Latin America’s revealing reaction to the Venezuelan election

The Bolivarian Revolution vs. the Brazil model.

As the whole world looked on, the indefatigable Hugo Chávez overcame his strongest obstacle yet to claim another six-year term as Venezuela’s President, keeping him in power until 2019.  

“Venezuela will continue along the path of democratic and Bolivarian socialism for the 21st century”, Chávez thundered from the balcony of Miraflores palace, holding aloft the sword of Latin American revolutionary Símon Bolivar.

This election was so salient because it showcased a clash of two different ideologies; of two different futures. It was a battle of two visions that pitted a leftist firebrand against one of the Venezuelan 1 per cent; between a populist demagogue and a wealthy elite out-of-touch with Venezuela’s bulging underclass.

Henrique Capriles promised major changes for Venezuela. He pledged to move the country away from quixotic idealism to pursue a more pragmatic foreign policy; away from pariah states such as Belarus and Iran and towards a more sanitised global image.

He promised to depoliticise the economy through spurring private investment and reviving oil deals with outside partners - a notion unimaginable under the current government that holds economic self-sufficiency and state nationalisation as sacrosanct principles of governance.

Crucially for Chávez, Capriles threatened to undermine Venezuela’s role as the flag-bearer for the continent’s radical left; as the leading extoller of Latin American anti-imperialism.

Naturally, for supporters of the chavista cause, Sunday was most certainly a red-letter day; a democratic endorsement of the Bolivarian revolution espoused by Chávez.

“Forward, comrade Chávez”, tweeted Ecuadorian President Rafael Correa. “All Latin America is with you and with our beloved Venezuela”.

“The victory of President Chávez is a victory for democracy, for the Bolivarian alliance, and all of Latin America”, declared Bolivian President Evo Morales.

“Your decisive victory ensures the continuity of the struggle for genuine integration in our America”, proclaimed Raul Castro, Cuba’s de facto President.

Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega also paid effuse tribute to him, labelling him an “indisputable leader that will continue leading the Latin American revolution”.

These sentiments were echoed in Argentina as well, with President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner praising the victory whilst Argentines rallied outside the Venezuelan embassy in Buenos Aires to celebrate the news.

However, the response from other major regional players, particularly Peru, Mexico and Brazil was muted, highlighting a degree of indifference to the radical model of leftist politics extolled by South America’s chavista movement.

There is no question over the importance of Latin American independence on the continent. Last year, the establishment of a 33-country “Community of Latin American and Caribbean States” (CELAC) intentionally excluded Washington and other “Western” powers from membership, cementing the region as a power bloc with its own interests and agendas.

But the “Bolivarian Alliance for the Americas” (ALBA), conceived by Chávez in 2004, is a step too far for some. That only the most radical of Latin American governments claim membership (Bolivia, Nicaragua, Cuba and Venezuela) is a telling indicator of the state of South American leftism.

Many often interpret the left-leaning approach of most South American states as a unified, cohesive ideological movement against imperialist forces, but a more nuanced approach reveals some major fault lines.  

To some, Bolivarian governance has hit a crisis. With soaring inflation rates, over-reliance on nationalised industry and bloated bureaucracies rife with cronyism, much of Latin America’s far-left finds itself in an unenviable position.

The alternative model, embodied by Brazil, offers a different brand of leftism; one that embraces private property rights and upholds the sanctity of democratic institutions. Since the election of Luiz Ignácio Lula da Silva as President 2002, Brazil has shown that you do not have to stack the courts, censor the media, and politicise a country’s financial system to ameliorate poverty. As an emerging player on the world stage, Brazil has also shown that you can have sovereign independence whilst integrating into the global economy; that you can resist imperialism without having to denounce capitalism.

A signal that the Brazil mould is gaining momentum in Latin America came with the Peruvian election of Ollanta Humala in 2011. Humala originally campaigned under the chavista banner in 2006 and and lost. For the 2011 election, he rebranded as a more moderate socialist and has governed as such ever since.

Does this reveal a political schism in Latin America? Not exactly. Whilst fault lines have appeared, it doesn’t mean incompatibility. Nevertheless, the Brazilian model shows that Latin American governments can have their cake and eat it too; they can remain economically and politically self-sufficient without resorting to authoritarian and isolationist policies that breed malaise.

Whilst Sunday’s election victory has not derailed the Bolivarian revolution, its tight victory margin and the increasing appeal of the Brazilian mould has certainly taken the wind out of its sails.

A pro-Chávez mural in his hometown of Sabaneta, Venezuela. Photo: Getty

Alex Ward is a London-based freelance journalist who has previously worked for the Times & the Press Association. Twitter: @alexward3000

Photo:Getty
Show Hide image

Britain's diversity crisis starts with its writers. Here's why

What happens on the casting couch draws the headline, but the problem starts on the page, says James Graham. 

I’m a playwright and screenwriter, which – pertinent to the issues we’ll be discussing in this enquiry – still feels weird to say. I get embarrassed, still, saying that, in a taxi or hairdressers. I don’t know why I still carry that insecurity about saying I’m a writer, but I do, because it sounds like I’m lying, even in my own head.

Obviously I’m completely biased, and probably overstating the influence and importance of my own profession, but I think so many of the problems surrounding lack of representation in the performing arts start with writers.

