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In April Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez reached out to Barack Obama and gave him a gift. It wasn’t a billion barrels of crude or a letter of resignation, which were no doubt what Obama was hoping for, but rather a very normal and inoffensive-looking book (this was still far better than Evo Morales’ gift, which was another round of accusations that the US was trying to kill him. Sigh).
The book was Eduardo Galeano’s Open Veins of Latin America: Five Centuries of the Pillage of a Continent, a tome of some existing fame which became an instant bestseller as it was passed from Chavez to Obama.
The title should give some indication as to what the book is about, but given that the gift was an untranslated Spanish-language edition, it’s safe to say Obama hasn’t spent much time pouring over its pages. To avoid the potentially awkward consequences that could ensue from the next meeting between Chavez and Obama (“how did you like your gift” “oh yeah, it was pretty, um, interesting” “so which bits did you like the best” “well definitely the um, the start was pretty, like, um, hey look, there’s Kevin Rudd!” “Who?”), I thought I’d provide some cheat notes to help Obama. He’s a busy man after all; he has a Peace Prize to earn…
Title: Open Veins of Latin America: Five Centuries of the Pillage of a Continent
Author: Eduardo Galeano, a Uruguayan journalist and freelance political exile.
Published: 1971, and then again later.
Chapter Summaries
Introduction: 120 Million Children in the Eye of the Hurricane. Explains how Latin America is exploited.
Chapter 1: Lust for Gold, Lust for Silver. Explains how Latin America is exploited.
Chapter 2: King Sugar and other Agricultural Monarchs. Explains how Latin America is exploited.
Chapter 3: The Invisible Sources of Power. Explains how Latin America is exploited.
Chapter 4: Tales of Premature Death. Explains how Latin America is exploited.
Chapter 5: The Contemporary Structures of Power. Explains how Latin America is exploited.
Seven Years After. Explains how Latin America is still exploited.
Setting
Venezuelan oil fields, Bolivian silver mines, Brazilian favelas, Caribbean sugar plantations, Central American banana plantations, Brazilian coffee plantations, Chilean guano deposits and copper mines, nineteenth century Paraguay, Zapatista Mexico, the Panama Canal, Argentine prisons, leaky slave galleons, denuded rainforests………..
Characters
The Spanish. Outsiders that harvested, mined and plundered Latin America for their own benefit. Villains.
The English, and to a lesser extent the other Europeans. Outsiders that harvested, mined and plundered Latin America for their own benefit. Came after the Spanish (see above). Villains.
The USAmericans. Outsiders that harvested, mined and plundered Latin America for their own benefit. Came after the English (see above). Villains.
The Oligarchy. Insiders that privatised, mortgaged and sold Latin America for their own benefit. Villains.
The International Monetary Fund. See the USAmericans.
Augusto Pinochet. Chilean general who became president/dictator through a violent coup. Friend of the Oligarchy (see above) and the USAmericans (see above). A villain.
Salvador Allende. Chilean socialist president overthrown by Augusto Pinochet (see above). A hero.
Isabel Allende. First cousin once removed of Salvador Allende (see above). Wrote the foreword to Open Veins. Likes it. Fled Augusto Pinochet’s coup (see above) carrying a copy of Open Veins (an early edition, before she had written the foreword).
Old Woman. Lives in a São Paulo hovel. Drinks coffee from small tin can and talks to author. Claims that Brazil is “ours”. An anecdote.
Quotes
“We have maintained a silence closely resembling stupidity”.
“The massacres of Indians that began with Columbus never stopped”.
“The human murder by poverty in Latin America is secret – every year, three Hiroshima bombs”.
“There are less than 1,000 computers in Latin America and 50,000 in the United States”.
“One wonders if those that made us paralytic might offer us a wheelchair”.
“One writes to answer the questions that buzz in one’s head”.
Notes for the President (of the USA)
* Don’t take anything Galeano says too personally, after all you were only 10 years old when this book was published, and not directly complicit in, for example, the CIA’s support of Pinochet.
* Galeano is opposed to slavery, to indentured labour, to serfdom, and to other forms of labour exploitation. By aligning yourself similarly you may be able to reach out to those of the left like Galeano and Hugo Chavez. These people cannot vote for you, but being cordial to them might boost your popularity with certain demographics (most of whom also cannot vote for you).
