John Pilger on Latin America: the attack on democracy

An unreported war is being waged by the US to restore power to the privileged.

Beyond the sound and fury of its conquest of Iraq and campaign against Iran, the world's dominant power is waging a largely unreported war on another continent - Latin America. Using proxies, Washington aims to restore and reinforce the political control of a privileged group calling itself middle-class, to shift the responsibility for massacres and drug trafficking away from the psychotic regime in Colombia and its mafiosi, and to extinguish hopes raised among Latin America's impoverished majority by the reform governments of Venezuela, Ecuador and Bolivia.

In Colombia, the main battleground, the class nature of the war is distorted by the guerrillas of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, known as the Farc, whose own resort to kidnapping and the drugs trade has provided an instrument with which to smear those who have distinguished Latin America's epic history of rebellion by opposing the proto-fascism of George W Bush's regime. "You don't fight terror with terror," said President Hugo Chávez as US warplanes bombed to death thousands of civilians in Afghanistan following the 11 September 2001 attacks. Thereafter, he was a marked man. Yet, as every poll has shown, he spoke for the great majority of human beings who have grasped that the "war on terror" is a crusade of domination. Almost alone among national leaders standing up to Bush, Chávez was declared an enemy and his plans for a functioning social democracy independent of the United States a threat to Washington's grip on Latin America. "Even worse," wrote the Latin America specialist James Petras, "Chávez's nationalist policies represented an alternative in Latin America at a time (2000-2003) when mass insurrections, popular uprisings and the collapse of pro-US client rulers (Argentina, Ecuador and Bolivia) were constant front-page news."

It is impossible to underestimate the threat of this alternative as perceived by the "middle classes" in countries which have an abundance of privilege and poverty. In Venezuela, their "grotesque fantasies of being ruled by a 'brutal communist dictator'", to quote Petras, are reminiscent of the paranoia of the white population that backed South Africa's apartheid regime. Like in South Africa, racism in Venezuela is rampant, with the poor ignored, despised or patronised, and a Caracas shock jock allowed casually to dismiss Chávez, who is of mixed race, as a "monkey". This fatuous venom has come not only from the super-rich behind their walls in suburbs called Country Club, but from the pretenders to their ranks in middle-level management, journalism, public relations, the arts, education and the other professions, who identify vicariously with all things American. Journalists in broadcasting and the press have played a crucial role - acknowledged by one of the generals and bankers who tried unsuccessfully to overthrow Chávez in 2002. "We couldn't have done it without them," he said. "The media were our secret weapon."

Many of these people regard themselves as liberals, and have the ear of foreign journalists who like to describe themselves as being "on the left". This is not surprising. When Chávez was first elected in 1998, Venezuela was not an archetypical Latin American tyranny, but a liberal democracy with certain freedoms, run by and for its elite, which had plundered the oil revenue and let crumbs fall to the invisible millions in the barrios. A pact between the two main parties, known as puntofijismo, resembled the convergence of new Labour and the Tories in Britain and Republicans and Democrats in the US. For them, the idea of popular sovereignty was anathema, and still is.

Take higher education. At the taxpayer-funded elite "public" Venezuelan Central University, more than 90 per cent of the students come from the upper and "middle" classes. These and other elite students have been infiltrated by CIA-linked groups and, in defending their privilege, have been lauded by foreign liberals.

With Colombia as its front line, the war on democracy in Latin America has Chávez as its main target. It is not difficult to understand why. One of Chávez's first acts was to revitalise the oil producers' organisation Opec and force the oil price to record levels. At the same time he reduced the price of oil for the poorest countries in the Caribbean region and central America, and used Venezuela's new wealth to pay off debt, notably Argentina's, and, in effect, expelled the International Monetary Fund from a continent over which it once ruled. He has cut poverty by half - while GDP has risen dramatically. Above all, he gave poor people the confidence to believe that their lives would improve.

The irony is that, unlike Fidel Castro in Cuba, he presented no real threat to the well-off, who have grown richer under his presidency. What he has demonstrated is that a social democracy can prosper and reach out to its poor with genuine welfare, and without the extremes of "neo liberalism" - a decidedly unradical notion once embraced by the British Labour Party. Those ordinary Vene zuelans who abstained during last year's constitutional referendum were protesting that a "moderate" social democracy was not enough while the bureaucrats remained corrupt and the sewers overflowed.

