horizontal accountability (checks and balances) and therefore exhibit powerful, plebiscitarian, and occasionally abusive executives. Yet such regimes meet minimum standards for democracy. Delegative democracy thus applies to such cases as Argentina and Brazil in the early 1990s, but not to Peru after Fujimori's 1992 presidential self-coup.

Yet if competitive authoritarian regimes fall short of democracy, they also fall short of full-scale authoritarianism. Although incumbents in competitive authoritarian regimes may routinely manipulate formal democratic rules, they are unable to eliminate them or reduce them to a mere façade. Rather than openly violating democratic rules (for example, by banning or repressing the opposition and the media), incumbents are more likely to use bribery, co-optation, and more subtle forms of persecution, such as the use of tax authorities, compliant judiciaries, and other state agencies to "legally" harass, persecute, or extort cooperative behavior from critics. Yet even if the cards are stacked in favor of autocratic incumbents, the persistence of meaningful democratic institutions creates arenas through which opposition forces may—and frequently do—pose significant challenges. As a result, even though democratic institutions may be badly flawed, both authoritarian incumbents and their opponents must take them seriously.
Nobody would confuse him for the academic type, but Ledezma gets it. In the clip above, he summarizes the distinctions Levitsky and Way make with uncanny precision. I have to take my hat off to him grasping what he's up against as clearly as he has. Endlessly demonized, stripped of his powers, aggressively harassed, Ledezma nonetheless keeps his cool and restrains himself from lobbing shrill "ESTE RRRRRRRREGIMEN TOTALITARIO!!!!" rhetorical grenades at the government. The guy has his ojo pelao...eyes wide open, man, eyes wide open.

Ledezma...whodathunk, huh?

April 20, 2009

Even the liberal New Republic...

Quico says: ...wants to know what Venezuelans thought of The Handshake.

Christopher Toothaker, or the problem with mainstream media

Juan Cristobal says: - This weekend's rapprochement between the U.S. and Venezuela is, without a doubt, good news. We have long argued on this blog that isolating Chavez is impossible and that fueling his anti-U.S. rhetoric only helps Chavez and actually hurts the opposition, including our political prisoners.

But don't expect to read this opinion in the mainstream media.

Case in point: this dispatch from Christopher Toothaker, of the Associated Press. Toothaker tried to find out what the opposition thinks of this new detente between the two countries. He paints the portrait of a wary opposition, concluding that we want Obama to press Chavez on his increasing authoritarianism.

His only source? Milos Alcalay.

I have no problem with former Ambassador Alcalay. In fact, I may even agree with most of what he's saying.

My problem is with this reporter claiming that Alcalay actually speaks for the opposition. As a former diplomat who has never held elective office and who served as Chavez's Ambassador a full two years after the April 2002 massacre, Mr. Alcalay is not the spokesperson we really need, nor is he a representative voice of any significant portion of the opposition.

Was it too much to ask Mr. Toothaker to get other opinions? For example, the opinion of the leaders of our political parties, or of Caracas' embattled Mayor? Last I heard, those were the guys actually getting the votes.

You may be tempted to conclude that this is their fault. Partly, it is, given how I can't find a single quote from a significant opposition voice talking about the Obama-Chavez meeting. Seriously, people, is it too hard to put out a press release?

But it's clear Mr. Toothaker didn't seek to talk to other sources. Had he done that, he would have added the usual disclaimer of how he tried to reach other people but did not hear back. This omission hints that his only source was Alcalay and, poof, a note about Venezuela's wary "opposition" makes its way to hundreds of newspapers and media outlets across the globe.

A while back, we concluded that our opposition leadership needed to make way for fresh faces and new ideas. So it goes with mainstream media. Their laziness and the callous way in which they do their job does a disservice to Venezuela's opposition and to the public in general.

It's time for them to go as well. Luckily, they're on their way out.

April 18, 2009

Chokin' on my cornflakes...

Quico says: Yes, it's the course of action I explicitly recommended a few months ago.

Yes, my brain knows this is the smart thing.

Still, I couldn't help but blanch when I saw it:

April 17, 2009

A comprehensive theory of ChávezTime

Quico says: Chavismo, as the saying goes, is "more-of-the-same, only worse".

It's one my favorite tropes on the Chávez era. What I like best about that reduction is the way it focuses attention on the too-often overlooked continuities between puntofijismo and chavismo.

The trouble, I think, is with the last bit. How much worse, exactly? Is it possible to quantify such a thing?

After an exhaustive review of political science doctrine, I think I've come up with an answer.

