The advantage of having immersed myself in Latin American literature and history over the past year is gaining a better understanding of our origins as a country and a collective, as well as the processes that shaped the concept of nationhood and Venezuelan identity. Recently, I was reading a brief historical account on Gustavo Coronel’s blog, and I disagreed with his view of Chavez as the worst accident in our history. This isn’t the case; the evidence is there. The antepenultimate time the country was ruled by a dictator, prisons were overcrowded with political prisoners, and many were simply executed. A similar situation occurred the penultimate time.
Extraordinary events took place in the intellectual realm in the early 20th century. In 1912, visual artists led a sort of rebellion, creating what became known as the “Escuela de Caracas.” Until then, paintings had been dull in the midst of so much light and color, but they began to represent the surroundings in all their splendor. However, before that event, the great Rómulo Gallegos had already started to articulate his critique of the santosluzardiana through writings published despite strict censorship in the “Cojo Ilustrado.” It would take almost 30 years for the people to rise against the dictator and nearly 40 for a power transition, which some deemed a farce. The generation of ’28 defined our democratic consciousness, but how did they do it? Who participated? We must not forget the leaders that emerged from that time and the achievements reached, as Venezuela had, perhaps, the only writer who managed to publish a novel during the dictatorship, depicting the dictator in all his barbaric ignorance, earning admiration, respect, and accolades from the very person criticized.
Yet, the Venezuelan democratic spirit is weak, and the crafty mentality, which later evolved into adeca and then copeyana, kept prevailing, and the country suffered again under another dictator. During this penultimate dictatorship, another intellectual revolution took place. How can we forget the “Manifiesto No” signed in Paris by “Los Disidentes”? What irreverence, how noble the goal! Yet, the emancipatory struggle continued in homes, neighborhoods, and streets across Venezuela, and ultimately, the last Andean dictator had to step down. The prevalent image became the oil and the accompanying corruption rather than the agricultural field. However, we must remember the father of the emerging democracy, an exemplary Venezuelan who provided master classes on being true democrats, those who abhor dictatorships from both the right and left.
We underwent 40 years of “democracy,” during which barbarism continued to reign, except for a few rare exceptions. We failed again. We forgot the portrait drawn by leaders from the first half of the century. We lost our identity. Did we ever have it? We believed the narrative that we could leap from agriculture to development simply by declaring it, funded by petrodollars, just as we previously believed that one man could lead us from a colonial camp to a republic, just like that. And then came Chavez, who is much like the people he represents: exotic, barbaric, ignorant, uncivilized. And let it be clear that I don’t believe the current postmodern dictator is a product of the Caracazo. No. This specimen comes from far back, from the times of Boves and Bolívar, from social war in the early 19th century. This is a commonplace Presentación Campos.
Then we see, know, read, and hear from the student leaders of this generation. And from the political leaders. From Leopoldo, Manuel, Jorge… to intellectuals and thinkers, whether they are tabloid editors or apologists. Comparisons are unwelcome, but neither the dictator nor his opposition is up to the challenge of current circumstances. As a society, we have outstanding issues among us. We have spent two hundred years unsuccessfully trying to create a national identity. The new version, from either side, lacks greatness, morality, and ambition; it’s a half-hearted effort, to put it generously. This ordeal is not merely circumstantial, and we will overcome it if—and only if—we begin to name things as they are. The reflection in the mirror remains unrecognized; let’s define it if we aspire to have an identity.