Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Torment in Ecuador: virus dead piled up in bathrooms

AFP/File / Jose SANCHEZHealth ministry personnel test a woman for the novel coronavirus in northern Guayaquil, Ecuador, on April 19, 2020
Front line medics in one of Latin America's coronavirus epicenters are lifting the lid on the daily horrors they face in an Ecuadoran city whose health system has collapsed.
In one hospital in Guayaquil overwhelmed by COVID-19 patients, staff have had to pile up bodies in bathrooms because the morgues are full, health workers say.
In another, a medic told AFP that doctors have been forced to wrap up and store corpses to be able to reuse the beds they died on.
Ecuador has recorded close to 23,000 coronavirus cases and nearly 600 deaths, with Guayaquil by far its worst affected city. But the real toll is thought to be far higher.
A 35-year-old nurse at the first hospital who spoke on condition of anonymity said that the trauma of what he saw had affected him professionally and personally.
When the health emergency broke out in March, every nurse went from caring for 15 patients to 30 in the space of just 24 hours, he added.
"So many people arrived that... they were practically dying in our hands," said the nurse.
Patients were discharged or referred to other facilities "to free up all these beds" for coronavirus patients, he told AFP.
"They took out anesthesia machines from operating rooms to replace them with ventilators.
"People are alone, sad, the treatment wreaks havoc on the gastrointestinal tract, some defecate; they feel bad and think they will always feel that way, and they see that the person next to them starts to suffocate and scream that they need oxygen."
It isn't just hospitals that have been overwhelmed, but morgues too.
"The morgue staff wouldn't take any more, so many times we had to wrap up bodies and store them in the bathrooms," the nurse said.
Only when the bodies were "stacked up six or seven high did they come to collect them."
A 26-year-old colleague, also a nurse, confirmed the chaotic scenes.
"There were many dead in the bathrooms, many lying on the floors, many dead in armchairs," she told AFP.
- 'Sanitary disaster' -
Guayaquil's health system has collapsed under the pressure of the coronavirus, and it seems to be having catastrophic knock-on effects.
In the first half of April, the province of Guayas, whose capital is Guayaquil, recorded 6,700 deaths, more than three times the monthly average.
AFP/File / Jose SánchezWorkers make coffins at the Angel Maria Canals cemetery in Guayaquil, Ecuador, on April 9, 2020
The disparity suggests that the real COVID-19 death toll is far greater than the official nationwide tally of fewer than 600.
President Lenin Moreno has acknowledged that Ecuador's official coronavirus tallies "are short" of the true figures.
A 28-year-old doctor at a second Guayaquil hospital, who also insisted on anonymity, conjured a similarly grim picture of health services in crisis.
"Bodies were in the corridors of the emergency ward because the morgue was full," the medic told AFP, describing "20 to 25 corpses" waiting to be taken away.
"It was up to us to collect and wrap the corpse and store it so we could disinfect the bed for the next patient," he added.
At the first hospital, refrigerated containers were brought in to store bodies, some of which remained for up to 10 days.
Some family members "break the covers... so the fluids come out. It's a sanitary disaster," said the 35-year-old male nurse.
- 'It kills you psychologically' -
The number of daily deaths fell last week but that was scant consolation for this nurse, who says he is tormented by what he has experienced.
AFP/File / RODRIGO BUENDIAA paramedic enters the disinfection booth outside the emergency room of the IESS Sur Hospital in Quito on April 18, 2020
When he goes home, after a 24-hour shift, his feet hurting, he tries to rest but then the "nightmare" strikes.
He dreams of running until he falls and knocks "open the bathroom door with the number of bodies... and you can't go back to sleep."
His home life has also changed. He is following strict isolation so cannot see his parents or brother.
When he goes home he begins his ritual of disinfecting his car and shoes, hosing himself down on the patio before washing his clothes in hot water.
"I eat on a plastic table away from everyone. I leave my home with a mask, I can't hug anyone, not even the pets," he said.
Every now and then he thinks about the psychological mark left on him every time he has to make do with hooking them up to cannula tubes when what they really need is a ventilator.
"They tell you, 'It's okay -- give them oxygen and a slow drip serum and leave them,'" he told AFP.
"But what if that was my mom? What if it was my dad? That kills you. It kills you psychologically."
AFP sought comment from health authorities in Guayaquil but did not get a reply.
A national public health authority official said he had been in an emergency unit in Guayaquil where bodies were piled up.
"A morgue for eight deceased persons and you have to manage 150 bodies, what can you do? You have to put them anywhere nearby that you have space," he told AFP.
The official said the number of cases in Guayaquil rose dramatically and rapidly in a matter of days, overwhelming an inadequate emergency healthcare system.
"There was such a speed of contagion that it reflected a large number of seriously ill and a large number of deaths at a specific time," he said.
WESTERN CANADA CRUDE WAS HEDGED TO JUNE PRICES

