I would like to add that I wrote a short e-mail to the author of the Granma article, "Cuban Elections this Sunday," which I cited in the beginning of my latest piece for this site. Maria Julia Mayoral was kind enough to display her byline as well as her e-mail (ma.julia@granma.cip.cu) directly beneath the title of her news story, so it was not hard for me, nor would it be hard for anyone else so inclined, to reach her with questions or comments (and I sincerely hope that anyone else would be so inclined).
I wrote to her, obviously, in Spanish. But I offer it to you, dear reader, in English, for the sake of sharing if nothing else:
Esteemed journalist,
How can you write that Cubans are going to "pronounce their views tomorrow in the election booth," when the candidates for parliament that are not communist have been prohibited from participating?
Could you explain to me how this process is just or democratic? Obviously, there is something essential that I'm not seeing, though I am sure that you, comrade, will be able to explain it clearly.
Saludos revolucionarios,
I have not yet gotten back a reply, but I will obviously publish it as soon as (and if) I get one.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
A "SEA OF HAPPINESS" IS WHAT CUBA DESPERATELY NEEDS
According to a recent piece in the online version of Granma, we are to believe that tomorrow parliamentary elections will be held in Cuba. Our dear leader, Mr. Chavez, has often likened his Bolivarian Revolution to Cuba's history of political transformation under Castro, and proudly said as early in his presidential tenure as December of 1999 that the state of affairs in Cuba was one Venezuelans should look to emulate, praising the island's political class and describing Cuba itself as, "a sea of happiness, social justice, and true peace." (You may enjoy a spanish version of President Chavez' thoughts on Castro's "sea of happiness" during March of 2000 here. In addition, you may watch Mr. Chavez back when he was still a presidential candidate as he calls Cuba's government a dictatorship).
Tomorrow's "elections" are presumably another example of the kind of social justice our president insists he wants to bring us closer to, though there is nothing social or just about how Cuban parliamentarians are chosen. It would be truer to say that tomorrow Cubans will be granted the permission to choose from a list of 614 communist candidates, all of whom have been pre-approved by the Communist Party to run in the first place. No liberal party, or any non-aligned party for that matter, including the Democratic-Social Revolutionary Party of Cuba (whose secretary-general, Jorge Valls, is currently exiled in the United States after having spent over twenty years in a Cuban prison) will be allowed to participate, so there is nothing pluralistic or democratic about these proceedings to begin with. To even call it an election is already to euphemize in a callous and frivolous manner. This so-called vote continues to be what it always has been since Castro's national assembly decided to institute it in the early nineties: a self-aggrandizing and sordid public relations stunt designed to wow the credulous and influence public opinion in the West, as well as lend some credence to the Communist Party's propaganda about what it proudly calls "revolutionary democracy."
By definition the candidates that win these seats cannot in any real sense be called representatives of the people, since, as we know, it has been predetermined in Havana who can and cannot run. The electoral simulacrum that coats this sham in a veneer of legitimacy should never be called a parliamentary election by anyone who, having participated in the real thing, respects what the term actually means. We shouldn't forget that democracy does not just imply the immutable right of citizens to vote. It also includes the natural and self-evident right of any candidate, from any party, to run.
Monday, November 12, 2007
THE WOLF WHO CRIED WOLF: AFTER SHUTTING DOWN A TELEVISION STATION THE CHAVEZ GOVERNMENT CALLS ITSELF THE VICTIM
Various arms of the Chavez media apparatus (which currently consists of 7 channels) have implied or stated explicitly, and always consistently, that it is the Opposition to Chavez which is waging, as they call it, terrorismo mediatico. In other words, after having accused RCTV (the station with the highest ratings in the country) of being en elitist and fascist channel, and after proceeding to make good on its threat to close it down, effectively relinquishing its right to broadcast over regular frequency, the Chavez Administration now says that it is the government which is in risk of being seriously bullied.
