Life in Caracas after Hugo Chavez survived attempts to topple him

Wait and see Sunday, March 23, 2003 By Alistair Scrutton

CARACAS, Venezuela—They disrupted Christmas. They froze Venezuela’s oil lifeblood. They marched in their millions. To little avail.

Vast numbers of Venezuelans who failed to force out leftist President Hugo Chavez with a huge strike are now in limbo. They are wondering what do to next and fearful of what may come as the nation, split along economic class and political fault lines, falls deeper in recession.

“Depressed isn’t the word for it. I’m totally crushed,” said Maria Jose Alonso, a brooding, out-of-work pharmacist who chatted in a restaurant about the two-month strike that petered out early last month. “Now Chavez is on the offensive.”

Chavez, a former paratrooper who survived a bungled coup in April last year, took on and defeated the strike which slashed oil output in the world’s No. 5 petroleum producer.

He has called his foes “oligarchs” out to destroy his self-styled “revolution” to help the poor.

“We thought the strike would push Chavez out in a week, 10 days at most,” Alonso said, flashing ten fingers in the air.

In December, she took part in demonstrations for the first time ever. Like many Venezuelans across the country, she spent Christmas banging pots and pans to protest against Chavez and to call for early elections.

Alonso’s pessimism reflects a mood swing among the middle and upper classes, the backbone of the opposition whose marches often ended in street battles with Chavez’s mainly poor supporters.

Trip wires still lie ahead—from opposition calls for a referendum to fears the government could take over private TV stations—that could spark further civil unrest. But many of Chavez’s foes are soul-searching.

Opposition in disarray

“There’s disarray. The opposition aren’t weaker in the sense they can still mobilize a lot of people. But most agree mobilizations are not the way,” said Caracas-based political analyst Janet Kelly. “The debate is over what to do now.”

Resigned, scared and depressed are some of the words Chavez’s opponents use to describe their reaction to the fact that the president, whom they see as a power-hungry class warrior trying to turn Venezuela into a Cuba-style communist state, is still leading the country.

“Two months ago we were optimistic. Now it’s all just so uncertain,” said Tom Bokor, a systems auditor at the pvdsa state oil firm who was fired after he went on strike. He now supports his wife and three children with his savings.

Several million Venezuelans have participated in dozens of huge opposition marches over the last year. But polls show that the populist president could still win an election with around 30 percent support, if the opposition vote remained divided between anti-Chavez leaders.

Opponents fear a government counterattack. Chavez has fired more than 15,000 striking state oil workers, and authorities have arrested businessman Carlos Fernandez, a strike leader, on rebellion charges. Detention orders have also been issued for several other strike organizers.

Unexplained bombs at Colombia and Spanish diplomatic buildings on February 25 sparked fears of an upsurge in political violence. “Maybe the only way out is flying to Miami but now I can’t even buy dollars. I’m trapped,” Alonso added, referring to currency controls introduced in February by Chavez to curb what he called the “dolce vita” of the rich.

People must make a living

Caracas, a sprawling city nestled in lush mountains, is returning to the normalcy of chaotic Latin American capitals.

Streets empty during the strike have filled up again with snarling traffic. Once-closed restaurants are busy, surrounded by gleaming sports utility vehicles tended by security guards.

Demonstrations are smaller now. One recent Sunday, protesters on gleaming motorbikes and draped in flags rode through a wealthy business district, but they numbered only a few hundred. Only several thousand people protested Fernandez’s arrest.

“A lot of the opposition are shell-shocked. They fired their biggest artillery and missed. They underestimated Chavez and now they’re marched out,” said one European diplomat.

Private TV stations, some of Chavez’s most vocal opponents, still broadcast spots show flag-waving protesters calling for liberty and urging Venezuelans to keep up the fight against the president. But the images have little resonance on the streets.

Ice cream vendors outnumber visitors at the posh east Caracas Altamira square, a few months ago a hub of resistance to Chavez that teemed with students, office workers, military officers and housewives who gathered daily to protest.

“People have to make a living, you know, now the strike has ended,” said Leonora Acevedo, a university teacher who has been protesting in the square for four months. She sat alone.

The opposition umbrella group, Coordinadora Democratica, is an alliance of interest groups ranging from unions and civic groups to a business federation. Their divided aims range from throwing out Chavez with military help to having a referendum. “We need to refresh the movement,” said Miranda State governor Enrique Mendoza, an opposition leader.

Wait and see

Meanwhile Caracas is in wait-and-see mode. Its inhabitants still talk about latent class hatred between the poor western and posh eastern halves of a city that may explode in unrest.

Rich districts store arms and chains to mount barricades.

Chavez-loyal soldiers have confiscated the heavy weapons of the opposition-run Caracas metropolitan police. Soldiers stand guard outside police stations.

Downtown Caracas is a Chavez stronghold of street peddlers, run-down buildings, graffiti and garbage. The presidential palace is a heavily guarded mansion surrounded by troops and road blocks. But nearby his supporters seem confident.

“The people are with Chavez. They know he’s fighting the rich who are responsible for all this mess,” said Antonio Lopez, selling children’s toys on a street corner.

A few miles away to the east the atmosphere is different.

“Don’t Despair” reads one banner on the windows of an expensive dried flower shop in an upmarket Caracas mall. “We feel hemmed in now,” said Flor, a retired woman who said she was too worried about recriminations to give her full name. She strolled by the flower shop, her neck laden with jewelry. “But don’t count us out. We’ll be back.” -- Reuters