Oil rebounds above $14 after massive sell-off

AFP/File / Frederic J. BROWNOil prices have fallen to historic lows this month as governments worldwide shut down businesses and air travel ground to a halt
US oil prices rebounded above $14 a barrel Wednesday, a day after a sell-off sparked by a major fund selling its short-term holdings of the commodity amid virus-triggered storage concerns.
West Texas Intermediate, the US benchmark, for June delivery jumped 14.5 percent to $14.13 a barrel in Asian morning trade.
It had plunged by more than 21 percent at one point Tuesday after the United States Oil Fund -- a major US exchange-traded fund (ETF) -- started selling its short-term contracts of the commodity.
Brent crude, the international benchmark, was trading 3.27 percent higher at $21.13 a barrel.
Traders "are bargain hunting after a couple of days of massive sell-offs", OANDA senior market analyst Jeffrey Halley told AFP.
ANZ Bank said in a note that the market was hit by volatility Tuesday "as ETFs and index funds moved contract positions amid renewed concerns of negative prices" in short-term holdings.
The Oil Fund had sold its contracts due to expire in June to move into longer-dated holdings amid fears about storage space running out in the short term.
Following the US ETF's move, Standard & Poor's also told clients to sell their stakes in the June contracts and move them into July, ANZ said.
S&P operates the GSCI commodity index, which is tracked by pension funds and other big investors.
Other indices, including the Bloomberg Commodity Index, took similar steps.
Oil prices have fallen to historic lows this month, with WTI crashing deep below zero for the first time as governments worldwide shut down businesses and air travel grinds to a halt due to the virus.
An agreement by top crude-producing nations to cut output by 10 million barrels a day from May 1 has done little to calm the market.
The production cuts "will probably take weeks to show up in the physical market, hence we are still stuck with the inventories issues that will continue to curb any semblance of bullish appetite", said AxiCorp global market strategist Stephen Innes.
Lebanese protesters back on the streets as economy crumbles
AFP / Fathi AL-MASRI
Lebanese anti-government protesters burn tyres amid overnight
 clashes with security forces in the northern city of Tripoli
Lebanese protesters confronted soldiers for a second day Tuesday as anger over a spiraling economic crisis re-energised a months-old anti-government movement despite a coronavirus lockdown.

In second city Tripoli, protesters hurled rocks at security forces, who responded with tear gas and rubber bullets.

The violence came after a protester died on Tuesday from a bullet wound he had sustained during overnight confrontations between troops and hundreds of demonstrators in Tripoli.

Following the funeral of 26-year-old Fawaz al-Samman in the city's central Al-Nour Square, demonstrators went on the rampage, torching and vandalising banks and military vehicles.
AFP / Fathi AL-MASRI
Lebanese anti-government protesters smash the facade of a bank


Troops fired live rounds into the air to try to disperse stone-throwing protesters under clouds of tear gas.

Tuesday's confrontations were the latest in a string of anti-government protests fuelled by unprecedented inflation and a plummeting Lebanese pound.

Angered by the financial collapse, demonstrators have rallied across Lebanon, blocking roads and attacking banks, re-energising a protest movement launched in October against a political class the activists deem inept and corrupt.

"I came down to raise my voice against hunger, poverty and rising prices," Khaled, 41, told AFP, saying he had lost his job selling motorcycle parts and could no longer support his three children.

- 'Increasingly desperate' -
AFP / Ibrahim CHALHOUB
People inspect a bank set ablaze by protesters in Tripoli

After a few hours of calm in Tripoli on Tuesday evening, protesters again hit the streets, vandalising the facade of a bank in the al-Mina district.

A demonstration was also held outside the home of former prime minister Najib Mikati, who has been accused of wrongly receiving millions in subsidised housing loans -- charges he denies.

More than 20 protesters were injured in the Tuesday night clashes, including four who were hospitalised, according to the Lebanese Red Cross.

Sixty people, including some 40 soldiers, were injured during the clashes on Monday night.

In the capital Beirut, an AFP reporter saw dozens of protesters chanting slogans against the governor of the central bank.

In the southern city of Sidon, demonstrators threw Molotov cocktails at the bank's local headquarters.

Lebanon is mired in its worst economic crisis since the 1975-1990 civil war, now compounded by a nationwide lockdown to stem the spread of the coronavirus that has killed 24 people in the country and infected almost 700 others.

The Lebanese pound has lost more than half of its value against the dollar on the black market, hitting record lows of 4,000 pounds to the dollar this week.

Economy Minister Raoul Nehme on Tuesday said that prices have risen by 55 percent, while the government estimates that 45 percent of the population now lives below the poverty line.

This has unleashed a public outcry against a government that has yet to deliver a long-awaited rescue plan to shore up the country's finances more than three months since it was nominated to address the crisis.

On Tuesday evening, Finance Minister Ghazi Wazni tweeted that his French counterpart Bruno Le Maire had given his backing to a rescue plan, but had stressed the need for long-overdue structural reforms.

Prime Minister Hassan Diab acknowledged that living conditions have "deteriorated at a record speed" but said on Tuesday he would not tolerate "riots" and that perpetrators would be held accountable.

UN envoy to Lebanon Jan Kubis said that the "tragic" events in Tripoli send a "warning signal."

"This is the time to provide material support to increasingly desperate, impoverished and hungry majority of Lebanese," he said on Twitter.

- 'Social explosion' -

Lebanon's economic crisis has forced large chunks of the population into unemployment.
AFP/File / ANWAR AMROLebanese protesters chant slogans in front
 of the building of the central bank in Beirut on April 23, 2020

Meanwhile, a kilo of meat -- which used to sell for 18,000 Lebanese pounds ($12 at the official rate) -- now costs 32,000 (around $22), while the price of vegetables has doubled.