Chavismo is exactly 2.5 times worse than puntofijismo.

Or, to be even more precise, chavismo's rate of decay from bright new democratic hope to universally acknowledged, widely despised failure is 2.5 times faster than puntofijismo's.

How does that work exactly?

It's useful to think about this government in terms of ChávezYears. Everyone knows that one human year is equivalent to 7 dog years, right? Well, the rate of exchange between PuntofijoYears and ChávezYears is about 2.5-to-1.

Think about it. Puntofijismo's first years in power were dominated by a no-holds barred confrontation with a committed ideological opponent that refused to acknowledge its legitimacy and was determined to overthrow it by force. Puntofijismo's struggle with the far left guerrillas lasted, in one for or another, over 12 years - from 1958 until the defeat of the insurgents and Caldera's peace initiatives in 1971.

Chavismo's first few years in power were dominated by a similarly bitter (if less Bang-Bang) confrontation with irreconcilable ideological foes. However, Chavismo got through it two and a half times as fast, in just the 5 years between 1999 and 2004, rather than the 12+ puntofijismo needed.

Puntofijismo segued directly from victory over the insurgents to a heady oil boom that brought with it a massive sense of social contentment, huge new fortunes for the politically connected, a sharp uptick in corruption, and the first clear signs that the social mission of the regime would end up taking a backseat to the personal aspirations of the new governing elite. Chavismo did the same, except Puntofijismo's oil bonanza lasted a good eight years, from 1973 to 1981, about two and a half times as long as chavismo's 2005-2008 bonanza.

Continue with this exercise, and we get a PuntofijoTime to ChávezTime equivalency scale that's something like:

PFT : CT
1958 : 1999
1961 : 2000
1963 : 2001
1966 : 2002
1968 : 2003
1970 : 2004
1973 : 2005
1975 : 2006
1978 : 2007
1980 : 2008
1983 : 2009
1985 : 2010
1988 : 2011
1990 : 2012
1993 : 2013
1995 : 2014
1998 : 2015

We all know what happened after each oil bust. As the oil money dried up in the early 80s, puntofijismo dithered, playing with various short-term patches that failed to address the fact that a state designed for boom times just looked out of place in the middle of a bust.

A serious retrenchment was unavoidable by the time the Lusinchi era rolled in, only there was still a bit of money in the kitty, so the governing elite found it much easier to put off the painful choices as long as possible. In the five years that followed, they drew down international reserves, badly undermined the country's credit worthiness, and turned what might have been a traumatic but manageable reform package in 1983 into the catastrophic drama of 1989, when reform was carried out not so much out of choice but simply impelled by the fact that the nation had no more foreign reserves to speak of.

By this reckoning, Chavismo's 2009 corresponds to Puntofijismo's 1983, the start of a period of reckless time-wasting that puts off the arithmetically inevitable reckoning to come. Just as in 1983, the oil boom is now well and truly over, but its effects are still far from worked through the system.

Looking in my crystal ball, I foresee the eventual day of reckoning - the time when dithering becomes unsustainable and a serious retrenchment imposes itself of necessity - should come sometime in 2011 or 2012. This will be followed by a period of renewed instability, when many of the one-time pillars of the state's legitimacy turn on it, setting off a topsy-turvy period of acute ingovernability leading, a few years down the line, to the system's wholesale rejection by pretty much everyone, in particular, in response to the catastrophic collapse of the banking system due some time around 2013-2014.

And, of course, we can look forward to the end of the whole insane experiment circa 2015. (Hey, no lo digo yo, son los números!)

It may seem absolutely unreal, simply impossible, to imagine Mario Silva, Eleazar Diaz Rangel and Vanessa Davies out campaigning for a vote to revoke Chávez's next mandate circa 2015. But then, in 1983, nobody could've believed that Venevisión, El Nacional, and the El Mundo would be out campaigning for a guy who was vowing to get rid of the 1961 constitution and "refound the republic." Nobody would've believed you if you'd said the puntofijo regime would collapse not under the pressure of Douglas Bravo, Causa R, or the rest of its usual-suspect critics, but rather under pressure from people and institutions that formed its own key sources of legitimacy.

In 1983, that was crazy talk. But in 1998, that's exactly what happened. Puntofijismo rotted from the inside out, eating away at its own legitimacy until the time was ripe and the whole edifice crumbled all at once in the face of a charismatic challenge.

And I'm convinced: chavismo is more of the same, but worse. So, for me, it's a mathematical certainty. This rollercoaster will run through 2015, and the instability hasn't even started yet.

Escríbanlo.