In the late 1970’s, I took an extended leave to visit the country of my birth. During that most memorable trip, I had the joyful pleasure of meeting countless individuals and families, who, in true Venezuelan fashion were not shy in sharing their opinions about the direction the country was taking at the time.
That direction was, in a word, “nationalization” or forced divestment, principally of the iron ore and petroleum industries. This phenomenon was worldwide at the time, especially in Africa and Latin America, and it had devastating consequences.
What I saw — gargantuan enterprises with protean manufacturing plants, power centers, chemical processors, and assorted buildings and dormitories, accompanied by massive hirings of blue and white collar workforces and countless foreign workers, some of whom were housed on cruise ships docked on the Orinoco — did not “pass the sniff test”.
I had a number of vigorous but mostly friendly debates on the merits of government-run versus privately run operations. Already the mining camp where I was born had shown deterioration. One lady expressed sincere surprise at this, “How is it that now that this belongs to us, we haven’t managed to maintain it, let alone improve it?”
“Could it be that when something belongs to ‘us all’ it actually belongs to no one?” was one refrain I found myself repeating throughout the trip.
At my expressed concern about the immense power and wealth being concentrated in the Venezuelan government, something usually seen in Communist or Socialist regimes, the usual reply by those who disagreed with my concerns, was along the lines of, ‘it’s about time that “our” wealth remained here instead of being transferred to the United States.'”
Conversely, the reply by those who somewhat agreed with my concerns was along the lines of, “the Venezuelan military would never allow the government to devolve into outright Socialism or Communism.”
Interestingly, neither camp was concerned about what all this nationalization activity would lead to. In one heated and less friendly exchange, a more recent acquaintance at the time ridiculed my concerns, expressing disdain that I would question the massive wealth now owned by the Venezuelan people. He mocked my assertion that the people actually “owned” nothing. It was all owned by the state.
According to a scholarly analysis by the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City in 2013, “Nationalization brought considerable declines in productivity in the oil industries of the sample countries. Productivity fell by more than 70 percent in the Venezuelan oil industry. Despite enormous efforts put into expansion, it took Venezuelan’s nationalized industry about 20 years to return to its early 1960’s productivity levels.”
Sadly, shortly after the 20 years, another, more serious wave of nationalization was launched with even more catastrophic results. To take just one example, the enormous Venezuelan steelworks, Sidor, the crown of Venezuelan heavy industry, saw its production go from 4 million tons of steel in 2007, the year before its nationalization by the Chavez Socialist government, to 1.5 million in 2014, with triple the number of employees. Between late October, 2013 and August 2014, it had operated for only 90 days. I have no access to more recent figures nor would I trust them if I did.
Well, the wealth is gone for the most part; other than the billions in the private foreign bank accounts of a relative handful of Socialists. As for the massive mineral and petroleum reserves, those await the capital and the expertise to extract it. That explains the intense interest and activity in Venezuela on the part of both China and Russia.
As to the military, in later trips, friends were more subdued as they told me of the heavy Cuban influence in the Venezuelan forces. Why was this not being reported, they wondered.
Fidel Castro ruthlessly applied the tactic of buying or otherwise coopting the military. A tactic he taught Hugo Chavez and Nicolás Maduro. Hence, the failure of the Venezuelan military to “never allow the government to devolve into outright Socialism or Communism.”
To read more about the emasculation of the Venezuelan military, refer to the Reuters article linked below, “How Cuba Taught Venezuela to Quash Military Dissent”. The article is appreciated, but why did it not appear a decade ago when it might have made a difference?
In the 1950’s and early 60’s we (the boys in the camp) enjoyed an occasional treat: DDT spraying. On such days, we’d mischievously run behind the company pick-up as it pulled a powerful pump throughout the camp, spraying clouds of DDT, enveloping us as we ran and zigzagged behind it like crazy banshees following some loud piped piper billowing thick clouds of sweet smelling mist which protected the camps from outbreaks of malaria.
There’s something about clouds. When flying to and from the U.S. on annual leave, I’d always hope we’d fly into clouds. I would wonder how it would be to jump off the airplane, into the clouds. Clouds! Beautiful, soft, memorable clouds. Whether fog just above the ground, or mist rolling off the river, or high, cumulus clouds above, clouds pointed to the heavens, to freedom, to action, to beauty, to adventure, to … being a boy. And the white foamy mist the sprayer poured forth was close enough to real clouds!