With no clear government plan to exit the crisis, Lebanon is heading "towards an inevitable social explosion," Sami Nader, director of the Levant Institute for Strategic Affairs, told AFP.

Public anger has been increasingly directed at banks, accused by protesters of helping a corrupt political class drive the country towards bankruptcy.

Lebanese banks, many of them owned by prominent politicians, have since September imposed restrictions on dollar withdrawals and transfers, forcing the public to deal in the nose-diving Lebanese pound.

Since March, banks have stopped dollar withdrawals altogether, further fuelling public anger.

In Tripoli, the army accused demonstrators overnight of torching three banks, destroying several automated teller machines and attacking an army patrol and military vehicle.

The Association of Lebanese Banks said that commercial banks would be closed in the city on Tuesday because of "attacks and acts of vandalism."

The renewed protests came after Diab said Lebanese bank deposits had plunged $5.7 billion in the first two months of the year, despite curbs on withdrawals and a ban on transfers abroad.

Brazil judge orders probe into accusations against Bolsonaro 


AFP/File / EVARISTO SAA Brazilian judge has ordered an investigation of allegations that President Jair Bolsonaro sought to interfere in police investigations
A Brazilian supreme court judge on Monday ordered a probe into accusations by former justice and security minister Sergio Moro that President Jair Bolsonaro sought to "interfere" with police investigations.
In his decision, obtained by AFP, Judge Celso de Mello gave the federal police 60 days to question Moro about his explosive allegations against the right-wing president.
The findings, which will be handed over to the attorney general, could result in either a request for a political trial against Bolsonaro or an indictment against Moro for false testimony.
According to the judge, the alleged crimes seem to have "an intimate connection with the exercise of the presidential mandate," thus allowing for an investigation of the leader.
Moro, a former anti-corruption judge, resigned on Friday after clashing with Bolsonaro over the sacking of the federal police chief, accusing the president of political interference.
The judge's document lists seven accusations against Bolsonaro, including malfeasance and obstruction of justice.
Should the investigation confirm the allegations, it will be up to the lower house of the National Congress to initiate impeachment proceedings against Bolsonaro and potentially remove him from office.

AFP/File / EVARISTO SASergio Moro resigned as justice minister over the sacking of the head of the federal police, accusing the president of political interference
In 2017, the prosecutor general's office asked to open two investigations against then-president Michel Temer, and in both cases the request was rejected by the Chamber of Deputies.
The tensions come at the height of the global coronavirus crisis.
Bolsonaro has repeatedly downplayed the danger of COVID-19 and earlier this month fired his health minister, Luiz Henrique Mandetta, who supported isolation as a tool to contain the spread of the pandemic.
A poll published Monday night shows divided opinions about Bolsonaro's future, with 45 percent of Brazilians saying Congress should open an impeachment process against him.
In comparison, 48 percent think Bolsonaro should not be impeached, according to the Datafolha poll, which ran in the Folha de S. Paulo daily.
- Other investigations -
Behind the scenes, changing the head of the federal police, an investigative body that reports to the justice ministry, is seen as an attempt by Bolsonaro to control investigations that surround his family and political allies.

AFP/File / EVARISTO SAPresident Jair Bolsonaro (pictured with supporters protesting against quarantine measures) has repeatedly downplayed the danger of the coronavirus and fired his health minister who supported isolation
One probe, opened in March 2019, is investigating false news campaigns to threaten or slander supreme court judges who opposed Bolsonaro's projects, such as liberalizing the carrying of arms.
Another, initiated by the attorney general last week, is investigating a demonstration outside the army headquarters in Brasilia by Bolsonaro supporters who called for military intervention in handling the coronavirus pandemic while protesting against stay-at-home orders.
Bolsonaro, a former army captain who has been criticized for previously praising Brazil's brutal 1964-85 military dictatorship, also attended the protest.
Moro, who made his name leading the corruption investigation that saw former leftist president Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva jailed for accepting a bribe, resigned after Bolsonaro dismissed the federal police chief, who was a close ally of the minister.
"The change at the head of the federal police without a genuine reason is political interference that harms my credibility and that of the government," Moro said Friday.
Moro said Bolsonaro had told him he was replacing the federal police chief for someone with whom he had "personal contact, whom he could call, ask for information, intelligence reports."
"Providing this type of information is not the job of the federal police," Moro said, insisting on independence for investigations.
That night, he presented on television a WhatsApp exchange with Bolsonaro in which the president appears to exert pressure for the replacement of the federal police chief.
According to Brazilian media, the former judge has recordings of discussions with the president.
Bolsonaro hit back at Moro, accusing him of being motivated by "ego" and making "unfounded accusations."


IN DEPTH

Where could Brazil's criminal 

investigation of Jair Bolsonaro lead?

Brazil's Supreme Court has approved an investigation into whether President Bolsonaro meddled with federal police to protect allies. The results could trigger a dramatic chain of events that hinge largely on one person.















As world leaders focus on fighting the coronavirus pandemic in their countries, Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro faces another major battle — potentially his biggest political crisis since taking office.

The Supreme Court on Monday authorized an investigation of claims that Bolsonaro interfered with federal law enforcement. Former Justice Minister Sergio Moro, a highly popular politician, made the bombshell accusation during his resignation speech Friday, the same day Bolsonaro announced he had fired the federal police chief.

"I told the president that [changing the police chief] would be political interference. He said that it would be, too," Moro said.

