Category: Miriam Celaya

While in Egypt hundreds of thousands of people decided the fate of their country by speaking out through strong and sustained public protests against a 30-year dictatorship, in a local Havana setting a dispute was being resolved by a diametrically opposite philosophy dictated by survival: the battle for the potato. The comments might seem like a joke, but they are about completely real facts that I was a witness to.

The location was the farmers market adjacent to Parque Trillo, a popular geographical site in Centro Habana. The actors were crowds of Cubans eager to acquire the favored root vegetable, virtually absent from stall counters since they were “liberated” — that is taken off the ration system through the announced process of state subsidies — while the plot was the bitter fights to negotiate the 10 pounds allocated to each buyer after standing on line for three hours, and all the pushing and shoving they had to endure before leaving with their valued purchase.

The incidents took place just over two weeks ago, when the potato distribution began at 18 locations allocated for their sale in the capital, and Havana’s population threw themselves after those potatoes as if it were the freedom conquest. As far as I could ascertain, the mentioned location in Centro Habana has been one of the most chaotic and crowded. The line was over one block long, and it was made up by a human mass in complete disarray, struggling to get ahead and cut the line in any way possible, which resulted in knocking down and trampling over several people, including some elderly persons, plus a fight that led to the intervention of several police patrols and one vehicle to stop the more combative. There were broken bones, contusions and lacerations.

In subsequent days, each truckload of potatoes has been followed immediately by law enforcement officials trying to prevent the fights from escalating. It is common, starting in the morning, to see how the more disciplined begin to line up, waiting to see if the desired tuber arrives, “just in case”. People are resigned to wait for hours, taking turns to hold their place in line, and patrolling the area until the awaited truck appears, if it decides to appear. This is the level of misery of spirit a great part of the population has allowed themselves to be reduced to. This explains how it is possible for a social explosion for freedom to occur in the most arid geography in this planet, while in a fertile tropical island, people hit and hurt each other over 10 pounds of potatoes. Can you perceive the “subtle” difference?

However, despite the sad spectacle, I allow myself some hope. I detected it in many other Cubans I saw come by the place, look reprovingly, almost with disgust, at the scene, and leave outraged. Many say they prefer to choke on yams than to undergo the humiliation of fighting other people over some potatoes. “Shame!” lamented an old man, “Never in my life have I seen such a slaughter over a few pounds of produce! How far are they going to drag us?!”

“As far as we let them, grandpa”, I responded. And I was surprised by the immediate support I got from most of the onlookers gathered across the street.

Translated by Norma Whiting

18 February 2011

Recently, a friend and regular reader of our blog made a comment about a very controversial post in which he argued that the Mariel migration was triggered by the fact that “two Cubans launched a bus against an embassy in Havana.” In effect, that action was the public and visible event, but in any case, in my opinion, his approach, alluding to such a critical and controversial event in Cuba’s history in the last 50 years, tends to simplify an event marked by deep political connotations whose climax was the exodus of a quarter of a million Cubans.

That is why I decided to dedicate a special post to the subject, without attempting to exhaust the many complexities involved. It turns out that I was 20 by then, and these events marked a decisive turning point in my life, so they are sharply etched in my memory. The Mariel Boatlift was actually the last in a sequence of events that begun with talks between the Island’s government and a group of Cuban émigrés, agreements which took place during the Carter administration in the late 70’s, which led to the opening of travel for Cubans residing in the US to visit Cuba — popularly known as “Community Trips” — under which, relatives from either side of the Florida Straits could be reunited, after being long separated due to the politics of demonization which up to that point the Cuban government had maintained against the émigrés.

It is possible that some of my readers won’t agree with me, but I am willing to bet that when he accepted these discussions, F. Castro had underestimated their political cost. For the first time in 20 years the government was inconsistent, and those that until then had been “worms”, people without a country, pro-imperialists or traitors — epithets the revolutionaries used to describe the émigrés — were now returning as born-again, revalued and re-christened as “our brothers of the Cuban community abroad”, by the grace of a speech of the leader of the Revolution himself. Automatically, without the benefit of logic or explanation, maintaining relationships with family members who had left the country was no longer censured. Moreover, the re-encounter was blessed and we could jubilantly welcome them into our homes once again. Many began to discover that we had been scammed, and it became clear that the discredit towards emigration had been a clever manipulation of government policy.

