Crooked computer programmers defeat will of the people
Carlos Alberto Montaner
I was wrong. On Aug. 15, I published an article in the Madrid newspaper ABC in which I predicted a comfortable victory for the opposition against Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez.
It was the day of the referendum. I based my prediction on four authoritative polls and on one fact that seemed definitive: According to the surveys, 55 percent of the women opposed Chávez, 39 percent supported him. That 16 percent difference was insurmountable. It was a transversal vote that ran through the nation's entire social spectrum. It seemed that the opposition should win without difficulty, and Chávez would be unable to resort to fraud, given the avalanche of votes against him.
That same afternoon, I phoned Caracas to find out how the voting was going. My sources confirmed my prediction. According to exit polls conducted after six million voters had participated, 59 percent of the people said that they had voted against Chávez, and 41 percent said that they had supported him.
I asked who had conducted the exit polls and was told that three different companies did them. Among them was Penn, Schoen & Berland, former President Clinton's pollsters, a New York firm famous for its accuracy. Its margin of error was 1 percent, and throughout its professional history the firm had never erred.
Just in case, I asked about the size of the sample, and the answer was conclusive: They had selected 267 polling places throughout the country and had taken the required precautions by picking the voters equitably. There was no doubt. The opposition had triumphed by a margin of almost 20 percent.
That kind of survey can fail if the voters lie. But that happens only when they fear reprisals and, obviously, to say that they voted for Chávez would not generate any sanctions.
By 5 p.m., all well-informed people in Venezuela and abroad knew that Chávez had been soundly defeated. But then the president of the National Electoral Council, Francisco Carrasquero, a contumacious Chavista who, like El Cid, wins battles after he's dead, announced two startling decisions: The referendum would be extended for several hours, and he was going to take a nap.
His task consisted of proclaiming Chávez's victory, and he wouldn't even have to invent the results because they would emerge from the official computers. Technically, he would not lie. He was an accomplice with a good alibi that would serve him well if someday he were brought before the courts of justice.
And so it was. The computers declared Chávez the winner with approximately 60 percent of the votes, while the opposition garnered only 40 percent. The predicted results had been reversed, almost to the millimeter.
In other words, the exit polls, which are not infallible but usually operate with a minimal margin of error, for the first time in the history of electoral surveying had erred by 40 percent, something practically impossible to believe.
Evidently, we are looking at an electronic fraud that the opposition is beginning to document patiently and with difficulty. The programs of thousands of computers were skillfully altered to limit the votes against Chávez.
This was a virtual, not real, victory, but it was enough to legitimize the government's triumph in the eyes of the international agencies and particularly the Carter Center and the Organization of American States, which announced Saturday that their audit supported the official results.
These two agencies know that agreeing with the opposition would plunge the country into a conflict that could drift into violence and inevitably will have international repercussions.
Strictly speaking, it is possible to understand the dilemma that Jimmy Carter and César Gaviria face. Formally, Chávez won, although they may suspect, even without conclusive proof, that he won in a fraudulent manner.
What to do? In my opinion, the most sensible thing would have been not to make a pronouncement, but rather create an international tribunal of experts to analyze and verify the electoral results. After all, neither the representatives of the Carter Center sent to Venezuela nor the OAS observers have the technical capability to analyze criminal manipulations of computer software.
I began this article conceding that I had erred by believing the electoral predictions in Venezuela. How did I err? I erred by believing that, faced with a huge defeat, Chávez would have to submit to the will of the people. Chávez was not counting on the people for his victory. A handful of crooked computer programmers would suffice. I should have realized this sooner. My regrets.
August 24, 2004.
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