“What did we ever do to deserve the embargo?”
Our tour guide asked us this question in a small group on the bus one day. Since I was the resident capitalist, everyone was waiting to hear what I had to say. Sitting and squirming, my response was less than stellar. It was some sad-sack tome on the value of individual achievement and the market system and how the embargo is the most un-capitalist of measures that hurt everyone. Everyone nodded in acknowledgement of my answer.
This was not what I wanted to say.
I think he deserves a better answer. That answer can also say a lot about post-Castro Cuba—and what can, or will, happen when there is no Castro in power (Fidel, Raul or otherwise).
First of all, the question he asked is the wrong question. No one in their right mind would ever say that anyone, let alone the Cuban people, DESERVE to have their market freedom, their economy, their resources strangled by an embargo. It’s a straw-man argument that forces cheap sympathy yet does little to resolve the conflict.
This should be the better question to ask: “To whose benefit is it to keep the embargo going?”
In both Cuba and here in the States, this is a far more troublesome question, as it often brings the conflicting needs and ideologies of disparate groups into greater focus. A whole list of culprits comes to mind: US business, US military, the Cuban exiles, the Cuban government, the Cuban Communist Party, the Castros, the European corporations in cahoots with the Cuban government.
None of them are completely blameless.
The US and the Exiles
Let’s start with our homegrown suspects—and none have beaten a dead horse for as long as the US military.
For half a century, the US has enforced an economic embargo on the island in a futile attempt to “starve” Cuba into regime change. Even after an ever-flexible authoritarian apparatus and a flood of European companies filling the void, the powers-that-be still insist that this is the best way.
Contrary to what the left thinks, the great American capitalists are NOT pleased with this arrangement. Cuba is the largest market in the Caribbean, and the great US companies are shut out of that action. Granted, their Cuban infrastructure was confiscated during the Revolution, which leaves a bad taste. Yet 50 years later, after European companies managed a foothold in Cuba, shouldn’t some Yankee firms go in and play ball with the Commies if that gives them the future “advanced market entry”?
We’ve been in the embargo business since 1807, and almost all have been unmitigated disasters. Our CIA’s attempts to assassinate Castro—all 638 of them—prove that a Skulls and Bones secret handshake and a Brooks Brothers bow tie make shitty hired killers. So why has the US government not taken the hint? Why have not changed course and forged a new direction in foreign policy?
According to many, especially on the left, much of the reason lies with the powerful, and often troublesome, bloc of Cuban exiles that have come to the United States since the 1960s.
Now, I’m not going to knock the exiles. I have friends who are either exiles themselves or the children of exiles. Most of these people came here for legitimate reasons: escaping political repression, economic opportunity (largely based on the lack of economic opportunity in post-revolutionary Cuba), etc. It would be hypocritical of me to smack down another group of immigrants when I (like most Americans) come from foreign stock as well.
Yet as I look at the organizations and politicians that represent the Cuban community, something troubles me. One is the lack of realistic expectations—and often for nefarious reasons. Though not true of most groups, it’s safe to say that an “embargo industry” has arisen among the myriad groups that represent Cuban exiles. From the benign to the militant, they see the embargo not only as necessary for regime change in their homeland, but also a raison d’etre for their own existence.
Complicating this is the expectations of a post-Castro Cuba: a Cuba where the clock is turned back. This has taken form in two ways: calls for repatriation of confiscated property and nostalgia for the Batista years before 1959.
Here, I’ll be blunt. Cuba will never, and I mean never, return to the days before 1959. Too much has happened, and besides, that era had enough ill will and official malfeasance to negate any misty-eyed feelings in Miami. Whatever happens after the Castros will have to deal with the institutional remains of the Cuban Revolution, not sweep them clean.
That said, reclaiming property and businesses lost in the confiscations of 1959-1962 is a pipe dream. The return of state-run enterprises to private entities will be a slow and painful process in it of itself. 50 years later, I have serious doubts that the absentee former landlords of these properties will be welcomed back to Cuba with open arms.
Below is a Dutch documentary about how Cuban groups are preparing for a post-Castro Cuba.
