HEADS WILL ROLL. TOPPLING THE TYRANT’S STATUES

My home country, Venezuela, is in turmoil.

The recent presidential election, marred by electoral fraud committed by the Chavista/Madurista regime, has ignited a fresh wave of political unrest and public outrage. As the country struggles with the repercussions of 25 years of dictatorship and the fallout from this disputed election, the streets have turned once again into sites of protest and collective action.

One of the most striking signs of this widespread unrest is the toppling of Hugo Chávez statues. Across the nation, these monuments to the late leader’s legacy are now being destroyed, revealing the growing discontent, disillusion, and anger that had been bubbling under the surface, even among his former staunch supporters.

The toppling of Chávez statues has emerged as a powerful symbol of collective dissent. Even more so, as collective catharsis. — Erected as monuments to Chávez’s impact, these statues were built to symbolize both pride and loyalty to his revolutionary ideals. However, they also stand as markers of the regime’s oppressive flaunting of power over the people. They epitomize the idolatry and cult of personality that characterized both Chávez’s and Maduro’s narco-kleptocracy.

As with all works of art, the statues carry a distinct message. These sculptures sought to project the strength and permanence of the «Bolivarian» government model. They’re rough, imposing, and anything but subtle; designed to cement (both literally and figuratively) the regime’s authority in daily life and the public psyche.

It’s important to remember that this regime has been responsible for dismantling renowned public artworks, looting art institutions, and appropriating artworks for private collections within the «Boli-bourgeoisie.»

Symbols and monuments play a critical role in creating a sense of identity, belonging, and national pride. The statue of María Lionza, the Caracas Lion, the Monument to “La Chinita” Virgin of Chiquinquirá—these are examples of cultural icons cherished by the Venezuelan people. However, the Chávez/Maduro regime has endeavored to substitute cultural symbols with instruments of political ideology. Dr. Adriana Delgado (my mom 🙂) aptly refers to the Chávez statues as «Big Brother in Concrete.»

The iconography started by Hugo Chávez portrayed him not as a representative of the State distributing benefits through public policies (funded by oil revenue), but rather as the “savior of the people.” He cultivated the belief that without him, social benefits would not exist (and they don’t!), employing political marketing strategies more akin to religious groups than political parties.

This narrative bolstered his image and imposed a devotional/delusional love and adoration for Chávez. He is a myth, and since his death, over 20 statues have been installed across the country (and let’s not forget the infamous eyes), promoting the idea that Maduro —his chosen successor— continues the Bolivarian project. At least 9 of these statues have been destroyed in the last 3 days. The number might have been higher if the regime hadn’t deployed the National Guard to shield the remaining ones.

El Tiro por la Culata (backfire)

Over the past decade, Maduro’s popular support has steadily declined. Many still favored Chávez for his charisma and anti-imperialist rhetoric (despite the hypocrisy and contradictions of his administration and personal life, but that’s another story). But Maduro has been so intensely focused on keeping Chávez as the «forever commander,» the central figure of their (mal)administration, that they failed to see the inevitable backlash.

If art is a transmitter of messages, then the message here is clear: Chávez is responsible for what’s happening right now. People are hungry. People are sick. People are alone, as their families flee the country for safety and to send money back home. And in the midst of overlapping crises and surrounded by all these statues, people are naturally seeing Chávez as the starting point of their suffering, the reason for the widespread destruction and decay of our country.

Destruction as Catharsis

The destruction of these statues is more than just the physical act; it’s a profound rejection of the political system and the legacy of Chávez himself.

Scenes of twisted metal and stone fragments; motorcyclists dragging the fallen Chávezes (or just their heads), soaking the scraps in gasoline and setting them ablaze, vividly illustrate the extreme public frustration and the desire to sever ties with a regime that has failed them in every possible way. Venezuelans yearn to break free, and it’s palpable in the euphoria that erupts with each toppled statue.

I can’t help to think of artist Deborah Castillo’s work, particularly Parricidios and Slapping Power, which I was fortunate to present with Faride Mereb at WPA in 2021. In these performances, Castillo questions the veneration of popular Venezuelan and Latin American heroes by subverting and wrecking these symbols of power. Through various acts of destruction —such as explosions— and visceral, personal gestures, she challenges the sanctity of these figures and critiques the cultural and political narratives that surround them. Her work offers a provocative lens of how iconoclasm can serve as a form of resistance and renewal.

The dramatic images of the Chávez statues’ destruction capture a nation’s catharsis and exposes the intricate relationship between art, politics, and social awakening.

No matter where you are in the political spectrum, idolatry and cult of personality is an atrocity. In Venezuela, as in many historical contexts, art has been used to push this cult, and ironically it is now what’s helping dismantle it.