Welcome to the Nineteenth Century: Venezuelan Elections
by Fernando Calzadilla

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The constitution represents the discursive formation of a nation. That same day after swearing on the ‘moribund constitution,’ Chavez called an assembly to write a new constitution and re-found the Republic. The Supreme Court, through an unconstitutional act, declared the assembly the originary seat of power overruling all branches of government except for the presidency. On December 15, 1999, a new constitution was voted, approved, and the Fifth Republic founded. The new constitution was printed as a little blue book that was distributed widely, becoming for the first time in history a manageable, popular, iconic representation. Everybody can hold it, carry it, and cite it. The street vendor stand [Fig 1] carries constitutions along with Harry Potter and other texts like denunciations of the CIA intervention or the Putas de los Medios (Media Whores) denouncing the role of the private media against Chavez.

Selected articles of the constitution are printed on milk packages sold in the famous Mercal popular markets the government supports (6) . The image of Chavez holding the constitution, 'la bicha' as he calls it, has become the emblem of his supporters. [Fig 2]

They even paste his image on the little book. Thus he becomes the embodiment of the discursive and the imaginary: the constitutional caudillo. A character only possible through the theatricality intrinsic to the scenarios he reenacts, the independence hero who founded the nation and the democratic president. He is an expert communicator, a sort of preacher who can efficiently perform the space between social actor and character. He embodies the presidential character with a social imaginary of frankness and simplicity that is associated with people’s common wisdom. His performance of power moves between solemn and simple, sometimes edging on vulgar with a touch of derision, reminiscent of the gracioso character in the Spanish Golden Age comedias. Most people in Venezuela, regardless of the acceptance or rejection they might have of the character, can certainly identify it. He performs Juan Bimba (7) , the pueblo (meaning the nation but also the poor). I can also observe traces of Joselo Diaz, a popular TV comic, who, in spite of intellectuals’ disdain for his performance, was one of the most influential characters in Venezuela’s cultural landscape during the 1970s and 80s. He, too, represented a modern Juan Bimba, the humble llanero (person from the flatlands, stereotypical of the Venezuelan nationality) who rose to power through his wit. He besieged the media by constantly breaking the rules, walking off-camera, talking to the technicians, stepping out of ‘character’ to reveal the format—revealing the theatricality of the occasion. The majority of the population, which was increasingly becoming poor and urban, identified with the character because they saw in him a possibility for success. He is one of us and he succeeded; he can do whatever he wants.