Family ties that should be — and in fact, are — the most natural thing in the world, acquired for Cubans a special connotation due not only to the split between those who were leaving and those remaining in Cuba that had often marked irreconcilable antagonisms, but also because on this shore, for two decades, power had woven its ideological supremacy based on the rejection of certain values considered “decadent” and “representative of a dehumanized dead society” which were now returning under the guise of consumer goods brought as presents by the émigrés to their impoverished relatives on the Island. All of a sudden, Cubans here found out that their “northern” relatives, without communism, marches, voluntary work, without slogans or speeches, were more prosperous, better off, and had more possibilities for professional and personal success. The New Man, with his ugly khaki pants and stiff boots for the sugar cane fields, staggered first, and then fell before the charms of the consumer society. Jeans and sneakers, the greatest expressions of the “ideological diversionism” — a doctrine that hung like a guillotine over the head of any young person on the Island — were stronger than the Marxism-Leninism manuals that cluttered our heads in schools, and faith in the system underwent its first major fissure.

In 1980, the death of Cuban guard Pedro Ortiz Cabrera during the Peruvian Embassy events in Havana was the perfect excuse Fidel Castro needed. The incident occurred just when the government needed to create and nurture a situation at all costs that allowed it to self-retract, strengthen the patriotic discourse and fortify itself in the figure of confrontation against the external enemy. It became urgent to inject a strong dose of patriotism into the people, and for that, Carter’s conciliatory and friendly spirit had to be bombarded, mainly by creating an artificial crisis. It was urgent to offer the world an image of a Cuba perversely manipulated by the common enemy of all the peoples, which, with its siren’s song, encouraged delinquents and made the biggest softies, the ones “in hiding” and the false revolutionaries change their course. And so it was that, right after the event, guards at the embassy of Peru in Havana were withdrawn, which was broadcast intentionally through the media so that the “new worms” grouped under the epithet of “scum” (who shortly after would once again be “brothers of the community” and would come back to visit Cuba) could have access to the embassy grounds.

I don’t think even Castro himself was able to imagine the enormity of the masses that in just 72 hours swamped the Peruvian Embassy, let alone, when the Mariel-Miami route was opened, that the number of Cubans willing to emigrate would multiply exponentially. His surprise was translated into a furious indignation that seemed to have no limits. His speeches were more aggressive, bitter and angrier than ever before, only now it was directed against many who, until then, had been our dear friends, our neighbors of a lifetime or our fellow students, so the message lost its legitimacy. The revolutionary dream of a nurtured generation of youth born between the 1950’s and 60’s had broken. The age of innocence had ended and we would never be the same again.

Linked to the whole course of discussions-émigrés’ visits-events at the Embassy of Peru-Mariel exodus, were other associated phenomena, that happened simultaneously and affected the social psychology within Cuba, such as, for example, that which is known under the name Consciousness Study Process –- a purge that in 1980 expelled from the ranks of the Young Communist League and the Cuban Communist Party those who did not obey the requirements that communist model dictated, were suspected of “diversionism” or questioned the dogma; the shameful repudiation meetings, which publicly highlighted the essence of the fascist regime, and the so-called Combative People’s Marches, created to demonstrate the commitment of the people toward their government.

Castro assimilated the teachings of those events and managed to use them to his advantage: he broke the process of becoming close with a country that was more useful to him as his enemy, he opened an escape valve to relieve tensions within Cuba through the exodus of tens of thousands of Cubans, and he managed to reinforce terror in the population through the powerful repressive machinery disguised as “the angry people” trained to dole out beatings to the defenseless who dared to express the least displeasure or to even an intent to leave the country. Similarly, from abroad, it reinforced the support of the USSR and the socialist camp, and the Cuban government was able to improve the living conditions of the population, to some extent, with the creation that same year of the parallel market that widened significantly the supply of consumer goods and the emergence of non-state agricultural markets, which also elevated the food possibilities. The short years of false socialist prosperity were being born, just before the end of the Eastern Europe regime.

Apart from this account, I remind the reader friend who inspired these memories in me that the demonstrations of those years were never explicitly against the government, but in favor of emigration. It is true that a mass migration like the one that took place then is the most tangible expression of a peoples’ discontent in relation to their government, but none of those 200 thousand Cubans thought for a moment to concentrate all that critical mass in front of the Government Palace to demand the rights and opportunities they wished for, none shouted “down with the Castro dictatorship”. And there wasn’t — as there isn’t now — political or civic will in the Cuban people capable of changing the status quo. Such is our character, like it or not, which is why it is crucial to help create civic consciousness as soon as possible.

I agree that the current conditions in this country can cause any event, however insignificant it may seem, to trigger a popular revolt; I don’t know to what point it could become a massive uprising. We are approaching a real dead-end from which not even the government tricks could get us out of. Today, Cuba needs a miracle that I, in spite of everything, believe possible. I also hope that miracle occurs through peaceful means and that the new generations, free from the doctrines that slowed their ancestors (our parents and us), are the renewing power of a future Cuba. It is true that no one can predict when and how changes will occur, but if they are unleashed through feelings of hatred, revenge and violence, we would only aggravate the present and dangerously compromise our future as a nation.

