No Term Limits in Venezuela = Authoritarianism and Personality Cult?

With the resounding victory of the "Yes" campaign in Sunday's referendum on the removal of Venezuelan term limits we are sure to hear reams of repetitive charges of authoritarianism and a growing cult of personality around President Chávez. Yet a closer look at the results in comparison with those of the November Regional elections of 2008 poses serious questions to those denouncing Venezuelan "personalismo." Indeed the results suggest the establishment of a durable ideological cleavage that can prove dominant over personalities in Venezuelan electoral contests.[1] Furthermore, posing the removal of term limits as the first step down a slippery authoritarian road is easily shown misconceived in light of recent Latin American history.

The Guardian has already posed the question "Now that the constitution is no longer a constraint, will elections be enough to defend against despotism in Venezuela?" The removal of term limits is somehow posited as a major slide to authoritarianism while for certain correspondents the mere chanting of "Uh! Ah! Chávez won't go!" is sufficient proof of a strident cult of personality.

The aforementioned Guardian piece situates the removal of term limits in Venezuela, which will allow President Chávez to run for re-election again in 2012, in the broader authoritarian tradition of Latin America. Its author Cameron writes, "Latin American presidents often act like dictators while in power, riding roughshod over congresses, courts, and their political opponents. Presidential power is limited only by rules that define their terms in office - how many years until the next election, and how many times they can run - and by their ability to win elections." In removing these last constraints Chávez is likened to Peru's brutal autocrat Fujimori.

Yet in Latin America, that presidents are legally too strong has rarely been a cause for collapse into authoritarianism. That this strength is illiberal rather than anti-democratic is a vital distinction that eludes most mainstream commentators.

A system of checks and balances, though important, does not seem implicit to the logic of "rule of the people, by the people, and for the people." Such systems are indeed drawn from a liberal tradition with its concerns for a potential within democratic systems, the "tyranny of the majority".

Such a potential is clearly latent in the British system, where the sovereignty of parliament leaves its majorities virtually unchecked were they to begin suppressing the rights of minorities. Asylum seekers have come to feel the brunt of this potential as they become the scapegoat for all our society's ills; children are detained semi-indefinitely and destitution is used as a weapon.

Cameron cites Fujimori, the brutal Peruvian autocrat to contextualize Venezuela's supposed slide into authoritarianism, though he concedes, "The last defense against despotism is, of course, elections. Perhaps that is enough." Yet Fujimori's Peru's descent began with a "self-coup" in 1992, where Fujimori illegally shut down Congress, suspended the Constitution, and purged the judiciary. This coup was a product of Fujimori's legal impotence, not his strength. With a Congress dominated by opposition parties Fujimori resorted to illegal means to overcome the ensuing legislative deadlock.

This is a common story in Latin America. Such deadlocks precipitated Allende's fall, and the Uruguayan descent into authoritarianism, among others. Cameron is right to observe that the removal of term limits represents a diminution of checks and balances, and as such it is illiberal.

But in so far as it empowers the president it is not anti-democratic. There is no contradiction between "rule of the people, by the people, for the people" and allowing the population to vote on whether they would like the chance to vote Chávez to power again. Likewise, it is not the symptom of a descent into authoritarianism as Cameron portrays it.

Cults of personality rightly provoke fear of governmental abuse, as intense personal loyalty does not lend itself to acceptance of the rules of democratic competition. And indeed debate in Venezuela is often a debate about one man, the President, Hugo Chávez. But this is a product of a number of coinciding forces, the most significant of which has its roots in the experience of Punto Fijo democracy.

From 1958 to 1998 Venezuelans lived in what is known as a "pacted democracy," in which the two main parties shared power in an agreement consecrated by the oil-funded clientelist state. While this agreement outlived the surge in Latin American authoritarian regimes in the 70s, it then saw its middle classes gradually slide into poverty with the decline of oil rents. It is into this climate of exclusion and dissatisfaction with established political parties that Chávez emerged, talking of returning power to the people.

With the establishment of the Missions the realization of greater socio-economic inclusion leapt forward in parallel with advances in citizen participation in the foundation of the 5^th Republic via a new constitution, the creation of the community councils, and the recall referendum of 2004. This enfranchising of the marginalized in Venezuela is the main reason for the intense political loyalty held by many Venezuelan leftists to their president.

Chávez's rhetorical style certainly intensifies this dynamic: "Chávez is the people," he is heard boldly shouting. Likewise, his bombastic personality sees him sing, dance, and joke in front of huge gatherings in Venezuela, and smell whiffs of sulfur at the UN, further bringing him to the domestic and international centre of debate.

As leftists focus on Chávez, so too does the opposition. The visceral fixation held by large sectors of the opposition is tangible in all walks of Venezuelan life. One of my Venezuelan flat mates routinely shouts from her room to mine, "Chávez is scum!" while Julio Andre Borges, leader of the foremost opposition party, "Justice first," used his last words in the campaign to attack Chávez, "The President tries to blackmail every Venezuelan by claiming that he is the only guarantee of peace in the country, but the truth is that in these ten years all we've heard are insults, threats, and words of war."

Yet, although understanding the personalistic loyalty to the President is an important part of understanding the psychology of conflict in Venezuela, yesterday's results should give pause to those denouncing the "cult of personality."

In a referendum that directly determines to possibility of the continued governance of President Chávez, the "Yes" campaign won with 54.4% of the vote in a turnout of around 70%. Were Chávez truly a demagogue, and were there truly a strident personality cult, we would expect the results and turnout of such a referendum to differ dramatically to elections not directly concerned with Chávez the man. Yet November's regional elections saw a turnout of 65%, and as with the referendum, the popular vote was won by around 10%. The dramatic similarity of the two results, and their significantly different subjects suggests a common denominator, loyalty or opposition to the government's project as a whole, rather than to the man in particular.

Extending this test of the "personalismo" hypothesis is complicated by the creation of Venezuela's largest and most successful party, the PSUV, in 2007, and by the immediate fallout of the oil shutdown of 2002-3 and of the coup attempt of 2002. Yet the limited material provides food for thought, it should make those denouncing Venezuelan personalismo think twice.

[1] This type of cleavage is widely taken by academic theorists as a sign of a mature and vibrant democracy