Omar Pinto, who works for the popular radio station Radiorama,
sits under a framed poster of Madonna as young hipsters walk in and
out of the station on a recent day in downtown Caracas. The hit song
"Flying between your arms," by Latin pop icon Marc Anthony, comes on
"We play the greatest hits - salsa, rancheros, Cuban music," he
says. "See, it's just Latin music. Greatest hits."
A moment later, the station puts out a traditional Venezuelan
folk song. It's as if someone flipped a switch on the format. Mr.
Pinto can't even name the artist. By airing the song, however, the
station helps fulfill its obligation under a federal "social
responsibility" law, which mandates that 50 percent of what DJs play
be Venezuelan - much of it traditional music.
"No, we wouldn't play that song before," says Pinto, almost
laughing at the question. "It's not very popular."
Welcome to another dimension of Venezuelan President Hugo
Chavez's socialist "revolution" and war against the West. The man
who recently announced plans to nationalize key industries and who
has become the world's most outspoken scold of President Bush also
wants to take on Walt Disney and Snoop Dogg.
He is trying to promote a national identity and more independence
from "imperialist" America by forcing radio stations to play
indigenous music, granting prominent space to amateur Venezuelan
artists in museums, and setting up a state-run movie studio. It may
be one of the world's bolder - and most controversial - experiments
in trying to engineer a culture.
To supporters, the move may well give artists who otherwise might
be swept aside by the forces of capitalism and commercialism an
opportunity to develop their craft - and, by extension, enhance the
artistic diversity of a nation.
But critics, including many artists themselves, see the move as a
political gambit - one that, in trying to promote a national
cultural identity, threatens the very integrity of the culture
"They [Chavez administration officials] have no respect for
culture in Venezuela," says Beatriz Sogbe, an art historian here.
"You can't hang culture within the law."
Miguel Miguel, an art curator, thought he made a mistake two
years ago when he visited the Museum of Contemporary Art in Caracas.
He attended what was billed as a "megaexhibit." It turned out to be
a government-conceived show in which amateur artists were invited to
hang their works next to modern masterpieces. On a recent day, half
of the museum's 13 rooms, including one with famous Picasso
sketches, were dedicated to a contest for Venezuelan artists.
"In Venezuela, we used to be the envy of Latin America in terms
of the quality of our museums," he says. "Today it's grand populism,
a grand confusion, and mediocrity.... I thought I was at the wrong
For Ms. Sogbe, the concern is not that the country will suddenly
develop a taste for amateur or mediocre art. It's that people won't
get to experience great art or great music or great film -
especially the poor who don't have the means to visit world-class
exhibitions and concert halls outside their own cities.
"If you don't know Bach, you don't miss Bach," she says. "Culture
is not folklore; folklore is just a part of it."
But the Chavez administration and some others believe that
government mandates can encourage more creativity and cultural
distinctiveness. Sergio Curiel, a movie editor who has worked on
such Venezuelan thrillers as "The Black Sheep" (1987) and "Shoot to
Kill" (1990), believes it's time for more of the country's own
traditions and talents to appear on the Big Screen.
He likes to quote the French screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere,
who once said: "I believe that a nation unable to recognize itself
in the 21st century fictions that are fed to it will disappear