Our dear reader can consider himself privileged in that he was able to experience an exceptional process in his country, since conditions were very different to ours — despite our cultural similarities marked by history — Francisco Franco, “Leader of Spain by the grace of God”, who failed to remove the republican sentiments in Spain despite the outcome of the bloody Civil War, died quietly his hospital bed, sickly and at a very old age, just as his Caribbean counterpart will surely die. The Spanish were lucky that Franco was not as long-lived as Castro. In Spain, unlike Cuba, at the time of the dictator’s disappearance, there were –- as always — owners, social classes with well-defined interests, opposition (including the Communists), civil society and an emblematic figure, Prince Juan Carlos — supported by Franco himself to counter the republican spirit — with enough intelligence and will to foster strong leadership to an agreed transition. All of this prevented a bloodbath.

Our situation is different. Politics in Cuba have historically been decided by a chosen few elite groups; Cuban people, by nature, have always rejected politics and have resigned themselves (settled for?) to having others carry it out for them. Since 1959, Castro took care to dispel any vestiges of citizenship and to crush any semblance of independent thought, annulled the economic capability of society and reduced individuals to the status of “mass.” He had on his side the proverbial political apathy of Cubans and a curiously infantile enthusiasm for leaders and revolts. It is thus that almost all popular manifestation of nonconformity in the past half a century have been reduced to escaping the country (let’s remember, for instance, the “Maleconazo” and the boat people crisis of 1994) and not to even ask for political reforms or changes. If only a few thousand Cuban felt their civic duty we would not have the dubious distinction of carrying on our shoulders and minds a half a century-old dictatorship. The end of the Cuban dictatorship is near, I don’t doubt that, but I am afraid that the new nation’s labor is going to be a slow and extremely painful one.

Translated by Norma Whiting

22 February 2011

Sometimes it is hard to calculate how far the media can achieve fictional expectations. The process for popular uprisings that has been taking place in some North African countries against their dictatorial governments, particularly the prolonged protests that continue to occur in Egypt, have inevitably brought to the foreground the case of Cuba, which sadly holds the record of having the longest dictatorship in the Western Hemisphere. Thus, the hopes of an undetermined number of Cubans abroad have been stirred into believing that the moment has come (it’s now or never!) to convene a peaceful people’s uprising within the Island.

The strongest proposal seems to come from two Cubans residing in Europe, who have launched a call for the uprising, which would presumably start between February 19th and 26th, advertised by them through social networking sites (Facebook or Twitter). The commotion the proposal has caused in the media interested in the Cuban situation, primarily in Florida, but also in some areas in Europe, forces us to reflect on the issue. The time is right to establish certain considerations that, without a doubt, will not be shared by the most avid “pro-uprising” groups.

Let’s discreetly review how questionable it is to call for civil demonstrations in Cuba from abroad, given that the masterminds (or “cyber-messiahs,” as befits the information age) have not given us their confirmation that they will land in Cuba to place themselves at the head of the imaginary uprising; ergo, we would contribute the bulk of the massacred bodywork here. Readers who have placed their faith in this new “now’s the time!” that has arrived from afar, forgive me, but if the matter were not this serious, it would even be laughable. Just look a few small details, like the fact that there is virtually no Internet access in Cuba or that not too many Cubans have access to social networks. This makes it almost impossible for the democratic liberation to start via the virtual channels, through the use of computers — or perhaps simply through cell phones — by today’s experienced cyber-leaders of ours.

Let’s also make obvious a trivial circumstance (I am referring to our orphan internet), let’s politely suppose that uprising orders came, even if — in a fit of mambí* nostalgia — it was rolled into a cigar, and let’s analyze its impact objectively, not from the standpoint of our wishes and hopes, but from the Cuban context. It is true that practically all conditions exist in Cuba to produce a social explosion: persistence of a dictatorship in power for over 50 years, permanent economic crisis as a result of the failure of the imposed system, high majority of the population surviving in that precarious balance between poverty and misery, loss of faith in government, uncertainty about a potentially devastating future, and all the rest which almost every one of us knows. Paradoxically, in our country, the absence of demonstrations is not due to the conditions that exist, but to those that DO NOT EXIST and are critical:

– We do not have independent civil society organizations capable of coordinating an uprising of this kind in Cuba.

– The Cuban people, ignorant even of their squalid rights and generally apathetic, are helpless against the repressive machinery of a system trained in resistance to retain power, possessor of an efficient repressive apparatus, of the mass media experienced in misrepresentation. Thus, there isn’t an effective vehicle for weaving, in the short term, a citizen network able to paralyze the country and force the government not even to abdicate, but to just negotiate in search of a pact. This is so true that there are still almost a dozen political prisoners remaining in Cuba who should have been released since this past November under the government’s commitment.

