Download Book
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
GRASSROOTS POLITICS AND OIL CULTURE IN VENEZUELA THE REVOLUTIONARY PETRO-STATE Iselin Åsedotter Strønen Grassroots Politics and Oil Culture in Venezuela Iselin Åsedotter Strønen Grassroots Politics and Oil Culture in Venezuela The Revolutionary Petro-State Iselin Åsedotter Strønen University of Bergen Bergen, Hordaland Fylke, Norway Chr. Michelsen Institute (CMI) Bergen, Hordaland Fylke, Norway ISBN 978-3-319-59506-1 ISBN 978-3-319-59507-8 (eBook) DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-59507-8 Library of Congress Control Number: 2017945573 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2017. This book is an open access publication. Open Access This book is distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, duplication, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license and indicate if changes were made. The images or other third party material in this book are included in the book’s Creative Commons license, unless indicated otherwise in a credit line to the material. If material is not included in the book’s Creative Commons license and your intended use is not permitted by statutory regulation or exceeds the permitted use, you will need to obtain permission directly from the copyright holder. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the pub- lisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institu- tional affiliations. Cover illustration: © Chad Ehlers / Alamy Stock Photo. All rights reserved, used with permission Printed on acid-free paper This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by Springer Nature The registered company is Springer International Publishing AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland To Cecilia May you live to see a more just and sustainable world PREFACE Caracas, Venezuela, April 2011: Today I am meeting up with Miriam1 again, the community worker from the state institution Fundacomunal. As I approach the curve connecting the neighborhoods of Casalta 2 and Casalta 3, I can see her sitting in a jeep from the Ministerio del Poder Popular para la Energía y Petróleo (Ministry of Popular Power for Energy and Petroleum). We greet each other with a kiss on the cheek, and she introduces me to the two men accompanying her: Juan Carlos from the state-owned company Electricidad de Caracas (Electricity of Caracas), and Nelson from the Ministry of Popular Power for Energy and Petroleum. Together, they have an inspection scheduled in the barrio (shantytown neighborhood) El Nazareno. The President’s Office, which responds directly to President Hugo Chávez, has ordered the launch of Plan Zero Maraña (Plan Zero Spiderweb) in the entire Sucre parish, one of the larg- est and poorest neighborhoods in Caracas. The plan is to inspect all the chaotic homemade electric and telephone pole connections—hence the name spider web—and come up with solutions to make sense of the chaos. The money to carry out the plan will come from the state oil company PDVSA,2 Nelson from the ministry confides with a smile. PDVSA has financed innumerable social projects since Chávez came to power in 1998. vii viii PREFACE Photo 1 Typical electricity pole in informal neighborhoods. Photo by the author Photo 2 Inspection of electricity poles in el barrio of Nazareno. Photo by the author PREFACE ix A tiny middle-aged woman named Maria is waiting for us down by the entrance to the barrio El Nazareno. She is the spokesperson for the social controllership committee in her consejo communal (communal council), as the local community organization for popular participation is called. Maria has serious eyes and a wrinkled face marked by the sun. She greets us and points upward toward where we are heading: a dense mass of brick shantytown houses stacked one on top of the other as far as the eye can see. These are informal settlements dating decades back, built brick by brick by barrio inhabitants and connected by thousands of small alleys and stairways. Maria, who has already been involved in several local proj- ects to improve housing and infrastructure, will be our guide through the neighborhood. She already knows Miriam well, as Miriam helped form the communal councils and develop projects within the community. Photo 3 View from the barrio of el Nazareno toward Casalta 3 and Casalta 4. Photo by the author x Preface Already sweating in the morning sun, the five of us start to slowly climb up the steep stairs, joking about how the women in the barrios always have such nice buttocks due to their everyday involuntary exercise up these arduous hills. I have wanted to visit this barrio for a long time. I pass by it every day and it looks overwhelming and gigantic from the hill of Casalta 3, where I currently live. It appears more like a mountain than a hill really, covered with tens of thousands of houses. I don’t even want to think about how early in the morning the inhabitants at the top have to get up in order to arrive at work on time. Photo 4 The barrios of Casalta and la Silsa, seen from 23 de Enero. Photo by the author Preface xi Nelson from the Ministry of Energy and Petroleum asks me if I know why these barrios developed. “Well, the development of an oil economy and the subsequent migration from the countryside,” I respond. He answers: “Well, yes that is one part of it, but the bottom line is capitalism, that is what happened. Capitalism is the bottom line of this.” We chat about the complex problems of the barrios and I ask him if he thinks they will be resolved. He answers: “Well, the problem is so profound that my generation will not see it resolved, but there is hope for the next genera- tion.” We fall into silence and continue to climb slowly up the narrow concrete steps. NOTES 1. All names in this book are fictitious, unless they are cited in their capacity as public figures. 2. PDVSA: Petroleos de Venezuela S.A. ACKnOWLEDGMEnTS This book is the result of 12 years of academic engagement with Venezuela. Needless to say, I have not walked that path alone. First and foremost, I am deeply grateful to the countless Venezuelans who have generously given me their time and shared their thoughts, experiences, memories and opinions. Many have also extended me their friendship, and shared their food, drinks, homes, laughs, warmth and generosity with me. You made me feel at home in the barrios of Caracas, and I deeply admire the way you pursue your struggle for social justice with determination, wisdom, humor and kindness. A very special thank-you goes to “Miriam,” “Ernesto,” “Adrian,” “Miche,” “Rosa,” “Oscar” and “Alfredo.” I conducted the main bulk of ethnographic research for this book as a member of the research project Flammable Societies. The Role of Oil and Gas Industry in the Promotion of Poverty Reduction and Social Volatility, financed by the Norwegian Research Council and led by John Andrew McNeish. Thank you to my co-project members for stimulating discus- sions and critical feedback on my work. I am particularly grateful to John Andrew McNeish, who in the capacity of being my supervisor during my doctoral work pushed my thinking and analytical ambitions. I also want to thank Hanne Müller, who was crucial for the conception of the Flammable Societies project in the first place, and who passed away all too early. Throughout the years, I have had the privilege of sharing ideas and receiving feedback on my work from clever and kind colleagues at the Chr. Michelsen Institute (CMI) and the Department for Social Anthropology at the University of Bergen. In particular, I want to thank Karin Ask, Kari xiii xiv ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Telle, Inge Tvedten, Mari Norbakk, Gunnar Sørbø, Leif Manger, Margit Ystanes, Cecilie Ødegaard and Berit Angelskår. I want to extend a very particular thank-you to Nefissa Naguib for her feedback on my work, and for her mentorship and friendship. Thank you also for bringing me on to the research project Everyday Maneuvers: Military-Civilian Relations in Latin-America and the Middle East, through which I was able to go back to Venezuela in 2014/2015. In the process of bringing this book to its final form, I have benefited greatly from inputs and feedback from Nancy Postero and John Gledhill on my earlier work on Venezuela. Thank you so much. I am deeply grateful to Vigdis Broch-Due, who was vital for mold- ing my anthropological horizon as a master student in Anthropology of Development at the University of Bergen way back. Thank you for all your academic inputs, support and stimulating conversations throughout the years. Thank you to all my colleagues at the Chr. Michelsen Institute (CMI) and the Department for Social Anthropology at the University of Bergen for providing such stimulating and fun work environments.