figures

After years of statistical silence, the Venezuelan Central Bank (BC) has now published GDP growth figures. The new series—annual and quarterly, in real terms and using 2007 as the base year—at least allow economic discussion to return to the realm of data. However, the comeback is partial. As has been customary, the BCV released rates of change, but not GDP levels at constant prices, nor values at current prices, nor the sectoral weights needed to understand how the economy is composed.

This omission is not a technical detail. Without weights, growth rates float in a vacuum. They indicate the direction of movement, but not its relevance. A sector may grow by 20% and still remain marginal. Another may expand only slightly and yet dominate the aggregate outcome. Reading GDP solely through growth rates is like looking at a map without a scale.

Based on the sectoral variations published by the BCV, it is possible to conduct an indirect exercise: reconstruct volume indices with base 2007 = 100 and, from them, estimate the implicit sectoral weights within GDP. This is not meant to replace official national accounts, but to extract structural information that is not explicitly presented in the published figures. The result helps answer a key question: what is the Venezuelan economy that has emerged after the recession and the recent rebound actually made of?

Less State production, greater private weight

The first finding is institutional in nature. In 2018, at one of the deepest points of the crisis, the private sector accounted for just 44.8% of GDP, the lowest level observed in the reconstructed series. The public sector, by contrast, exceeded 52%, reflecting both the collapse of private activity and the relative weight of State-led production.

Since then, the relationship has reversed. By 2025, the private sector reaches around 52.1% of GDP, while the public sector declines to 42.4%. The Venezuelan economy emerging from the crisis is, in relative terms, less state-driven than it was at the end of the previous decade.

Oil typically accounted for around 12% of GDP and was often surpassed by manufacturing. Today, the oil sector can be up to four times larger than manufacturing.

This shift should be interpreted with caution. It does not necessarily imply vigorous expansion of the private sector in absolute terms. It rather reflects a sharper and more persistent contraction of the public sector as a direct producer of goods and services. Still, the rebalancing is significant and marks a break from the pattern observed during the most acute years of the crisis.

Oil: renewed centrality with statistical caveats

The second axis of this restructuring is the oil sector. In the new series, its share of GDP stands at around 20.5% in 2020 and rises to approximately 25.9% in 2025. At first glance, these figures suggest an economy once again dominated by oil.

But here a methodological warning is essential. The 2007 base year coincides with a period of high oil prices. This tends to inflate the sector’s relative weight in real terms. In the previous series, based on 1997, oil typically accounted for around 12% of GDP and was often surpassed by manufacturing. Today, the oil sector can be up to four times larger than manufacturing.

This figure should not be dismissed, but it must be interpreted carefully. It reflects both the current structure of the economy and a statistical effect derived from the change in base year. Oil’s centrality remains indisputable, although its exact magnitude depends on the methodological lens.

Sectors gaining ground: information, services, agriculture

Among non-oil activities, the most structural change is observed in information and communications. For more than a decade, between 2007 and 2019, this sector averaged just 5.2% of GDP. From 2020 onward, its share consistently exceeds 10%, consolidating it as one of the main beneficiaries of the recent restructuring.

This increase points to an economy reorganizing around connectivity services, telecommunications, and information flows. It does not necessarily imply high productivity, but it does signal a clear shift in the basket of value-generating activities.

Agriculture follows a different dynamic. While it remains a moderate-scale sector, it now represents about 5% of GDP, compared to an average of 3.3% between 2007 and 2019. The key lies in its relative resilience during the 2014–2020 recession: it declined less than other sectors and, as a result, gained weight within a smaller economy.

Within the services universe, real estate, professional, scientific, technical, administrative, and support activities also stand out. This is a broad and heterogeneous sector, yet it shows a clear pattern over time. Before the crisis, these activities accounted for around 11% of GDP and, like agriculture, displayed relative resilience during the most difficult years of the downturn. In a context of high inflation and exchange-rate volatility, services (particularly professional and technical ones) tend to adjust more flexibly than activities intensive in inventories or physical capital.

Enthusiasm for some growing sectors fades when considering their weights in 2025 GDP: approximately 3.6% for construction, 1.5% for finance, and just 0.8% for mining.

That said, the sector is not without nuance. In 2020 it reached a peak of around 16.7% of GDP, but part of that gain later moderated, settling at about 13% in 2025. This reflects the fact that the aggregate includes very different dynamics: while some professional and technical services expanded, more affected segments, such as real estate activities, continue to operate below historical levels. Even so, as a whole, this block has consolidated itself as the largest non-oil sector in Venezuela’s current economy.

