Questioning the Venezuelan military's central role in civilian society?

by Hilary Wainwright
It was all very mysterious; but indicative of the seemingly random way things can happen in Venezuela. I had only a few days left in Caracas after the 2006 World Social Forum. I wanted to understand for myself the rare radicalism of the Venezuelan military.

How did they themselves understand the central role they played in civilian society?

What were they like as people?
...

It’s time for another round of the black liquid.

Suitably fortified, I pose the problem that has been puzzling me all week. On the one hand, it is clear that Chavez’ program of reform really has unleashed a process of democratic popular organization in the barrios, at the base of society. On the other hand, at the top, there is Chavez acting on behalf of the people. In between, there are few credible democratic structures. People have little faith in the Congress or in political parties. There is a democratic vacuum -- which is one reason why corruption and bureaucracy continues, because there is no effective force to stop it.

‘Do you recognize this problem?’ I ask. ‘What is the army’s role in resolving it?’

‘Yes this vacuum is a problem. The answer goes back to education. It’s through education that society can consolidate its ethical and political values. The army has to occupy this vacuum between the base and the higher parts of the state. But we have to be careful. I lament it but sometimes military institutions get involved in institutions that aren’t in their jurisdiction. We have to remain the servants. We have to keep reminding ourselves of our apostolic role.’

I wonder how far the army itself has been democratized and we get a surprising reply, coming from a military commander. ‘We made an agreement that in the army democracy must mean dissent and argument. We must strengthen democracy in what we are doing day by day so that it is not a dead letter. We need participatory democracy at the highest level.’ Participatory democracy in the army? There are limits. An army is an army, even in Venezuela. ‘Our institution is vertical,’ says the general. ‘But we have respect for others who play a different role. Our structures are governed by values of obedience, discipline, subordination but not submission. The comandante has to be very attentive to the ideas of his advisory staff. But the chief has to take responsibility for the decisions. This is the loneliness of being in charge.’

* I put two final questions that have worried me about the Bolivarian revolution in Venezuela. First, did the general think that Chavez had ended up depending more on the army than perhaps he intended, for civil functions?

Again Baduel responds openly: ‘The President has signaled that as a result of his inheritance as a soldier, he looks for support from the army. But he has also made it clear that he has to gradually lessen its involvement. Chavez uses our institution to articulate the links between the base and the top. He does not substitute civilians with army people.’

‘But isn’t the army acting as a substitute for effective political parties?’ I ask.

‘Throughout the world, there is a profound review of political parties as intermediary mechanisms. Here, over the past decades, political parties have gradually lost legitimacy amongst the majority of people. The way I see it is that the president is promoting structures and debate about new political structures in line with the times.’

The discussion could have gone on and on. But it is now nearly midnight. We thank the general and prepare to leave. He then goes to the bedroom annexed to his office and brings out three copies of a poster, which he scrolls open to reveal photos of himself and colleagues from the Parachutist Brigade jumping out of a plane. He somewhat timidly points to himself and makes a joke about being modest. The poster, from 2001, commemorates the 52nd anniversary of military parachuting and 40 years of freefall parachuting in Venezuela.

Then Baduel hands me a copy of a booklet about women in the Venezuelan Armed Forces. ‘My wife would never forgive me if I didn’t give this to you,’ he says. He tells us it is time to call Estela to wake her and inform her that he has carried out her ‘order’ to receive us.

Our chaperone, the minister’s assistant, assures us her boss will not be asleep yet.

Amidst handshakes and kisses and jokes, we gradually make it to the door and return to our long- suffering chauffeur. Tomorrow we’ll be hearing how activists in the barrios see the democratic vacuum separating the two driving forces of the Venezuelan revolution.