To call these state-run stations merely partisan would be to gravely understate the case as well as elevate the integrity of their news propagandists to an almost respectable level. These television stations are directed and anchored by people who are more than just vehement followers of the Regime, and the stations themselves are implicit extensions of state power, following line for line every point of official party policy. These journalists of and for the State have never challenged or impugned a statement made by President Chavez, or any of his orders and decrees. Even the President's most thuggish insinuations, like calling for sectarian combat, if “necessary”, between the Western and Eastern sides of Caracas (the poorer and more affluent sides respectively) are treated with alarming insouciance by the Bolivarian journalists.
The state-run stations assure Venezuelans that private media are criminalizing state policy, but this claim is always made in tandem with the common indictment that Globovision (the last private television station with the least measure of integrity) is a squalid, fringe station watched by only a handful of upper-class coup-dreaming housewives. State television anchors want it both ways, it appears, and simultaneously accuse Globovision of commanding enough of an audience to effectively and influentially “criminalize” anything at all while at the same time remaining a miserable washed-up channel with barely enough ratings to keep itself running. If Globovision had the power to inspire any kind of serious political instability through it broadcast, then it would first have to hold the kind of ratings and command the kind of public confidence that the Chavez Administration would find alarming to even admit. The proportion of state-sponsored stations versus private stations is now 7:3 (and even this ratio is optimistic and perhaps even naive), so the Regime would do well to make up its mind about whether or not Globovision is in fact a threat to Chavizta media hegemony. And if it is a threat, the government might want to ask itself why is it that so many Venezuelans keep tuning to this lone channel.
Things, however bleak, might get bleaker still. Globovision’s legal permit to broadcast is set to expire by 2015. As you can imagine, rumors of a closure (but only because of purely “legal” reasons, mind you) have already begun to surface. This is alarming for another reason as well, since 2015 is a date that would seem to outlast Hugo Chavez’ second term in office––the operative word being “seem”. The other remaining private stations, Venevision and Televen, have been slowly and surreptitiously co-opted by Chavez in a capitalist checkmate that would impress and shock even in the most seasoned of free-marketers and speculators. In an ironic succession of events, Hugo Chavez has given some credence to the long-standing Socialist belief that the interests and editorial integrity of private media stations are much too accommodating of politicized investment, and their sense of journalistic objectivity much too fragile in the face of––let us say, euphemistically––financial prodding. The double irony occurs because in unwittingly proving this point, Chavez has become a beautiful example of the triangulating and maneuvering capitalist he once swore was the principal source of Venezuelan poverty and misery.
After and if Globovision is shut down, there will be relatively little room left for dissent in television. Still, the government maintains the RCTV closure had nothing whatsoever to do with politics. But after securing this kind of a media empire within Venezuela, who can take the government seriously when it argues that the RCTV closure was a purely judicial matter? RCTV was, de facto, the staunchest and strongest critic of the administration, and its closure, to put this in a clear American context, is the equivalent of the Bush Administration shutting down Comedy Central because of Jon Stuart’s nightly ridicule, disparagement, and impugnment of government policy (RCTV had a prominent and well-respected journalist, Miguel Angel Rodriguez, in a morning news show who often fulfilled this very task and was much hated by the Chavizta camp for it).
To cite a more cruel and sinister (as well as more recent) case of censorship, one-time BBC journalist Roger Santodomingo’s car exploded just outside his home on the morning of July 4th, a few days after his resignation as editor-in-chief of Noticiero Digital, an online news magazine that takes a critical stance against Chavizta policy. It should not be counted as irrelevant that the reasons for Santodomingo’s professional abdication have to do with serious and credible death threats against his seven-year-old son. Apparently, even giving in to the demands of anonymous would-be murderers is not always enough to placate them, since the decision that Santodomingo might still prove bothersome even without his website seems to have been taken anyway. It does not take much intelligence or intuition to imagine, additionally, what the political sympathies of those who made such a decision are.
In this way, all those who sharply and courageously criticize Chavez and his government are accused of sedition and media terrorism while being simultaneously disenfranchised and threatened. Santodomingo's example is both shameful and ominous. It is painfully clear that the price for dissent is climbing higher than some journalists are willing to pay. And all this is happening much to the joy of those who are trying to make the rest of us believe they are the victims.