There are extensive plans over what the government and society of Cuba will look like in the next phase. Yet many exiles see themselves as coming back to “govern” Cuba when the change occurs. While some Cubans may welcome them (Cubans in the US provide millions in aid to their compatriots on the island, after all), there will undoubtedly be resentment among native Cubans towards exiles who invariably had resources to leave the island, instead of suffering the consequences of the revolution as they did.
After half a century, these exiles could be seen as merely another foreign interloper. It isn’t certain, but the exiles may be more of a hindrance than a help to post-Castro Cuba.
The Cuban community, before it sets foot on its homeland again, needs to really consider what it can, and what it cannot bring to the table. This involves the inevitable conclusion that not every exile may want to go back.
The biggest assumption about the exile community, and one that has changed over time, is its homogeneity. We are now at least two generations removed from the first generation of exiles in the 1960s, and at least one generation removed from the Marielitos of the 1980s. Younger Cuban-Americans, with little, if any, firsthand knowledge of the island, must have developed attitudes and opinions that have altered the proscribed course of the “exile” mentality.
The embargo, US-Cuban relations, and other issues have divided, rather than united, Cubans of all ages to the point that they will probably no longer be the solid Republican voting bloc that politicians hoped—turning Cubans into (‘gasp!’) just another Hispanic group pandered to by Democrats ad nauseum. In fact, Cuban-Americans, over time, may possibly cease to even call themselves “exiles,” reflecting the reality of living in another country for half a century.
If less and less people want to go back, what incentive is there to open an embargo that gives your group identity, legitimacy and government funding?
The Castros, the PCC and the Euros that Love Them
So as much as there are people that want the embargo to go away (capitalists, leftists, some politicians and some Cuban exiles), there are others that benefit from the blockage (other conservatives, military establishment, most of the Cuban-American contingent in Congress and other Cuban exiles).
Yet before the Venceremos brigade and the editorial board of Mother Jones starts cheering that I’ve joined the barricades, there’s plenty of blame to spread on the other side. In fact, a lions’ share of the blame goes to the dynamic duo that started this whole mess—the Castro brothers.
It is now common knowledge that the US embargo is a huge reason—perhaps the only reason—that the Castros have remained in power for half a century. With an economic embargo, Fidel and company can blame any and all shortcomings of the regime on American aggression. Regardless of the ineptitude of the government, the embargo stands as the great Yankee bogeyman that keeps Cubans, on the surface, loyal to the Communists in general and Fidel in particular.
Don’t just take my word for it. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton recently stated that the Castros “do not want to see an end to the embargo and do not want to see normalization with the United States, because they would then lose all their excuses for what hasn’t happened in Cuba in the last 50 years.” Former Spanish Prime Minister Jose Maria Aznar, wrote in his 2005 book Portraits and Profiles that Castro would be out of power within three months if the embargo was lifted. Aznar’s words carry an interesting weight, considering that Spanish companies have worked extensively with the Cuban government, particularly in tourism.
Along with the Castros, the Communist Party of Cuba (PCC) and its apparatus of terror also benefit from economic closure. With an economic embargo comes an embargo of information, the perfect mix for paramilitary thugs to exact fear into the populace. The Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDRs) and the Rapid Response Brigades function because the Cuban people have no independent access to information about any alternative to the status quo.
End the embargo, and the whole house of cards will come tumbling down. Woe to the government spies, snitches and CDR block captains that day. Old scores will be settled, neighbors may turn on each other, and the bloodshed may be too much to comprehend.
However, another wrinkle was added to this tale recently. In order to collect hard currency to maintain their power, Fidel and Raul threw the Communist Manifesto out the window and opened limited investment in Cuba to foreign, non-US companies agreeing to joint ventures with the Cuban government. Companies such as Spanish resort conglomerate Melia and Italian telecommunications giant Telecom Italia snaked into the Cuban economy, creating businesses and infrastructure to pump tourist cash into government coffers. How happy would they be to have an embargo lifted, and Hilton Hotels, Coca-Cola and Verizon nipping at their heels?