Moro alleges that Bolsonaro wanted to replace the police head with someone who would give him access to information and reports and would shield his relatives and allies from investigations.

Federal police are currently investigating Bolsonaro's son Carlos for allegedly having organized a fake news scheme, according to major newspaper Folha de S. Paulo.

On Tuesday the president tried to name a family friend to head the police, but a Supreme Court justice halted the nomination the next day.

From investigation to charges to trial?

Authorities will now look into whether Bolsonaro obstructed justice and meddled with federal police work, among other crimes.

Meanwhile, if Moro doesn't show proof of Bolsonaro's alleged interference, he could be charged for making a false accusation. He could also be charged for not doing his obligation as justice minister and failing to report Bolsonaro's possible crimes when he knew about them.

A key figure in the proceedings is Augusto Aras, the attorney general. According to the Brazilian Constitution, the attorney general is the only person who can press charges against the president for a common crime, which under Brazilian law doesn't require either legal party to have any specific characteristics. In contrast, a crime of responsibility requires the alleged perpetrator to be a public official.

If after the investigation Aras does press common crime charges, approval by two thirds of the lower house of Congress — at least 342 of the 513 deputies — would be needed to open a criminal trial before the Supreme Court. Without approval, the issue would be archived.

In a Supreme Court trial, Bolsonaro would become the defendant and would have to give up office for 180 days.

However, Bolsonaro could also be charged with a crime of responsibility, the Brazilian equivalent of high crimes and misdemeanors associated with the presidential office. Any Brazilian citizen can accuse the president of this crime. If the lower house accepts an accusation and a two-thirds majority votes to pass it on, Bolsonaro would face impeachment proceedings in the Senate.


Attorney General Aras could press charges depending on the result of the investigation into Bolsonaro

Attorney general plays it safe

Aras, whom Bolsonaro nominated in September 2019, has been criticized for siding too much with the president. He refused to break with the government when Bolsonaro supported protests against social distancing measures during the coronavirus pandemic, when government measures threatened indigenous communities' rights and when decrees made it easier to buy guns and ammunition.

Read more: Brazilian President Bolsonaro sides with anti-democracy protesters

Aras asked the Supreme Court to greenlight investigations into both Bolsonaro and Moro the same day the latter made the meddling accusations. However, Rubens Glezer, a law professor with the Getulio Vargas Foundation in Sao Paulo, said the attorney general was "ambiguous" and left enough leeway to maneuver depending on how the case develops.

"If [after the investigation] things look bad for Bolsonaro, Aras can say he did his part and no one can accuse him of having stayed silent," Glezer said. "If Bolsonaro continues stable and the investigation turns against Moro, [Aras] can show that he was a 'good soldier' [to the government] and pave his way to a vacancy on the Supreme Court."

Deputies' decision uncertain

If Aras presses charges against Bolsonaro, the political context and the level of support for the government will determine the reaction of the lower house.

Maria Paula Dallari Bucci, a law professor at the University of São Paulo, is uncertain that two thirds of the deputies would want to open a criminal trial against Bolsonaro.

"According to the data that we have, the lower house will only be convinced if there is definitive proof," she said.

She added that some parties are looking into starting a parliamentary inquiry committee, which would run parallel to the criminal investigation. It would also look into Moro's allegations and could change the deputies' opinions. Such a committee was started in the case of Fernando Collor, a former president who resigned in 1992 during an impeachment trial that eventually found him guilty of corruption.

"A committee was installed and information, and details were disclosed that made it clearer to the public opinion that the president was incapable of continuing his mandate," Bucci said.

If Aras presses charges against Bolsonaro, the president's only chance to save himself would be to block the process in the lower house, according to Juliano Zaiden Benvindo, a constitutional law professor at University of Brasilia. If the case were to reach the Supreme Court, he believes the justices would side against the president unanimously.

"Bolsonaro is so explicit in his madness from an institutional point of view that, in the Supreme Court, both sides would unite against him," Benvindo said.

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Brazil's indigenous communities resist Bolsonaro

The Amazon rainforest is under threat, and so are the indigenous tribes that call it home. As violence escalates in Brazil, activists have vowed to protect their land and way of life. (17.01.2020) 


Date 29.04.2020
AFP / MUNIR UZ ZAMANGarment workers wash their legs before entering a factory in Dhaka, Bangladesh, where hundreds of such factories reopened despite a nationwide lockdown against new coronavirus
Hundreds of Bangladesh's garment factories defied a nationwide coronavirus lockdown to reopen on Sunday, raising fears the industry's vulnerable and largely female workforce could be exposed to the contagion.
Big-name international brands have cancelled or held up billions of dollars in orders due to the pandemic, crippling an industry that accounts for nearly all of the South Asian country's export earnings.
Factories shut their doors in late March but some suppliers said they were now being pushed by retailers to fulfill outstanding export orders.
"We have to accept coronavirus as part of life. If we don't open factories, there will be economic crisis," said Bangladesh Knitwear Manufacturers and Exporters Association vice president Mohammad Hatem.
He said his MB Knit company had reopened part of a factory that makes clothing for Britain's Primark and several other retailers.
AFP / STRBangladesh's garment factories are "under pressure" from brands to meet export deadlines despite the pandemic, an industry group said
Factories were "under pressure" from brands to meet export deadlines and feared the risk that billions in orders could be diverted to competing operations in countries like Vietnam or China, Hatem added.
More than four million people work in thousands of garment factories across Bangladesh, which last year shipped out $35 billion of apparel to retailers such as H&M, Inditex and Walmart -- second only to China.
Hundreds of those factories had resumed operations over the weekend in the industrial areas of Gazipur and Ashulia, just outside the capital Dhaka.
Some 200,000 workers were likely back at work just in Ashulia, police spokeswoman Jane Alam told AFP.
Mofazzal Hossain said he felt compelled to return to his factory, where he earns $115 a month.
"The fear of coronavirus is there," he told AFP.
"But I am now more worried about losing my job, wages and benefits."
Labour rights leaders said they were fearful the return to work could spark an explosion of COVID-19 cases.
"Its impact could be worse than Rana Plaza," said activist Kalpona Akter, referring to the collapse of a garment factory complex in 2013 that killed 1,130 workers.
Bangladesh, a nation of 168 million people, has almost 5,500 confirmed COVID-19 infections and 145 deaths according to the government.
Experts say the real number is likely much higher due to a lack of patient testing by authorities.
‘An economic model that must fail’