To call these state-run stations merely partisan would be to gravely understate the case as well as elevate the integrity of their news propagandists to an almost respectable level. These television stations are directed and anchored by people who are more than just vehement followers of the Regime, and the stations themselves are implicit extensions of state power, following line for line every point of official party policy. These journalists of and for the State have never challenged or impugned a statement made by President Chavez, or any of his orders and decrees. Even the President's most thuggish insinuations, like calling for sectarian combat, if “necessary”, between the Western and Eastern sides of Caracas (the poorer and more affluent sides respectively) are treated with alarming insouciance by the Bolivarian journalists.
The state-run stations assure Venezuelans that private media are criminalizing state policy, but this claim is always made in tandem with the common indictment that Globovision (the last private television station with the least measure of integrity) is a squalid, fringe station watched by only a handful of upper-class coup-dreaming housewives. State television anchors want it both ways, it appears, and simultaneously accuse Globovision of commanding enough of an audience to effectively and influentially “criminalize” anything at all while at the same time remaining a miserable washed-up channel with barely enough ratings to keep itself running. If Globovision had the power to inspire any kind of serious political instability through it broadcast, then it would first have to hold the kind of ratings and command the kind of public confidence that the Chavez Administration would find alarming to even admit. The proportion of state-sponsored stations versus private stations is now 7:3 (and even this ratio is optimistic and perhaps even naive), so the Regime would do well to make up its mind about whether or not Globovision is in fact a threat to Chavizta media hegemony. And if it is a threat, the government might want to ask itself why is it that so many Venezuelans keep tuning to this lone channel.
Things, however bleak, might get bleaker still. Globovision’s legal permit to broadcast is set to expire by 2015. As you can imagine, rumors of a closure (but only because of purely “legal” reasons, mind you) have already begun to surface. This is alarming for another reason as well, since 2015 is a date that would seem to outlast Hugo Chavez’ second term in office––the operative word being “seem”. The other remaining private stations, Venevision and Televen, have been slowly and surreptitiously co-opted by Chavez in a capitalist checkmate that would impress and shock even in the most seasoned of free-marketers and speculators. In an ironic succession of events, Hugo Chavez has given some credence to the long-standing Socialist belief that the interests and editorial integrity of private media stations are much too accommodating of politicized investment, and their sense of journalistic objectivity much too fragile in the face of––let us say, euphemistically––financial prodding. The double irony occurs because in unwittingly proving this point, Chavez has become a beautiful example of the triangulating and maneuvering capitalist he once swore was the principal source of Venezuelan poverty and misery.
After and if Globovision is shut down, there will be relatively little room left for dissent in television. Still, the government maintains the RCTV closure had nothing whatsoever to do with politics. But after securing this kind of a media empire within Venezuela, who can take the government seriously when it argues that the RCTV closure was a purely judicial matter? RCTV was, de facto, the staunchest and strongest critic of the administration, and its closure, to put this in a clear American context, is the equivalent of the Bush Administration shutting down Comedy Central because of Jon Stuart’s nightly ridicule, disparagement, and impugnment of government policy (RCTV had a prominent and well-respected journalist, Miguel Angel Rodriguez, in a morning news show who often fulfilled this very task and was much hated by the Chavizta camp for it).
To cite a more cruel and sinister (as well as more recent) case of censorship, one-time BBC journalist Roger Santodomingo’s car exploded just outside his home on the morning of July 4th, a few days after his resignation as editor-in-chief of Noticiero Digital, an online news magazine that takes a critical stance against Chavizta policy. It should not be counted as irrelevant that the reasons for Santodomingo’s professional abdication have to do with serious and credible death threats against his seven-year-old son. Apparently, even giving in to the demands of anonymous would-be murderers is not always enough to placate them, since the decision that Santodomingo might still prove bothersome even without his website seems to have been taken anyway. It does not take much intelligence or intuition to imagine, additionally, what the political sympathies of those who made such a decision are.
