Chávez and the students

Sebastian Kennedy and Martin Markovits

Caracas, Venezuela -- Skirmishes in major Venezuelan cities in recent weeks have culminated in a shoot-out in Caracas at the Central University on 7 November, leaving nine people injured.

The violence follows a series of student-led protests, which have ranged from calm to brutally violent in the run-up to a referendum due to be held on 2 December on President Hugo Chávez's constitutional reforms. Under these, the president can stand for indefinite re-election.

Startling footage from the scene showed masked bikers wielding shotguns, students in gas masks hurling Molotov cocktails through clouds of tear-gas, and general chaos as terrified groups scattered at the piercing cracks of semi-automatic gunfire.

Fighting broke out after students returned from a peaceful march to the Supreme Court, where they had been calling for the referendum to be delayed to allow more time for discussion on the reforms. The courts are unlikely to grant that demand.

What happened next depends on whom you talk to - or which television station you watch.

Globovisión, the only public access channel to remain critical of the government after the forced closure of Radio Caracas TV in April this year, blamed pro-Chávez troublemakers for instigating the violence. It reported that a bus full of students was pulled over, emptied and then torched by "Bolivarian Circles" - Chavista loyalists, who the opposition has branded a "militia" armed by the government, a charge denied by the president.

Globovisión went on to report that the Bolivarians entered the campus on motorbikes and opened fire on students, who retaliated in "self-defence". Venezuelan newspapers, which are generally hostile towards Chávez, reported similar stories.

News channels sympathetic to the government, which now make up the majority of broadcasters, reported that "fascist" students attempted to "lynch" an innocent group of Chavista loyalists holed up in the social studies faculty - the only pro-government stronghold on a campus hostile to Chávez.

Zarida Seijar, a 25-year-old pro-Chávez student who was among those trapped inside the building, maintained that the anti-Chávez protesters were the aggressors. "They were shouting that all Chavistas were going to die; we were terrified. When we realised the police weren't going to come, we started texting our friends who came with guns to save us," she said.

Whatever the precise sequence, it is clear the student movement has become the most powerful and well-co-ordinated resistance group against President Chávez. Born during the closure of Radio Caracas TV and spurred on by the defection of the former defence minister Raú Baduel, the angry students have no single figurehead or well-defined agenda. But their increasing militancy and the strong-arm measures taken to quell them is taking their message of defiance to an international audience.

Speaking to Latin American leaders at a summit held in Chile two days after the protests, Chávez claimed that the students are part of a "fascist offensive" under direct control from Washington. "The United States organised the 2002 coup and now it is doing the same in Caracas, supported by the media and CNN," he said, which was denied by the US embassy in Caracas. Brandishing copies of newspapers portraying his supporters as the instigators of 7 November violence, Chávez insisted: "It's the other way round; it was the rich kids [who where responsible]."

By the time Chávez delivered these words, an eerie calm had descended amid the charred detritus around the campus. But feelings still run high. Those who oppose the reforms - which would grant yet more powers to the executive and president - see this as their final opportunity to thwart Chávez's ambitions before Venezuela undergoes irrevocable change.

"We don't know what we will do after this; it really could be our last chance. These reforms centralise all control," said 19-year-old Veronica Brito. "Universities have always been places where federal politics have been off the table. Under this new constitution, they would lose their autonomy."

Other controversial measures include granting the president direct control over the Central Bank, eliminating freedom of information in "exceptional" circumstances, and a loosening of the state's obligation to adhere to human-rights legislation. Intellectual property would be abolished, monopolies prohibited, and the president would assume the right to appoint regional vice-presidents, reducing elected governors to ceremonial positions. The military would be redefined as an "anti-imperialist popular entity", and the threshold number of signatures necessary to trigger further referenda or elections would be raised across the board.

