A couple of weeks ago I wrote a story called
Kerrey betrays on Cuba, where I criticized Kerrey's position in favor of the Cuban embargo. As often happens, the thread discussion veered into a totally different direction, with a Cuban-American poster -- Armando -- agreeing with me that the embargo was ill-advised but attacking Castro and fending off a variety of foils.
My feelings about Castro and Cuba were too complicated for me to reply within the thread, so I will take some space here to put down my thoughts. But first, let me explain my perspective: I am a Peruvian-born and Spanish-speaking American citizen. I have visited Cuba on two occasions: once during the Soviet period in the early 80s, and once in the late 90s, during the so-called periodo especial. I have also lived for three years in the Dominican Republic, which by its geography and history, I will take as a historical control group for what Cuba might have become had la Revolucion not happened. I am a firm believer that communism is a failed experiment that belongs on the scrap-heap of history, but I also believe that no Latin-American leader in the last century has done more for his people than Fidel Castro has.
How can I reconcile these two beliefs? Because not all of Castro's triumphs were due to his governing ideology. Between the time Castro came to power in 1959 and the collapse of the Soviet Union in the late 80s, it has been estimated that up to a third of the GNP of Cuba was Soviet subsidies. Oil was sold at a discount, and sugar was bought at a premium.
However, that there were triumphs is undeniable. When I visited Cuba, especially the second time, I did not linger around the facades erected for tourists. I had the chance to meet a lot of ordinary Cubans from various walks in life. Before I describe their lot, let me first explain my background: my father was a social worker in the Dominican Republic, so I am familiar with what third world poverty means. As I said before, I think the DR probably resembles what Cuba might have become had there been no revolution.
There is absolutely no comparison between the viciousness of Dominican poverty and the plight of the common Cuban. (When I pointed this out to Cubans, they seemed indifferent.) A Dominican shantytown is made of cardboard, plywood and corrugated iron. The children run naked and their bellies are swollen with parasites. Literacy is rare. There is no sewage, no water, no electricity. Ignorance is so rampant that a child might cut himself on the knee, the wound might become infected, gangrene, and eventually kill the child. (This actually happened to a boy next door when I visited one of my father's projects.)
Cubans have a very tough life too. It takes every ounce of their ingenuity and energy just to survive. But they are nearly all well-educated, sometimes shockingly so. (I lost track of how many engineers and doctors I met who were working as taxi drivers or bartenders.) They usually live in brick houses with plumbing, electricity, and hygienic facilities. They have excellent health care. (I know this because I actually visited a doctor for a sore throat when I was there.) Not only is the Cuban brand of poverty better than the Dominican poverty, it is also preferable to our rural poor, who live in similar ramshackle homes, but whose education is probably inferior to Cuban schooling and who don't have the same access to health care that Cubans enjoy.
Make no mistake. Castro's Cuba is an aggressive police state. During my last visit, there were three occasion when I was meeting Cubans and they expressed fear of being discovered voicing their true opinion of the regime. Once a man whose house I was staying at wrote up a little budget of the typical Cuban family to illustrate how impossible it was for them to live... after he was done, he ripped it up into about a hundred pieces, giggling nervously as he did so. He wasn't going to let anyone else see that piece of paper. On another occasion, a woman checked the window to make sure no one was outside. At another time, a man made sure his nosy neighbor wasn't within earshot before discussing a sensitive subject. It is quite common to be stopped by police and asked for identification.
The repression of written ideas is also discouraging. On my first visit, I was ecstatic about the Cuban bookstores. I bought a couple of Garcia Marquez novels for about 50 cents each. (The Cubans can sell books this cheaply because they don't pay copyright royalties.) I also picked up a full-color art book about Vincent Van Gogh. The disappointment came when I got home, and read the text describing Van Gogh as "a painter of the proletariat." I think this perspective kills not just ideas, but beauty. I value the opportunity to write freely to you... believe me, I am not cavalier about this cost of communism.
But you've probably heard a lot about this kind of repression. I think the problem goes beyond this. Before and during the Czech velvet revolution, Kundera, Havel and others wrote of the existential emptiness of living in a Soviet puppet regime. There is something of that in Cuba: the want is not just economic or political... it is spiritual. The people you meet seem like they lack their own agency. They live Thoreau's "lives of quiet desperation" -- cubed.
Having said that, I also have to admit that there is a hierarchy of human needs. Yes, it is wonderful to express ideas freely, but if you are illiterate, it is hard to even have ideas. Yes, it is wonderful to be free. I don't think I even understood the meaning of the word "freedom" until I visited Cuba. But if you're sick and can't get medical help, or if you're hungry and can't get food, I don't think freedom is what you most worry about.
I think the litmus test is this: if I could come back to life and be born into any Latin-American country, which would I choose? The pinch would be this: I could not retain the middle-class status I was lucky enough to be born into. I would have to take my chances: I might get lucky and be born into the oligarchy, but I might also be born into crushing poverty. (And given their respective proportions in society, the latter would be the likelier case.) I think there's a chance I might pick one of the wealthier countries: Argentina or Chile. I haven't visited those places yet, so I don't feel like I can state a conclusion. But I think it's likely that if fully informed, I would pick Cuba as a warm climate, a rich and joyous culture, and a safe bet that I won't be crushed by the forces of social Darwinism.
I've written for longer than I intended to. If any of you are interested, I will write in another post of why I'm confident that a Cuba after Castro will flourish, and why I hope that day will come soon.