Venezuela: ‘In times of retreat, the priority should be preparing the counteroffensive’
First published in Spanish at Diario Red. Translation by LINKS International Journal of Socialist Renewal.
Reinaldo Iturriza is a Venezuelan sociologist, writer and political activist. In the early years of Nicolás Maduro’s presidency, he served as Minister of Communes between 2013–14 and then Minister of Culture until 2016. Since then, he has worked on grassroots intellectual and political education, creating the Centre for Studies for Socialist Democracy (CEDES) to support the complex and turbulent process of popular organisation in Venezuela.
Always insightful in discussing the trajectory of the Bolivarian Revolution, Iturriza does not shy from criticising a process that, he argues, has suffered over the past decade as “democratic life deteriorated and there was a progressive weakening of the political class and its respective social bases.”
He describes the January 3 US aggression, which culminated in the kidnapping of Maduro and National Assembly deputy Cilia Flores, as an “invasion”. Iturriza also points out that it makes no sense to talk of “betrayal or loyalty” when it comes to acting president Delcy Rodríguez’s government and the conditions imposed on it by Washington. From his perspective, [the government] has carried out a “full-scale strategic retreat.”
Iturriza also develops his concept of “political disaffiliation” from Chavismo, and challenges the prevailing narrative about polarisation in his country. He also discusses the state of the communes and organisations of popular power.
Finally, Iturriza says “it is essential to create an effective narrative of the Bolivarian Revolution” that points out errors and limitations, but also “gives due credit” to its successes. “Our program was certainly suited to its time, consistent with our political culture, and successfully created a high-intensity democracy,” he argues.
While US aggression against Venezuela has been ongoing for decades, what happened on January 3 was unprecedented and disconcerting. This was due to the kidnapping of Maduro and his wife, but also because it was not a coup d'état in the traditional sense, at least not in terms of the usual White House script, which involves a change in government. How do you view what happened that day?
It was an invasion, plain and simple. A flagrant and criminal violation of our sovereignty, preceded by constant threats and provocations, as well as the murder of dozens of fisherfolk in the Caribbean Sea. More than 100 Venezuelan and Cuban internationalist military personnel in charge of protecting the president died in combat that morning.
Regarding a change in government, the first thing this exposes is the false claim that US aggression was motivated by anything even remotely concerned with democracy, just as the immediately preceding siege had nothing to do with the Venezuelan government’s alleged links to drug trafficking.
Clearly, the US government wanted to regain control of our strategic resources, starting with oil. Weighing up its options and considering possible scenarios, it concluded that the least traumatic way to achieve this objective was preserving the existing government.
How did we get to this situation?
Only someone with no political knowledge would dare state something like “we should thank the US for taking the first and decisive steps to free us from a tyranny that had been in power for 25 years, and which otherwise could have prevailed indefinitely.”
I mention this because Venezuelan society is not exactly known for being depoliticised. This is not only a self-serving version of events, but a very dangerous one, that seeks to defend the indefensible. It is a version of events trying to force its way in and aspires to become common sense. That is why it is essential to debunk it.
This requires emphasising that throughout the first decade of this century, and even the first half of the past decade, Venezuela was characterised by a high-intensity democracy in which the majority experienced remarkable progress in all aspects of their material and spiritual lives. We need to understand, then, what happened here during the past 10 years.
When did the turning point occur? What circumstances led to the loss of our high-intensity democracy?
[Italian Marxist] Antonio Gramsci provides invaluable analytical insights to start to understand this historic development. What we suffered was nothing more than what Gramsci called the “reciprocal destruction of the conflicting forces”, in which democratic life deteriorated and there was a progressive weakening of the political class and its respective social bases.
This was the context in which, using Gramscian terminology, the “foreign sentinel” intervened on January 3. This foreign sentinel, it should be noted, played a leading role in the conflict by decisively supporting one side while working to undermine the national economy’s foundations [through the use of sanctions and other means].
As the weeks have gone by, it has become clear that Rodríguez’s government has largely accepted the conditions imposed by the US. Is this a “betrayal” or a temporary retreat with a view to sustaining the Bolivarian process in the long term?
Talking in terms of betrayal or loyalty to the cause contributes little or nothing to understanding the situation. Such opinions are part of what Gramsci himself, incidentally, called “petty, day-to-day political criticism.” Overusing historical analogies also does not help.
The government sought a rapprochement with certain factions of the capitalist class throughout 2016, and then implemented an orthodox monetarist program in 2018, which fundamentally sought to control hyperinflation but, among other things, meant unprecedented public spending cuts and wage freezes. I remember clearly how some colleagues at the time asked me, in good faith, whether this was similar to [Russian revolutionary Vladimir] Lenin’s New Economic Policy or, on the contrary, whether it represented the abandonment of the Bolivarian Revolution’s strategic programmatic banners.