Our parents did not like us getting anywhere near the stuff, but, like moths drawn to light, we simply refused to resist the temptation and once we heard the unique sound of the pump and saw the clouds coming down the road, we ran to it and followed it like athletes running a marathon; only these El Pao athletes screamed, waved their arms like butterflies, or held them straight out from their sides like airplanes and breathed the stuff deeply into our lungs. We competed to see who could get the closest to the pump. The driver would stick his head out and yell at us to keep away from the truck and pump, not because of the insecticide, but for fear he’d run us over. We’d laugh and he, well, he eventually had to laugh right back at us. But he would still shake his fist!
I don’t recall how often the DDT was sprayed: twice a year? Twice a month? But I do well remember how much fun it was and my bewilderment when I learned that DDT was banned worldwide because of concerns. It was hard for a boy to figure out what could be more of a concern than death by malaria and I do remember adults expressing worries about that.
Without getting into the controversies, which, incredibly, are still “hot” despite so many years of world-wide prohibition, for our purposes we’ll just point out some facts which help illuminate the history and one of the great successes of Venezuela.
The country had the highest number of human malaria cases in Latin America before 1936. During 1891-1920, malaria was endemic to over 600,000 squared kilometers of Venezuela; deaths from malaria substantially reduced the population during that period. No pathogen, including the influenza virus that caused the 1918 pandemic, caused more deaths than malaria during 1905-1945.
Venezuela’s efforts to eradicate this scourge sparked the world’s interest in global eradication. She developed an efficient control program, but, undeniably, it was the introduction of DDT in 1945 which did the lion’s share. I recall visiting my family in San Félix on the banks of the Orinoco and, every night at bedtime, my aunt or my cousins would manually pump insecticide in all rooms, shutting the doors as they finished. This reflects the extent of the malaria eradication campaign. All homes knew what to do and what processes to take.
“Success of DDT spraying was startling. Malaria disappeared after 3-5 years without additional measures beyond occasional quinacrine use in areas….” (Source: National Institutes of Health). Before DDT use, most municipalities in affected areas … had mortality rates of 20 – 50 / 1000 persons. This rather rapidly precipitated to near zero after the introduction of DDT.
It wasn’t all insecticide, of course. Looking back, I am still startled at the cleanliness in the humblest homes in the country; how all things were picked up right away and spills were mopped up immediately. Etc. Visitors wrote that the poorest Venezuelan homes were greater examples of cleanliness and neatness than many northern European dwellings at the time.
Venezuelan doctors, including the influential Arnoldo Gabaldón, insisted on eradication, and actively opposed the World Health Organization’s (WHO) approach of “control”. “In 1968, a WHO report found that ‘the concept of malaria eradication adopted by the national [Venezuelan] authorities’ has … and is … at variance with the [experts].”
But even before Gabaldón, other Venezuelan doctors were leading the way to eradication. In 1894, Dr. Santos Anibal Dominici (1869-1954) identified the malaria parasite in patients in Caracas. But he was more inclined to involvement in politics and upon return from exile in 1936, he named Dr. Enrique Tejera (1889-1980) to lead malaria efforts. However, Dr. Tejera resigned in disgust because global efforts did not address whether malaria could be eradicated or merely controlled.
His dissatisfaction presaged issues highlighted decades later by Dr. Gabaldón which eventually resulted in a split between Gabaldón and WHO, which is a story that continues to be repeated in many disciplines: “developing” countries resent it when fully developed ones seek to tell them what’s good for them, even when it comes to life or death matters, such as the eradication of malaria.
Sadly, “once a beacon of malaria eradication”, Venezuela is again being buffeted by the disease.
But those controversies were the farthest things from the minds of boys running after the clouds.
Images of trucks spraying of DDT, 1950’s and early 1960’s. Similar to the manual pump used by my Aunt and cousins in San Félix every night at bedtime.
Dr. Santos Anibal Dominici (1869-1954), Medical Doctor, Writer, Diplomat. His involvement in politics limited his subsequent impact on malaria control.
Dr. Enrique Tejera (1889-1980), a brilliant medical doctor and scientist. He continued his work against malaria until his death in 1980.
Dr. Arnoldo Gabaldón (1909-1990), a great visionary who desired eradication of malaria. His success was extraordinary.Distribution of malaria (red area) in 1937, on the left. Distribution of malaria in 1980, on the right. Source: National Institutes of Health with GIMP
During the rainy season, about April to August, the Orinoco River rises 40 to 60 feet at Ciudad Bolivar, the capital of the state of Bolivar, also known as Guayana. I recall, in my boyhood, dangerously flooded city streets in San Félix, about 70 miles east of Ciudad Bolivar. In the plains, the waters expand great distances, up to 120 miles or more in some places. During the dry season, the river continuously drops, exposing vast tracts along its banks and many islands.