– Contrary to what happens in Egypt, to name the most conspicuous example, in Cuba there is no known opposition program able to present effective resistance against the government (this resistance transformed into positive action). In the case of an uprising, opposition parties in our country cannot offer the people a modicum of social order guarantees nor agreement proposals that address the broader interests to push for change towards democracy.

– The Cuban people, the vast majority of whom does not know the opposition parties, their members, or their platforms (in those cases when they have them), nor has the work of independent journalists and bloggers been sufficiently disseminated through the Island to influence the opinion of “the masses.” No wonder the government keeps a tight monopoly on the media.

– There isn’t even a set of popular claims, properly structured or at least rooted in the social spectrum, capable of bringing together a critical mass of different social sectors willing to face the consequences of a supposedly peaceful rebellion.

Looking at other considerations, it is more likely that, in our case, the ranks of the “rebels” will be nourished by some of the opponents and dissidents in general, who represent the limited sector truly determined to confront the authorities, which would give government a golden opportunity to lock them up on a charge of “attempting to subvert” or some other similar charge, and thus weaken the resistance cells inside the country. It would be a devastating blow to the nascent independent civil society in a time when disgruntled sectors of the population are increasing, when spontaneous popular consensus on the need for change is beginning to emerge, and the breeding ground needed to guide these feelings of frustration and dissatisfaction towards democratic gains for the Cubans begins to form.

We could cite many other circumstances that threaten the success of this controversial “peaceful” uprising, such as the long accumulated resentment in society, the result of policy differentiation, mutual surveillance, betrayal, and mistrust among Cubans, which this regime has systematically planted for over a half a century. A popular revolt in Cuba, without known civic forces or a mass media that would control by calling to order (as the Polish, and even the Rumanian process fortunately had) surely would lead to violence, settling of scores, looting and destruction similar to what took place during the Haitian Revolution 200 years ago, with the subsequent final destruction and possibly the end of a Nation. Because it would end in that: a rebellion of runaway, blinded slaves without direction; the condition to which the dictatorship has reduced us by virtue of the proverbial indifference of generations of Cubans. There currently isn’t any reason to feel superior to Haitians of that era; and we don’t have the solid national civic tradition of the Polish or the self-esteem and awareness of the Egyptians, able to protect, in the midst of protests and violence stemming from clashes between rival groups, the treasures of their rich historical and cultural heritage.

This does not mean that social upheaval is not possible in Cuba. Unfortunately, reality indicates that the country is heading towards a dangerous point of impact. It is no coincidence that some pockets of rebellion in specific regions have already been brewing. These are the first practical signs of general nonconformity that will worsen as the government’s layoff plan, the elimination of “subsidies” and other problems that can already be perceived over the medium-short term scenario. It is no accident that the government is intensely preparing anti-riot forces equipped with new weapons and newly acquired techniques.

In spite of all this, I am one of those who insist on seeking peaceful and negotiated solutions to conflicts. I believe we must keep the pressure on the system flaws, build bridges with sectors that favor organized changes, take advantage of the weaknesses of the system and seek to expand civic spaces as much as possible, because, without people, no democratic change in Cuba will be possible or permanent. In this, Cubans living abroad in democracy and those of us who have found freedom inside ourselves will play an important role. Someone once said, brilliantly, that there are only losers in war. I would add that there are only winners in dialogues and negotiations.

Translator’s note: Mambí is probably derived from an indigenous word meaning the rebellion against the chiefs living in hiding in the forests. Spanish soldiers, noticing similar tactics of the revolutionaries in the use of machetes, started to refer to them as “men of Mambí”, later shortened to mambís. (www.wikipedia.com, Spanish edition)

Translated by Norma Whiting

February 11, 2011

One of the characteristics of the scandal unleashed late last year by the website WikiLeaks is the frequency with which certain developments that should not be a news flash for anyone are revealed. Simultaneously, an idea seems to be enthroned that tends to overestimate the importance of this site as the information legitimizer. Something like saying that “if it came out in WikiLeaks, is true,” which means the birth of a sort of absolute cyber-dictatorship for informational truth: the substitution of a monopoly (the mainstream media, which WikiLeaks claims to fight) by the monopoly of a supposed “freedom of information” which, in fact, tends to advocate anarchy.

Paradoxically, it is said that the Spanish newspaper El País “has exclusive rights on information filtered by Julián Assange’s Web.” Could it be that this is a free exclusivity deal by virtue of a freedom of expression defense turned offering? Why would a major media, the Spanish language newspaper with the largest circulation, be the repository of filtered “firsts”?

As for me, among the cables published by such a site that somehow make reference to Cuba, I have not found any new news items. I think I am not mistaken if I declare that most Cubans do not need the new defender of published news reports of the US Interests Section in Havana to find out, through its former representative, Michael Parmly, that “corruption in Cuba has become a widespread phenomenon that reaches both the Communist Party leadership and professionals without political affiliation.”

