Growing up, a standard assumption was that “the military” — whether that of the United States or that of Venezuela — was “right wing”. So ingrained was that assumption that when Hugo Chávez appeared on television on February 4, 1993, announcing that his coup attempt had failed “por ahora“, we assumed he and his comrades had intended to re-impose a Pérez Jiménez dictatorship on the country.
No one paused to consider his words nor his co-conspirators — all, without exception, men of the Left. No one paused to question the previous night’s role of Nicolás Maduro, trained in Castro’s Cuba and recently reintegrated into Venezuela.
Our paradigm was Seven Days in May, both the novel and the movie: any military uprising has to be from the “right”, à la Augusto Pinochet. (So strong was that paradigm that we didn’t ask ourselves whether the Chinese or Soviet armies were also “right wing”.)
In 1978, during a trip to Venezuela, while visiting friends whom I had known since infancy, conversations inevitably cascaded to the massive construction and manufacturing projects in the country, in particular the Ciudad Guayana area. My concerns about the massive “nationalizations” (expropriations) that had taken place and the control of the oil and iron ore industries — both the properties and the management — were met with assurances that these actions, although admittedly concerning, would not lead to a Socialistic or Communistic environment.
Seeing my doubts about their readiness to ascribe good intentions to the politicians drunk with power and riches, my friends clinched the argument by stating the obvious: “Ricky, don’t worry, if things take a turn to Communism, the military will not allow it. They will step in and put a stop to it.”
They had a point. We all agreed the military tended to be conservative. After all, Pinochet put a stop to the Communist depredations in Chile and by 1978, Chile’s GNP growth was in the double digits after the negative GNP swamps of the Allende era. Chile would go on to lead South America in both economic and personal liberties until recent years when they began flirting again with the totalitarian Zeitgeist.
So, it is easy to understand why Venezuelans felt somewhat secure in assuming their military had their back.
However, that does not excuse us. A little scratching beneath the surface ought to have awakened us to the fact — incontrovertible by now — that Venezuela’s military leadership was a hotbed of Communist infiltrators, with direct connections to Fidel Castro. Did we not consider it strange that the very first official state visit by Fidel Castro after the January 1, 1959, coup against Batista was to Venezuela a mere 22 days later?
Did we not have strong reasons to credit the rumors — now corroborated as facts — that the Venezuelan army had surreptitiously and illegally supplied United States war materiel to Castro’s guerrillas in the Sierra Maestra? Did we not wonder how it was that Vice-Admiral Wolfgang Larrazabal had so freely, with unmitigated audacity, invited Dictator Castro to Venezuela to celebrate the first anniversary of the coup against Pérez Jiménez (see Larrazabal)?
Where was the Venezuelan army when Communist-instigated “students” violently attacked a sitting vice-president of the United States and his wife when they came to the country on a state visit (see Nixon). For decades, the beautiful people instructed the rest of us to ignore Nixon’s assertion that Communists, a loud minority, had orchestrated this embarrassment. However, since the election of Chávez in 1999, the truth of Nixon’s statements was no longer denied and was now openly celebrated.
So, my good friends and I were without excuse: the Venezuelan Army could not be relied upon to protect the country from a Communist takeover because its leadership was too compromised. And many decent Venezuelan soldiers eventually paid a high price for this.
But it took decades to see this. President Carlos Andrés Pérez thought highly of Fidel Castro, actually meeting with him secretly during his first tenure (1974 – 1979 — the age of expropriations), and inviting him to his second tenure’s (1989 – 1993) inauguration. It was during that inauguration that Pérez naively gave Castro carte blanche to enter the country with hundreds of “advisors”, by-passing immigration. He also gave the Cubans full use of the Eurobuilding Hotel, then in final phases of construction, in Caracas. No Venezuelan was allowed in the building, only Cubans, including food and cleaning services.
It was during this infiltration that Nicolás Maduro returned to Venezuela camouflaged as a Cuban adviser. And, just as ominously, scores of fully equipped sharpshooters entered also. Upon departure, Venezuelan emigration officials reported to President Pérez that the number of Cubans and equipage departing was significantly less than what had entered. The president waved aside their concerns. Much later, Venezuelan intelligence (before its complete replacement by Castro’s Communists) confirmed that the weapons had been stashed for years in the Caracas metro, under Maduro’s hooded eyes.
Before closing this post, I do want to preview that during the coup attempt in 1993, President Pérez, swearing he would not commit suicide like Allende, acted with great courage and audacity, fully armed and fighting his way out of La Casona to Miraflores where he was shortly surrounded once again, forcing him to fight his way out a second time that night. Pérez was naive and foolish in his childish embrace of a rattlesnake like Castro, but when the chips were down, he acted valiantly. We are not cardboard creatures.
The above may read like an outline or a pitch for a political or crime thriller, but it is all true and factual. As we continue to review the rise of Chávez, we will get into some detail. For now, let it be said that one must never assume anything, including that the military, whether that of Venezuela or that of the United States, is “right wing”. Everything rises and falls on leadership. Instead of assuming, one must observe and analyze the leadership and its decisions and policies.
