Image courtesy of Nueva Sociedad. All rights reserved.
If we are to look at Venezuela from Cuba, and at Venezuela
together with Cuba, we should go back to December 1994, when Hugo Chávez, just
out of the prison where he had been held since his attempted coup in 1992,
arrived in Havana and was welcomed by Fidel Castro with full honours as a
future hero.
Chávez, who had just turned 40, made an inflammatory
anti-imperialist speech in which he showed his potential as an emerging mass
leader, albeit still burdened by the stern verticality of the barracks.
The aim of his visit to Cuba, he said, was the formation of
"a mutually nurtured Latin American revolutionary project", which was
to be achieved when he would access power through elections and open a new
republican period that would leave behind the many frustrations which had been
piling up.
This was not of course, far from it, the
start of the relationship between the two societies. Ever since the merchants
from La Guaira began refilling their ships in Havana in the 16th century,
Venezuela and Cuba have been sharing their culture, politics and economy in a
hectic relationship marked by encounters and missed encounters.
But as of that
moment, and especially in 1998 – when Chávez won a comfortable victory at the
elections over the debris of the Punto Fijo Pact republic, Cuba became
essential to assessing the Venezuelan scene – to revile its military and
security advisors, or to praise its healthcare professionals.
This is why if we are to talk about Cuba, we must talk about Venezuela – and vice versa. Failing to do it is unforgivable.
To ordinary Cubans, Venezuela ceased to be only good salsa
music and became a kind of revolutionary greening element precisely at a time
when the revolution itself had lost its sex appeal and the persistent economic
mediocrity was in dire need of solvent financial support.
The relationship was
so close that some Chavista leaders – to paraphrase Umberto Eco, turning an
excess of virtue in debauchery – went so far as to speak of a political
federation that the Cuban leaders carefully discarded, bearing in mind that it
is one thing to walk together and quite another thing to spend the night
together.
This is why if we are to talk about Cuba, we must talk about
Venezuela – and vice versa. Failing to do it is unforgivable. But doing it in
an elementary way could lead to illusions, a usual phenomenon in the Cuban
scenario, especially in the field of political passions.
When, from the Cuban
perspective, the experiences of both societies are made equivalent, Venezuela
tends to be seen sometimes as past, sometimes as future. The defenders of
Castrist teleology would say that Venezuela is now going through a moment of cleavage
and rupture which will lead to the consolidation of a revolutionary political
regime, as Cuba did in the distant 60s.
Their always inflamed opponents would
argue that Venezuela is treading a civic insurgency path which Cuba will not be
long in following too, and thus achieve the restoration of a liberal-democratic
order.
These are two crass errors, because although the official
discourses have striven to bring the two experiences as close together as
possible and have tended to refer them both to a single historical context, we
must acknowledge the fact that alongside some quite obvious similarities, there
are actually a number of differences which neatly define the nature and
itinerary of each process.
While Cuba experienced a real social revolution, Chavism, on the other hand, was not a revolution – it did not change the structure of property or of power within Venezuelan society, nor did it destroy the old political system.
Cuba experienced a real social revolution which ended
basically in the mid-60s and gave way to a long post-revolutionary period that
has gone through different phases.
Building on the rubble of a military
dictatorship (but also on the debris of a republic utterly devalued by
corruption and inequality), Cuba was able to maneuver successfully on the basis
of a totalitarian political system that repressed and exported dissidence with
the invaluable support of US imperialist interference.
At the same time, Cuba managed to establish an effective
system for the provision of social services which organized regimented personal
consumption and promoted the social mobility of large sections of the
population.
The existence of this system is key to understanding the capacity
of the Cuban State to overcome major crises, as the one it went through between
1990 and 1994, when the economy shrinked by 50%. The provision system managed
to keep on functioning even in the worst moments, strengthening the
legitimizing idea of a revolution-that-does-not-abandon-its-people. All of this
seasoned the existing political control with strong doses of consensus which
is, even today, shared by large sections of the population.
Chavism, on the other hand, was not a revolution – it did not
change the structure of property or of power within Venezuelan society, nor did
it destroy the old political system.
It was a spirited (and strident) left-wing
populist experience coexisting with the bourgeoisie and private capitalist
property. And when it did impinge on one or the other through some radical
measure, it was actually more a consequence of some leap forward than of future
political planning.