Other sectors, by contrast, show greater structural stability. Trade and vehicle repair, which now account for around 5% of GDP, fell to as low as 3.8% during the most acute years of the crisis (reflecting the collapse in consumption) but have since returned to ranges similar to pre-crisis levels.

A similar pattern is observed in accommodation and food services, which hit a low point during the pandemic (1.3% of GDP in 2020) as a direct consequence of mobility restrictions, closures, and the near paralysis of tourism. It has partially recovered since then, reaching about 1.6% in 2025. Despite the recent attention it has received, its aggregate impact remains moderate and its behavior more stable than popular perception might suggest.

The biggest losers: manufacturing and the producing State

Still within non-oil activities, manufacturing illustrates the scars of the crisis. After exceeding 10% of GDP up to 2013, its share collapsed to a low of around 5.4% in 2019. In subsequent years, a partial recovery is observed, reaching roughly 6.8% in 2025, but still far from historical levels. Rather than reindustrialization, the data point to stabilization at low levels.

The most abrupt adjustment, however, is seen in general government services. After reaching a historic peak of about 22.9% of GDP in 2019, its share drops to just 10.8% in 2025. No other sector loses as much weight in such a short period. The State remains relevant, but its role as a direct producer of value added is now much smaller.

Spectacular growth, limited impact

The highest growth rates in recent years correspond to sectors that remain small. Specifically, between 2023 and 2025, construction recorded cumulative growth of nearly 57%, financial and insurance activities around 40%, and mining close to 27%.

However, the enthusiasm fades when considering their weights in 2025 GDP: approximately 3.6% for construction, 1.5% for finance, and just 0.8% for mining. These are dynamic sectors in percentage terms, but with limited macroeconomic impact due to their size. It is a reminder of why sectoral weights matter as much as growth rates.

What this restructuring tells us, and what it doesn’t

The Venezuelan economy that emerges from this exercise is different from that of fifteen years ago: relatively greater private-sector weight, statistically dominant oil, expanding information services, weakened industry, reduced finance, and a much smaller State as a direct producer.

It is important to stress the limits of the analysis. The weights discussed here are implicit, not official, and depend on the internal consistency of the growth rates published by the BCV. Future revisions could alter some magnitudes.

Even so, the central message is clear. Behind the growth rates that currently capture public attention, there is a silent restructuring of the Venezuelan economy. Understanding it is essential for any serious discussion of economic policy, investment, or productive development. Because in the end, it is not only how much GDP grows that matters, but (perhaps above all) what it is made of.

In the churchyard next to Wilmington Priory in East Sussex, I found a yew so ancient and stooped that its trunk had eaten half a gravestone. Its boughs were supported by long poles, a creepy sight that made me shudder. I had come here to see something just as strange, but more benign than this folk-horror vision – the figure of the Long Man of Wilmington on the hillside opposite, on the steep scarp of the South Downs. He treks over the hill, a stave clasped in each hand. Climbing Windover Hill, just beneath the South Downs Way, I saw that while he was once a chalk giant, his lines are now marked with concrete blocks.

The Long Man may be Anglo-Saxon in origin – the shape is similar to the design on a buckle discovered in Kent in 1964 by the archaeologist Sonia Chadwick Hawkes, which probably represents the god Odin (or Woden); but he may be a much later adornment for the hillside, made to be viewed from the priory. His form entranced the photographer Lee Miller and her husband, the artist Roland Penrose, who lived close to the Long Man. Penrose painted a surrealist representation of the Long Man on the inglenook fireplace at Farleys, their home – for them the figure was a protective spirit. It also inspired the Black composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor, the folk collective the Memory Band, and Benjamin Britten picnicked at its feet.

The Long Man of Wilmington is one of the more famous chalk figures, the mysterious carvings that decorate the hills in England (and almost uniquely in England), numbering 40 or so. They have always been a part of my life. Familiar and simultaneously fantastic, they have fascinated me and many others: film-makers, writers, musicians and artists. They have drawn the attention of historians, archaeologists, antiquarians, all sorts of fellow travellers. Their appearance enlivens walks and invites conjecture.

Many hill figures – most famously horses, but also crosses, crowns, regimental symbols, giants and buried gods – are located close to ancient trackways that have taken pilgrims, traders, warriors and now Gore-Tex missionaries over the rounded chalky hills. By tracing these routes for my book The Tattooed Hills, I was able to get under the skin of these mysterious shapes.

