In Washington, Hugo Chavez does not command the attention of Saddam Hussein or Kim Jung II. The Venezuelan president has been accused of many things, but never of possessing weapons of mass destruction. Significantly, Chavez has legality on his side: he was democratically elected, twice, by a majority of Venezuelans. According to the country’s constitution, he can – provided he is reelected in 2006 – remain in office for a total of 13 years.

But Washington’s distaste for Chavez is clear, and stems from several factors. For starters, the former paratrooper has consistently opposed representative democracy. (Chavez has made February 4 – the date he tried, and failed, to oust an elected government – a national holiday in Venezuela.) There is great irony in pointing to legal niceties and constitutional provisions when referring to Chavez. But legality and principle aside, the United States has been fundamentally worried about Venezuela’s deepening crisis, the protracted and perilous stalemate between the Chavez government and opposition forces that has made the country virtually ungovernable. Entrenched authoritarian rule, a military coup detat, and even civil war are among the more plausible scenarios.

For the United States, moreover, Venezuela is not just another country. After all, Venezuela is the fourth largest oil supplier to the United States, and accounts for some 15 percent of its oil imports. Senior US officials unabashedly point to oil as their overriding interest in Venezuela. At a moment of tremendous uncertainty in the Middle East, and a looming war with Iraq, one would assume that Venezuelan oil would acquire even greater urgency for the United States.

In addition, the regional political and security ramifications of continued chaos and escalating violence in Venezuela are enormous. Latin America is convulsed – and the Andean countries are in particular turmoil. The long-stated aims and interests of the United States in seeking to build a region that is democratic, stable and prosperous – full of good neighbors and partners committed to pursuing a shared, wide-ranging agenda – are being fiercely contested. For many Latin Americans who recently struggled to break away from authoritarian rule and join the democratic fold, Venezuela’s crisis is profoundly disquieting. The specter of divisiveness across Latin America that, ironically, had receded under the administration of George H.W. Bush, has reappeared — and with a vengeance — under his son’s administration. Latin America finds itself at a critical moment in terms of the future of democracy — and no where is the battle more intense than Venezuela.

The central puzzle is why the United States, and the broader hemispheric community, has been unable to deal effectively with such a major challenge to democracy, and such a polarizing figure as Chavez. Given the immense stakes for the United States particularly, the series of missteps and miscalculations in its policy towards Venezuela is hard to fathom. In large measure, the blunders derive from a notable lack of sustained engagement and at best fitful attention given by senior US policy officials. Self-inflicted wounds have had considerable costs, and have put the United States on the sidelines precisely when some quiet, effective diplomacy was called for — and could well have made a difference in preparing the ground for a more positive outcome.

Chavez has no doubt presided over – and has been in part responsible for — his country’s deterioration. But he has also met some crucial political tests. The most recent was the two-month long strike that began in early December 2002, and that particularly involved the Venezuela’s state-oil company, PDVSA. The strike helped paralyze the country and contributed to the country’s economic drop of nearly 10 percent in 2002. But in the end, the tactic failed and hurt the opposition forces more than Chavez, who showed his control over the army and has been further emboldened.

Desperate to get Chavez out of power and having underestimated the Venezuelan president’s resilience and will to hang on, the opposition is apt to become increasingly frustrated and fragmented. In the circumstances of a frozen stalemate, the moderates tend to lose out, as radical elements on both sides gain force. With the real prospect of accelerated economic decline, social disintegration and escalating violence, the Venezuelan situation has entered a new, critical phase. It is hard to imagine, moreover, that the crisis can be constructively resolved without external help – which includes, but goes considerably beyond, the role of the United States.

And yet, if the recent past is any guide, the United States, consumed by what it considers more urgent matters, will deal with such a situation from a distance — reacting only when necessary, hoping that it will somehow take care of itself. From the beginning of the Chavez presidency in February 1999, there have been competing views within the United States government about the best way to deal with the Venezuelan strongman, who seemed like a throwback and defied all expectations of a Latin American leader in the 21st century. At the outset of the Chavez administration, for example, his highly charged and relentlessly confrontational rhetoric aimed at many key Venezuelan sectors failed to elicit any public response from US officials. For the sake of “keeping the oil flowing,” what essentially mattered for the United States were the actions Chavez pursued — not the words, however disagreeable, he uttered.