Across the border in Colombia, the US has made Venezuela's neighbour the Israel of Latin America. Under "Plan Colombia", more than $6bn in arms, planes, special forces, mercenaries and logistics have been showered on some of the most murderous people on earth: the inheritors of Pinochet's Chile and the other juntas that terrorised Latin America for a generation, their various gestapos trained at the School of the Americas in Georgia. "We not only taught them how to torture," a former American trainer told me, "we taught them how to kill, murder, eliminate." That remains true of Colombia, where government-inspired mass terror has been documented by Amnesty, Human Rights Watch and many others. In a study of 31,656 extrajudicial killings and forced disappearances between 1996 and 2006, the Colombian Commission of Jurists found that 46 per cent had been murdered by right-wing death squads and 14 per cent by Farc guerrillas. The para militaries were responsible for most of the three million victims of internal displacement. This misery is a product of Plan Colombia's pseudo "war on drugs", whose real purpose has been to eliminate the Farc. To that goal has now been added a war of attrition on the new popular democracies, especially Venezuela.

US special forces "advise" the Colombian military to cross the border into Venezuela and murder and kidnap its citizens and infiltrate paramilitaries, and so test the loyalty of the Venezuelan armed forces. The model is the CIA-run Contra campaign in Honduras in the 1980s that brought down the reformist government in Nicaragua. The defeat of the Farc is now seen as a prelude to an all-out attack on Venezuela if the Vene zuelan elite - reinvigorated by its narrow referendum victory last year - broadens its base in state and local government elections in November.

America's man and Colombia's Pinochet is President Álvaro Uribe. In 1991, a declassified report by the US Defence Intelligence Agency revealed the then Senator Uribe as having "worked for the Medellín Cartel" as a "close personal friend" of the cartel's drugs baron, Pablo Escobar. To date, 62 of his political allies have been investigated for close collaboration with paramilitaries. A feature of his rule has been the fate of journalists who have illuminated his shadows. Last year, four leading journalists received death threats after criticising Uribe. Since 2002, at least 31 journalists have been assassinated in Colombia. Uribe's other habit is smearing trade unions and human rights workers as "collaborators with the Farc". This marks them. Colombia's death squads, wrote Jenny Pearce, author of the acclaimed Under the Eagle: US Intervention in Central America and the Caribbean (1982), "are increasingly active, confident that the president has been so successful in rallying the country against the Farc that little attention will shift to their atrocities".

Uribe was personally championed by Tony Blair, reflecting Britain's long-standing, mostly secret role in Latin America. "Counter-insurgency assistance" to the Colombian military, up to its neck in death-squad alliances, includes training by the SAS of units such as the High Mountain Battalions, condemned repeatedly for atrocities. On 8 March, Colombian officers were invited by the Foreign Office to a "counter-insurgency seminar" at the Wilton Park conference centre in southern England. Rarely has the Foreign Office so brazenly paraded the killers it mentors.

The western media's role follows earlier models, such as the campaigns that cleared the way for the dismemberment of Yugoslavia and the credibility given to lies about Iraq's weapons of mass destruction. The softening-up for an attack on Venezuela is well under way, with the repetition of similar lies and smears.

 

Cocaine trail

 

On 3 February, the Observer devoted two pages to claims that Chávez was colluding in the Colombian drugs trade. Similarly to the paper's notorious bogus scares linking Saddam Hussein to al-Qaeda, the Observer's headline read, "Revealed: Chávez role in cocaine trail to Europe". Allegations were unsubstantiated; hearsay uncorroborated. No source was identified. Indeed, the reporter, clearly trying to cover himself, wrote: "No source I spoke to accused Chávez himself of having a direct role in Colombia's giant drug trafficking business."

In fact, the UN Office on Drugs and Crime has reported that Venezuela is fully participating in international anti-drugs programmes and in 2005 seized the third-highest amount of cocaine in the world. Even the Foreign Office minister Kim Howells has referred to "Venezuela's tre mendous co-operation".

The drugs smear has recently been reinforced with reports that Chávez has an "increasingly public alliance [with] the Farc" (see "Dangerous liaisons", New Statesman, 14 April). Again, there is "no evidence", says the secretary general of the Organisation of American States. At Uribe's request, and backed by the French government, Chávez played a mediating role in seeking the release of hostages held by the Farc. On 1 March, the negotiations were betrayed by Uribe who, with US logistical assistance, fired missiles at a camp in Ecuador, killing Raú Reyes, the Farc's highest-level negotiator. An "email" recovered from Reyes's laptop is said by the Colombian military to show that the Farc has received $300m from Chávez. The allegation is fake. The actual document refers only to Chávez in relation to the hostage exchange. And on 14 April, Chávez angrily criticised the Farc. "If I were a guerrilla," he said, "I wouldn't have the need to hold a woman, a man who aren't soldiers. Free the civilians!"