My planned walk of a few miles from the Long Man to the figure of the Litlington White Horse was cut short by a thunderstorm – you don’t want to be in the hills under lightning – so I visited the next day. This small, lonely animal peeks over the hill towards the English Channel near Cuckmere Haven, and was cut secretly, by local people, in a single night in 1924, the successor to an earlier lost figure.

Also close to the coast, in Dorset, I climbed the hill to the huge figure of George III on his horse, Adonis, overlooking his favourite seaside resort of Weymouth. It was carved in 1808 as a tribute to the king and a huge advertisement for the town, although he’s rather faded now. Walking farther north, along the Wessex Ridgeway, I was menaced and fascinated by the huge, priapic figure of the Cerne Giant, on the opposite hillside, dominating the secluded valley with his club held aloft. His date has been hotly contested – he has been believed to be a Romano-British figure, or a 17th-century marauding Oliver Cromwell. Some have thought he was Helith, a pagan god. He is more likely to be a Saxon image of Hercules, or a local saint, Eadwold. This giant is an unreliable shapeshifter, a joker.

Taking the Ridgeway across Wiltshire’s chalk hills will plunge you into the county of white horses, of which eight remain. A midsummer walk from the slim form of the Alton Barnes White Horse took me along the Wansdyke, a great defensive ditch and bank stretching for miles through empty countryside with views of the ancient Silbury Hill, to a similar horse at Cherhill, scampering over the deep-sided coomb, carved in the shadow of a hillfort and signposted by the Lansdowne Monument, which dominates the hillscape and makes it unsettling.

Both horses come with music: the Alton Barnes horse appeared briefly in a video for the Britpop band Dodgy, for their single Staying Out for the Summer. The song mashes together many nostalgic cliches of the time (VW camper vans, space hoppers, crop circles, football tops), summoning up a specific idea of the countryside as a place for raves, and selling it back to us, without its rebellion. In their earlier incarnation as the Timelords, the KLF came to Cherhill to film the video for Doctorin’ the Tardis – not a good song, but one which introduced us to their art-terrorist antics. The KLF make the horse part of a dustier landscape in keeping with this corner of Wiltshire’s weirdness.

Further along the Ridgeway, I came to the greatest and most mysterious figure – the commanding presence of the elongated Uffington White Horse, also sited beneath a hillfort. Archaeology has dated this figure to the late bronze age – 3,000 years ago, give or take – and it’s an extraordinary survival. Generation after generation have cared for this racing animal, somehow keeping it bounded to its wind-blown hill. It too has been an inspiration for musicians: Kate Bush’s Cloudbusting video was filmed here and XTC’s album English Settlement has the horse on its cover. Andy Partridge from XTC told me that the landscape surrounding his native Swindon was an important inspiration: “It marked me like an Avebury stone or the ripples across a hillfort. It made me.”

The Ridgeway gets tangled up with the Icknield Way, which runs over the country’s chalk spine to East Anglia and through the leafy Chiltern Hills, home to a cluster of some of the stranger chalk figures, which include two crosses, one on top of a massive chalk pyramid – the Whiteleaf Cross. Another figure, the Watlington White Mark, has been interpreted as an ancient fertility symbol, but is actually an 18th-century trompe l’oeil of the landscape. Stand in a particular place, it is said, and the chalk obelisk gives the church a spire. Walking east along the Icknield Way took me to Ivinghoe Beacon; from here I could see the prime ministerial retreat of Chequers in the valley below, but what drew my eye was the magnificent chalk figure of the Whipsnade White Lion, cut in 1931-33 to celebrate the opening of the zoo and now occasionally nibbled by wallabies, who help keep it in good shape.

At the far end of the Icknield Way I visited Wandlebury, in the Gog Magog Hills, named for the giants who, in folklore, once ruled Britain. One archaeologist, TC Lethbridge, thought he had found hill figures beneath the turf here; his findings were speculative and nothing remains of them, but the iron age hillfort above, the beechwoods and the nearby ancient track are the chalklands condensed into one country park. What struck me most about the Gog Magog story was something Lethbridge wrote in his book describing the dig, something that I found too as I travelled in search of the stories of the chalk. “There is no need,” he wrote, “to go to the ends of the earth for interesting quests and excitement. It is here, in prosaic old England, at one’s back door.”

The Tattooed Hills: Journeys to Chalk Figures by Jon Woolcott is published by Aurum (£17.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Follow Jon on Instagram at dorsetjonw