By Noah Rothman
Thursday, January 24, 2019
We have developed the bad habit of demarcating the
beginning of European Communism’s implosion by citing “the fall of the Berlin
Wall.” The Berlin Wall didn’t “fall.” It was beaten with hammers, sliced
through with reinforced circular saws, pulled apart by earth movers and,
eventually, dismantled by cranes in one of the German Democratic Republic’s
final acts. We have chosen to describe the rebellion that liberated hundreds of
millions of people passively, but the Wall did not “collapse.” This was the righteous
act of an aggrieved people who wagered their own security in the pursuit of
freedom.
While we’re on the subject of linguistic cowardice, it’s
worth dwelling on the confused definitions behind which political carnival
barkers seek refuge. To today’s radicals, “socialism” is a collection of vague
moralist ideas: progressive welfare-state programs, environmental remediation,
reparative racial justice, and a buffet of sentimental nostrums about
communitarian spirit. It’s anything and everything but what socialism is: the
public ownership of the economy’s commanding heights.
Hackneyed mawkishness and eschatological prophesies about
this or the other dire societal condition are often accompanied by genuinely
socialist economic prescriptions, but they are not themselves socialism. There
is a reason why socialism’s advocates wear these masks. Everywhere that state
ownership of capital is applied in the effort to crowd private enterprise out
of society, it has produced misery and violence.
That violence begins with the state. It is the violence
that suppresses dissent and transforms neighbors into informants, but that
violence produces a reciprocal response from the oppressed. We’re now
witnessing this familiar drama unfold in Venezuela, where violent revolutionary
sentiments have periodically exploded and been ruthlessly suppressed for the
better part of this decade.
The late Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez spent a decade
nationalizing the means of production in the name of his socialist
Revolutionary Bolivarian Movement. He expropriated privately owned oil
exploration and production facilities and implemented onerous “windfall” taxes
on foreign petroleum producers. He seized agricultural firms, fertilizer
producers, livestock and rice operations, and land Caracas arbitrarily deemed
“unproductive.” He nationalized much of the financial services industry in
Venezuela, closing dozens of small and mid-size banks that did not lend at
rates dictated by the government. Cement factories, glass makers, steel mills,
the gold industry, telecommunications, transportation, power and electricity
generation, and even tourist destinations were all subsumed under the control
of the state.
The inevitable fruits of command economics—shortages,
rationing, political dysfunction, and terror—were a feature of life in
Venezuela even before Chavez’s death in 2013, but they intensified under his
successor, Nicolas Maduro. Rates of murder and violent crime in Venezuela
exploded. Narcotics trafficking is a way of life for civilians and members of
the military alike. Rolling blackouts were and remain a near-daily experience.
Running water is a luxury. Basic goods and amenities are scarce. Food and
medicine are rationed, where they can be found at all. Preventable diseases
like malaria, measles, and diphtheria are common. People started to flee with
their families for the safety and security of stable market economies. And then
the political violence began.
As the Maduro government’s popularity waned, it’s willingness to
crack down on political dissent increased. Opposition figures and members
of the military were arrested
or murdered.
Student-led anti-government protests were met with violence.
Mass demonstrations that followed these spasms of occasionally riotous
dissent were met with similar
displays of state-sponsored
bloodshed.
Of course, Maduro’s grip on power required the subversion of the
rule of law. He purged
the military of dissenting elements and directed Venezuela’s loyalist Supreme
Court to strip
the elected National Assembly of its legislative authority, vesting
unconstitutional power in the country’s socialist president. In the attempt to
remedy that legitimacy problem, the Maduro regime simply rewrote the
constitution and created an alternative, parallel legislature composed of
regime supporters—a measure that was approved in a national
plebiscite that was anything but free and democratic. By the time the Trump
administration laudably acknowledged the National Assembly leader Juan Guaidó’s
interim assumption of presidential authority, legal arguments against this
broadly popular maneuver had been decimated by the Maduro regime’s efforts to
maintain power even at the cost of its legitimacy.
Which brings us back to word games. The failure of
socialism in practice is particularly frustrating for those who have nominally
hitched themselves to the socialist wagon. The redistribution of incomes and
the state’s influence over market signals has everywhere failed to achieve its
desired aims, and it necessitates oppression and violence when the people it
fails begin to notice their worsening lots. That’s inconvenient if you’re a
“Democratic Socialist.”
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