Alexander von Humboldt explored the Casiquiare River, which starts as an arm of the Orinoco and finds its way to the Rio Negro (Black River), a tributary of the Amazon, thus forming a “natural canal” between the Orinoco and the Amazon. The great explorer’s efforts in that area were cut short by Portuguese and Spanish authorities. Nevertheless, as much credit as Humboldt deserves, the channel between the Orinoco and Amazon rivers was known for centuries before his celebrated voyage: Spanish missionaries, which he was so fond of mocking, were well acquainted with it and often traversed it northwards from what is now Brazilian territory. Maps subsequent to the early missionary eras also note it, under various names.
As for Humboldt’s tendency to somewhat minimize Christianity, we must say that it was Christians who opened the doors to him. It was the monks, even the bad ones, who guided him. It was the mission Indians who led him and showed him the way — and did so without devouring him for supper, thanks to Christianity. In fact, besides some attempts at robbery, by unevangelized natives, we might add, the only obstacle to his endeavors was courtesy of, not the church, but politicians. He was expelled from Brazil because the Portuguese and Spanish civil authorities were not on good terms. But, ever the Enlightenment Man, he reserved his bile for Christ, not Caesar.
Be that as it may, others were at Casiquiare before him. In fact, two and half centuries before Humboldt’s great voyage, the infamous Lope de Aguirre formed part of an expedition headed east to the Atlantic Ocean from Lima, Perú. Aguirre was right out of central casting: hideously ugly and lame in one foot. The explorers were commissioned by the Marquis of Cañete with the purpose of verifying the truth or falsehood of fantastic reports by Indians, of various tribes, coming from the East, telling of the fabulous El Dorado. These stories were at times seconded by European explorers, such as the German, Felipe de Utre, who told the Spaniards in Perú of vast cities and great wealth further east.
So, the Marquis of Cañete appointed Don Pedro de Ursua as the Leader, but Aguirre murdered Don Pedro in his sleep and had himself named leader. Anyone who questioned or was not sufficiently enthusiastic about his leadership was promptly murdered, including Don Pedro’s concubine, Inés de Atienza, who was cruelly put to death.
The voyage continued, and a very bloody voyage it was. Indians along the way were massacred, and murders within the company continued as they made their way to the Atlantic Ocean, first ascending the Rio Negro, then following the streams of the Casiquiare and eventually the Orinoco. They killed, massacred, and slaughtered all along the long, bloody trek.
They eventually sailed across the sea to the island of Margarita where they committed the most horrible atrocities on the inhabitants without regard to age or sex, and murdered all of the officers of the Spanish government. Aguirre met his end in Barquisimeto, about 200 miles east of Caracas, where he was finally successfully ambushed, captured, and executed. His body was quartered and sent to various cities across Venezuela.
It must be noted that Simon Bolivar approvingly considered Aguirre’s acts as the first declaration of independence in the Americas. He wrote this about a man who, as his well-deserved capture and death approached, stabbed his own daughter, Elvira, to death, saying, “Someone I love so much must never be bedded by ruined people.” Compare his “declaration of independence” to that of the thirteen colonies, and you have a microcosm of the chasm between the two. And of the at times frustrating character of Bolivar.
As to the Orinoco, at places the shore is very broad and the jungle remains at a distance from the river. At other stretches, the jungle comes right to the river’s edge and even seems to invade or overhang it, as if to stake its claim over everything, even the wide Orinoco, whose name is believed to come from Orinucu, a Tamanak word meaning, so some think, “Great Water”. In fact, some tribes in the past called this river, Paragua, which also means “Great Water.”
Then there’s the Boto, or Amazon River Dolphin, known in Venezuela as the Tonina, the largest sweet water cetacean in the world. These were plentiful in my childhood, and their mighty antics in the middle of the river formed a delightful distraction. I recall during a trip down the Orinoco how they undulated, seemingly in majestic slow motion, upstream as the ship continued its journey. These fresh water dolphins seemed to fit perfectly in the Orinoco whose attributes at times resemble the ocean.
Much more about the Orinoco and Humboldt in future posts.
Pedro de Ursua. Aguirre murdered him and his widow in 1561.