* The CIA, the IMF, the green berets and the oil companies are for the large part unpopular within Latin America. This may be because every time they become involved in Latin America people start dying (according to Galeano). Finding less polarising cultural ambassadors to send to the region may prove worthwhile.
* Galeano wrote Open Veins in the years after Che Guevara was assassinated. Neither this event nor the ongoing embargo seem to have ended the Communist threat in the region. Cuba may be the country that has changed the least from the time of the book’s publication to today. It might be time to consider a new Cuba strategy.
* Five hundred years of exploitation has not caused Latin America to love unreservedly the Spanish (see above) or the English (see above) or the USAmericans (see above). For the USAmericans at least it is not to late to rethink this approach. It might be time to call off the conquest.
This week Hugo Chavez celebrated his tenth anniversary as president of Venezuela. This may not fall directly within the sphere of Bolivian topics that I have been blogging on and on about, but given how much Chavez’s Bolivarian revolution has influenced Evo Morales’s three years in office, it seems fitting to pay some respects.
So, Hugo, congratulations on ten years in office. This achievement is considerable given that when you came into office the president of Venezuela could only serve one five year term. If you have your way and manage to further amend the constitution, you may well realise your goal of staying in office for twenty five years.
Congratulations are in order for bringing affordable or free health care and education to more Venezuelans, as well as opening a chain of subsidised staples supermarkets, lavishly adorned with pro-Hugo messages.
Congratulations are in order, Hugo, for bringing Cuban doctors to the slums of Caracas, and for empowering the impoverished to vote (usually for you).
Congratulations are in order for the successful nationalisation of your country’s oil wealth, and for the ambitious campaigns you have put this wealth towards. The Bolivians who have become literate thanks to programs you sponsored no doubt also send congratulations, as do those from the North East of the USA who have received cheap fuel from you.
Congratulations are in order for surviving a coup attempt, which may or may not have had US backing. Congratulations are in order for the courage with which you have stood up to your neo-liberal, capitalist rival and client to the north. You have succeeded in blaming nearly all your problems on them, and for cooking up endless conspiracies involving American assassination attempts.
Congratulations for standing up and decrying the violence perpetrated by Israel, more so than for the occasional anti-semitic comments you let slip or insert into official speeches.
Congratulations for maintaining your accessibility, for your weekly TV show where citizens can call in to ask you questions and air their concerns. If only the respect you showed here for the media extended to enforcing freedom of press. If only you allowed other people to air their opinions as you air yours, without fear of reprisals. If only the infringing upon the freedom of the press wasn’t such a terribly slippery slope towards despotism.
Congratulations on the number of votes and elections you have won, and on your democratic approach to such matters as constitutional amendments. It is a shame these are so often beleaguered by claims of voting irregularities. Surely, with your massive popular support, you have no need to fiddle with electoral results. It’s also a shame you lost the vote that would have allowed you to stay in power for longer. Congratulations on pushing forward anyway and finding loopholes which might allow you to re-contest the matter again and again.
And if you do succeed in having the constitution amended again no doubt I will be able to congratulate you in fifteen years time when you celebrate your twenty-fifth anniversary as president. Although who knows what could happen in that long interim, and what you may have become, and which of the many paths you seem set upon you will have marched down. Right now I just don’t know what to make of you and your revolution. So congratulations and let’s see what happens.
In the week approaching the referendum something happened to Sucre; its prettiness was clouded over. In part it was the torrential weather, but in larger part it was the vehemence of local opposition to the new constitution, and anything else that Evo attached his name to. It was also in part due to the fact that I still had no apartment, and could feel my time leeching away in the futile search for housing.
The No campaign shouted its cause from loudspeakers and plastered the city with posters. Employees were pressured by their bosses to scrawl anti-Evo messages on every available space. The power in Sucre still unquestionably resides with the old, wealthy elite and their church. Sucre hasn’t always been so far right, but it is a proud city and the anti-Evoists have tapped into this pride to turn the whole city against Evo’s La Paz-focused government.
On the Tuesday a free public concert was held at the stadium, which filled with angry, proud citizens. Sinister flags bearing medieval crosses flapped over the crowds as traditional Bolivian folk music echoed around the stark concrete stadium, mixing with pro-Sucre cries. There was something sinister about it all.
