In the essay bookending his translation of Plato’s Republic,
Allan Bloom argues that Socrates' intention in philosophizing about the
best regime was not to inspire his interlocutors to commit acts of
revolution for achievements' sake, but rather to moderate their
passions, and hence expectations, by showing that the best city is not,
as Bloom’s well-known teacher would say, actualizable. Bloom
describes this ardent passion to actualize the perfect city as "the
infinite longing for justice on earth" and insists that Socrates
"constructs his utopia to point up the dangers of what we would call
utopianism."
[ BR note : Bloom's interpretation is full of beer ]
I was reminded of this passage—as I often am when listening to
fanatically committed idealists—during Sean Penn’s most recent, and
by far most absurd, defense of Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez.
During a brief segment on Real Time With Bill Maher, Penn
explained that the mainstream news media in the United States regularly
lies about Chávez by designating him a dictator, and that "truly,
there should be a bar by which one goes to prison for these kinds of
lies." Such a sentiment is likely (or do I mean hopefully?) not
Penn’s measured view on matters of free _expression_, but it is eerily
close to the kind of threat Chávez uses to intimidate members of the
opposition and elicit self-censorship within the Venezuelan media.
Knowing that Penn’s father was a victim of the Hollywood blacklist, I
sat befuddled, and slightly incensed, at such a public display of civil
irresponsibility.
Penn also asserted, fatuously, that the Chavista project
represents concrete hope for 80 percent of Venezuelans, and that, to
crticize Chávez, one would have to be content with merely 20 percent
of the population having a voice in their country’s affairs. In
Penn’s argument about the justice of Chavismo, which is
really the old argument about the imminent consummation of total
justice, of justice for the poor and downtrodden, you’re either with
the innocent impoverished majority or with the heartless oligarchic
minority. Poll results published in January of this year by the
respected Venezuelan polling firm IVAD, however, belie Penn’s utopian
assertions. The numbers suggest that nearly as many Venezuelans define
themselves as opposition (33.4 percent) as Chavista (36
percent)—26 percent do not indentify with either tendency and the
rest did not respond. With respect to the upcoming legislative
elections in September, roughly 30 percent of those asked said they
planned to vote for Chavista candidates, 20 percent for
opposition candidates, and 34 percent for independent candidates who
are not publicly aligned with either bloc (the remainder are undecided).
Such figures (which are getting progressively worse for Chávez)
reflect the toll that the lÃder revolucionario’s image is
deservedly taking amid electrical and food shortages, water rationing,
an economy strangled by nationalization, and petrifying rates of lethal
crime that I have, try as I might, never been able to adequately
describe to my American friends. Despite his continuing fall in
popularity, however, I would never deny that Chávez is still the
country’s most popular politician, just as I would never deny that
prohibiting one of the opposition’s most charismatic and young
politicians from running for elected office (Leopoldo López) and
persecuting the leader of the most popular social democratic party into
exile (Manuel Rosales) are among the surest ways to stay popular. But
the 80 percent support level that Penn says Chávez enjoys, or somehow
represents, is, to put it kindly, a delusion; or less kindly, an
irresponsible lie. I should add that the IVAD poll did reveal
that 80 percent of Venezuelans are in agreement about one thing: The
rate of lethal crime is by far the biggest problem facing the country.
Penn also needlessly asserted that Chávez had "gone through
fourteen of the most transparent elections on the globe." First, this
would mean Chávez has been through more elections than years in
office, but this might be a mental typo on Penn’s part, so let’s
move on to the question of the transparency of Venezuelan elections.
This is by no means a settled matter. I know of several groups of brave
(and dare I say, progressive) university students who decamped
to voting centers during the 2007 and 2009 constitutional referendums
to prevent Chavista redshirts (i.e. Chavismo’s version
of Brownshirts) from intimidating voters and registered election
monitors. In addition, it is a well-known fact that the Centro
Nacional Electoral (CNE), Venezuela’s highest electoral body
(and theoretically a separate branch of government), is staffed by Chavista
loyalists and has been since 2004. To illustrate this point, I will
only add that the president of the CNE during a dramatic referendum
vote against Chávez in 2004, Jorge Rodriguez, was later appointed vice
president of the republic by Chávez. Imagine Dick Cheney presiding
over any electoral body in the US, let alone the highest. What would
Penn think of an election carried out under such auspices?
Despite such a reality, I do not believe Chávez has committed
systematic election fraud. I remain convinced—though I might one day
be proven wrong—that he’s actually won a solid majority in all of
the elections he’s won. But Chávez’ repeated acts of redshirted
intimidation and his use of public funds to finance his and his
party’s campaigns, among other acts of flagrant despotism, should not
be forgotten by any fair-minded person who wants to discuss
“Venezuelan democracy.†Yes, it’s true that Chávez’ powers of
persuasion, his preternatural talent for demagogy, his unequivocal
commitment to a cause he declares he’s ready to die for, and his vast
oil wealth all combine to make one long-lasting, elected populist. But
to say that Venezuelan elections are among the most transparent
is, again, either simply deluded or an outright fabrication.
But why does Penn continue in this manner? How can the man who
starred in All the Kings Men—which focuses on the seductive
nature of populist demagogy—and the same actor who made a remarkable
cameo appearance in the anti-Castroite film Before Night Falls,
remain oblivious to what is in front of his nose?
But perhaps Penn does not want to know the truth about Chavismo.
Intent on seeing his perfect city erected, perhaps he has no choice but
to remain acquiescent towards Chávez’ tyranny. Like all political
utopians, he must tacitly understand that certain sacrifices are
excusable, even unavoidable, if revolutionary policies, which are
supposed to herald the irruption of a new world, are to be faithfully
carried out. If one believes that Chávez really does offer the hope of
such a radically new and just order, one will be ready to believe, or
ready to make oneself believe, whatever one needs to believe
in order to keep the possibility of such a world alive. This longing,
as Bloom correctly noted in his study of Socrates’ political
teaching, really is infinite. It is an indefeasible part of human
nature. And part of what it means to become truly educated is to learn
to domesticate such longings and give them a proper direction. In other
words, a good political education gives men a good reason to be
moderate in their expectations and actions. But for many, the love of
total justice and the belief in its actualization represent higher
callings, against which moderate impulses are merely bourgeois
cop-outs.
That’s probably why Penn doesn’t seem to care about the plight
of political prisoners in Venezuela or know the names of prominent
Venezuelan exiles; that’s why Penn doesn’t mention, or perhaps
doesn't even know, that there is currently only one television station
left in Venezuela that openly criticizes Chávez’ government, but
amid ever increasing pressure and intimidation. Perhaps that’s why
Penn doesn’t care to bring up the 16,000 Venezuelans, mostly poor,
who were murdered last year in everyday acts of crime amid what is
supposed to be a socialist revolution; that’s why Penn
doesn’t worry about Chávez’ growing alliance with Iran's Mahmoud
Ahmadinejad, or his alleged ties to FARC and ETA, or the fact that
Chávez believes 9/11
was an inside job. While Penn continues to believe that Chávez can
really give 80 percent of Venezuelans justice, in the deepest
and most permanent sense of the word, he will continue to forgive all Chavista
sins and distort the truth for his American audience.
And though it might be impossible to persuade Penn, he should at
least be made to realize that if Americans who lied about Chávez on
the mainstream media were really sent to jail, he would be the first
one in.
Antonio Rumbos, a native of Venezuela, is a writer living in
Washington, DC.