But support for the proposals remains strong; around 60 per cent according to one newspaper survey - thanks mainly to grass-roots loyalty and the inclusion of popular measures such as a six-hour working day and more welfare support for workers. Significantly, 5 per cent of state revenues will be set aside for a new "popular power" fund to finance projects such as Chávez's much-vaunted communal councils. The councils, expected to total around 50,000 by the end of the year, have been hailed as an innovative mechanism for devolving state power and funding.

Even though the student movement is aiming to ratchet up the pressure with further rallies, Chávez still looks set to maintain his clean sheet of electoral victories. Only a nationwide outburst of mass opposition could interrupt Venezuela's inexorable socialist metamorphosis.

This article appeared in the 15th November 2007 edition of the New Statesman

Stephen Poliakoff season on BBC2

I have just finished watching Stephen Poliakoff's TV drama Friends and Crocodiles. It charts the lives of an unlikely bunch of young people who are brought together by Paul (Damien Lewis), an immensely wealthy but careless property tycoon who made his millions in his early twenties. He employs the diligent typist Lizzie (Jodhi May, left) as his secretary, and in so doing initiates a life-long professional relationship that is as warming and touching as it is obsessive and destructive.

One of writer and director Poliakoff's many skills lies in his ability to chart the twists and turns of a disparate group in a rapidly changing period - from 1981 through to the dot com boom and bust of the late nineties. Like many of his dramas - which I am only just discovering in this excellent new season on BBC2 of old and new works - it spins a long, rambling yarn which promises the viewer ever greater revelations if you stick with it.

Whether it delivers on those promises is open to debate, and I expect depends a great deal on the viewe's predisposition for intriguing stories which are more verbal and anecdotal than visual or action-based.

That said, the repeated use of enormous old stately homes and sprawling mansion gardens provides ample space for what is clearly the director's soft spot for the visual splendour of the architecture of old wealth and class, and the history bound up there.

These cinematic shots are the perfect accompaniment to Poliakoff's choice of fresh, uplifting and inspiring compositions. Somehow they manage to simultaneously communicate both wonderful expectations for a spectacular future as well as a deeply nostalgic yearning for days gone by. And seeing as the narrative in Friends and Crocodiles jumps by up to eight years forward at a time, with old friends reuniting after such a long time, Poliakoff keeps piling on the nostalgia in heavy, sagging dollops. It's quite extraordinarily emotional viewing, without ever revealing why or how it is affecting you in the way it is.

I am looking forward to Monday's Capturing Mary, which promises all the beguiling miscomfort of its half-sister/semi-prequel Joe's Palace. Not for the impatient viewer, mind.

P.S. Jodhi May is fantastic, how come I've never heard of her before?

Black death descending on Bournemouth? - first draft

The skeletal remains of thousands of plague victims are to undergo analysis by Bournemouth University’s school of conservation sciences under a new agreement with the crypt where the bones are housed.

The ossuary, which contains over 8,000 skeletons that are believed to be victims of Black Death, are currently stacked floor to ceiling in the cramped 30ft long crypt at St Leonard’s parish church in Hythe, Kent. It is considered by experts to be a unique collection of immeasurable research value, but there remain large gaps in scientists’ understanding of their history and provenance.

“The last cataloguing of the bones took place over seventy years ago, so they are yet to be analysed using modern technology,” said church archivist and curator John Roffy. “With DNA testing, radio isotope and X-ray scans we would hope to identify each and every one of the skulls from a historical perspective.”

This research would end the speculation that surrounds the story of the skulls. Black Death, or bubonic plague, arrived on British shores in 1348, although some date the remains well before this. “Visitors to the crypt are told that these were the victims of a 10th century Viking battle. They are more likely to be medieval, but there is only one way to find out,” said Ian Hansen, a forensic archaeology lecturer at Bournemouth University’s school of conservation sciences.

Hansen is part of the team that is planning to submit their research proposal to English Heritage for approval. The conservation school, which already houses a collection of several hundred human and animal bones, will be able to determine the best means of preserving the St Leonard’s set. “The first step is setting up equipment to measure the climatic conditions of the crypt, which seems very damp,” said Hansen.

