Venezuela teens in a Caracas barrio. (Vawter/TYG)

PDVSA’s concept of social responsibility in fact scarcely resembles that of any corporation in the U.S. At times, PDVSA seems like something of a government ministry, even if it is only financing literacy drives or school construction. Since assuming its role, it has even developed a process to implement its projects. The company has hired a number of consultants to send across the country to research local needs and decide where to implement its next batch of social projects. PDVSA officials then form a list of such projects, prioritized by need, to implement once funding is available.

As one company representative said, PDVSA’s appeal is due, in part, to its ability to work outside the government. “Things don’t get lost along the way and there are less existing regulations about putting money down for companies than for the government,” he explained.

There are signs, however, that PDVSA is not all it claims to be. Simply being able to put large sums of money down for social projects is not enough to make them successful.

One PDVSA spokesman proudly presented to the Globalist a slideshow of many of the schools, medical facilities, sports fields, and theaters PDVSA has constructed thus far as part of its social responsibility campaign. The presentation, though, was inconsistent. The spokesman’s financial figures—obviously carelessly put together and dotted with punctuation errors—displayed surprisingly large figures. And despite the spokesman’s enthusiasm, pictures from the slideshow of all the buildings PDVSA has constructed showed not a single person in any of them. In fact, the photographs seemed to indicate many of the projects were not even finished.

When asked who staffs the schools PDVSA builds, the spokesman faltered. “That’s not our responsibility. We build the schools, the rest is up to the Ministry of Education.”

Empty Buildings, Empty Promises

Chávez appeals to the people of Venezuela based on a platform of empowering the country’s poor—a unique position given Venezuela’s history of economic inequality. With seemingly unlimited oil revenues, Chávez easily appeals to the impoverished majority of the Venezuela, securing a powerful political base that consists of a large part of the country. His message of “empowerment” is ubiquitous. Billboards on the main highway in Caracas promote the collective political conscience with red banners proclaiming, “Together we construct quality!” and, “Let us unite: Ten million votes for Chávez!” Elaborate murals cover the facades of buildings from Caracas to Valencia, each celebrating some figure from socialist legend, be it Simón Bolivar or Che Guevara.

Some of Chávez’s domestic programs are implemented and funded by PDVSA, others by the government itself with state oil revenue. Misión Identidád, one such government sponsored project, aims to give identification cards—and voting status—to everyone in country. So-called “Bolivarian universities” supply accessible educational opportunities to the country’s underprivileged. Another example is the Barrio Adentro (“Into the Neighborhood”) program that provides free access to healthcare in the poorest communities of the country. Since its launch in 2003, 20,000 Cuban doctors have entered Venezuela to serve in Barrio Adentro’s clinics. The doctors receive less than what Venezuelan doctors would expect, but far above the typical doctor’s salary in Cuba. In exchange, Venezuela sends 90,000 barrels of oil a day to Cuba for below-market rates. This program has received the praise of the World Health Organization and UNICEF for providing care in shantytowns and poor urban neighborhoods, though they note that hospitals in Venezuela remain crowded and ill-equipped. Venezuelan doctors are the strongest critics of the program, and have staged various protests demanding the expulsion of the Cuban doctors, claiming the Cuban doctors are taking their jobs.