Pills, chills and a communist manifesto
By KEVIN SPURGAITIS
HAVANA — It’s still billed as a socialist paradiso. It boasts 60,000 physicians — one for every 136 people on the island, a family doctor and nurse for every neighborhood. The cash-strapped nation’s medical schools also dispatch more than 20,000 practitioners to Africa and Latin America. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), its infant mortality rates remain lower than any other developing country. Fewer children die here than in parts of the U.S.
Judging by its caloric intake per capita, Cuba is faring well in 2005. Afro-Cubans are especially doing better today than they have historically, reaping the fruits of the 46-year-old Revolution: universal healthcare, housing and education. However, long-time critics of Cuba President Fidel Castro shrug off these gains. The Communist system here is still crumbling, they say, along with the Soviet and Spanish-inspired apartment blocks. The island’s archetypal charms — its ‘postcardesque’ seashores and palm trees — are eclipsed by rusty bicycles and horse-drawn carts. Anachronistic Chevies exhale black plumes. Big rigs haul their human cargo — the bulk of commuters — in and out of city centers. With these ‘Cold War’ deprivations, the Caribbean country narrowly stays afloat, according to some analysts.
“It’s a very bizarre situation in Cuba. The status quo here requires dabs of paint or dire plasterwork,” says John Kirk, a professor of Spanish at Dalhousie University who has written about contemporary Cuba for more than 27 years. Kirk is also a consultant for Canadian NGOs and a volunteer for Cuba’s own fishing fleet.
When the Soviet Union’s subsidies to Cuba ended in 1989, the island’s 11 million people struggled. The average Cuban lost 20 pounds of body weight during the so-called Special Period between 1993 and 1994. More than 52, 000 people went blind due to vitamin deficiencies. “It was horrible,” says Kirk. “… But there weren’t massive rebellions against Castro, because everyone suffered equitably (amidst cutbacks).”
The country had two choices: they could make concessions, or adhere strictly to their socialist principles and “go down faster than the Titanic,” according to Kirk. They chose the former exit, creating a quasi-capitalist economy. In order to preserve the revolutionary staples of free schooling and health care, the government legalized the U.S. dollar (the currency was dropped in winter 2004). And as many as two billion visitors were allowed to enter the island annually — more than 500, 000 were from Canada, the single largest tourist population.
With many sugar mills declared insolvent, Castro also took modest measures allowing small-time entrepreneurs — shoemakers, barbers, carpenters, tailors, etc. — to open up shop. And some state-owned companies were granted financial independence. Conversely, prostitutes and hustlers openly peddled cheap sex and cigaros in the ‘blackmarket.’ Child sex tourism reportedly flourished, too, seeing a number of tourists convicted of offences relating to the corruption of minors — those under age of 16.
“All of these things created a very difficult, complex mosaic in the country. It’s been very confusing for many Cubans,” says Kirk.
Still, the Revolution’s virtues are extolled with state-sanctioned graffiti — Cuba’s co-revolutionary figure and former industry minister, the late Ernesto Che Guevara, immortalized on edifices. In addition, anti-American literature dots the Cuban countryside, beside billboards promoting cultural exports like the Buena Vista Social Club.
Opposed by the neighbouring superpower for nearly 50 years, Cuba’s Communist dictatorship has been labeled “an outpost of tyranny” by the U.S. — a part of the so-called “axis of evil.” After Castro’s 1959 overthrow of the right-wing dictator, Fulgencio Batista, the U.S. government suspended diplomatic relations with Cuba. It’s also besieged the island with stiff economic barriers and rhetoric touting regime change there. The U.S-imposed embargo has been repeatedly condemned by Canada and other UN-member countries, for the “human hardships” it’s created. Even Pope John Paul II, during his historic visit to Cuba in 1998, called it “unjust and ethically unacceptable.”
According to Kirk, the decades-old naval blockade has been a leaky one. Cuba has indirectly bought nearly US$1 billion of food from American producers in the last three years. Because of U.S. legislation, it must pay significantly more from third-party countries. Food shortages are common. Buoyed by the World Food Program (WFP), though, it’s received food aid totaling US$22.6 million since 2001.
“Cuba has weathered the crisis. They have done a good job under the extremely difficult conditions of the Special Period,” stresses Kirk. Its system is “harsh, paternalistic, consistently bureaucratic and occasionally extremist,” he once wrote. But it’s still sovereign — their very own … If I was a poor Latin American, I know where I would
want to live.”
Cuban’s resiliency is “extraordinary,” says Canon Rev. Philip Wadham, the Anglican Church of Canada’s Latin America and Caribbean mission officer.