The Post-Castro Cuba, more questions than answers
Needless to say, lifting the embargo will be but one element in a process leading to what is widely considered a post-revolutionary Cuba.
The next step involves supplanting the Castro regime. All outside efforts to do so have failed, and the internal opposition is relatively rudderless, divided into factions that seldom work together. An interesting article in the Journal of Democracy highlights the difficulties in creating regime change, even with the lifting of an embargo.
Even with a regime change, however, the massive volume of questions that need to be answered—in a relatively short time—would confound even our founding fathers. Here is but a sampling:
- Would the government maintain its current structure or change to something more in line with new ideologies?
- How would elections and political campaigns work?
- How would political parties organize?
- What would happen to the old PCC? Would it be outlawed, like the Nazi party in Germany, or will it be reorganized as one political party among many?
- Would the PCC have to dismantle its apparatus of intimidation, the CDRs, Rapid Response Brigades, etc., in order to participate in democratic politics?
- What is to become of former officers of the old regime, particularly ones considered “criminals”?
- Would institutions of civil order and public maintenance be maintained?
- What would be the military’s role in this new system?
- How would Cuba re-define its relationship to the United States?
- How would Cuba re-define its relationship to allies of the former government, such as Venezuela, Bolivia and Brazil?
- How can the Cuban economy be changed to a capitalist model? Should it be changed at all, or should there be a hybrid of capitalist and socialist elements?
- If government businesses are to revert to private ownership, how will that process work? Will former party leaders suddenly become billionaires as in Russia? Will workers get first crack at shares in new corporations, with full voting rights to boards of directors as well as executive management?
- What is to become of the business relationships made before the regime change?
- How will services like education and health care—cornerstones of the propaganda of the previous regime—continue in the new system?
- How will taxation work?
- Will “full employment” continue to be the goal, or will the process of job creation and unemployment change?
- How open is “open”? Will information be open and accessible, or will some form of censorship exist?
- What protections for basic rights will exist?
- How will crime, law enforcement and incarceration be affected?
- What is to be done about the “legacy” of the Cuban Revolution? Should it be written out like a Stalinist purge, denounced loudly and openly, or integrated into the narrative of Cuban history, focusing both on accomplishments and failures?
This is but a fraction of the problems that will exist in the post-Castro island. Few of them will be resolved right away, and with all regime changes comes some measure of bloodshed—some more than others. My hope is that the process of transition will be as painless as possible.
However, do not expect a Singapore or a Taiwan overnight: the socialist system will probably be weaned slowly from Cuban society, rather than risking a massive revolution with potentially catastrophic side effects.
Finally, I wanted to get back to the original question about the embargo. The tensions between Cuba and the United States, apart from strict ideology, also amount to a crisis of irrationality. Embargos have a tendency to entrench longstanding hatreds and prejudices, and Cuba is no exception.
The voices of reason and pragmatism, however, have been drowned out in the din of obstructionist rhetoric and ideological saber-rattling.
The need for regime change is evident, at least in my eyes. But I’m not naïve enough to say that a quick insurrection will make things great again. The first step is normalization between the two countries. Let reason and rationality prevail, utilizing points of political and economic convergence, and we the openings can happen sooner rather than later.
For the sake of Cuba and the United States, let’s hope and pray that reason can prevail.
And for all the Cubans in Miami and Union City, time to end with a little nostalgia. Here’s a 1932 travel film about Havana. Note the “newly” constructed Capitol building, as well as the snappy straw hats on the Prado. Enjoy.
You say you want a revolution…the Cuba Chronicles, Part VIII
Santa Maria del Mar.
I’m fully convinced that there is no social, political or moral problem that can’t be solved with palm trees, endless beaches, and copious amounts of hooch.
My malaise of the two days previous—a malaise that drove me to violent, often psychopathic thoughts—would finally break on this last day in Cuba. No, I didn’t join the Orlando Bosch fan club, nor did I go on some right-wing killing spree. No members of the CCP were under my knife; not a single CDR apparatchik was swinging from a rope in a rage.