With a plan of action now being drawn up, the possibility of bringing a selection of these morbid relics to the University is very much on the table. “In order to preserve them, they will have to be moved,” said Hansen, who envisages an arrangement whereby the school conducts research on a selection of the bones whilst they are not on public display in St Leonard’s.

The bones are open to the public over the summer months - admission is charged at the princely rate of 50p per adult, 10p per child. But these precious artefacts must be transported with great care, according to osteologist and senior lecturer in anthropology Linda O’Connell.

“Analysing these bones is a fantastic idea but it must be done professionally, ethically, and with the appropriate scientific support.” But Roffy, who also runs a business transporting museum pieces, is confident that he can provide safe conditions for moving the bones. “We are looking forward to developing a very healthy working relationship with Bournemouth University,” he said.

Although long overdue a scientific examination, the ossuary has had its fair share of media attention over recent years. Heritage programs such as Simon Schama’s History of Britain and BBC4’s Inside the Medieval Mind (to be aired next spring) have both filmed inside the crypt, as well as action puzzle show Treasure Hunt, presented by The Telegraph’s motoring columnist Suzi Perry.

“We had helicopters circling overhead and the final clue was hidden behind one of the skulls,” recalled Roffy – although Hansen and his team will be hoping to unveil further historical clues from these haunting relics.

The End of British Farming?

As the autumn sun dips behind the nearby tree lined hill and with the evening chill setting in, Simon Peace props himself up against the gate leading into his field of cows to absorb the divine orchestra of twilight hues shifting gradually before him.

"It's marvellous on a day like today. Makes it all worth it," the cattle owner reflects. Happily married for twenty of his 56 years and with three adult children, farming has been a part of the Peace family for three generations. "My dad always kept cows, and his mother – my grandma – came from a family of stock farmers from the West Country. Of course, it's not like it was."

Simon's current herd of eight Devon and Normande cows have plodded over and now surround their owner as if to listen in on his ruminations, enveloping us both in a pungent cloud of bovine breath and urine vapour.

"Farmers are depressed, everyone's depressed. You go to market – I went today – and the look on everyone's faces says it all."

Livestock farmers like Simon are going through hard times. Still reeling from the devastation of the 2001 foot and mouth epidemic during which over 3 million cattle were exterminated and a Europe-wide ban on UK meat sales was imposed overnight, they are now having to deal with the outbreak of bluetongue disease, a non-contagious virus spread by midges. "It seems like it's just one damn thing after another in this game," Simon laments.

With bluetongue-affected areas growing by the day, the Department for Food, Environment and Rural Affairs (DEFRA) has divided the country into protected and open-movement zones. Lincolnshire, Shropshire, Hampshire and Kent are currently the four corners of the protected zone, but the boundaries are shifting by the day as the virus spreads. Within the protected zone, areas where new cases have been discovered are subject to "control", "restriction" or "surveillance", depending on the severity of the local situation.

For Simon, this arrangement is unnecessarily complicated and is doing nothing to stop the spread of the disease.

"If I go to Salisbury market I can sell to buyers from within the protected zone, but not to those from further west beyond the zone boundary. Do you think that those midges can't cross from one zone into another? They might as well make the whole country a protected zone and let us get on with a bit of trading. It's going to end up that way anyway."

Nobody is quite sure where the bluetongue epidemic is going to end. But with Simon having recently made just £100 profit on a herd of six cows he kept since last winter, his children have not been drawn to follow in their father's footsteps.

"I can't blame them," he says shaking his head, "there's no money in it now."

So is this the end of British farming?

"I don't honestly know. But something's got to change. If not, this year will be remembered as the beginning of the end."