“The people are so gracious and hospitable. Given their deprivations and poverty, I’m amazed that the spirit is still with many Cubans. I rejoice with every one of them,” says Rev. Wadham, who has assisted the Episcopal (Anglican ) diocese of Cuba since 1997.
Collapsing system, smoke and mirrors
Raphael, a Cuban national now living in Toronto, misses the balmy, sometimes sultry weather and his “spirited” compatriots. However, the 36-year-old doctoral student admits his homeland is not the same one he left more then seven years ago, when he joined the Cuban Diaspora.
“People are changing. People are aggressive — people are sad. They are not laughing all the time like they used to. There’s no time for that anymore — the laughter,” says a soft-spoken Raphael. Bearing a special visitors’ permit — and gifts — he periodically returns to Havana to see his family. He also sends money to his father, a professor and former revolutionary. With these foreign remittances, his close relatives are better off than most.
“They are living because I’m now working outside of Cuba, sending them money. It’s the only reason they have a decent standard of living.”
Most homes in the country are brimming with immediate family members and in-laws. Sometimes there’s no telephone. And Internet-ready computers are superseded by shoddy TV sets and shortwave radios. Their ration cards or liberta offer a social safety net. According to Cuban government sources, the 30-product monthly food basket includes: 2.7 kg of rice; 1.5 kg of refined sugar; 0.25 kg of beans; a small amount of coffee; 2 kg of salt, .25 kg of cooking oil and 1.5 kg of pasta. Everyone receives one toilet roll a day, plus soap and toothpaste. Chicken and fish vegetables are handed out upon availability. Nonetheless, these rations must sometimes be topped up with ill-gotten goods, asserts Raphael. Because the ‘dollar stores’ are expensive, some will smuggle daily essentials on a bus from Havana to Santiago de Cuba and back.
“If you work on a state-owned chicken farm, you’re going to want to sell some poultry on the ‘blackmarket.’ In Cuba, people are not looking for drugs, they are looking for things like cheese,” says Raphael. “Social equality means nothing when you are trying to survive.”
He asks if social rights are more important than basic needs. And do they need to be encroached first before Cubans see results?
Crackdown and contempt
In Castro’s Cuba, there are no death squads characteristic of other Latin American nations of old. However, the country is marred with a poor human rights record. According to Amnesty International (AI), there are some 600 political prisoners in Cuba, while the UN estimates almost twice that number. Seventy-five defendants were tried and convicted during a March 2003 clampdown. They included human rights defenders, labor unionists, librarians, medical doctors, teachers and Raul Rivero, a prominent poet and independent journalist. They were all accused of “acts against the independence or territorial integrity of the state,” and abetting U.S. policy against Cuba. Critics called the trials a “sham” without due process or adhering to international standards. Authorities have since released seven dissidents on health grounds, while others continue serving sentences between 6 and 28 years.
Raising the ire of democracy advocates, a firing squad also executed Lorenzo Enrique Copello Castillo, Bárbaro Leodán Sevilla García and Jorge Luis Martínez Isaac in April 2003. The trio was convicted under Cuba’s anti-terrorism legislation, after hijacking a small passenger boat and endeavouring to leave the island illegally. Their appeals fell on deaf ears. Their relatives were informed about their deaths only posthumously. Castro claims his government is only curbing subversion and a probable migration crisis. In recent years, officials have refused visitations by both UN and AI monitors.
However, for more than a decade, Canada has joined other countries at the UN Commission on Human Rights, passing a resolution imploring the Cuban government to respect civil and political rights — in the same way it treats economic and social ones. The Government of Canada says: “(The country) has traditionally maintained a balance view of human rights in Cuba, that recognizes the achievements in a number of areas including health and education, but also expresses concern about restrictions on political liberties.
“We would like to see significant changes towards democracy and a market-based economy in Cuba. Canada has a policy of engagement with Cuba and through our trade, aid and political and cultural programs, our presence there allows us to share these more broad, liberal, democratic values.”
According to political science professors Dr. Paul Brown and Martine Durier-Copp, with Dalhousie University’s School of Public Administration, Castro’s governance has shown an “impressive capacity” to re-adjust its policies, especially regarding capital punishment. There’s a lot of self-criticism that goes on at the highest levels. Cubans are not fearful of detainment for any sort of public outcry, rather the prospect of starving or dying from a non-communicable disease, they maintain.
Advisors to the country since 1998, Durier-Copp and Dr. Brown head up Dalhousie’s Training in Economic Management Project (TEMP) on the island. With support from the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA), it provides technical assistance and institutional training to Cuba’s public sector.
