Chavez won his elections in 1999–from the presidency to the constitutional referendum–by playing us-vs.-them politics. Sounds like traditional Latin populism, right? The votes attracted by Peron in Argentina, Mexico’s PRI, Christian Democrats in Chile or Liberals and Conservatives in Colombia included rich and poor; town and country; young and old; white, brown and black (where relevant); men and women. Not so in Venezuela. Chavez has split society into pro- and anti-Chavistas ideologically and politically, but his sympathizers are not divided. His voters are overwhelmingly poorer, darker-skinned and more unsatisfied with the status quo than those who vote against him–the old political parties, the business federations, the church, the residents of the better Caracas neighborhoods. For better for worse, Chavez has split Venezuela along class lines, with few of the classical catchall features of Latin American populism.

Is this bad? Not necessarily. Latin American democracy, unlike the European version, has done a poor job of spreading the wealth. With some exceptions–for the industrial working class in Argentina, Mexico and Brazil in the ’30s and ’40s–representative democracy hasn’t meant redistribution. Now, thanks to Chavez’s homogeneous electoral support, it might. But, of course, his “class against class” tactics also entail enormous risks. He does not necessarily have to keep everybody happy–in the run-up to the constitutional vote, for example, he mounted a street-fighting, bridge-burning campaign against the Roman Catholic Church. Still, he has to deliver for his followers, who, because they are both socially and economically homogeneous, have relatively well-defined demands and expectations. They will stick with Chavez for a while still, but at some point he will have to begin to fulfill his promises of jobs, social justice, improved education and health services, security for people and property, and honesty in government. His numerous supporters will wait, as long as there seem to be reasonable justifications for delays and obstacles, such as the need to devise a new institutional and policy framework like the Constitution. But they will not wait forever.

In theory, a Latin American politician can get away with alienating most of his country’s elites. It requires the will to do so, the electoral support of the “masses,” the compliance–or at least lack of concern–of Washington and direct control of substantial money or resources (as Chavez has, partly, thanks to over the country’s oil). There is one huge exception to this rule: the Army. It is the only traditional elite sector that can decisively fight back. Others can take their money out of the country, or complain to the United States or to God and the Vatican, but the military can overthrow a government–even one run by a former Army man and coup leader himself. It is always worth recalling: Peron got to power partly thanks to the Army, and was overthrown by the Army in 1955.

There are thus two real perils for Chavez lurking out there: the disenchantment of his electorate and potential conspiracies hatched or encouraged in the ranks of the Venezuelan Army. He knows this better than anyone, and has undoubtedly taken steps to forestall any threat of a coup soon. But he has also generated unrest and resentment in some sectors of the armed forces, and bred the temptation among the other elites in the country to begin courting the military to join an anti-Chavez movement. El comandante continues to cast his spell and control his old comrades-in-arms, but many of the pro-military measures included in the new Constitution–which have awakened suspicions and well-founded fears among many Venezuelan democrats–probably stem from his recognition that the barracks may be home to potential and increasingly real threats to his power.

Chavez has upset an apple cart that was rickety, rotten and ripe for overturning. He is making mistakes, as any irreverent opponent of the status quo is wont to do, and he doesn’t have forever to correct those errors and make good on his promises. But instead of abandoning those who voted for him, he is trying to fulfill the possibly illusory promises he made. Until he actually does anything to threaten the country’s democratic foundation, and as long as he continues to obtain popular backing for his policies at the polls, he remains a notable exception in a region where betrayal, accommodation and resigned acceptance of the status quo have been staples for too long–a full century at least, and perhaps more.