However, these fantasies have lethal purpose. On 10 March, the Bush administration announced that it had begun the process of placing Venezuela's popular democracy on a list of "terrorist states", along with North Korea, Syria, Cuba, Sudan and Iran, the last of which is currently awaiting attack by the world's leading terrorist state.

http://www.johnpilger.com

John Pilger, renowned investigative journalist and documentary film-maker, is one of only two to have twice won British journalism's top award; his documentaries have won academy awards in both the UK and the US. In a New Statesman survey of the 50 heroes of our time, Pilger came fourth behind Aung San Suu Kyi and Nelson Mandela. "John Pilger," wrote Harold Pinter, "unearths, with steely attention facts, the filthy truth. I salute him."

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2008 issue of the New Statesman, Everybody out!

Michael Frith for New Statesman.
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Kezia Dugdale on the decline of Scottish Labour: “Nobody knew what we were for”

The Lothian MSP has just taken on the toughest job in politics – leading Scottish Labour against the SNP.

Coming in to Edinburgh on the airport shuttle bus, you pass the city’s zoo, festooned with ­posters for its star attractions, Tian Tian and Yang Guang. The old joke used to be that there were more pandas in Scotland than Tory MPs. Since the early hours of 8 May, however, that axiom applies to ­Labour and the Liberal Democrats, too.

How can Labour recover from the loss of 40 of its Scottish seats? The task falls to Kezia Dugdale, the 33-year-old elected on 15 August as the sixth leader of Scottish Labour in eight years. In May, she was at a TV studio when the general election exit poll was announced and neither she, the Scottish Tory leader Ruth Davidson, nor the Lib Dems’ Willie Rennie could believe it. But by the time she reached Labour’s headquarters on Bath Street in Glasgow, and watched a five-figure majority in Rutherglen and Hamilton West get swept away, she knew the party had suffered a wipeout. “I watched Jim Murphy lose his seat and he joined us not too long after that, and then Brian Roy [Scottish Labour’s general secretary], watched his dad lose his seat,” she tells me. “The atmosphere was just deathly quiet.”

Small wonder the scene was funereal. Labour once dominated Scottish politics effortlessly – in fact, the effortlessness may have been the problem, because the party became complacent and its electoral machine was rusty with underuse. Now, Labour gets kicking after kicking. On 14 August there were swings to the SNP of over 20 per cent in council by-elections in Falkirk and in Wishaw, Lanarkshire. Similar swings were recorded earlier in the month in Glasgow and last month in Aberdeen.

At this point, the drubbing Labour is receiving reminds me of that clip from The Simpsons where a child shouts: “Stop! Stop! He’s already dead!” The party has been routed at Westminster and it seems likely to lose all its constituency MSPs at next year’s Holyrood elections, too. Its survival there would then depend on the vagaries of the D’Hondt system, which will award Labour a few dozen list MSPs, based on its total vote share. (The SNP could do so well in some constituencies that it won’t get topped up with any list MSPs.)

What can Kezia Dugdale do to arrest the party’s decline? It feels as though everyone I speak to is more dejected than the last. “The crucial thing is to regain permission to be heard,” says David Torrance, the biographer of Alex Salmond and Nicola Sturgeon. “That was lost during the referendum debate and wasn’t regained during the election.” Stephen Daisley, STV’s digital political correspondent, adds: “Labour lacks a coherent narrative. A stray cat could tell you what the SNP stands for: protecting Scotland from wicked Westminster. Put two Labour supporters in a room – more and more of an ask in Scotland – and you’ll get three opinions on what the party’s message is.”

According to Dugdale, Willie Rennie often runs up Arthur’s Seat and back at lunchtime, such is the proximity of the old peak to the Scottish Parliament. Her own uphill struggle is no less daunting. When I ask her how far back Labour’s problems go, she laughs: “We’re only here for an hour!” She says that “2007 was the warning sign, because we shouldn’t have lost that . . . Some people might even say 2003 because we started to look like caretakers.”

She says the blame for the party’s present predicament should not fall on any individual or policy, but does criticise the 2015 manifesto. “There were 160 different policies in our manifesto in Scotland . . . 160 policies and nobody knew what we were for.” The road back to credibility lies in outlining the ethos behind Scottish Labour. As she puts it: “What we did was say, ‘This is what we’re going to do with policies . . .’ Barely if ever did we tell people why.”

Here, Dugdale faces a huge disadvantage against the SNP leadership, which has a simple answer to most questions: more powers for Scotland. “What is galling for Scottish Labour is that attempts to hold ministers to account are branded unpatriotic,” Daisley says. “‘Stop talking down Scotland’ is the nationalists’ favourite response. The challenge for Labour is that Scottish voters might now be voting on their national ambitions rather than policy. Scottish Labour is talking about service delivery. The SNP is waving a flag. Flags always win.”