I more or less responded that we needed an analysis of power relations and that, regardless of how it was described, the incontrovertible fact was that a recomposition of the ruling bloc was taking place. The working class, slowly but surely, was ceasing to be the backbone of that ruling bloc, as it undoubtedly was during the entire Chávez period and even during the first years of Maduro.
After January 3, the 1918 Treaty of Brest-Litovsk [signed by Soviet Russia with the Central Powers] was invoked to explain the peace agreement with the US government, in much the same way that [Russian dictator Josef] Stalin was previously invoked because he defeated fascism and we were having to confront the far right.
Paradoxically, during the past 10 years we have been in similar situations to that faced by the Soviet Union in 1921, 1945, and 1918, yet today, after retreat after retreat, we can not say that the Bolivarian process finds itself in a better position to confront the future.
In retrospect, the facts point to a structural retreat or, more precisely, a full-blown strategic retreat.
A few days after January 3, you wrote that the popular reaction was one of “silence”. In that initial moment, there were no opposition celebrations, nor pro-government mobilisations; instead, the prevailing climate was one of “mourning for a humiliated homeland.” You also made an interesting point that “far from signifying consent with what had happened,” this marked a discontent that found no “no outlet for expression.” This is striking, considering the narrative of polarisation that has surrounded Venezuela for years, of an entire society divided between Chavistas and anti-Chavistas. Is there a vacuum of political representation?
Contrary to the usual narratives, Venezuelan society has become increasingly depolarised over the past 10 years, or we could say that polarisation has taken on new contours: the majority versus its political class.
I have argued that during this period no political phenomenon has been more significant, or had more far-reaching implications, than that of political disaffiliation. This is not a recent “discovery”; I first raised this in December 2015, in relation to parliamentary election results.
Analysed in depth, it was clear that the United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV) defeat was due to an anti-government protest vote in electoral strongholds of Chavismo.
Significantly, despite historical differences and significant contextual variations, we did not see people celebrating in the streets after that defeat or on January 3. That protest vote was a demand for the government to change course.
From the perspective of a significant portion of the social base that supports the Bolivarian Revolution, this course correction did not occur. On the contrary, it was precisely from that point on that the process of recomposing the bloc of forces intensified.
Why did this political disaffiliation occur?
My working hypothesis is that mass disaffiliation from Chavismo, understood here as a political identity, is directly proportional to the gradual distancing of the governing political class from its working-class origins. In other words, to the extent that this political identity ceased to embody the interests of the popular majorities, these majorities ceased to feel represented by it.
This is what [Bolivian sociologist] René Zavaleta Mercado termed a political and ideological hollowing out of the popular classes. This hollowing out, though, should not be confused with depoliticisation. It refers to the fact that the main driving ideas that shape and give meaning to how they conceive of politics ceases to be associated with a specific identity.
This is very prevalent among youth: my generation (and even more so the generations before us) often lament the depoliticisation of youth. And yes, there is depoliticisation. But it is not uncommon to strike up a conversation with someone in their 20s from a working-class background and realise that several of the core ideas that historically defined Chavismo are still there; it is just that they lack political expression today.
This phenomenon is far from exclusive to youth. It describes the situation of the vast majority of Venezuelan society. This majority does not accept things like an invasion, but finds no way to express its profound discontent with the state of affairs.
You have been involved in the process of organising and building communes as Minister of Communes between 2013–14, but also as an activist and intellectual. This new form of popular organisation was an initiative of the Bolivarian Revolution and in particular Chávez. What are communes? What is their objective?
The communes, and before them the communal councils, can be understood as the political formula trialled by the Bolivarian leadership, and in particular Chávez, to organise that fraction of the working class that became the backbone of the movement: the subproletariat, understood as the poor who work, but whose labour does not guarantee them sufficient means to ensure their reproduction as a labour force.
I have elaborated this in more detail elsewhere, but briefly: the subproletariat was the subject of the popular rebellion of February 27, 1989 [known as the Caracazo]. During the neoliberalism of the 1990s, the subproletariat became the largest segment of the Venezuelan working class.
Excluded from the market, politics and citizenship, this sector became politicised under Chávez's leadership. It did everything possible to bring him to power. It defended democracy when it was threatened by the elites and led the huge street demonstrations that succeeded in reversing the 2002 coup. Months later, it was on the front line of resistance to the oil industry managers’ strike and sabotage, and the business owners’ lockout: the Bolivarian Revolution would not be defeated by hunger and unemployment.