This might have been the safest and least strenuous course, but it is not the only one that could have been taken. Given Chavez’s popularity and support among Venezuelans, there were, to be sure, important downsides to alienating him early on, and thus risking wider resentment, in Venezuela and throughout the region. Some Latin American leaders, however, chose a different course, and noted that Chavez’s verbal assaults, though not legally questionable, violated the spirit and thrust of a regional consensus that had crystallized on representative democracy. In August 1999, Chilean president Eduardo Frei was clearly referring to Venezuela: “In my judgment, if there are not three branches of government functioning legitimately, the rule of law is broken, and that for me is not a democracy.” The relative restraint shown by US government officials during this early period was all the more remarkable in view of Chavez’s visits with Saddam Hussein and Mu’ammar al-Qadhafi in August 2000, his sympathy with Colombian guerrilla groups, and his close friendship with Fidel Castro.

The terrorist attacks on New York and Washington on September 11, 2001 — nearly three years from the date Chavez was first elected — had a profound impact on US policy. In the transformed environment, under an administration now at “war” against terrorism, Chavez’s rhetoric was no longer treated with indifference in Washington. US officials were particularly irked when, on October 29, 2001, Chavez compared the US bombing in Afghanistan with the September 11 attacks. Moreover, Chavez’s meeting with Saddam Hussein was suddenly seen in a new light. Tension between Washington and Caracas mounted, as ambassadors from both countries were withdrawn.

In February 2002, before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Secretary of State Colin Powell was palpably irritated and moved closer to Frei’s August 1999 statement: “we have been concerned with some of the actions of Venezuelan president Chavez and his understanding of what a democratic system is all about. And we have not been happy with some of the comments he has made with respect to the campaign against terrorism.” Those within the US government who had been arguing all along that Chavez was more of a problem than a nuisance had, in the post September 11 context, gained substantial ground.

Against this backdrop, it was not surprising that the United States appeared to welcome the April 2002 coup against the Chavez government. Believing that Chavez had resigned, the initial statement issued on April 12 failed to express any concern about what had evidently been an interruption of democratic rule. The opposition’s ineptitude and anti-democratic excesses – coupled with Chavez’s return to power two days later – only added to the United States’ embarrassment. The ham-handed response resulted in a loss of US credibility on the democracy question in Latin America. Such a reaction contrasted sharply with a statement issued by Latin American countries that, while not calling for Chavez’s restoration to power, was nonetheless critical of the coup and expressed concern about a setback to democracy.

Powell, appearing before a special session of the OAS General Assembly on April 18, tacitly acknowledged the clumsy US handling of the coup, and sought to recover the damage that had been done on the democracy issue in the eyes of other Latin American countries. The Secretary of State’s strong, high-minded, pro-democracy statement also set the parameters for the eventual US position in support of a constitutional and electoral solution to the Venezuelan crisis.

Yet, the United States seemingly lacked the capacity to follow through on such an approach. Instead of mounting a discreet, yet sustained, effort to press both parties in Venezuela to reach a formula for a constitutional solution to the crisis – and thus redeem its tarnished image from April – the US instead pulled back and retreated to the sidelines, hoping that an agreement would be reached. To be sure, the US hardly accorded urgent priority to other problematic situations in Latin America; indeed, there are some parallels with its response to other high-stakes crises (Argentina comes readily to mind), during the same period. Particularly after September 11, Powell, national security advisor Condoleezza Rice, and other senior policy officials would still give only sporadic attention to the deteriorating situation in Venezuela, hoping that Chavez and the opposition would heed the call from Washington to settle the country’s mess, and the problems would go away.

