Big
Oil, Big Ketchup
and
The Assassination of Hugo Chavez
Greg
Palast
Venezuelan
President Chavez once asked me why the US elite wanted to kill him.
My dear Hugo: It's the oil. And it's the Koch Brothers – and it's
the ketchup
9
January, 2013
[As
a purgative for the crappola fed to Americans about Chavez, my
foundation, The Palast Investigative Fund, is offering the film, The
Assassination of Hugo Chavez, as a FREE
download.
Based on my several meetings with Chavez, his kidnappers and his
would-be assassins, filmed for BBC Television. DVDs also available.]
Reverend
Pat Robertson said,
"Hugo
Chavez thinks we're trying to assassinate him. I think that we really
ought to go ahead and do it."
It
was 2005 and Robertson was channeling the frustration of George
Bush's State Department. Despite Bush's providing intelligence, funds
and even a note of congratulations to the crew who kidnapped Chavez
(we'll get there), Hugo remained in office, reelected and wildly
popular.
But
why the Bush regime's hate, hate, HATE of the President of Venezuela?
Reverend
Pat wasn't coy about the answer: It's
the oil.
"This
is a dangerous enemy to our South controlling a huge pool of oil."
A
really BIG pool of oil. Indeed, according to Guy Caruso, former chief
of oil intelligence for the CIA, Venezuela hold a recoverable reserve
of 1.36 trillion barrels, that is, a whole lot more than Saudi
Arabia.
If
we didn't kill Chavez, we'd have to do an "Iraq" on his
nation. So the Reverend suggests,
"We
don't need another $200 billion war….It's a whole lot easier to
have some of the covert operatives do the job and then get it over
with."
Chavez
himself told me he was stunned by Bush's attacks: Chavez had been
quite chummy with Bush Senior and with Bill Clinton.
So
what made Chavez suddenly "a dangerous enemy"? Here's the
answer you won't find in The
New York Times:
Just
after Bush's inauguration in 2001, Chavez' congress voted in a new
"Law of Hydrocarbons." Henceforth, Exxon, British
Petroleum, Shell Oil and Chevron would get to keep 70% of the sales
revenues from the crude they sucked out of Venezuela. Not bad,
considering the price of oil was rising toward $100 a barrel.
But
to the oil companies, which had bitch-slapped Venezeula's prior
government into giving them 84% of the sales price, a cut to 70% was
"no bueno." Worse, Venezuela had been charging a joke of a
royalty – just one percent – on "heavy" crude from the
Orinoco Basin. Chavez told Exxon and friends they'd now have to pay
16.6%.
Clearly,
Chavez had to be taught a lesson about the etiquette of dealings with
Big Oil.
On
April 11, 2002, President Chavez was kidnapped at gunpoint and flown
to an island prison in the Caribbean Sea. On April 12, Pedro Carmona,
a business partner of the US oil companies and president of the
nation's Chamber of Commerce, declared himself President of Venezuela
– giving a whole new meaning to the term, "corporate
takeover."
U.S.
Ambassador Charles Shapiro immediately rushed down from his hilltop
embassy to have his picture taken grinning with the self-proclaimed
"President" and the leaders of the coup d'état.
Bush's
White House spokesman admitted that Chavez was, "democratically
elected," but, he added, "Legitimacy is something that is
conferred not by just the majority of voters." I see.
With
an armed and angry citizenry marching on the Presidential Palace in
Caracas ready to string up the coup plotters, Carmona, the Pretend
President from Exxon returned his captive Chavez back to his desk
within 48 hours. (How? Get The
Assassination of Hugo Chavez,
the film, expanding on my reports for BBC Television. You can
download
it for free
for the next few days.)
Chavez
had provoked the coup not just by clawing back some of the bloated
royalties of the oil companies. It's what he did with that oil money
that drove Venezuela's One Percent to violence.
In
Caracas, I ran into the reporter for a TV station whose owner is
generally credited with plotting the coup against the president.