In a country on the brink of economic ruin, this sector saw the recovery of the oil industry and experienced the effects of the first attempts at democratic redistribution of that income, an experience completely foreign to the subproletariat that has emerged in more recent times.
Citizenship and the market ceased to be forbidden territories: this sector progressively gained access to healthcare, education and food. Its neighbourhoods began to appear on official maps. Millions obtained identity cards for the first time. They achieved their most resounding political victory in the 2004 recall referendum, which decided whether Chávez would remain in power.
In 2005, the Bolivarian leadership faced the problem of how to organise a subproletariat that, by definition, did not work in factories, distrusted traditional forms of political intermediation, and demonstrated a huge vocation for political experimentation.
The answer, broadly speaking, was promoting popular self-government in the neighbourhoods. These self-governments were, among other things, to identify the productive potential of these territories and organise communities to develop it.
This was the context in which the first communal councils were created. Later, in 2008, when experiences of self-government began to show greater political potential, there was the first attempts to create communes.
The communes were conceived as having relative autonomy. This meant not being subordinate to any formal power, but also not functioning as small, self-sufficient communities, or tiny islands in the sea of capitalism.
In Chávez's words, they had to organise themselves in a network, “like a gigantic spider's web covering the territory with the new” but never outside the bounds of the strategic horizon of the Bolivarian Revolution. In this sense, they represented a kind of grassroots popular vanguard to implement the program of change.
What is the current state of community organising in Venezuela? How has this process been affected in recent years?
That is a good question, especially since it has become customary to appeal to the existence of the communes as a kind of political and even ethical reserve that could eventually counterbalance more authoritarian or conservative tendencies within Chavismo.
It is true that things are not going very well, and it is equally true that prospects are not encouraging, but on the positive side at least there are the communes.
However, it is important to emphasise that the past 10 years have been a time of recomposition of the ruling bloc, of huge political disaffiliation, and of an economic policy that has not prioritised the interests of the working class. These are times of managing the status quo, which means that the scope for political experiments has been reduced to historic lows.
To this we must add that after January 3, the US government essentially manages and decides how our income is spent. In other words, the problem is no longer even the scope of action of the communes, but the scope of sovereignty of the republic.
This question of the relative autonomy of the communes is now presented in a radically different context: it remains to be seen whether, beyond the possibility of managing very limited amounts of resources for the execution of very limited amounts of local projects, the communal leadership has the will and capacity to reaffirm its autonomy, not only in the face of state and party institutions, but predominately in the face of a foreign sentinel that intends to decide the nation's fate.
Donald Trump’s offensive in Latin America, in a global context of military escalation and the rise of the far right, presents a very complex scenario for leftist governments, movements and organisations. The aggression against Venezuela is compounded by the tightening of the blockade against Cuba and the pressure on progressive governments in the region. How do you see the future of Chavismo and the Bolivarian Revolution in this context?
Let me appeal once more to Gramsci: the analysis I have attempted here is not an end in itself. It is not intended to demonstrate lucidity, eloquence or anything of the sort. This analysis only makes sense if it aims to create the conditions for the political viability of “initiative of will.”
The onslaught of the far right on a global scale cannot be countered with wishful thinking or naïve pragmatism. There is no more effective incentive than this to develop the capacity to conduct the most rigorous and unflinching analyses possible of the balance of power. In moments of retreat, the priority must be preparing a counteroffensive. And this is impossible if we start from self-satisfied analyses or those that simply seek to reaffirm our victimhood.
In the battle of ideas, it is crucial to create an effective narrative about the Bolivarian Revolution. One that does not shy away from pointing out our errors or limits but, appealing to abundant historical evidence, gives due credit to our many successes, starting with the fact that we managed to outline a programmatic vision that was embraced by the popular majorities, who for the first time in a long time felt in control of their destiny.
The current state of affairs is not the inevitable consequence of an anachronistic program, alien to our ideas and customs, which carried within it the seeds of authoritarianism from its inception. On the contrary, our program was suited to its time, consistent with our political culture, and successfully created a high-intensity democracy. We need to account for the multiple and diverse causes that led to the interruption of this program.
The above will have to be done amid a profound crisis of political representation, so we have to be prepared to experience and even encourage the emergence of a new political identity that does not deny its national, popular and — why not — anti-capitalist character.
In the short term, what is essential is the convergence of all forces, regardless of their political leanings, to oppose the imposition of tutelage upon our nation. We are on the verge of new battles to recover our full sovereignty. This is just the start.