Other cables reaffirm the same, detailing aspects of Cuban life that have been reported by independent journalists and alternative bloggers for a long time, such as “corrupt practices, including bribery, misappropriation of state resources and accounting shenanigans, including purchased jobs for hundreds or thousands of dollars that will later spin off copious interchanges of influence.” We are well aware of that social cancer metastasis, corruption, that has even invaded the police, one of the most affected sectors; but it is absolutely present in every niche of national life. Even the comandante himself, the generator of the Cuban National Disaster, acknowledged in 2005 that the revolution could implode because of the great corruption that exists on the Island. He stated it much later than the independent press. WikiLeaks, through El País, merely sanctifies through the mouthpiece of a foreign official what many honest Cubans –- many of whom are in prison because of it — have denounced in the first place and, more recently, as if to conjure old faults, it has been acknowledged even by the olive green gerontocracy and its most reverent acolytes.

Among the latest of the retro-exclusive news flashes that the site of the famous Julián Assange has regaled us with these last few days is Parmly’s own communication that contains “confidential information” provided to him by Vilmar Coutinho, a Brazilian who in turn received it from the Brazilian foreign minister Celso Amorim (what a mess!). According to the “revealing” communication, the latter “had a talk with Raúl Castro” in which the General declared “that he had no intention of doing away with the white card” — the travel permit required to leave the country — because “that would produce a mass exodus,” whose host country would be fundamentally Mexico, which “would harm bilateral relations” between Cuba and that country.

Thank you, WikiLeaks! But we Cubans already knew that the white card is one of the government’s more lucrative diabolical “milking” mechanisms. As a Cuban-American economist coined it, the “emigration industry” produces juicy dividends for the Cuban government, at no cost whatsoever, and the famous little card is one of its sources. The so-called white card, which allows native Cubans to exit the country costs only 150 CUC, and it can be obtained, in the first instance, only through the corresponding letter of invitation from abroad, paid to the Cuban government in hard currency, with the exception of those who have obtained their Spanish citizenship, who need no letter at all to go to Spain, though they still need their white card. Add to that the application for a regular passport which has a price of 55 CUC. Considering the large and continuing flow of Cubans to immigration offices to perform procedures related to this, it is easy to calculate that the amount of income generated could be, at least, in the order of hundreds of thousands annually. Add to that the monthly rent required to be paid to the Cuban consulates abroad by Cubans who left only temporarily and expect to return to the Island. That is why the General could not eliminate the white card, not because a supposed massive exodus to Mexico (more like the United States, the main and dreamed-of destination of almost all Cubans aspiring to escape). The cynicism of the General when recognizing the possibility of a “mass exodus” is not a WikiLeaks news flash either.

I could cite other examples, but that would be to extend myself in vain. I agree with those who have found only a great source of old gossip in the controversial site. If you look closely, it is only useful for fleeting chitchat, and to show that the Internet also has that dark and sinister side that that puts issues under a microscope that perhaps should remain in some office files and drawers. Apparently, for media that thrives on scandal, the personalities implicated in the gossip are more important than the news itself. Personally, I’m not very interested in revelations after the fact, unless they have the purpose of amending errors, an issue that is beyond the scope of a mere mortal like Assange. Nor does it seem ethical to me to advocate the collapse of a site –- be it official, famous, or not — as some cyber-fundamentalists have done to avenge the attack to the new idol, because I defend freedom of speech in its universality. As an independent blogger living in a dictatorship, I know what it feels like when an absolute power blocks that right.

I don’t know what WikiLeaks proposes to do ultimately; perhaps it is only about good intentions gone wrong. Maybe my assessments take me beyond a critique, but my readers know I am not complacent, and I hope that they can clarify some of my doubts. I count on that. As for the referenced website, I think so much internet talent could continue, though based on better causes (he’s done it before), and promoting the free flow of information in areas where there are serious access restrictions, while respecting the right to privacy. Freedom should not be synonymous with chaos. The WikiLeaks experience is, in my opinion, one more demonstration of the human capacity to deal ethically with technological advances, just like it has happened so many times before in history. And forgive me, readers, if this seems like an old fashioned presumption, but sometimes what we call “information” is nothing but stupidization disguised as news.

Translated by: Norma Whiting

February 3, 2011

Divinations

Note: This work was originally written for and published in Voices magazine #5, in January, 2011.

I want to start with a statement of principle absolutely rigorous and rigorously true: I respect the religious beliefs of all people anywhere in the world. The second statement I will make is as vertical and solid as the first: I reserve the right to question certain aspects of magical or religious practices when they cause me doubt — whether motivated by my own ignorance or by the nature and consequences of such practices — and I also claim my legitimate right to publicly expose what I think in that respect. An agnostic of my own doing, and anthropologist by training, man himself, beyond creeds or doubts, is most important to me. That said, I will address the issue.