In this way, all those who sharply and courageously criticize Chavez and his government are accused of sedition and media terrorism while being simultaneously disenfranchised and threatened. Santodomingo's example is both shameful and ominous. It is painfully clear that the price for dissent is climbing higher than some journalists are willing to pay. And all this is happening much to the joy of those who are trying to make the rest of us believe they are the victims.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
IRAN IS OUR ALLY AND AHMADINEJAD IS IN MY COUNTRY
On the 13th of January, 2007, the government of my country enthusiastically embraced––for neither the first nor last time––the cabal-appointed head of state of one of the most reactionary, unabashedly theocratic regimes in existence today. I was watching the solemn proceedings on the government television station, Venezolana de Television, and the thought came to me instantly: In Venezuela political life has acquired, since Chavez took office in 1999, the strange and rather entertaining ability to parody itself––events no longer require an insightful remark from the skeptic or civil dissident to appear as the absurd exercise in ignorance and contradiction that they are. The ironic sight of a Bolivarian "revolutionary" and celebrity leftist engaged in political consolidation with a misogynistic demagogue who'd been catapulted shadily into office by a group of Imams, was, to my mind, something to cry about as well as to laugh about.
The economic reasons for this union are easy enough to see. Clearly, this is a relationship lubricated in oil, a friendship established with the ultimate aim of prodding OPEC to lower production quotas and thus inflate world prices for crude––a scenario that would benefit both the Iranian and Venezuelan administrations, who are fundamental examples of what Thomas Friedman has called “Petro-authoritarian” states. The fiscal destiny of their corrupt and bloated government infrastructure is––in lieu of any self-sustaining economic policy that might have had a chance of generating long-term growth––dependent on their ability to influence OPEC. If oils prices drop, so do their approval ratings, and while neither head of state is regarded as a staunch defender of democratic principles and civil liberties, Chavez especially does not enjoy the complicating prospect of massive popular unrest and the high political cost of an ostentatiously state-enforced suppression, clear for all the world to see.
There is secondly, and perhaps more importantly, an obvious ideological facet to this form of political fraternity that is impossible to miss. The Chavez administration, which shares with many countries in the world today a clear feeling of abject contempt for the current U.S. Administration, does not likewise share a sense of modesty or diplomatic propriety when showing said feelings. If anything has truly distinguished Chavez’ term in office, either internationally or domestically, it must surely be his very passionate denunciation and vilification of the temporary head of state of the United States, George Walker Bush, whom Chavez has directly and repeatedly insulted, at press conferences and more comfortably at length during his weekly television show, Alo Presidente. His adamant and vitriolic political sermons, delivered from popular balconies or plazas to thousands of red-clad, feverish followers, during which he declares with absolute faith that every ill in the world stems from the innate evils of “imperialismo neoliberal norteamericano”, have helped to convince many in the ideologically omnivorous, loosely-organized civil alliance known as La Oposicion (essentially anyone who consistently votes against Chavez ) that their current chief executive and principal adversary is––not even a real revolutionary with dangerously radical ideas––but a mere ideocrat and bombastic entertainer of the masses; indeed, Chavez has on numerous occasions shown himself to be exceedingly capable of weaving simple-minded geopolitical myths (America is evil and will destroy us, ergo only socialism will save us) that fit the self-righteous and self-pitying sensitivities of the collective imagination. There are those who rightfully have, and I proudly count myself among them, a long list of legitimate and epistemic criticisms of US foreign policy in Latin America, both regarding the past (during which there are horrific grievances) as well as the diplomatic skirmishes of today.
What the Chavizta camp is on to, however, is something fundamentally different in nature. The myth Chavez presents to those who congregate around him––a puerile story at all times tinged with the infantile rhetoric of melodrama––about a Fascist America and the noble cause of resistance to its insidious plans for world domination, is a progressively efficient and beautifully prepackaged story almost exactly similar to the one a politician like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is currently unraveling for the Iranian people. A few semantic difference aside––such as opting for a cheap brand of populist pseudo-marxist allegory as opposed to appealing to extreme religious sensitivities and paranoia––it seems both heads of state find themselves in the exact same camp in relationship to that one country neither of them can stop obsessing about.