In fact, exactly the opposite: Saturday was the day I reminded myself, for good or bad, why I was falling in love with Cuba.
It began with our group taking an unscheduled break from the routine, at a little place called Santa Maria del Mar. Santa Maria del Mar is part of a string of beach towns that stretch from Havana’s eastern edge. Go far enough, and you reach Varadero, the massive resort mecca of white-sand beach, posh resorts and crowds of tourists that fuels the Cuban tourism machine.
Santa Maria was, thankfully, not Varadero (although I did see Canadians there, too). It was, in fact, a local beach where local Cubans tend to go. Local beach usually conjures up Coney Island, or the Jersey Shore—littered coastlines, mobs of tanned, sweaty bodies in brackish water, teeming boardwalks of hawkers and tacky shops.
Nothing prepared me for this. Though I heard other beaches are more spectacular, it was hard to imagine. Santa Maria was just too beautiful.
The turquoise water, sand clean and white, cushioning breezes, palm trees swaying, little huts to buy drinks…I can see why so many tourists flock here. Sometimes, the last thing you want to think about is politics. A dip in the water, a tan and a drink is what’s necessary.
That wonderful beach couldn’t have come at a better time.
Lying on the deck chair, my hat covering my already-red pate, with the world’s best pina colada in my hand, a voice shouted in my brain:
“Hey asshole! What the fuck’s the matter with you! That’s some sick shit going through your brain, buddy, and I KNOW you’re not like that! Get your fucking act together!”
The Marine drill sergeant that is my conscience couldn’t be clearer. I was so foolish to fritter my last two days in pointless, and violent, daydreams. It wasn’t me, all that killing and gunplay, the horrific thoughts about people with which I felt a genuine connection.
It also dawned on me that it was the Saturday before Easter. Even for a Catholic as lapsed as I, my attitude was entirely un-Christian. There had to be a more positive way to channel my anger, my rage, my indignation.
Inside the Artisan Market
After the sojourn at the beach, we went to the artisan market for some souvenir shopping. It was a very organized affair near a pretty smelly stretch of Havana harbor. Paintings lined two sides of the market, with the usual smattering of shirts, caps, knickknacks and whatnot in the middle. This was definitely a tourist paradise, and it offered me nothing as I quickly strolled through the booths.
Instead, I took a walk outside.
Walking through the streets of the neighborhood outside the market, much of what I hated about Cuba was there in front of me: the dilapidated houses, the lack of amenities, the stores with empty shelves, etc. But that didn’t matter to me today.
On one corner, some guys were fixing an old car. On another, a small gym was packed with people watching what I guessed was amateur boxing. There were women doing laundry, neighbors deep in conversation, and children playing in the street.
Anywhere you go in the world, children have the best radar for foreigners. A group of them immediately took me in, noticing my camera. We played their brand of stickball for a while, using a bottle cap for a ball and a PVC pipe for a bat. It was a great time, at least for the kids: watching a fat, out-of-shape Yankee imperialist shank bottlecaps in all directions had them rolling in laughter.
some of my new friends
A couple of kids, who seemed a little ashamed to be doing it, then came up to me and asked for money. They put together a story about their mother needing an operation and not having enough money. I wasn’t fooled, but I didn’t care: soon enough, the kids on my impromptu kickball team lined up and got about 10 CUC a piece for ice cream, candy and whatever crap they normally could never get. I was able to take some photos of them in return.
When I left to get back to the hotel, the kids were there to wish me bon voyage. I almost cried.
Two new friends mugging for the camera.
That short time with the local kids was the most cleansing experience of my whole trip. I must’ve spent over 100 CUCs on those kids, but it was the best money I’ve spent all week. In my mind, it was better there than in the flea market, where I’m sure a good chunk of that dough goes to the government.
Even more important, it finally broke, once and for all, that terrible dark cloud over me. The good Catholic in me came shining through, and any negative feeling I felt, especially towards anyone on my tour, melted away.
Even though my own political opinions, and my opinions about the Cuban government, didn’t change, my attitude toward Cuba certainly did. Stop shouting so much, stop talking, I said to myself.