Throughout history, mankind has always been tempted to decipher the future, and each culture has, at one time or another, in some way, succumbed to it. From the very beginning, primitive cave dwellers consulted the stars, the entrails of animals, and even trees and stones; they devoutly painted rustic cave walls with beautiful drawings and practiced propitiatory rites to enable the arrival and establishment of prosperity and good times. Several millennia have transpired since we supposedly left “barbarism” behind us and since the rise of “civilization”. Those years were a hard journey for humanity, and the inspiration for the oracle was ever-present. To date, the practice of predicting events for self-preservation, protection against them, or the conjuring of threats remains and attracts millions of people from the widest spectrum of creeds and cultures across the globe. To claim that the techno-scientific development achieved by humankind has displaced the magical practices of oracular character is nothing short of pedantry by the more educated: inside, man is still as superstitious as when he inhabited caves, and almost as ignorant, with apologies to cavemen. In fact, today, some oracles are available online, in what might seem, at first glance, the inversion of the equation: technology at the service of superstition.

Thus, no society, no matter how highly developed or sophisticated, has abandoned that universal tradition of divination. Regardless of the vehicle used for the prophetic ritual — whether the Tarot, the I-chin, the Horoscope or any other means — the fascination of peeping into a future subject to the enigma of a predetermined supra-human Destiny seems to defy time. And no wonder. Man is the only living being aware of his mortality, of his ephemeral character, and of his very weaknesses, which transforms Destiny into one of the most tempting mysteries in human existence.

However, from a certain point of view, concerns about the future – despite its romantic halo, a mixture of mystery, magic and enchantment — is not but a manifestation of a deep practical sense: to know what will happen allows us to optimize our brief stay in this world. And, without a doubt, the most practical of all men were, and still are, the wizards… the prophets; because they, as the occasional interpreters of arcane symbols, have others not just believe they possess superior gifts to probe the secrets of the future, but they actually have the ability to influence the will of large sectors of human societies, and to benefit from it.

Cuba, prophecies of survival

The magic substrate of prophecies is well cultivated in religion. In all of them there are omens, predictions, miracles, and even spells that can’t all be listed here. Universal mythology in the generic sense, with its fascinating poetic charge, has planted images, parables and traditions in the cultures of humankind. Cuba, a country with a peculiar religious syncretism, is no exception. The uneven and never clearly defined mixture of Spanish-inherited Catholic religion, the complex animist beliefs of African heritage, and certain magical-religious vestiges of our extinct indigenous cultures, characterized by ancestor worship — as fundamental components of this syncretism — seems to imprint in a large part of Cuban society a sort of natural predisposition to religiosity, a predisposition that has grown exponentially in recent years, marked by deepening shortages, the loss of values, and the urgent search for solutions.

Sociology and history indicate that religious practices –- like the people who profess them — parallel their eras. The sign of “anything goes” that characterizes permanence in a precarious state of survival has empowered Cuban spirituality to the point that many people look for hope and reason simultaneously in every niche of faith. All faiths are worthy when envisioning a personal solution to the crisis, so it is not difficult to find one individual in settings as diverse as a mass at the Cathedral, in consultation with a fortuneteller or at the trays of Ifá. Rosaries, runes, cards and seashells might be the barricade that will protect against the evils that could launch their attacks from any corner.

In the midst of such kaleidoscopic magic-religious outlook, the predictions of the Letter of the Year, a tradition of remote Nigerian origins, beliefs greatly diminished in Africa under the overwhelming Protestant push first and then by the Muslims, paradoxically has been gaining popularity in Cuba, some attracted by the momentum of sincere faith, others by the need to find a glimmer of hope, and all seeking a sign of a future being made ever more uncertain by circumstances.

However, as a phenomenon peculiar to this society and this time, not even the Letter of the Year can escape the unwritten rules that survival and uncertainty impose. There are many contradictions hidden behind a ritual ceremony that — perhaps unintentionally — reflects in part the same original vices than those of a society seeking to make predictions. To begin, each year, two Letters are disclosed in Cuba: one published by the Cuban Council of Elder Priests of Ifá, a consortium whose headquarters is a large house located on Prado, opposite the Parque de la India, in the capital, openly worshiped, recognized and protected by the Cuban authorities to serve their political interests, and one that is spread by the Organizing Committee of the Letter of the Year “Miguel Febles Padrón”, declared “independent” and made available from a modest temple-house in the Diez de Octubre Municipality in Havana, where every year many babalawos* get together and who, this time – according to statements in the printed document that they published — had “the support of the Priests of Ifá, of all the families in Cuba, and of their descendants in the world”, which in itself contradicts the fact that there are two independent predictions within the same religion.