Lope de Aguirre, 1510-1561
Salto de Aguirre in Perú. Here, Aguirre faced grave danger and chiseled some mysterious symbols on a rock. He escaped to bring mayhem to Venezuela. To this day the symbols are venerated by many.
The Orinoco River Basin. Note the Casiquiare “Canal” to the south.
Various images of the Orinoco River
The great confluence of the Caroní and Orinoco Rivers at Ciudad Guayana The Casiquiare River (also called Canal or Waterway) Reproduction of map made in 1800 based on the observations of Alexander von Humboldt. Map traces the Casiquiare River’s route from the Orinoco to the Rio Negro (Black River) which in turn will connect with the Amazon. The inset to the bottom right traces the Maypures Rapids of which Humboldt wrote in thrilling prose. Orinoco Tonina. Largest sweet water cetacean in the world. Aerial view of Palúa, the Bethlehem Steel port on the Oricoco. Tarpon fished from the Orinoco near Palúa, circa 1950. En route to the Atlantic Ocean, circa 1960.
Cumaná, Venezuela, is a beautifully placed city founded in the early 16th century (1515). It is the oldest continuously inhabited city established by Europeans in South America. Refer to the post, Playa Hicacos, 1966, for descriptions and photos of the beaches and mountains in the area, the northeastern coast of Venezuela.
This was the city where the great explorer and naturalist, Alexander Von Humboldt, alighted in the late 18th century.
He arrived just days before a spectacular solar eclipse, which he recorded in precise detail in his 23-volume record of his “equinoctial” journey, a great part of which was through large swathes of Venezuela. This journey consumed about 5 years, the end of which he travelled to the United States before returning to Europe. In the USA, he met several times with Thomas Jefferson and they became warm friends with a good deal of correspondence over the succeeding years. They shared mutual interests, including natural history, geography, and a passion for exploring the Americas. The Lewis and Clark expedition commenced in 1804, just as Humboldt’s Equinoctial journey was ending.
Like Francisco de Miranda (see post, Simón Bolivar III — Influences), Humboldt not only knew Jefferson, but he also met and, for better or for worse, influenced a young Simón Bolivar, who was in Europe when Humboldt returned.
Following other, shorter trips, he set about to record and request scientific challenges to his multifarious observations and conclusions, many of which, including complicated laws governing atmospheric disturbances at higher altitudes, as well as the regularity of ocean currents, stand to this day.
The renowned, 5-year South American expedition laid the foundation for the disciplines of physical geography and meteorology; his effort of recording and documenting, which he believed would take him 2 or 3 years, actually consumed twenty-one years of his life, and remained incomplete at his death in 1859. But the 23-volume record of observations in the Americas was completed.
Humboldt recorded a great solar eclipse which occured on October 28, 1799, just days after his arrival. But, even more momentous than the eclipse, was the “atmospheric phenomena”, as he put it in his journals, that took place before and after. He wrote, “…from the 10th of October to the 3rd of November, at nightfall, a reddish vapor arose in the horizon, and covered, in a few minutes, with a veil more or less thick, the azure vault of the sky…clouds of brilliant whiteness collected at the zenith, and extended towards the horizon…clouds so transparent that they did not hide the stars…I could distinguish so perfectly the spots of the moon….”
But that was not all. These extraordinary phenomena were eventually surpassed by a remarkable meteoric shower he observed and recorded on November 11-12, 1799. This observation became the starting point of modern scientific knowledge about the regularity of this meteoric shower that we now know as the Leonids. Thanks, at least in part, to Humboldt in Cumaná, Venezuela, we now know these showers occur approximately every 33 years, when thousands can be seen per hour.
But Cumaná was not done showing off to Humboldt, she presented him with a terrible earthquake. However, he learned that, as bad as this earthquake was, it was only a shadow of the one that devastated the city thirty-two years before his arrival. Humboldt transcribed the records of the city describing that earthquake of October 21,1766.
“The city of Cumaná was entirely destroyed, the houses were overturned in the space of a few minutes, and the shocks were hourly repeated during fourteen months. In several parts of the province the earth opened, and threw out sulphuric waters. These irruptions were very frequent in a plain extending towards Casanay two leagues east of the town of Cariaco, and known by the name of the hollow ground, (tierra hueca), because it appears entirely undermined by thermal springs. While the ground was in a state of continual oscillation, the atmosphere seemed to dissolve itself into water.”