____

This piece was an assignment for Peter Jackson - a short context interview with an individual of our choosing. It received the following marks (out of 5 for each section):

Anecdotes: 0
Information: 4
Description: 1
Speech: 3

TOTAL: 8 / 20 (pretty damn poor!)

I think I was getting a bit confused between feature writing and news writing. It's a bit tricky to switch from one mindset to the next, and wrote this piece straight after a news writing lesson with Dan. Well that's my excuse, anyway. Watch this space for the forthcoming rewrite.

Unpopular populist?

This article is the first draft of a news/feature piece co-written by me and a friend in Caracas concerning new taxes to be imposed by Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. It was received by the The New Statesman's editorial but was not published as the constitution referendum issue (see above) took precedence.

Caracas, Venezuela -- Miguel Romero leans against his dented old station wagon and sparks up another Belmont, his hands black from handling newspapers and ink rollers. Standing outside having finished another shift at the newsprinters in north-eastern Caracas, he inhales deeply and lets out a thick cloud of smoke. "I don't how long these price hikes can last, you know, this is our way of life," he says, savouring the nicotine rush. "We come home from work and crack open a bottle, smoke cigarettes and drink."

Romero is referring to Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez's new tax proposals. The president intends to impose heavy taxes on imports such as yachts, hummers, second homes and private aircraft, but what worries many – including regular pro-Chávez Venezuelans like Romero – is the inclusion of cigarettes and alcohol – particularly whiskey – on the tax blacklist.

The unconventional president is aiming to kill two birds with one legislative stone. Not only will this raft of new taxes hit the super-rich for indulging in luxury pursuits such as sailing big yachts and driving sports cars; Chávez hopes to create the "new man" by "freeing" ordinary Venezuelans from harmful vices like drinking, smoking and the "capitalist values" of "excessive consumption". Chávez has said all Venezuelans should aspire to be like leftist revolutionary icon Ernesto "Ché" Guevara – a man whose fans to this day insist had few vices and a complete dedication to socialism.

Taxing the rich is unlikely to meet popular opposition, but it remains to be seen how the President will square this new moral drive with the favourite pastimes of many Venezuelans, both rich and poor: spending money.

Chávez's economic reforms and social programs have reduced poverty levels in recent years, and statistics reflect this: car sales have rocketed 50 percent in the last year, and it is now estimated that Venezuelan women spend 15 percent of their income on cosmetics. But his new war on consumer spending may end up upsetting his own constituency, the vast majority of whom live in Venezuela's numerous shanty towns.

"People in the barrio prefer whisky to rum. They drink loads of beer and smoke lots of cigarettes. They spend tons of money on cosmetics imported from the U.S – they are going to see this as an attack on their way of life," said Elizabeth Zamora, a professor of sociology at the Central University of Venezuela. "Historically, spending money has become engrained in the Venezuelan psyche. As a result of years of high inflation and a lack of confidence in the banking system, most people prefer to spend money on tangible goods that increase with value over time, rather than risk losing their money altogether."

But for President Chávez, a fierce critic of US economic and foreign policy, excessive consumerism is an export of U.S economic dominance in Latin America.

"American culture has taught us if you don't have the latest car or the latest gadget you are nothing. What Chavez is trying to do is to change that mindset," said Fernando Garcia, a senior official in the Caracas mayor's office and member of the United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV).

Opponents to the measures point out that taxing products out of the bargain end of the market simply denies the less well-off access to them. But official thinking is that in a country where alcoholism and heart disease are chronic problems, this could be an unpopular but necessary solution.

"You know it's funny when people attack these policies. We're not confiscating property, we're not prohibiting whisky. We are doing the same thing that Washington does to control excessive wealth," Garcia argued.

After winning two presidential elections, surviving a coup and weathering a series of crippling oil strikes, tackling excessive consumption might be Chavez's hardest goal yet. Whether he will be able to control consumer spending and change damaging habits remains to be seen, as he himself freely admits. "This society would benefit from socialist values", he says, "but it is very difficult to change our culture."