This is Chávez Country: Ruling by Decree

CARACAS. With President of Venezuela Hugo Chávez.

President Hugo Chavez, right, likes to link himself to Venezuela's Founding Father, Simón Bolivar, whose portrait hangs behind him.

It’s official. Hugo Chávez, you can take a bow. For, with the start of 2011, comes a new era for Venezuela. Just before Christmas, the Venezuelan congress gave Chávez total power to rule by decree, starting this month.  Yes, he now has carte blanche to legislate on everything–from the Internet and all other communications, to transportation, including the roadways. Which means, Venezuela is now under a dictatorship.

And while this may mean little to most Americans, to me it means family. And uncertainty, as I wonder what will happen to my loved ones–my elderly aunts and countless cousins. Some already have left and headed to such places as Spain,  Mexico, Australia and the United States.  But most are still there. Too elderly to travel. Too set in their ways. Too difficult to leave. For many, wanting to go is not enough. It is difficult to obtain the necessary papers, visas.

A few hold on to the belief, or hope, that this too shall pass. But so far, it hasn’t. Venezuela’s illustrious leader, Hugo Chávez has been president for 11 years, with no end in sight.

You don’t hear much about the travails of Venezuela in the U.S. media (except perhaps when Chávez, says something incongruous, like referring to President George W. Bush as “the devil“). But now that he has been given unlimited powers, this may all change.  What more could Chávez want of his people? How many more ways can he constrain their lives? And just how long before the iron curtain comes down once and for all? I, for one, plan to stay tuned.

In recent years, I’ve returned to Venezuela twice. During my first visit, the first in nearly 35 years, I kept a journal.  What follows are my observations of Chávez Country.

January 2007: With much trepidation I embarked on my journey to Venezuela. It all started the summer before, when I, along with my siblings decided to make the trip. I felt uneasy about going, largely due to the many news reports about Chávez–his obsessive adoration of Fidel Castro, plus his manic hatred of the U.S. Though all you need do is read the U.S. State Department’s travel advisory on Venezuela and it’s enough to make you want to ask for a refund on your plane ticket.  Here’s a snapshot:

“Violent crime in Venezuela is pervasive…The country’s overall per capita murder rate is cited as one of the top five in the world…official statistics have shown alarming increases in kidnappings throughout the country… Armed robberies take place throughout the city, including areas generally presumed safe and frequented by tourists. Well-armed criminal gangs operate widely, often setting up fake police checkpoints.“

My sister says the State Department exaggerates, but I was ready to cancel.  Yet I was told not to overreact. That as long as we  avoided certain neighborhoods, such as the center of Caracas and tourist areas, we’d be ok.  I was hoping to take my son, Josh, who’d be traveling with us, to see the home of Venezuela’s Founding Father, Simón Bolívar. I remember seeing it as a kid, but like much of Caracas, it was no longer a safe place to visit.  So I boarded the plane and decided I’d have to see this country for myself.

Day One: The State Department’s web site indicates that, “Incidents of taxi drivers in Caracas overcharging, robbing, and injuring passengers are common.”  Given this, it is best to be picked up at the airport by someone you know and trust.  Which is why when we land, Victor (names have been changed for obvious reasons), a cousin who makes his living as a chauffer, meets us at the airport.

For 22 years, Victor worked for PDVSA, the government-owned petroleum company. But in 2002, there was a national strike and employees of PDVSA went on strike too.  The strike lasted three months and ended with Chávez firing all the strikers at PDVSA.  Chávez also made it against the law for any other employer to hire the strikers.  More than 20,000 people were affected, including Victor.  Without any prospects, Victor began to drive his car for hire.

I learn that we have to take “El Camino Viejo” (the old road) to Caracas because the bridge that connected to the newer, more direct road, collapsed a few years earlier.  El Camino Viejo is only two lanes with a rather steep incline. Trucks are parked along the shoulder and Victor explains that this is because trucks are prohibited from traveling this road during select times of the day, this being one of them.  So they remain on the shoulder until it’s their turn to use the roadway.

I decide to ask Victor about the situation in Venezuela.  He quickly frowns as his mood changes.  He is trying to save up enough money to leave, he tells me.  He and his wife are eager to start anew somewhere else and frustrated because they are stuck for the time being. Getting an appointment at the embassy takes time.  So does saving up enough money to go. It’s a process. Despite this, I see resilience in Victor’s eyes. That, and a steadfast resolve to make the most of his situation.

Our drive into Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, continues. I find myself looking keenly out the window, searching for signs of change and signs of tyranny.  I also look for reminders of the past, hoping to rekindle memories of the Venezuela of my youth.

Next Up: Path to Tyranny