Chile, no peaceful oasis

The protests in Chile are against a state that sold out the majority in favour of a tiny minority that has long profited from what should be communal resources.
by Luis Sepúlveda 
JPEG - 552.6 kb
Enough! Chileans protest against the Piñera government in November 2019
Marcelo Hernandez · Getty
Violent protests have rocked Chile since early October 2019; at least 27 people have been killed, hundreds maimed, thousands injured and an unspecified number arrested. The police and armed forces have raped, tortured and committed other atrocities. Just before the protests began, President Sebastián Piñera commented on upheavals in other parts of Latin America, and described Chile as an oasis of peace and calm in the middle of a storm.
What characterised this oasis was not its sweet water or its lush palm trees, but the apparently unscalable fence that ringed it, made of a curious alloy of the basest metals: neoliberal economic policy, absence of civil rights, and repression. Chileans were on the right side of this fence.
Until the recent street protests, economists and politicians had held fast to the mantra that smaller government means more entrepreneurial freedom. They claimed a miracle, a spontaneous generation, had taken place in Chile, and they saw irrefutable proof of this miracle in growth figures and economic statistics praised by the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank.

The coup that ousted Allende

But not everyone in Chile was included in this little southern paradise. It lacked such trivial details as a right to fair wages, decent pensions, good-quality state education and a healthcare system worthy of the name. It was not concerned with the right of citizens to determine their own fate rather than just swallowing the macroeconomic figures the government force-feeds them.
What characterised this oasis was not its water or palm trees, but the fence that ringed it, made of neoliberal economic policy and repression. Chileans were on the right side of this fence
On 11 September 1973, a military coup toppled Chile’s democratic government. A brutal dictatorship took over in Santiago and under General Augusto Pinochet lasted until March 1990. Its objective was not to restore order nor save the country from a communist threat but to implement principles advocated by the gurus of neoliberalism, led by Milton Friedman and the Chicago School of Economics. The aim was to establish a new economic model that would lead to the creation of a new society in which precarity and absence of rights would be the norm, silence would be enforced and guns would ensure social peace.
The civilian-military dictatorship achieved its goals, writing them into a constitution that enshrined the economic model established by force and made it the definition of Chile. No other Latin American country has adopted a model so carefully designed to benefit a minority at the expense of the rest of the population. The rules did not change with Chile’s ‘return to democracy’ in 1990, or, to be more precise, its ‘transition to democracy’. The dictatorship’s constitution was retouched, but not revised at a fundamental level. All successive centre-left and rightwing governments maintained the economic model as sacrosanct, though precarity affected ever more people.
If two people sit down to a meal and eat two cakes, then, statistically, the rate of consumption is one cake per person, even if one of them eats two and the other has none. This is the sleight of hand that allows Chile to present its economic model as a success. It’s not really a dictatorship, but neither is it a democracy; it relies on repression and fear.
Julio Ponce Lerou, former son-in-law of Pinochet, is one of the world’s richest men and heir to an economic empire built by robbing Chileans of what was rightfully theirs (1). He has paid huge sums to most Chilean senators, deputies and government ministers to encourage them to pursue privatisation. When Chileans found out about this, the government suggested that criticising these actions would end the ‘Chilean miracle’, then it repressed the protests.

Multinationals own all the water

Chile’s water — all of it, in rivers, lakes or glaciers — belongs to a handful of multinationals. The government responded to popular protests at this situation with the only form of communication it is prepared to countenance, police brutality. The same thing happened when people mobilised to defend Chile’s natural heritage from power generation transnationals; and when high school students demanded good quality education, not governed by market forces; and when much of the country came to the defence of the oppressed Mapuche people. The government responded in the same way every time, repressing the protesters and claiming that they were endangering the Chilean economic miracle.
Chile is not really a dictatorship, but neither is it a democracy; it relies on repression and fear
The peace of the Chilean oasis was not shattered just because the price of metro tickets in Santiago went up. It has been destroyed by injustices committed in the name of macroeconomic statistics, and by the insolence of ministers who suggested that people get up earlier to save money on public transport (cheaper outside peak hours), buy flowers instead of bread (because the price of flowers, unlike that of bread, hadn’t increased), and organise bingo nights to raise money for the repair of school roofs.