On the other hand, the universal character that the priests of Ifá declare for their oracles causes inconsistencies in its credibility by releasing such general predictions that result in predictable events, without consulting any divination tray. I will return briefly to this point a little later.

Other elements to consider are the predictions themselves, taking into account annual sequences, the events of social interest that they forecast, the recommendations they make, etc., as well as the compliance or lack thereof of the previous years’ Letters; the intelligibility of their sayings and the ambiguity and vagueness of their language, among other key issues. I am referring to the independent nature attributed to the Letter dictated by the Organization Committee based at the Diez de Octubre Municipality location, avoiding, as far as possible, the contaminating official stench that could emanate from the other one.

For example, the Letters published in 2005 and 2007 are identical in many of their contents. The sections that were dedicated to serious diseases, events of social interest, statute’s axioms, and almost all the recommendations, were literally copied from the former to the latter. Two years, that, however, turned out to be quite different from each other in many ways, and right in the middle of which came Fidel Castro’s momentous proclamation (2006) delegating power to his brother and a small committee of characters holding high government positions who were, among others, three of the ousted acolytes of today. If a message about this was stated in the January 2006 Letter, it had to be very cryptic, because no one discovered it among predictions, recommendations and maxims.

Needless to say that some other elements in the Letter of the Year are pure garbage. The announcement of “the death of older people and public figures in culture and politics” that has appeared in one of the last letters is really obsolete, though most fans insist that the deaths of several elderly historic Cubans were announced by the board of Ifá and its interpreters, the babalawos. Predicting the likelihood of death for elderly or public figures of culture and politics “who are around 80 years old or have crossed that threshold — especially when it is known that many officials in high positions are old men engaged to that nomenclature — is not only an immature absurdity, but it makes a mockery of people’s intelligence. The announcement of “power struggles” also seems like a dramaturgical job, in light of the forced retirement of the senile commander.

We don’t have to shake any seashells to “guess” that the interests accumulated by the ruling class for over half a century will inexorably lead to bitter conflicts between the different tendencies that inevitably exist in the ruling elite as soon as the unifying ruler of those historical forces stepped down from the presidential recliner. The numerous purges that have taken place in recent years are a reflection of the realignment of forces that emerge from these conflicts, which, in the long run, will possibly delineate the political landscape that will host the long-awaited transitional changes.

The always ambiguous language used by the interpreters of Ifá allows each person to essentially fit the speech to his own liking, and to interpret whatever he might understand out of its convoluted and faulty syntax, especially when universal significance is given to its predicted effects. Rain, tsunamis, droughts, epidemics, war, military occupation, earthquakes, hurricanes and shipwrecks are omens that lose authenticity when applied generally to the whole planet; it is obvious that these are recurring events that invariably take place each year in one or other region on Earth. Shouldn’t Ifá be more specific in order to have his aid be more effective? Or is it his priests who do not interpret his predictions exactly? In my opinion, these limitations are caused by the effort to apply universal relevance to local-type religions, typical of lower stages of development.

The most recent one, the 2011 Letter of the Year, repeats the 2010 reigning symbol, it has Oggún (patron saint of blacksmiths and the military) as its regent divinity, which some Cubans have interpreted as a complacent acquiescence, or perhaps a friendly wink to General Raúl Castro. This year, the very handy threat of war, confrontation and “military intervention” is maintained, too much like the Cuban government’s discourse, overused and repeated ad nauseam, in order to keep the subjectivity of “the people” around an imaginary enemy attack. Shouldn’t Ifá be more creative? No, the priests will probably say that the Letter refers to events that will occur in other countries of the world.

It also seems a curious coincidence that, pursuant to the “renewal of the model” advocated by General Castro begun some time ago, with measures such as distribution of land in usufruct to the peasants, the 2011 Letter of the Year takes advantage to include in its recommendations “to absolutely restore or eliminate old political schemes to enjoy a new social order.” And with that, all is right with God and the Devil: change has been the popular outcry for years, as is, of late, the regime’s urgent need to retain power through a grace period. It would seem that, instead of proposing prophecies to lead us properly through life, the Ifá’s proposals, through his priests, keep us dependent on the rhythm of the official model, survival, and the vagaries of the system.

However, believers are struggling to find rationalization to support their faith and their hope of improving life among the ambiguities and detours of the year’s patakies**. That’s why, in contrast with the alleged universalism of the Ifá oracle, Cubans seek out even the slightest sign of progress for Cuba… and he who seeks will always find. This is influenced by not only the critical economic situation we’ve been mired in for a long time, but also by the chronic misinformation that the vast majority of Cubans are suffering from, dependent on the meager communication they receive from the strictly government-controlled media.

