Italian notes (and other notes of a traveling sociologist) is the title of the new book by Roberto Gargarella: lawyer, sociologist, doctor of Laws, Conicet researcher, university professor and one of the most respected jurists in Latin America. Published by the Seix Barral label, it is a series of chronicles that portrays fleeting but compelling moments in recent history, and from a very unique point of view.
“Ritual traveler when he returns to cities he knows, or a surprised traveler when he arrives in unknown cities, Gargarella maintains the grace and elegance of a flâneur, the curiosity of a novice and the serenity and patience of a contemplative spirit to construct this fresco of written postcards,” he said Leila Guerriero about this book, while Martin Caparros He defined him as “an authentic chronicler of all those worlds that make up our world.”
Below is a fragment:
I came to Venezuela for a few days, for a seminar organized by the Supreme Court of Justice, on the tenth anniversary of the Venezuelan Constitution. The seminar is organized together with a meeting of progressive Latin American jurists. The people are kind, very lovable.
Today we had the first meeting that, surprisingly for me, was inaugurated by Hugo Chávez. And, because of those things, I ended up having a curious and harsh encounter with him. There goes the story.
Chávez arrives at the main meeting room of the Court, amidst great commotion, two hours later than scheduled. We had seen him arrive, very slowly, and through closed-circuit television, while he stopped to talk at length, very long, with some children who were waiting to greet him around the palace. The meeting had already been inaugurated by the president of the Supreme Court, who (understand well) had proclaimed that the division of powers was an Anglo-Saxon invention, that it was no longer useful and that it should go to a system of “Unity of Power” (as she called it). ). Notice what we are talking about, in this time and place: Unity of Power, all branches of government aligned under the President. I mean, Power Unit, aligned under the orders of President Chávez.
Chávez approaches the group of foreign professors who are around (it was my turn to speak after him!). He stops, with all the time in the world—although it was already late—and begins to chat, randomly, with all of us. Many are excited, moved. At one point, he greets a Brazilian colleague, whom he sees tearing up with excitement. This already bothers me a lot: I thought it was a lack of respect to arrive so late (we had been waiting for two hours without knowing what was happening, teachers, male and female magistrates) and I think the personalistic devotion on the part of some of my friends is excessive. Colleagues: Is it that big of a deal? Then, this situation occurs, and these dialogues, which I reproduce theatrically and from memory.
Chávez: Are you from Brazil? Look at President Lula. He cannot be re-elected because the Constitution prohibits him from doing so. The people love him, but the rules prohibit his re-election. 80% want him, but he cannot be re-elected.
Many people in the audience nod and laugh.
Chávez: These are the problems between the Constitution and democracy (and they are getting worse). Because how is this that the President cannot be re-elected if the people vote for him, 80%. Here we changed the Constitution and they began to tell me: “Tyrant Chávez”, “Chávez is a tyrant.”
Part of the audience, who listens, nods. I regret it a little. I ask myself: Do I say something or do I say nothing?
Chávez: The people want to re-elect him, but he cannot be re-elected. But who made those rules? Who wrote that Constitution?
The majority nods their heads. My colleague from Brazil nods and cries.
I feel like I can’t stand that unwavering adulation anymore. I swallow and respond: “That Constitution was written by the people of Brazil.”
Lightning cuts through the room. Total ice. He, Chávez, who had barely seen me, looks at me with a very hard look. The audience that was around us freezes.
Chávez: So the people wrote it? Me: Of course.
With one eye, I look around, remember the military scenario around us (the entire country I saw is militarized) and worry a little about the situation (mine).
Chávez: And you are going to speak today? I do.
Chávez: And what are you going to talk about? Of tyranny, of dictatorship?
“Oops,” I say to myself inside.
Me: I am going to talk about Latin American constitutionalism.
Chávez: From capitalism?
Me: No, no, of constitutionalism. Chávez: Are you a capitalist?
Me: No, I’m a socialist.
“Oops,” I say to myself.
There, luckily, a Bolivian colleague intervenes, who—noticing the tenseness of the situation—seeks to relate socialism to the triumph of Evo Morales in his country. Then, Chávez smiles at us, says it’s about class struggle, and we happily move on to another topic.
December 2009, Caracas