Saying no to precarity

The peace of the oasis has been destroyed because it is not fair that students graduating from university are burdened with a debt that will take 15-20 years to pay off.
It has been destroyed because the pension system is controlled by predatory companies that speculate with their collected contributions and pass their losses on to pensioners, who receive tiny annuities based on a morbid calculation of the number of years they have left to live.
It has been destroyed because workers, labourers and small employers choosing a fund to manage their pension capitalisation accounts have to remember the government warning that ‘the size of your pension will depend on how clever you are when investing your savings on the financial markets.’
It has been destroyed because a majority of Chileans are now saying no to precarity and setting out to win back their lost rights.
No rebellion is more just and democratic than that of the Chileans. The demonstrators demand a new constitution that represents the whole country in all its diversity. They demand the reversal of the privatisation of sea and water. They demand the right to exist and to be considered as active participants in the country’s development. They demand to be treated as full citizens, not as an unimportant element of an economic model that must fail because of its inhumanity.
No rebellion is more just and democratic than that of the Chileans. And no repression, however harsh or criminal, can hold back a people rising up against it.
Luis Sepúlveda
Luis Sepúlveda is a Chilean writer and the author of The Story of a Seagull and the Cat who Taught her to Fly (translated from Spanish), Alma, Richmond (Surrey), 2016.
Le Monde diplomatique

May 2020

Thirty years since the collapse of the Soviet bloc
In the name of the communist ideal



One of the received ideas that became a ‘truth’ after the fall of the Berlin Wall was that the Soviet bloc’s populations cursed communism, yet obeyed it slavishly. In fact, many social movements within the Eastern bloc had long aspired to genuine socialism.


by Catherine Samary

cc. Carlos Reusser Monsalvez

The collapse of the Soviet bloc in 1989-1991 is still portrayed as a collection of simplistic clichés (1). British political analyst Timothy Garton Ash says that ‘in 1989 Europeans proposed a new model of non-violent, velvet revolution’ (2), a reverse image of that of the storming of the Winter Palace in October 1917. Nothing incarnated this model better than Czechoslovakia and Václav Havel, the long imprisoned, dissident playwright who became president in 1989. This interpretation gives liberal ideology and its representatives a preponderant weight in the West’s victory at the end of the cold war.

Havel himself didn’t believe this. In 1989, he said, ‘Dissidence was not ready... We only had a minimal influence on the events themselves.’ To designate the decisive factor, he looked a little further east: ‘The Soviet Union could no longer intervene, without opening an international crisis and completely putting an end to the new policy of perestroika [reconstruction]’ (3).

Some years earlier, Garton Ash had used the neologism ‘refolution’ (from reform and revolution) (4), to reflect the combined traits of 1989-1991: a challenge to the political and socioeconomic structure of the existing system in a capitalist sense (revolutionary or counter-revolutionary, according to perspectives), but through reforms imposed from above. Charter 77 — the intellectual opposition front to which Havel belonged — showed remarkable resistance to the ‘normalisation’ of Czechoslovakia under occupation, but expressed no consensus on socioeconomic issues nor did it have the support of any organised social base.

Mass democratic mobilisations have, in fact, existed at the heart of these regimes: workers’ riots in June 1953 in Berlin, workers’ councils in Poland and Hungary in 1956, the Prague Spring of 1968 (prolonged by the birth of the Czech workers’ councils), the revolutionary trade unionism of Solidarność (Solidarity) in Gdansk, Poland, in 1980. It is this history that the liberal interpretation of 1989 obliterates or falsifies — and tries to appropriate by presenting it as anti-communist. These popular movements fought, not to re-establish capitalism, but on the contrary in the name of socialist ideals.

If the end of the single party was popular; the philosopher Slavoj Žižek recalled that ‘Behind the Wall the peoples did not dream of capitalism’ (Le Monde, 7 November 2009). Capitalism’s triumph did not arise from a mass desire, but a choice made by the communist nomenklatura: to transform its privileges of function into privileges of ownership. Although the elites’ ‘grand conversion’ has been analysed (5), there are few studies on the social base of the old single party, which, though it became restive, did not demand privatisations.
Workers’ councils in Poland and Hungary

‘We can ask why it is the Polish working class which, out of all the countries in eastern Europe, periodically resumes the class struggle, and why now’, Polish journalist and former communist militant Victor Fay suggested in 1980 (6). Each of the great Polish independence struggles was marked by powerful workers’ mobilisations that, after the second world war, extended into a subtle relationship with the Communist Party of Poland (Polish United Workers’ Party, POUP), and also with the changing policy of the Kremlin in relation to eastern European communist parties.

The rupture in 1948 between Tito (Josip Broz) of Yugoslavia and Joseph Stalin showed the conflict between aspiration to the sovereignty of a national communism and the hegemonic policy of the Kremlin. It was accompanied by ‘anti-Tito’ purges in Poland, Bulgaria, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. After Stalin’s death, public apologies by his successor Nikita Khrushchev to the Yugoslav communists and the denunciation of Stalin’s crimes during the 20th Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in February 1956 revived the hope that Moscow would respect the egalitarian relationships, national and social, which in theory structured the Soviet universe.