He went on to write that the period prior to the earthquake and the months of after-shocks was accompanied “by varied phenomena such as flames and vapors mixed with sulphureous acid shooting from arid sands; geysers of water mixed with petroleum; hot, muddy masses issuing from huge crevices which would close and grow into elevated hills. These phenomena were accompanied by loud, monster-like noises: subterranean, rolling thunder; continuous, thud-like sounds, as of large quantities of sand mixed with water, thrown against a giant wall; extremely loud hissing, as if the earth had become a mighty, pressurized kettle which had finally been compelled to allow accumulated steam to violently escape…. The people of Cumaná, upon sensing what was afoot, ran into the streets, many crying, ‘Misericordia! Misericordia!’ (Mercy! Mercy!). Sometimes the sounds came after or during the earthquake. At other times they preceded the earthquake, thereby alerting the people to run into the streets seeking to avoid entombment in their houses or places of business.”
There is a great paradox to the 1766 earthquake: reports describe the complete destruction of the city; however, there is no mention of deaths. A possible explanation: the earthquake hit at 4:45 AM. Almost all the people of Cumaná were in the habit of leaving their homes at 4 AM to attend the first morning mass. This hypothesis, if true, would mean that the church structures withstood the initial waves, allowing people to run out in safety. But this is conjecture.
Residents encamped in the streets and, when the after-tremors decreased to about once per month, began to rebuild and recover surviving livestock, much of which had managed to escape southwards, away from the ocean.
There is evidence that the 1766 earthquake was felt as far as Quito in northwestern South America. Hard to believe, but evidently true. One result of the terrible earthquake was that none of the 16th century architecture survived. Over thirty years later, when Humboldt visited, the people of Cumaná and as far away as Caracas commemorated the day annually with a solemn procession on its anniversary.
As for Mr. Humboldt, I knew, or thought I knew, much about him as I was growing up. My father had some of his writings and drawings, particularly as they related to Venezuela. The almost-to-be magnificent Humboldt Hotel atop Mt. Ávila was built during my childhood, I learned about the Humboldt Current, and heard of the Parque Nacional Alejandro de Humboldt in Cuba, and the Humboldt Redwoods State Park in California. His name was ubiquitous. Few know about him today.
As for the earthquake, it took place eleven years after the Great Lisbon Earthquake of 1755, which some call “The First Modern Disaster.” Why call it that? It seems it was the first disaster where man sought to explain an event by divorcing it from the hand of God. Hence, this earthquake had a significant impact on the development of philosophy and theology in succeeding generations. The earth began to be seen not as a “house with an owner”, but rather as one ruled by chaos.
One final tidbit: there was a Jesuit priest in Lisbon who was alarmed by the godlessness of the reasoning being used to “explain” the earthquake. He was not against science; he was against atheism. He was burned at the stake by the Inquisition under the direction of the powerful first minister, known to history as the Marquês de Pombal, who then ordered all Jesuits expelled from Portugal and its empire, including Brazil.
The irony is that Voltaire, who utterly despised Christianity, mocked the burning at the stake as yet another instance of religious superstition provoked by the Lisbon Earthquake. As a thoroughly modern man, he neatly inverted the truth: the priest was cruelly executed, not in the Name of the Triune God, but in the name of reason. In other words, the Inquisition was an instrument of the State which insisted on its own definition of the truth and denial of faith. Dissension to political correctness carried the priest to the auto da fé. Best to consider anything Voltaire (or his ilk) says with a couple boulders of salt.
We’ll have more to say about Cumaná, Mr. Humboldt, and The Great Lisbon Earthquake in future posts.
Castillo San Antonio de la Eminencia, old Spanish fort overlooking the city and ocean. Calle Sucre, Cumaná Cumaná Cathedral. Built in the 18th and early 19th centuries; much was destroyed in a 1929 earthquake but restored in the 1930’s. German engraving depicting the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755, eleven years before the Cumaná earthquake. This earthquake had a vast influence in the development of modern philosophy and even theology in subsequent generations. Some call it “the first modern disaster.” Why? Man began to divorce “natural” disasters from the hand of God. Yet most insurance policies, even today, still refer to “Acts of God.” More on this in future posts.
Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet), 1694-1778. Encouraged his like-minded acquaintances to not discuss their atheism within the hearing of the servants, lest they abandon belief in God and rob their masters. But his ideas eventually did seep to the rest of us. The results have not been pretty.
Alexander von Humboldt, 1805 depiction by Charles Wilson Peale, American artist who met Humboldt when he visited the USA in 1804 (Wikipedia).