Its dynamics have always been dependant on oil prices, like
almost everything in Venezuela in the last 60 years, including democracy and
Socialism.
Although the system has been evolving towards caudillista and authoritarian political forms, it has never
eliminated the organized opposition, nor has it achieved anything anywhere near
the Cuban monocentric structure. Its social programs – which had a positive
effect on reduction of poverty and social inclusion between 2003 and 2012 –
were organized through "missions", in a voluntarist and asystemic
way, under the direct authority of the leader.
And the economic support given
to governments and related movements for the sake of a Bolivarian continental
revolution has not in fact produced the revolution, but it has altered regional
geopolitics and dramatically eroded national resources.
To the extent that both Chavism and Castroism originate from
political disruption and promise a new order that they call Socialist, both
operate on the basis of an overdetermination of politics.
But while Castroism
has guaranteed its survival by being able to navigate over it, Chavismo has
dissolved and shreded – simply because the Cuban regime has learned to use
politics as an economic resource, while the Venezuelan regime haas done the
opposite. Whereas Cuban leaders have developed a special ability to delve in
other people's purses, the Venezuelans have turned their country into a most
prodigal one.
Since the 16th century, Cuban society has learned to convert
politics into merchandise, and I do believe that there is no other society,
with the exception of Puerto Rico, that has enjoyed greater quotas of subsidies
throughout its history.
The new post-revolutionary elite has successfully
appropriated this legacy while, at the same time, balancing accumulation and
governance. As a result, Cuba has never enjoyed a golden economic period, but
it has always been able to avoid disaster.
Chavismo did have its golden age. This was when, with oil
prize at over 110 dollars a barrel, it organized free elections (with a 75%
turnout) and won 60% of the votes, significantly reduced poverty, and
interfered with continental politics.
Although Hugo Chávez, with that eloquence
so typical of populist leaders, once swore that even with "the oil at
zero" his revolutionary programs would never stop, we have not had to wait
that much: the system shattered when oil prizes fell below 60 dollars.
The soft coexistence between a corrupt State and a
speculative market turned into a lethal brew for the average Venezuelans.
Today, the Venezuelan economy is not even able to benefit from rising oil
prices. That peculiar populist tendency of trying to solve crises by adding
more crises has brought the country to the threshold of hecatomb.
Whatever the exact details, however, both Cuba and Venezuela
seem to have reached the end of an itinerary.
The popular masses that supported the Cuban revolution in 1959 and the Chavista challenge in 1998 were not disoriented and they were not lacking in judgment. They were people looking for hope in dead-end streets.
Nothing indicates the likelihood of a break in Cuba. The
island continues to offer – although in an increasingly deficient manner- a
safe but mediocre life under a severely controlled political system, and
credible propositions of improvement in other areas. The opposition –
regardless of its moral and political stock – is weak and not very influential.
The post-revolutionary political class is undergoing a process of change that
will eventually produce a new political generation whose mission will be to
manage the capitalist restoration (and its own bourgeois metamorphosis) and to
restructure the domestic and international pacts that make it possible.
On the
other hand, everything seems to indicate that a rupture is quite likely in
Venezuela to put an end to an unworthy and obscene government. This could
happen in many ways – some politically and humanly more regrettable than others
– but it does not seem that the current level of polarization can be resolved
by having the same actors sit at a negotiation table.
But leaving the two different contexts aside, it is crucially
important that both societies and their emerging elites understand that there
are no havens to return to.
Cuba was not – as exiles and migrants tend to
imagine when they look at some yellowish dusty photos – a place to be envied
for its neatness, development and freedom. It was a perennially frustrated
republic with distressing levels of corruption, inequality and social
exclusion, and permanent US interference.
Neither was Venezuela, where despite
of its oil wealth, the opulence of its middle class coexisted with extremely
high levels of poverty and inequality, alarming corruption and a political
erosion that simply became unbearable in the 90s.
The popular masses that supported the Cuban revolution in
1959 and the Chavista challenge in 1998 were not disoriented and they were not
lacking in judgment. They were people looking for hope in dead-end streets – as
Bertolt Brecht famously put it. And they did so by breaking whatever was needed
to regain their dignity. This could happen again if we do not understand that,
as Ernesto Laclau notes, neoliberal capitalism can be an even worse enemy of
democracy than populism.