On Wednesday I finally moved into an apartment with two friends. By the next morning I was moving back out again, under the baleful glare of the landlady. Since we had first met her she had changed the price, removed some furniture, and decided she needed a signed contract and a deposit immediately (which aren’t really common in Bolivia). There were angry scenes when we left, and I felt that I was experiencing, in my own minute way, something of vitriol and bile of the stale old ruling class.
On Thursday I was convinced of the sinister, resentful side of the city. An enormous No rally snaked through the streets, dancing and chanting, waving their medieval flags and bearing banners demanding that the people choose between Evo and Jesus (or Yes and No to the constitution). Banners were burnt and fireworks echoed over the city, or misfired, causing the march to momentarily break apart to avoid a hissing projectile. On a podium in the main plaza, beside the cathedral speakers screamed into a microphone, hurling their fists into the air, inciting the crowd.
I had been uncertain of what to make of the new constitution, with its many articles as well as vagaries. Throughout the week, though, I became very certain that I was against the No campaign. All of the aggression and the threat of violence that was attached to January 25 and the referendum was stemming from the No campaign, from the powerful rabble-rousers and their facetious campaigns that tapped into the prejudices of the people. Children all over the city were given no flags and t-shirts, and people were exhorted to vote No if they wanted to protect their family, their church, their country, their freedom. The bands of bellowing youths, the figures on the platforms, the invocation of religion and nation and family, the aggressive rallies, the coercion by the wealthy and powerful; it all seemed a bit fascist.
From what I could tell, on the 25th people would be voting Yes out of a spirit of hope; hope for change and improvement in Bolivia. The people voting No would be doing so out of a spirit of hatred, or at best fear.
I spent the final days in the lead up to the referendum holed up in a dingy hostel, wondering what to make of the beautiful city turned ugly, and wondering that the city might do on the night of the 25th. The constitution was almost certain to be affirmed; the vehemence of the No campaign in the city couldn’t match the number of people all over the country who saw hope and a greater voice for themselves represented in the constitution.
On referendum day the sale of alcohol was banned, and virtually every business was closed. The streets emptied; the growl and honk of cars replaced by the click of bicycles. Sucre had returned over night to its peaceful, pretty self. Families wandered through the plazas, and played badminton in the street. The sky was blue and there was no sign of the usual impending storm. The assembling of groups of people was also outlawed for the day, but behind closed doors on patio and in courtyards gringos assembled to pass the anxious day. By the early evening reports were coming in that the constitution looked set to be approved by a 60% affirmative vote. In the central plaza of Sucre it was announced that the city had overwhelmingly voted against the constitution (70%), but it was of course a hollow cry of victory.
Later, long after dark, a small and triumphant band of Yes voters cascaded through the streets, beating drums, blowing on horns, dancing and waving banners. In the central plaza groups of young guys had been congregating, drinking of unlabelled plastic bottles. These were the dissolute detritus of the No rallies, spoiling for trouble. As the Yes supporters entered the main plaza they were hounded by opposition bullies, who hurled their insults, and when these couldn’t dampen spirits, hurled water, bottles, and anything else they could lay their hands on. A brief confrontation took place, but the Yes celebration, obviously outnumbered by an inflamed enemy, marched quickly away from the centre of town. The No thugs were left in possession of the main plaza, bricks in their hands, belts, wrapped around their fists, shouting insults into the night sky, and with nowhere left to vent their fury.
On Monday morning Sucre was more or less back to its usual sedate self. There were more television cameras and microphones about, but there was no other visible change. The churches still stood, families walked together. The country had not fallen apart, nor had it become a utopia of equality and justice. The changes of the constitution will come in gradually, and probably largely unnoticed. By midday on Monday I had moved into an apartment – the one I had wanted, owned by a couple obviously of the ruling class, but incredibly kind, gracious people who welcomed gringos into their lives.
One of the biggest moments in Evo’s presidential career is one week away. On January 25 Bolivia will vote in a referendum on whether to adopt the new constitution that Evo has been pushing as part of his effort to bring greater rights and representation to the majority of Bolivians.
The constitution and its 411 articles will be approved or rejected by a single yes/no vote by each Bolivian citizen. Contained within that one vote will be the question of whether the president of Bolivia should be able to serve multiple terms in office (currently he cannot), the degree to which land will be distributed from the current wealthy owners to the impoverished farmers, the accessibility of national health care and future of relations between the nation and the private enterprises that extract its natural resources. It is an awful lot of information to be bundled together into a single vote.
