Viva Chavez!

Venezuela's president leads a revolution based on personality.

After forty years of politics as usual, Venezuela has suddenly become an object of curiosity to the world's press. The reason is President Hugo Chavez, a 46-year-old former lieutenant colonel who first came to the attention of Venezuelans in 1992, when he and a group of other junior officers attempted to overthrow the government of President Carlos Andres Perez. Amnestied by Perez's successor, Chavez began a political career of his own, and in 1998, running as the candidate of the so-called Fifth Republic Revolutionary Movement (MVR), he was elected by a decisive majority. Two and a half years later, he is still an enigma--to Venezuelans, to the United States, and to everyone else. Given his country's central role in the oil producers' cartel and, even more, given the current dependence of the United States on Venezuelan oil, he merits a closer look.

"Hugo Chavez is Venezuela--he is the typical Venezuelan." The comment was made to me more than once when I visited the country in February. Most Venezuelans, I was reminded, do not have homes in Miami or New York, do not speak fluent English or have degrees from American universities, do not feel particularly comfortable in the boardrooms and stock exchanges of the North Atlantic countries, and do not understand much about economics. Chavez is one of them. The son of a rural schoolteacher, he grew up in the Venezuelan backlands and was able to enter the military academy thanks to his talent as a baseball player. He combines a rather rudimentary education with a jumble of undigested political and economic notions culled from a variety of sources--Marxism, Latin American-style nationalism, indigenous irredentism, environmentalism, and antiglobalism. Oddly enough, although many of his closest political associates are veterans of Venezuela's small but influential Marxist or semi-Marxist Left, the ideologue generally thought to have the greatest influence over him, Norberto Ceresole, is an Argentine fascist living in Spain.

To hear Chavez tell it, he and his country represent the vanguard of a new world order challenging the prevailing "neoliberal" Washington consensus. He has singled out Venezuela's membership in the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) as a means of advancing his international agenda. In pursuit of his goal, he has made scores of trips to Third World venues since taking office; he is also a frequent visitor to Cuba, whose dictator, Fidel Castro, he regards as a mentor and role model. At the same time, however, Venezuela's role in the world economy remains resolutely conventional--it pays its debts on time to U.S. and European banks, welcomes foreign investment, and so far has not tampered with property rights in Venezuela itself. Moreover, although some newspaper publishers have been subjected to threats, and although Chavez complains bitterly about criticisms in the U.S. media, Venezuela enjoys a surprisingly free press--so free, in fact, that it is difficult to believe some of the stories about the government that appear on an almost daily basis. Finally, the government has made no effort to curb strikes or popular discontent; indeed, the roadways of Caracas are held up on an almost daily basis by protest demonstrations.

What, then, is "revolutionary" about the Chavez government? First, it has utterly dismantled the institutions inherited from the previous regime, the so-called Fourth Republic. Like many other Latin American strongmen, Chavez has a distinct penchant for the use of plebiscites. Since taking office in early 1999, he has called Venezuelans to the ballot box five separate times--first, to convoke a new constituent assembly to rewrite the constitution; then to elect members of that assembly; then to win approval for the charter it produced; then to hold new elections for president, governors, and mayors; and most recently, to dismantle the existing labor movement. That process--which by now has exhausted Venezuelans to the point that relatively few are interested in exercising the right to vote--has allowed Chavez to replace an elected Congress with one overwhelmingly dominated by his supporters. Furthermore, it has enabled him to rewrite the constitution so that he can serve for six years, up from five, and run for another consecutive term instead of having to stand down for one term. Lastly, the spate of elections has also replaced the traditional political elite with a cadre of governors and mayors largely of the president's own preference.

Second, Chavez has assigned an entirely new role to the Venezuelan armed forces. For many decades before 1958, Venezuela was perhaps the Latin American country most severely afflicted by the disease of militarism (Bolivar himself once referred to his own country as a "barracks"). The founders of the Fourth Republic (1958-99) struck a bargain with the armed forces: In exchange for their complete retirement from the political arena--they even surrendered the right to vote--they were given salaries, fringe benefits, and other privileges far surpassing those of other Latin American institutions. That arrangement, which seemed particularly commendable at the time, was financed by the country's burgeoning oil revenues.

Lacking a party of his own, Chavez has decided to rely upon the military for key administrative tasks. Under Plan Bolivar 2000 (and now, 2001), vast amounts of money are being transferred to serving officers to oversee the construction or renovation of schools, clinics, roads, and private housing. To be sure, except for the Corps of Engineers, most Venezuelan officers have no experience in such work. Presumably they or their relatives will find people in the construction business to carry out much of the technical side of this task. Unfortunately, no bidding process is involved; Venezuelans will have to hope that the honor of the armed forces is sufficient to guarantee the full and accurate disbursement of funds.

Many important retired officers have expressed deep concern over the sudden shift in roles. They point out that with such large amounts of money changing hands with no established procedure for accountability, many members of the high command will be tempted to fill their pockets. That may indeed be, they reason, exactly what Chavez has in mind. The plan will buy him political support from the military by tendering unprecedented financial benefits, and, by making the armed forces complicit in corruption, it will provide him with the means to blackmail his uniformed associates in the event that they are tempted to turn against him.