While doing a publicity photo shoot, leaning back against a tree,
showing her wide-open legs nearly up to where they met, the reporter
pointed down the hill to the "ranchos," the slums above
Caracas, where shacks, once made of cardboard and tin, where quickly
transforming into homes of cinder blocks and cement.
"He
[Chavez] gives them bread and bricks, so they vote for him, of
course." She was disgusted by "them," the 80% of
Venezuelans who are negro e indio (Black and Indian)—and poor.
Chavez, himself negro e indio, had, for the first time in Venezuela's
history, shifted the oil wealth from the privileged class that called
themselves "Spanish," to the dark-skinned masses.
While
trolling around the poor housing blocks of Caracas, I ran into a
local, Arturo Quiran, a merchant seaman and no big fan of Chavez. But
over a beer at his kitchen table, he told me,
"Fifteen
years ago under [then-President] Carlos Andrés Pérez, there was a
lot of oil money in Venezuela. The ‘oil boom' we called it. Here in
Venezuela there was a lot of money, but we didn't see it."
But
then came Hugo Chavez, and now the poor in his neighborhood, he said,
"get medical attention, free operations, x-rays, medicines;
education also. People who never knew how to write now know how to
sign their own papers."
Chavez'
Robin Hood thing, shifting oil money from the rich to the poor, would
have been grudgingly tolerated by the US. But Chavez, who told me,
"We are no longer an oil colony," went further…too much
further, in the eyes of the American corporate elite.
Venezuela
had landless citizens by the millions – and unused land by the
millions of acres tied up, untilled, on which a tiny elite of
plantation owners squatted. Chavez' congress passed in a law in 2001
requiring untilled land to be sold to the landless. It was a program
long promised by Venezuela's politicians at the urging of John F.
Kennedy as part of his "Alliance for Progress."
Plantation
owner Heinz Corporation didn't like that one bit. In retaliation,
Heinz closed its ketchup plant in the state of Maturin and fired all
the workers. Chavez seized Heinz' plant and put the workers back on
the job. Chavez didn't realize that he'd just squeezed the tomatoes
of America's powerful Heinz family and Mrs. Heinz' husband, Senator
John Kerry (now, Obama's nominee for U.S. Secretary of State).
Or,
knowing Chavez as I do, he didn't give a damn.
Chavez
could survive the ketchup coup, the Exxon "presidency,"
even his taking back a piece of the windfall of oil company profits,
but he dangerously tried the patience of America's least forgiving
billionaires: The Koch Brothers.
How?
Well, that's another story for another day. [Watch this space. Or
read about it in the book, Billionaires & Ballot Bandits. Go to
BallotBandits.org).
Elected
presidents who annoy Big Oil have ended up in exile—or coffins:
Mossadegh of Iran after he nationalized BP's fields (1953), Elchibey,
President of Azerbaijan, after he refused demands of BP for his
Caspian fields (1993), President Alfredo Palacio of Ecuador after he
terminated Occidental's drilling concession (2005).
"It's
a chess game, Mr. Palast," Chavez told me. He was showing me a
very long, and very sharp sword once owned by Simon Bolivar, the
Great Liberator. "And I am," Chavez said, "a very good
chess player."
In
the film The
Seventh Seal,
a medieval knight bets his life on a game of chess with the Grim
Reaper. Death cheats, of course, and takes the knight. No mortal can
indefinitely outplay Death who, this week, Chavez must know, will
checkmate the new Bolivar of Venezuela.
But
in one last move, the Bolivarian grandmaster plays a brilliant
endgame, naming Vice-President Nicolas Maduro, as good and decent a
man as they come, as heir to the fight for those in the "ranchos."
The One Percent of Venezuela, planning on Chavez's death to return
them the power and riches they couldn't win in an election, are livid
with the choice of Maduro.
Chavez
sent Maduro to meet me in my downtown New York office back in 2004.
In our run-down detective digs on Second Avenue, Maduro and I traded
information on assassination plots and oil policy.
Even
then, Chavez was carefully preparing for the day when Venezuela's
negros e indios would lose their king—but still stay in the game.
Class
war on a chessboard. Even in death, I wouldn't bet against Hugo
Chavez.
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