In this sense, their apparent allegiance to each other’s cause seems logical enough, but the politics of each of these governments is not nearly as important, in today’s highly volatile world, as the loud and public celebration of these politics. These are governments who not only loathe the United States. These are governments who––like most who share deep-rooted contempt for American foreign policy––gain political power by keeping their dogmatic sentiments on clear view at all times. Both governments have a vested interest in declaring and demonstrating and loudly flaunting, in front of their impassioned constituents, their shared hatred for The Great Satan. They are show-men, above all else, and their constituents are demanding audience members. The America-hating myth they stand on in order to rule, which they have nourished in blind self-interest for all their years in office, must be fed constantly, and must keep on growing in order to support their ever-expanding and progressively destabilizing political agenda. The strength of their highly volatile popularity is, to a greater and greater extent, dependent on their ability to insult the Great Satan unabashedly and unflinchingly.
The precepts of this political mythology of cosmic revolution have convinced Chavez’ followers that only Chavez possesses the courage, valor, and irreproachable vitality to stand up to America, and that is why he must remain leader of the state indefinitely––because it is only he that can save the State, la patria. In this way, operating under the inflamed direction of a well-crafted public relations machine, the State manages to fool the people and compel its still-to-this-date disenfranchised and impoverished constituents to equate a potential presidential impeachment with treason to the republic. This is not, by any means, a new trick, and there are probably few who will disagree with the assertion that the history of twentieth century totalitarian politics is a long list of this surreptitious practice, this establishment of political equivalency between what is country and what is leadership, between what is essentially abstract and eternal (the spirit of a nation, say) and what is tangible and temporary (the mortal mammal temporarily chosen to administer the top functions of the state). The broader the difference between these two concepts in the minds of a country’s citizens, the greater the level of individual freedom there will be.
When in Venezuela I witness the pathologically fascist need to worship, glorify, and elevate the chief executive to the level of prophesied savior of the republic I am not only disturbed; I am, with my mind’s eye to the history of the twentieth century, experiencing the most horrifying and alarming sense of deja vu, as well as absolute impotence. Certain terms used (and perhaps even misused) by our president during recent speeches also help to increase this state of perpetual anxiety in at least forty percent of the voting population. And these fears will not be assuaged by a spineless commitment to complacency and cheap compromise that some apathetic and frightened members of civil society are even today willing to bargain with. This escalating agenda of state-endorsed demagogy must be met and treated with the seriousness it deserves, lest it become what we have already seen it become in other countries and in other times. After all, who among us would claim to ignore where the current state of affairs will eventually take us? As I listen to Chavez pontificate for hours during well-attended public rallies about his great project for National Socialism, I know that I am witnessing a politician make an absurdly provincial––yet perhaps not entirely accidental––mistake that finally corroborates what I had always suspected.
The economic reasons for this union are easy enough to see. Clearly, this is a relationship lubricated in oil, a friendship established with the ultimate aim of prodding OPEC to lower production quotas and thus inflate world prices for crude––a scenario that would benefit both the Iranian and Venezuelan administrations, who are fundamental examples of what Thomas Friedman has called “Petro-authoritarian” states. The fiscal destiny of their corrupt and bloated government infrastructure is––in lieu of any self-sustaining economic policy that might have had a chance of generating long-term growth––dependent on their ability to influence OPEC. If oils prices drop, so do their approval ratings, and while neither head of state is regarded as a staunch defender of democratic principles and civil liberties, Chavez especially does not enjoy the complicating prospect of massive popular unrest and the high political cost of an ostentatiously state-enforced suppression, clear for all the world to see.
There is secondly, and perhaps more importantly, an obvious ideological facet to this form of political fraternity that is impossible to miss. The Chavez administration, which shares with many countries in the world today a clear feeling of abject contempt for the current U.S. Administration, does not likewise share a sense of modesty or diplomatic propriety when showing said feelings. If anything has truly distinguished Chavez’ term in office, either internationally or domestically, it must surely be his very passionate denunciation and vilification of the temporary head of state of the United States, George Walker Bush, whom Chavez has directly and repeatedly insulted, at press conferences and more comfortably at length during his weekly television show, Alo Presidente. His adamant and vitriolic political sermons, delivered from popular balconies or plazas to thousands of red-clad, feverish followers, during which he declares with absolute faith that every ill in the world stems from the innate evils of “imperialismo neoliberal norteamericano”, have helped to convince many in the ideologically omnivorous, loosely-organized civil alliance known as La Oposicion (essentially anyone who consistently votes against Chavez ) that their current chief executive and principal adversary is––not even a real revolutionary with dangerously radical ideas––but a mere ideocrat and bombastic entertainer of the masses; indeed, Chavez has on numerous occasions shown himself to be exceedingly capable of weaving simple-minded geopolitical myths (America is evil and will destroy us, ergo only socialism will save us) that fit the self-righteous and self-pitying sensitivities of the collective imagination. There are those who rightfully have, and I proudly count myself among them, a long list of legitimate and epistemic criticisms of US foreign policy in Latin America, both regarding the past (during which there are horrific grievances) as well as the diplomatic skirmishes of today.