Until the 1980s, all the great democratic uprisings sought, explicitly or in practice, to reduce the gap between the reality of bureaucratic oppression and socialist principles. Thus, the emergence of workers’ councils in Poland and Hungary in 1956 went along with the demand for the Stalinist leaders’ marginalisation, and was supported by significant sections of each of the parties. Discovering the limits of de-Stalinisation in the USSR, Tito’s Yugoslavia decided in 1956 to encourage the non-aligned movement, while affirming self-management (in contrast to centralised planning) as the ‘Yugoslav road to socialism’.

In Poland, Moscow was concerned by the triumphal return of Władysław Gomulka to the head of the POUP in October 1956 (from which he had been excluded in 1948), the decollectivisation of land and the favours accorded to the Church. However, Gomulka’s profession of communist faith and his promise to respect the ‘Soviet big brother’ pushed the Kremlin to concentrate rather on bringing Hungary to heel. Though Poland escaped Soviet intervention, its workers’ councils were contained, even if self-management rights were conceded in the universities: the threat to challenge these later led to the 1968 student explosion.

During the 1960s, workers’ strikes against planned price increases expressed the strength of an attachment to the ‘egalitarianism’ and ‘stability of employment’ that underlay what economist Michael Lebowitz analyses as a kind of (alienated) ‘social contract’ by which the single party sought to stabilise its reign, in the name of the workers and on their backs. (7). Socialist legality, which made producers the proprietors of the means of production, was expressed recurrently in the emergence of workers’ councils in workplaces, while the privileges of the communist nomenklatura were simultaneously denounced. The leaders were never perceived as legitimate proprietors. It was the restoration of capitalism after 1989 which would establish their true powers of ownership, that of selling off the factories and introducing the masses to capitalist unemployment.
Social and ownership rights

Meanwhile, the party-state had power to manage enterprises, which it used to stabilise its regime, as an alternative to simple repression. Official trade unionism concentrated its action on the distribution of a social income (non-monetary and associated with employment in the big conglomerates) in the form of access to housing, health services, vacation centres or stores. In the Soviet Union’s last decade, more than 60% of workers’ incomes originated from these collective funds in kind (8). Under this system, all economic choices and mechanisms (including prices) were perceived, correctly, as political. Hence the rapidly subversive dynamic of strikes, which switched almost spontaneously from economic issues, to the demand for social and ownership rights to be recognised as legitimate.

Indeed, in the 1960s, reforms of centralised planning would attempt to reduce waste and improve the quality of goods produced, but without substantially increasing workers’ rights. It was about introducing autonomy of enterprise management and encouraging directors to compress costs, which threatened the social contract. These attempts were blocked by strikes (in Poland) or would lead, as a consequence of social movements, to an enlargement of the liberties and rights of workers in the enterprises, as in 1968 in Czechoslovakia. In Yugoslavia, ‘market socialism’ came to a halt in the early 1970s after an upsurge of strikes and political struggles (Belgrade’s ‘June 68’) against inequality and the ‘red bourgeoisie’. The violent repression of the Polish strikes in 1970 led to Gomulka’s fall and his replacement by former miner Edward Gierek, president from 1970-80.

In Poland, Yugoslavia, Hungary, Rumania and the German Democratic Republic (RDA), the blocking of market reforms went in the 1970s with an opening to western imports, to respond to consumer demand and improve the efficacy of production through transfers of technology. The hard currency debt crisis which affected all these countries (9) was reflected in Poland by a new attempt at price reform, which led to an escalation of strikes, confrontations and negotiations, laying the bases for workers’ self-organisation on a nationwide scale in 1980-1981.

During the battle for the legalisation of Solidarność, there was a rise in power inside the independent trade union of a strong self-managed current (10). With more than ten million members, of which two million were Communist Party members, the independent union won the right to legally hold its congress in August 1981. A counter-power and a social project anchored in socialism and the self-managed control of economic choices was being developed (11). What then happened between 1981 and 1989 so that neoliberal ‘shock therapy’ could be administered without much resistance after the fall of the Wall?
The two Solidarnośćs

ThePolish Marxist intellectual Karol Modzelewski, who was deeply involved in the struggles of Solidarność for which he was an adviser and spokesperson, witnessed to a conception of democracy that, contrary to that of Havel, does not stop at the doors of the workplace. In Nous avons fait galoper l’histoire. Confessions d’un cavalier usé (12), he concludes, like Havel, that the course taken in 1989 in Poland and in all the countries of Eastern Europe was determined by the situation in the USSR. But for him, this meant that Polish workers no longer weighed on the political dynamic. The cause of this was the introduction of martial law by General Wojciech Jaruzelski in December 1981. Modzelewski estimates that 80% of its members then left the union (forced underground), which led to a profound demoralisation and the demobilisation of a whole workers’ generation.

He distinguishes two Solidarnośćs. One was the ‘big’ union, solidaristic and fraternal, ‘the child of socialism’, capable of ‘making history gallop’. The second emerged transformed by its passage underground: it ‘was no longer a mass workers’ movement, but a relatively narrow anti-Communist conspiracy’. From then on, the return to legality around the Round Table of 1989 (13) produced a ‘clash of values’: everything separated the ‘collectivist and solidaristic’ aspiration of the original workers’ union and the type of ‘liberty without equality and without fraternity — hence precarious’ advocated by the new Solidarność, acclaimed by the pro-western liberal intelligentsia.