It seems likely that Evo will have the majority needed to see the constitution approved. His popularity has only improved since he took office in 2006. The ratifying of the new constitution would be seen as another major step forward for indigenous rights and as the path to a more inclusive nation.
Despite the seeming inevitability of the outcome, there has been plenty of campaigning by both the YES and NO factions. In Cochabamba before i left this was more sedate, with peaceful gatherings of people beneath an enormous SI! banner in the main plaza. Cochabamba is not Evo’s stronghold, but he does have ample support there.
Arriving in Sucre I arrived in a very different political climate. Sucre is one of the cities most opposed to Evo, it being the original capital and the repository of much of the old money of Bolivia, and thus one of the places that stands to lose most by Evo’s planned reforms. All over the city, in shop windows and in buses, on flags waved from cars and on t-shirts, NO is being declared. Posters place Evo beside Hugo Chavez and Augusto Pinochet. In the main plaza flags are flyig that read ‘with blood and deaths, NO!’. There are small rallies of pro-Evo supporters too, but they are isolated, dwarfed by the adjacent NO rallies, and have none of the vitriolic passion of the NO campaign.
Some of this fervour has been drummed up by misinformation. Advertisements have linked the new constitution with the elimination of religion, and with other catholic abominations such as abortion and homosexuality. Evo and his supporters have been throwing around terms like autonomy and independence, though what exactly their connection is to the constitution is unclear. They are just the buzzwords of Evo’s term.
There is something schizophrenic about this whole process of rewriting the constitution. The date of the referendum has been changed several times. The contents and scope of the constitution has been changed and re-negotiated as opposing parties grapple for an advantage. This has resulted in some very grey areas, such as exactly how much health care will be accessible and to whom. False advertising and the drawing in of every possible unrelated issue (from abortion to Evo himself) has confused the issue greatly. It is unclear exactly how much effect a new constitution would have on day to day life in Bolivia. Perhaps it will usher in the destruction of civilisation as we know it, perhaps it will bring about a Utopia of equality and Evoism.
Perhaps in a week or so sense will finally be made of all this. Or maybe it won’t. But it is going to be a week of great passion and great exertion for Bolivia.
This is not quite so current an event, but in December Bolivia became the third country in Latin America to be declared illiteracy-free. In the ensuing weeks, banners have appeared everywhere putting Evo Morales’ face beside the proud declaration.
The 30 month program to eradicate illiteracy was introduced by Evo, using a Cuban model and Venezuelan funds. Cuba declared itself illiteracy free at the beginning of the 60s. Venezuela became the second country to do so in 2005.
The UNESCO standards state that 96% of a country’s population over the age of 15 must be able to read and write for the country to qualify as illiteracy-free. In a country as traditional and underdeveloped as Bolivia, reaching this level is a significant accomplishment.
It is an achievement that plays well into Evo’s claims of being a president for the people, of raising the standard of living for the marginalised indigenous people of Bolivia. Literacy classes were offered in Spanish, Quechua and Aymara, to ensure as many people as possible could take part.
It was Fidel Castro in ‘61 and Hugo Chavez in ‘05 who made the same claims for Cuba and Venezuela respectively, other presidents for the people. It is curious to note that the three most strongly socialist countries in Latin America are the only three to claim themselves illiteracy-free.
Undoubtedly the literacy program has changed and improved the lives of many people. But how much does the statistic mean? And is there something suspicious about the socialists being the only ones claiming total literacy? On one of my first days in Sucre an indigenous woman in the middle of trying to sell her handicrafts to me receives a text message and asks me to read it to her because she apparently can’t read it for herself. Out in the countryside other volunteers report that there are plenty of men and especially women who still have to stamp official documents with a thumb print because they can’t write their names.
Perhaps these belong to the 4% margin that need not be literate for a country to be literate. Perhaps the figures are completely false. Perhaps the Cuban program is designed to improve statistics rather than reading competency. Perhaps only socialists care about such figures. Perhaps numbers are a poor measure of the literacy of a country.
Wherever the truth lies, Evo has added another accomplishment to his frenetic first term in office. Whether the real achievement is of educating the people or duping the people remains unclear.