The election of Jeremy Corbyn as Labour’s leader in Westminster may pose an intriguing problem for the SNP, which ran in May on an anti-austerity platform (although the IFS found its manifesto was more fiscally conservative than Labour’s). Many former Scottish Labour supporters say they now back the SNP because of that stance. But if Labour is also anti-austerity, will any of those voters come back? “The idea a Corbyn-led Labour Party can help it recover in Scotland is, I am afraid, for the birds,” the Spectator’s Alex Massie wrote on Twitter recently. Another centre-right commentator told me: “It’ll be like Canada, post-referendum. The SNP are like the Bloc Québécois; people will vote for them to represent Scotland’s interests at Westminster.”

The SNP now also has the advantage of the staff and infrastructure that come with 56 Westminster MPs. “We’ve gone from 41 to one, against a juggernaut of 56 whose raison d’être is to get an independent Scotland,” says Labour’s only remaining MP in Scotland, Ian Murray. He feels the press is hostile, too, and argues that “some of the media in Scotland would rather continue to attack Labour than hold the SNP or Tory government to account”. He must surely be thinking of the National, a bruisingly partisan publication that specialises in grotesque photoshopped cover pictures. Recent highlights include Boris Johnson as the Joker and Tim Farron as Frankenstein.

I ask Dugdale how she plans to cope with abuse on social media. “I’ve never really let it affect me, because I just feel sorry for the people who live on the internet in the middle of the night,” she says. “The most powerful button in the world is the mute button.” It helps that her close friends work in politics. “I can’t just go home at 6pm and drink a bottle of wine. Sometimes I have to do things at the last minute. Sometimes, despite making plans, you have to cancel. Normal people don’t think that’s cool.”

She also gets occasional support from the other two main party leaders, Sturgeon of the SNP and the Tories’ Davidson. Having three women at the top of Scottish politics does not make things “less aggressive, just different. It’s undoubtedly different. There’s a degree of camaraderie between the three of us.” That said, she is unimpressed by the others’ criticisms of my New Statesman piece on childlessness in politics. “They saw the outrage and went with it. In my gut, I don’t think either of them had read the full article before they commented on the front cover . . . Ruth Davidson is not a feminist and Nicola Sturgeon is a late convert, in my view.”

Dugdale has been involved in politics for only a decade. She is not from a political family, though her father Jeff, once a Tory supporter, is now an SNP member who likes to wind his daughter up on Twitter. She joined Labour when, after graduating in law, she found herself unemployed and wondering what to do with her life. “I had no great drive to do law other than watching a lot of Ally McBeal,” she says now. “I thought that everyone who did law just had unisex loos, went to the piano bar at night and spent their entire life in the courtroom.”

Instead, she ended up, aged 23, “on the sofa in our pyjamas watching Trisha” with a flatmate who was a member of the Labour Party and encouraged her to get involved in politics. She found that she was a good election agent, and in 2011 she acted as a key seat organiser with a place on the regional list. “I was expecting to wake up the day after the 2011 election unemployed, with a pretty decent redundancy package and a summer to work out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I woke up as an MSP.”

She knows that many observers believe there is no way back for Scottish Labour. Her hopes rest on a few calculations: the first is that the SNP leadership (with the exception of Salmond) doesn’t want to push for a second referendum too soon, yet its activists might try to get it into the 2016 manifesto. “It’s an incredibly difficult call for Nicola Sturgeon, because it’s what her 100,000 party members want but it’s not what the country wants,” Dugdale says. “We were told this was a once-in-a-lifetime, once-in-a-generation opportunity. I was 33 when they told me that, and I’m still 33 and they’re changing the rules.”

The second is that the SNP has now governed Scotland for eight years, four of those with a majority, and at some point Scottish voters might treat them as incumbents rather than insurgents. As Murray puts it: “What gives me a little bit of hope for the 2016 election is that they’re going to have to start answering for their own pretty abysmal record.” He thinks that grumbles about public services (the police, the NHS, the justice system) might finally boil over; Dugdale’s own focus will be on education. She says this policy area is “integral to battling poverty and inequality in all its forms”, and it can’t hurt that Scotland’s primary schools are full of children who have never known anything other than SNP rule.

Intelligent, funny, hard-working, well-liked and – well, normal (her trashy telly ­anecdotes were clearly real, rather than focus-grouped to make her sound “authentic”), Kezia Dugdale is an impressive politician. But she is under no illusions about how hard her job will be. As she puts it: “There were lots of people saying, ‘Don’t stand, because you’ll have a crap election in 2016, it’s inevitable, and then they’ll have your head and that’ll be you done.’”

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 20 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn wars