If we aren’t encouraging and generating writers from certain communities, classes or backgrounds to tell their stories, to write those roles, then there’s not going to be a demand for actors from those communities to play them. For casting agents or drama schools to prioritise getting diverse actors on stage. We need to create those plays and TV dramas –like the ones that I grew up with. I didn’t have any access to much theatre until I was fifteen, but I did have Boys From the Black Stuff, and I did have Cracker, and I did have Band of Gold. I think the loss of those regional producing bodies – Central, Granada – now all completely centralised into London, means that we just tell less of those stories. I remember a TV show called Boon – anyone? – which was set in Nottingham, and I would see on the TV streets I’d walked down, and think, Oh my God, that actor is walking down a street I’ve walked down. That sounds like it’s insignificant. If you’re from a town that is deprived, that feels ignored, it isn’t.

I was very lucky that at my school (which was, at the time, the largest comprehensive school in the country), from the headmaster down to the drama teachers, everyone just believed that working class kids should do plays. Be in plays, read plays, perform plays to the community. Both inside the curriculum of the school day, and outside it – drama teachers dedicating their time to staying behind. Our head of drama identified a group of us who clearly had a passion for it. We weren’t likely thesps. One lad’s entire family were made unemployed when the pit closed. Many lived on the big council estate. My parents and step-parents worked respectively in warehouses, the local council, or as the local window cleaner (incidentally, my first real job. Which I was terrible at).

Our drama teacher was encouraged and determined enough to launch the first ever Drama A-Level in our school. Based on that, about 10 or 12 of us got the confidence – or arrogance – to take our own show to the Edinburgh Festival. We were 16 or 17, and the first people in our community to ever go to visit the festival. We did a play up there, and after that, a psychological unlocking happened, where I thought: maybe I could do a degree in drama (it was the first time I had ever thought to do so) at university (the first in my family to go. Well, joint-first. My twin sister went on the same day, but I walked into my digs first).

I enrolled in drama at Hull University. A high proportion of my peers were middle class. A higher proportion from London or the South East. They talked often about institutions I had never heard of. They were talking about the National Theatre: I didn’t know we had a national theatre that my parents had been paying tax for that I had never been to. Many had performed with the (again, apparently) ‘National’ Youth Theatre, also in London. Paul Roseby, also on this panel, has made such leaps forward in getting the NYT producing in regional venues, and making auditions possible for people across the UK, but unfortunately, at the time, that wasn’t the case for me – and I was the ideal candidate to be in the National Youth Theatre.

I started writing because I had the confidence after I read texts by people like Jim Cartwright, Alan Bennett, John Godber, Alan Ayckbourn: Northern writers, working class writers that made me think it wasn’t just something that other people do.

After returning home, and working at local theatres, I moved down to London. I had to. The major new writing producers are there. All the TV companies are there. The agents are there. I was lucky to find support in a pub fringe theatre – though the economics meant there was no money to commission, so I wrote plays for free for about four years, that would get produced, and reviewed in the national press, while I worked various jobs in the day and slept for a time on a mate's floor. The first person to ever pay to commission me to write a play was Paul Roseby of the National Youth Theatre. I’m now very lucky to be earning a living doing something I love. In a way, compared to actors, or directors, it’s easier for writers who don’t come from a background that can sustain them, financially, in those early years. Your hours can be more flexible. Yes, it was annoying to miss rehearsals because I had a shift in a call centre, but it was still possible to do it. If you’re an actor or director, you’re fully committed. And if you’re doing that for nothing, there starts to be cut-off point for those from backgrounds who can’t.

I’m sure that local and regional theatres are the key to drawing in talent from less privileged backgrounds. But the range of national arts journalism that cover work outside London has been so significantly reduced. In our little echo chamber a few weeks ago, we theatre types talked about Lyn Gardner at the Guardian. Her coverage has been cut, which is very directly going to affect her ability to cover theatre shows outside of London – and so the self-fulfilling cycle of artists leaving their communities to work exclusively in London takes another, inevitable, turn.

I am culpable in this cycle. I have never done a play at the Nottingham Playhouse, my local producing house growing up – why? Because I’ve never submitted one, because I know that it will get less national press attention. So I just open it in London instead. That’s terrible of me. And I should just bite the bullet and say it doesn’t matter about the attention it gets, I should just go and do a story for my community. And if I, and others, started doing that more, maybe they will come.

I also want to blame myself for not contributing back to the state schools that I come from. I really really enjoy going to do writing workshops with kids in schools, but I would say 90 per cent of those that I get invited to are private schools, or boarding schools, or in the South of England. Either because they’re the ones that ask me, because they’re the ones who come and see my shows in London and see me afterwards backstage, or because they have the confidence to email my agent, or they have the budget to pay for my train ticket. Either way, I should do more. It would have helped the younger me so much to meet a real person, from my background, doing what I wanted to do.

I don’t know how to facilitate that. I take inspiration from Act for Change, creating a grassroots organisation. I know that there is a wealth of industry professionals like me who would, if there was a joined-up structure in place that got us out there into less privileged communities, we would on a regular basis go to schools who don’t get to meet industry professionals and don’t unlock that cultural and psychological block that working class kids have that says, that is not for me, that is something that other people do, I would dedicate so much of my time to it. That’s just one idea of hopefully better ones from other people that might come out of this enquiry.

James Graham is a playwright and screenwriter. This piece is adapted from evidence given by James Graham at an inquiry, Acting Up – Breaking the Class Ceiling in the Performing Arts, looking into the problem of a lack of diversity and a class divide in acting in the UK, led by MPs Gloria De Piero and Tracy Brabin.