For the new and old ‘élites’ of 1989, ‘the West was like Mecca’, says Modzelewski, who perceived at this moment a divorce between intellectuals and workers. Certainly, at the time of the electoral triumph of 1989, ‘nearly everyone felt the taste of victory’. But ‘afterwards, they began to lose — lose on their wages, lose their work, lose the implantation in the community of the liquidated factories, lose the certainty of tomorrow and lose their social dignity.’ The ’self-managed Polish republic’ inscribed in the programme of Solidarność was in contradiction with capitalist restoration. But would it have resisted a Soviet military intervention?

A review of the Czechoslovak experience of 1968 reveals instead some arguments in favour of an open history. The traditional analysis of the Prague revolt, says Karel Kovanda (14), who was involved in it as a student, opposes the forces of the conservative bureaucracy — around the secretary of the Czechoslovak Communist Party, Antonín Novotný — to those of the liberal reformers incarnated by his successor, Alexander Dubček, all this in a context of restructuring of the planned economy. But this superficial cleavage hides another, at least equally structuring, inside the progressives, according to Kovanda. He distinguishes on the one hand ‘technocrats in the economic area, liberal in politics’ who ‘demanded very controlled reforms... conducted from above’. They were found ‘inside and outside the Czechoslovak Communist Party’, as were the members of the second component, what he calls the ‘radical democrats’. For the latter, ‘a mass popular participation was an essential condition to undertake a change of system going beyond the cosmetic’ — which raised the question of the mobilisation of the workers.
‘Socialism with a human face’

It was to boost the popularity of the reforms that Dubcek advanced the idea of a ‘socialism with a human face’ from which the movements from below would emerge immediately. According to Kovanda, the Central Council of Trade Unions (URO), one of the more conservative bodies in the country, received in the first weeks of 1968 around 1,600 resolutions from local sections concerning the question of rights lost by the workers, including in the function of the official union itself. The trade union newspaper Práce launched a crusade ‘demanding more extensive powers for the workers’, while, in April 1968, the influential weekly Reportér published a column calling for a self-managed workers’ movement.

Concrete proposals of statutes were drawn up, in particular in the factories of ČKD, the biggest industrial complex in Prague, and those of Škoda, in Plzeň. In April 1968, the Communist Party central committee had to integrate into its programme the question of workers’ councils. In a study published that year in the review of the CP’s central committee, Nová Mysl (‘new spirit’), focusing on 95 councils, the sociologist Milos Barta stresses ‘the rapidity with which, after the development of the process of democratisation in society, the idea of founding preparatory committees for workers’ councils took root and spread’ (15). On the eve of the entry of Soviet troops into Czechoslovak territory, on 21 August 1968, ‘nearly 350 workers collectivities assumed that a workers’ council would be at their head as of January 1, 1969’.

Before this surge of self-management, the project of a reform under technocratic guidance was vanishing. Positions were taken not between conservatism and reform, but between radical democracy and a return to the bureaucratic grip. The invasion only accelerated this trend. The ČKD factory hosted, in the district of Vysočany, the clandestine Communist Party congress, which denounced the intervention and elected a new Central Committee, not recognised by Dubcek, himself implicated with other leaders in a spirit of compromise with the Kremlin. In this context, Kovanda stresses, ‘the Prague Spring could only continue through the autumn to the extent that massive popular investment continued’, with the ‘transformation of the factories into bastions of economic democracy — via the councils ‘as principal priority’.

In September 1968, there were 19 councils; from 1 October, 143 others began to function. At the end of October, while the tanks of the Warsaw Pact (16) patrolled the streets, the government, still led by Dubcek, declared, without having been ordered to do so by the Soviets, that it was ‘not appropriate to pursue this experience’. This outcome led to a wave of union protests which were taken up by the press. In January 1969 — after several months of occupation —, ‘the councils represented more than 800,000 persons, a sixth of the labour force’ (outside of agriculture), Kovanda recalls. Others were still forming in spring 1969. In late June, ‘the existence of 300 councils and 150 preparatory committees was reported, with a prestige associated with the biggest enterprises in the country. A little more than half were CP members.
For a ‘radical democracy’

But the crackdown had begun. From January 1969, the praesidium of the party had denounced the worker and student strikes. The student Jan Palach set fire to himself on 16 January. On 17 April, Dubček was removed from his post. During the summer of 1970, the workers’ councils, initially smothered de facto, were banned. The ‘normalisation’ was complete.

For Jaroslav Šabata, a member of the self-management current of the CP, elected to the central committee during the clandestine congress of August 1968, the Czechoslovak communists ‘should be proud of the Vysočany congress, which rejected the invasion of the Warsaw pact’; but they should be less proud of having ‘themselves contributed to the dispersal’ of the sovereign and self-managed ‘radical democracy’, which this congress supported. On the other hand, its consolidation ‘would have immensely encouraged all the reformist forces of the Soviet bloc and of the USSR also”’ (17).

Šabata explains that he signed Charter 77 because a ‘radical democracy’ was needed inside the Communist movement also. However, the social dimension of such a democracy — subjecting the economy to collective choices made in a context of egalitarian social relations — was far from being consensual inside of Charter 77. And is completely incompatible with the treatment of the workers in the ‘actually existing capitalism’ and ‘European construction’ which emerged after 1989.


Catherine Samary is an economist and the author of Communism, Democracy & The Commons (co-ed), Merlin Press & Resistance Books, 2019.
Translated by Bernard Gibbons