Third, Chavez has replaced Venezuela's multiparty democracy, however flawed, with an exaggerated cult of personality, which is to say, with a political system that revolves totally around himself. It is true that the traditional political parties of the old regime--particularly Accion Democratica--have not been completely extinguished, and some are represented in the National Assembly, among state governors, or among mayors. But more telling is the fact that even though the vast majority of Venezuelans continue to approve of his presidency, Chavez has done little to create a party of his own. His MVR is more a movement than a party, a loose coalition of people who for one reason or another expect to garner advantage by piggybacking onto his immense personal popularity. As for Chavez himself, he seems fascinated by the sound of his own voice and, like Fidel Castro, sees nothing wrong with giving speeches that run on for five hours at a stretch. Every Sunday he takes to the airwaves for a call-in talk show ("Hello, President"), and every Thursday night he gets thirty minutes more of television time to address the nation.

It is on these occasions, but particularly on "Hello, President," that Chavez makes some of his most bloodcurdling statements (such as that labor leaders protesting his dismantling of their movement were "like pigs squealing on the way to the slaughterhouse"). So far, Chavez's bark has proven far worse than his bite, but many Venezuelans are not waiting around to make sure. An unprecedented number of middle class professionals have emigrated to the United States, Canada, Spain, or elsewhere, and an estimated $10 billion in Venezuelan assets is reported to have left the country over the past eighteen months.

Fourth, Chavez has brought Venezuela to the edge of a potential institutional void. The promise he represents for ordinary people--better housing, better education, better health care, more employment--rests upon two premises. One is that the price of oil, which has rather fortuitously tripled since the president took office, will remain at its present level, or even edge upwards. The other is that during this period of relative economic bonanza, the government will make full use of its resources to improve significantly the country's human and physical capital. With respect to the former, no one can predict it with certainty. Nonetheless, it is, at least worth noting that so far the increase in the price of oil has done relatively little to ameliorate the condition of the poor.

The latter, the announced goal of every Venezuelan government since at least 1958, requires a more disciplined, systematic, and coherent approach than Chavez has employed thus far. (The importation of Cuban doctors and teachers, however provocative from a political or ideological point of view, merely scratches at the surface of the problem, while laying the groundwork for a future backlash.) If after five years of constant promises, perhaps accompanied by high oil prices, the living conditions of ordinary Venezuelans have not improved, it is extremely unlikely that Chavez will be reelected. If oil prices drop precipitously, such an outcome seems virtually assured. By itself, his downfall need be no disaster. But after he essentially created a political system with himself at the center, and neutralized, if not co-opted, the armed forces, it is difficult to see what institutions will remain to pick up the pieces when popular faith in Chavez as a miracle worker has dissipated.

As of today, it would appear that Chavez has nothing to worry about. The latest surveys give him a 68 percent approval rating and only 25 percent disapproval. Behind these numbers, however, lie others far more suggestive. One pollster believes that a more accurate finding would divide the population into thirds, with one-third furiously pro-Chavez, one-third firmly anti-Chavez, and a floating middle third that still feels some affection for and trust in the president and continues to hope that he will succeed. That estimate is entirely consistent with the numbers in the last presidential election.) On the other hand, the same pollster points out that the middle third is beginning to vacillate, and that while pro-Chavez sentiment in the population as a whole has dropped in recent months by 25 percent, pro-opposition sentiment has increased by 16 percent. Another survey found that over the past two years the gap between Chavez's approval and disapproval ratings has been reduced by half. Even more intriguing is the fact that when citizens were asked how much time they give Chavez to show results before they become disillusioned with him, the average was just 15.2 months.

Three things currently insulate the president from the potential impact of his gradually falling numbers. One is the lack of a visible alternative. Although 63 percent of Venezuelans believe that their political system requires an opposition, 62 percent cannot name a single leader besides Chavez whom they would like to see on the national scene. When those surveyed were supplied with a list of names, no candidate reached double digits, not even the two personalities who ran against Chavez in his two presidential races. The second is the lack of party identification. Some 42 percent of Venezuelans now consider themselves "independent"--a remarkable figure considering that as recently as five years ago their country was home to two of the most vigorous and well-organized political parties in Latin America. The next identifier in descending order of preference is Chavez's own MVR, but it reaches only 30 percent.

The third factor working in the president's favor is the current national mood. Chavez is the only Venezuelan president in recent times to operate in a climate of relative optimism. Indeed, since 1989 the only time such a mood prevailed--and that only briefly--was after the impeachment of President Carlos Andres Perez. But such feelings are inspired more by hope for the future than by concrete achievements; of the same sample, only 17 percent claimed to be living better than a year before. Moreover, even Chavez has experienced some sharp, if momentary, drops in his standing in the polls.

Thus far, Chavez's "revolution" is more political and rhetorical than anything else. Disillusioned with politics as usual, Venezuelans have turned to a strong man to resolve their economic and social problems. Blessed with charisma, and with a capacity to communicate with ordinary people that few Venezuelan politicians have ever possessed, Chavez has so far managed to hold their support and affection. Nonetheless, it requires no great imagination or, for that matter, knowledge of the recent history of Latin America, to foresee enormous difficulties ahead. Fulminating against the past will work as long as the past that Venezuelans can recall is one associated with corrupt and inefficient democracy. Within five years, however, the "past" will be Chavez and his "revolution." The comparisons may be less favorable and less convenient.

Mark Falcoff is a Resident Scholar at the American Enterprise Institute. An earlier version of this article appeared in AEI's Latin American Outlook.