In fact, just the opposite happened. The crisis only deepened, driven by extremes on both sides, with Chavez and the opposition forces digging in.
Since there was little prospect that the serious crisis could be resolved only by Venezuelan actors, the Organization of American States, under the framework of the Inter-American Democratic Charter (adopted, coincidentally, on September 11, 2001) sought to facilitate an agreement between the Chavez government and the opposition. Later, in September 2002, the OAS was joined by the Carter Center — former President Carter has played an active role in the Venezuela crisis – and the United Nations Development Program (UNDP), forming a tripartite commission, in an effort to break the impasse. The US, having been burned in April and not quite sure what to do, gave little beyond rhetorical support to the OAS initiative.

The December 2002 strike carried out by the opposition — and led by the state petroleum company (PDVSA) – heightened tensions in Venezuela and exacerbated the protracted chaos. The opposition called for Chavez’s resignation, and “early elections,” but Chavez refused to budge. On December 13, when the White House issued a statement supporting “early elections”, the US position was associated with that taken by the opposition. It was unclear, however, whether the US was aware it had taken sides. Once again, the blunder was costly (perhaps more costly, because it was the second time), undermining the ability of the United States to act as a credible arbiter to broker an agreement. Again, the considerable improvisation shown can be attributed to a lack of high-level US attention to the Venezuelan crisis. Given the sensitivities involved, if any situation called for effective, behind-the-scenes, quiet diplomacy to press for a peaceful outcome, it was this one.

In mid-January 2003, with no end of the crisis in sight, Brazil took the lead in proposing a new vehicle, the “Friends of Venezuela,” that would back the Carter Center, UN, and especially the OAS as it sought to find an electoral solution. The newly installed Brazilian government of Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva has energetically sought to settle a major problem that concerns all of South America. Within the “Friends” formula, the Brazilian president and some of his Workers Party (PT) base have the most contacts with, and some sympathy for, Chavez, which could give them an important role in working out any future settlement. At the same time, Lula, a leader of longstanding democratic credentials, has distinguished himself from the Venezuelan president. On December 11, O Estado do Sao Paulo reported that in his White House meeting, Lula remarked to President Bush that Chavez, as a former military man, would have a hard time understanding the crisis in his country since he had little familiarity with civil society.

Not surprisingly, when Brazil proposed the formation of the “Friends of Venezuela” (which also includes Mexico, Chile, Spain and Portugal), the United States pressed to join the group. The United States was not too keen to get involved in the Venezuelan situation – but it also didn’t want to be left out of any vehicle set up to deal with it. And especially when the prime mover was Brazil, a country that sees itself as a major pole of power in the hemisphere – and one led by a government viewed as sympathetic to Chavez — it was essential for the United States to be a member.

The US response to the Brazilian initiative on Venezuela also illustrates a pattern of delayed reactions. The United States has played catch up – first, regarding oil, and then Brazil. The US government might have been more proactive, joining with Brazil and other Latin American partners to help energize a regional mechanism. Washington’s inattention and indifference can be attributed at least in part to the distraction of a possible war with Iraq and the campaign against terrorism. The characterization of US policy towards North Korea in a New Yorker article (January 27, 2003) could well be applied to Venezuela: “The Administration’s fitful North Korea policy, with its mixture of anger and seeming complacency, is in many ways a consequence of its unrelenting focus on Iraq.”

The obstacles to devising a more engaged and effective approach towards Venezuela from Washington go beyond the obsession with Iraq, however. Another problem has been exactly who to support in Venezuela. Although the US plainly does not like Chavez, it also has little confidence in the opposition forces. Greater involvement was seen as too risky. And given a situation as sensitive and complex as Venezuela’s, Washington needed to have in place a Latin America policy team with sufficient authority to do the heavy-lifting required.

Venezuela’s level of polarization, mistrust and bitterness makes it difficult to conceive how the country’s crisis can be constructively resolved without external support. But it is equally hard to see how external actors, whatever the vehicle, can be effective unless the United States gets more engaged, helps press for an agreement, and seeks to catalyze broad support. It is encouraging that the Organization of American States and Brazil, along with the Carter Center, the UN, and other countries who make up the “Friends of Venezuela,” are involved and vigorously trying to foster reconciliation in Venezuela. That overriding challenge – working with Latin Americans in pursuit of a democratic future — is one that the United States, despite its missteps to date, cannot afford to pass up.