Just look and listen. Your senses will never steer you wrong.
When I got back, I made one last visit to Juan’s bookstore. One of the ways I was going to channel my emotion was through charity. Upon greeting Juan, I asked if there was anything he needed, or if I could send back any messages to anyone in the States. He politely refused, but I insisted on giving him some cash to help him out. Ever the rebel, Juan insisted I take some more books with me since he felt bad taking my money for nothing. My bags were already bursting (why is it that the contraband books are all huge, and hardcover?), and I was in no mood to pay more for overweight fees at the airport. Yet I really admired Juan’s spirit, and on giving him a last hug, really hoped to see him again.
I had a great meal in a (wait for it) Middle-Eastern restaurant in Old Havana with great new friends and soda. In a bit of counter-revolution, we’ve made it a practice to sneak in a bottle of rum to avoid giving any marked-up cocktail costs to the regime. It worked until the wait staff didn’t give a shit, which meant we were brazenly hawking the bottle on the table. To the barricades…and bring some ice!
Since we were leaving early in the morning, I made it my business to stay up until we left the next morning. To that end, most of our tour group (the younger folk, mostly) got together as much beer, rum, soda and cups as we could muster and had a Cuban good time on the Malecon. With booze, some little cigars that came from God-knows-where, the music on the street and the people along the seawall, the setting couldn’t be better for a perfect last night.
Mr. D on his last night in Havana.
In my glee, in my zeal, I forgot all of the negativity of the past, at least for a moment. It was important, on this last day, to see everyone for what they were, not what my demented brain was creating them to be.
To be fair, I found something to like in all my groupmates. I may not agree with many of them politically, or socially, or in any other way. Yet it’s safe to say that it was a group of people that were, for the most part, great to be around.
Mariana brought her friends from the last night, and we were all pretty much the last few people hanging out as the hours dripped away…12…1…2…3…
As I talked to her friends, one mantra kept coming out which I hope resonates through the island:
There was a Cuba before the revolution.
There will be a Cuba after the revolution.
Cuba will always be here.
In a place where change can come sooner rather than later, the importance of identity can never be underestimated. Change is going to happen, whether those on the left or right like it or not. If it does, Cuba cannot forget what makes it a special and unique place.
It has nothing to do with a group of bearded guys with guns, a repressive government and a stagnant economy.
Without Cuba, we wouldn’t have beautiful beaches, rich colonial heritage, a polyglot society of African, Native American and European influences, great rum, fantastic cigars, strong cups of coffee, music such as son, mambo, salsa, cha cha, Jose Marti’s stirring words, Gutierrez Alea’s thought-provoking films, black beans and rice, a lechon on the barbecue, the daiquiri, the Cuba Libre, the mojito, great baseball players (the ones that defect, anyway.), reruns of I Love Lucy, straw hats, old cars, and an even older spirit of camaraderie and bonhomie that can only exist on an island like this one.
Say what you will about the politics, because Cuba doesn’t need it to be a special place. It already was one, and as I took off on the plane home, I saw the island one last time.
It was so beautiful.
It was a beauty that made me angry sometimes, even psychotic.
Yet it was beautiful, nonetheless.
I really grew to love this country. More importantly, I cannot wait for the opportunity to go back.
Next Time, an Epilogue will tie up my loose ends on Cuba, including an analysis of what is in store for the future of the island.
As an added bonus, I’m putting a music video to a popular song from Cuba, Gozando en la Habana (Having Fun in Havana) by Charanga Habanera. It’s cheesy, I know, but it was a real feel-good song, and it always put a smile on my face. Enjoy.
Leave a comment
Filed under Uncategorized
Tagged as Comedy, Commentary, Communications, Cuba, Cuba culture, Cuba history, Cuba politics, Cuba travel, Cultural Literacy, current events, Education, Educational leadership, Havana, History, Humor, Humour, la Habana, Latin American history, Latin American politics, Latin American Travel, Media, Opinion, Publishing, Social studies, Teachers, Teaching, Travel, World History