What the Chavizta camp is on to, however, is something fundamentally different in nature. The myth Chavez presents to those who congregate around him––a puerile story at all times tinged with the infantile rhetoric of melodrama––about a Fascist America and the noble cause of resistance to its insidious plans for world domination, is a progressively efficient and beautifully prepackaged story almost exactly similar to the one a politician like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is currently unraveling for the Iranian people. A few semantic difference aside––such as opting for a cheap brand of populist pseudo-marxist allegory as opposed to appealing to extreme religious sensitivities and paranoia––it seems both heads of state find themselves in the exact same camp in relationship to that one country neither of them can stop obsessing about.
In this sense, their apparent allegiance to each other’s cause seems logical enough, but the politics of each of these governments is not nearly as important, in today’s highly volatile world, as the loud and public celebration of these politics. These are governments who not only loathe the United States. These are governments who––like most who share deep-rooted contempt for American foreign policy––gain political power by keeping their dogmatic sentiments on clear view at all times. Both governments have a vested interest in declaring and demonstrating and loudly flaunting, in front of their impassioned constituents, their shared hatred for The Great Satan. They are show-men, above all else, and their constituents are demanding audience members. The America-hating myth they stand on in order to rule, which they have nourished in blind self-interest for all their years in office, must be fed constantly, and must keep on growing in order to support their ever-expanding and progressively destabilizing political agenda. The strength of their highly volatile popularity is, to a greater and greater extent, dependent on their ability to insult the Great Satan unabashedly and unflinchingly.
The precepts of this political mythology of cosmic revolution have convinced Chavez’ followers that only Chavez possesses the courage, valor, and irreproachable vitality to stand up to America, and that is why he must remain leader of the state indefinitely––because it is only he that can save the State, la patria. In this way, operating under the inflamed direction of a well-crafted public relations machine, the State manages to fool the people and compel its still-to-this-date disenfranchised and impoverished constituents to equate a potential presidential impeachment with treason to the republic. This is not, by any means, a new trick, and there are probably few who will disagree with the assertion that the history of twentieth century totalitarian politics is a long list of this surreptitious practice, this establishment of political equivalency between what is country and what is leadership, between what is essentially abstract and eternal (the spirit of a nation, say) and what is tangible and temporary (the mortal mammal temporarily chosen to administer the top functions of the state). The broader the difference between these two concepts in the minds of a country’s citizens, the greater the level of individual freedom there will be.
When in Venezuela I witness the pathologically fascist need to worship, glorify, and elevate the chief executive to the level of prophesied savior of the republic I am not only disturbed; I am, with my mind’s eye to the history of the twentieth century, experiencing the most horrifying and alarming sense of deja vu, as well as absolute impotence. Certain terms used (and perhaps even misused) by our president during recent speeches also help to increase this state of perpetual anxiety in at least forty percent of the voting population. And these fears will not be assuaged by a spineless commitment to complacency and cheap compromise that some apathetic and frightened members of civil society are even today willing to bargain with. This escalating agenda of state-endorsed demagogy must be met and treated with the seriousness it deserves, lest it become what we have already seen it become in other countries and in other times. After all, who among us would claim to ignore where the current state of affairs will eventually take us? As I listen to Chavez pontificate for hours during well-attended public rallies about his great project for National Socialism, I know that I am witnessing a politician make an absurdly provincial––yet perhaps not entirely accidental––mistake that finally corroborates what I had always suspected.
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