FRANKLIN BRITO is not well-known outside Venezuela, and the country’s government would like it to stay that way. Late on Monday night, the 50-year-old farmer and biologist died from a hunger strike in the military hospital in Caracas, the capital, where he had been held against his will, virtually incommunicado, since December.

FRANKLIN BRITO is not well-known outside Venezuela, and the country's government would like it to stay that way. Late on Monday night, the 50-year-old farmer and biologist died from a hunger strike in the military hospital in Caracas, the capital, where he had been held against his will, virtually incommunicado, since December.

Mr Brito's sad saga started seven years ago, when his 250-acre fruit and vegetable farm in the south-eastern state of Bolívar was taken over by neighbours. He later discovered that INTI, the government's land-reform agency, had granted them rights to occupy his land, in what he saw as an act of revenge by a corrupt local mayor.

He then began an extraordinary, and often lonely, fight to regain sole title to his farm. To raise awareness of his case, he staged six separate hunger strikes, amputated his little finger and had his lips sewn together. The government sometimes said it would meet his demands if he ended the hunger strikes, but inevitably reneged once he did. It also offered him $230,000 in compensation. But he turned down almost all of it, saying the payment was illegal and that he could be accused of corruption if he accepted it. Although the people occupying his farm left last year, their legal right to return at any time was never revoked.

In 2009 Mr Brito transferred his hunger strike to the pavement outside the offices of the Organisation of American States (OAS) in Caracas. This step, which led an OAS delegation to attempt to mediate, drew too much attention to the case for the government's taste. In December it sent police to transfer him to the military hospital by force.

Despite pressure from the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, the courts, which mainly do Mr Chávez's bidding, refused to order his release. Government spokesmen said Mr Brito was mentally ill and needed to be detained for his own protection. But they never provided any evidence to support this claim. The authorities themselves undermined it when they filmed him without his permission, and then presented a crudely edited video that suggested he was trying to blackmail the government for money.

Mr Brito sealed his fate when he began refusing even liquids. In a statement issued shortly after his death, his family insisted that he would “live on in the struggle of the Venezuelan people for property rights, justice, freedom and human rights.” His widow, Elena, has vowed to continue the fight. “This is our only project in life,” she said last year, “and my four children depend on it.”

The government clearly could have stopped Mr Brito from taking his life by restoring his exclusive title to his land. But Hugo Chávez, the leftist president, seems to have calculated that standing firm against his demands would be more politically advantageous. Human-rights organisations in Venezuela say that around 2,500 people are currently subject to criminal proceedings for engaging in peaceful dissent. The space to do so is shrinking every day.