“Economic prosperity is not the be-all and end-all for all nations. Cubans are very happy people for the most part. They smile. They dance. They are jovial,” says Durier-Copp. Dr. Brown agrees: “To what extent can Cuba ‘open up’ and still retain its passion for equality? We’re not talking about Cuban Communism here, we’re talking about true Cuban Nationalism.”
Castro remains the paradoxical, proud papa of the Revolution. During the Dengue Fever outbreak in 2000, the president materialized in public, in a cavalcade of two jeeps and two limousines, recalls Dr. Brown. Without prodding by officials, people stood on park benches and climbed trees, crying out, “Fidel, Fidel.”
Seemingly benign even in his trademark army fatigues, Castro stepped outside his jeep (the less ostentatious transport), waded through the wide-eyed crowd and patted children on their heads, before returning to his escort.
“Everyone wants to see him — and touch him if they can.”
At 78, the autocratic leader has survived slews of physical and character assassinations. He is grayer, sicker and shakier these days, rumoured to have a ‘smorgasbord’ of serious illnesses: heart trouble, a brain tumour, Parkinson’s. Yet with extraordinary self-belief, he trudges on — the flag-bearer of his Communist Manifesto.
Of course, history will be on his side, as he declared in July 1953, after his failed attack on the Moncada army barracks pre-Revolution. At his trial, before sentenced to 15 years (pardoned after just two) he decried: “ … The country cannot continue begging on its knees for miracles from a few golden calves … The happiest country is the one which has best educated its sons, both in the instruction of thought and the direction of their feelings … Condemn me. It does not matter. History will absolve me.”
Half a century later, in a May 2004 speech, the Cuban leader denounced U.S. President George W. Bush’s continued sanctions against the island. Before demonstrators outside the U.S. Special Interests Section building in Havana, he said: “… You label a tyranny the economic and political system that has guided the Cuban people to higher levels of literacy, knowledge and culture than those in the most developed countries in the world.” As Castro himself once pointed out, “What is Cuba’s sin?”
Undiscovered country
Along the stately Paseo de Martí, Habañeros can be found discussing baseball and Castro’s likely successor — his much-maligned brother Raúl, the first vice-president. According to Kirk, there will be no bloodbath in Castro’s wake. No sudden flood of foreign investments. “As opposed to massive rebellion against the Cuban political structure, you would see people with increasing levels of power, minus the charisma of Fidel Castro. And they would have popular support.
“Cuba will continue to have very solid, social benefits for the population, leading the developing world in terms of social statistics … The political system will remain similar — perhaps with more debate — within a one-party structure.”
Dr. Brown wonders if the Revolution’s fervour can be sustained in the future. He’s also skeptical of the political alternative. “I don’t know how you can get an American-styled democracy and still have the extraordinary achievements that socialism has brought for the people,” the self-professed ‘Cuba watcher’ maintains.
“It would be a tremendous tragedy if we lost — even with its warts — the Cuban achievement. We would be lesser for it as a global community,” he asserts. “We have to admire what Cuba has been able to accomplish in terms of its vision and objectives for its society.”
Billed as the ‘blind romantics’ by their opposition, many ideologues perceive the current system as a near-perfect paradigm. Many others, like Cuban-American organizations based in Miami, deem the Cuban Revolution as the ‘Dark Beast.’ However, a disenfranchised Raphael belongs to a third group of political thinkers mainly from Mexico and Spain. The so-called Mexican Group, spearheaded by notorious young scholars Rafael Rojas, Cecilia Bodes, and the late Jesus Diaz, sees the Revolution as simply a historical process that’s transformed Cuban society — in many ways for good, but in others for bad. The group ascribes to the least radical approach to Cuba. It envisions a democratic state where the decision-making process is not confined to a single “political player,” where Cubans could speak for themselves and not through their government. This process, according to Raphael, must be a soft, transitional one lead by the Cuban Communist Party, itself.
“I wouldn’t want to be in Cuba right now,” confesses Raphael. “No one really knows what’s going to happen in the future, but the way the system is going now, it’s going to get harder for Cubans before it gets better.”
In the capital city’s Vedado District, the street life is anything but dreary. The smell of rum, fried plantains and peppered fillet trounces the exhaust-filled air. By night, the barrios are afire, pulsating and reverberating. No whispers of a counter-Revolution here, rather chatter over steamy Afro-Latin themes and generic rumbas, mambos and cha-chas.
Down avenidas, older gentleman trade barbs over a game of dominos. Around every other corner — impromptu, clamorous block parties and impoverished rhapsody. With virtually ‘next to nil,’ Cubans get on with things. They get by.
Originally published in the Catholic New Times, May 2005