Contrary to what I discuss here, it could be argued that the Rule of OSA, the Ifismo, or anything related to traditions and principles of this religion do not indicate a political character, in fact, this is what many priests allege, but this is not fully adjusted to the truth. The religions of African origin have been as persecuted by the regime as all other religions, or even more so, given that their practices were largely demonized, their rituals had to be hidden, and their faithful belonged to the poorest and most marginalized levels of society. These circumstances, and the act of existing under a totalitarian government, lend a political edging to every element of social life in Cuba that religions cannot escape.

A priest’s views

Victor Betancourt himself, a babalawo who regularly participates in the ritual of the Letter of the Year Organizing Committee, has recently responded to questions addressed to him by several readers of Diario de Cuba, and recognizes what I would define as a lack of commitment to the predictions and their effects. According to Betancourt, in response to whether or not the prophecies of last year’s Letter came true, “it is very difficult to determine the accuracy of the predictions for those who don’t have within reach data sources, annual ephemeris, annual statistical data, etc. (…) therefore, I cannot ascertain if they were met or not”. In the same setting, Betancourt asks for reporters’ help to verify such compliance, since they are more informed than he is (and Ifá himself, I may add) about what is happening in the world. With this, Betancourt attributes a purely media character to the predictions and their effects.

In response to another reader, concerned about the final fate of Fidel Castro, this Ifá priest states that Castro (Fidel) “abides by the recommendations of Ifá” and that is why he hasn’t died. I remember, however, that Victor Betancourt dedicated a religious ritual to safeguard the life of the eminent commander when, in 2006, he was on the verge of death. He doesn’t seem to recognize any influence his prayers before Ifá had on that occasion, or possibly, he doesn’t want to create a stir on that chapter of his religious career. At any rate, for a priest, I am of the opinion that he lacks a smidgen of faith.

Nevertheless, we have to believe that his prayer for the longest-lived dictator of this hemisphere has no political character, or that his regret is sincere when he says that “many journalists’ questions are always directed at the policy of the revolutionary government and at the leader’s health. We always believed that if we stated publicly, as now, that diseases whose rates will increase are the pulmonary ones, we would be sending a direct message to the health ministers of all countries, as well as to health providers in that specialty who have all the recourses and finances to strengthen this sector. We thought it would be more plausible, before we let the prophecy reach the people with asthma, tuberculosis, etc.” For me, I cannot imagine that the Health Ministers in the UK, Canada or Sweden are waiting for the Letter of the Year and the recommendations of Ifá’s priests to come out to allocate the corresponding budgets and to map out the strategies of the case.

After the predictions, the realities

I must confess that, in recent years, I have shown interest in the Letter of the Year as a phenomenon that brings together a significant number of individuals. It awakens in me a curiosity to understand the motives of human spirituality. Believers or not, “just in case”, almost everyone asks at the beginning of January, “What did the Letter come out with this time? Who is in it? What does it predict?” without ever understanding that they are the ones who must find answers to the crisis of their own existence. Still, this is an event that doesn’t get too contaminated in the midst of this tense and expectant society: it doesn’t offer enough hope as to awaken a mobilizing expectation, it lacks the strong propensity to spark a flame. That is why it is astutely tolerated by the authorities.

But, beyond trickery, credos or incredulities, Cuba’s destiny is not exactly played out on Ifá’s tray. Oggún, the legendary warrior, is useless to me, as is Raúl Castro, myth of the warrior who never was. We Cubans need peace after warring against ourselves for half a century. Enough is enough.

With all due respect, without Ifá’s stone tablets, I can predict that the era of the dictatorship is nearing its end; that there will be changes, perhaps more than we can imagine; that we will finally have an imperfect democracy that will have to be polished for many more years; that tomorrow’s children will not have to swear that they will become like Ché… or even better, that they will not be Little Pioneers; that there will be a multi-party system; that we will have rights; that the remnants of totalitarianism will be swept away by the young and by future generations, that the road will be long and difficult; that we will have to continue to expose chiefs of state, the opportunistic, and the corrupt. The Orishas will not make this omen come true, we will. If Orishas finally decide to help us, all the better. As for me, don’t give me magic seashells… give me Internet.

Translator’s notes:
*A babalawo, meaning ‘father or master of the mysticism’ in the Yoruba language, is a title that denotes a Priest of Ifá. Ifá is a divination system that represents the teachings of the Orisha.
**Patakies: Myths and legends of the Yoruba religion.

January 31, 2011

In the absence of a complete chronology of the struggle for freedom of the press in Cuba, it is possible to follow, step by step, the increasing deterioration of the “national information system.” Tune in to radio and television newscasts, or browse through the newspapers which, as a rule, repeat misinformation or misrepresentations of what happens in the world. This emphasizes, in uppercase, all that is omitted, and with it, the lack of freedom, initiatives and opinions by industry professionals. The official “journalistic” activity on the island is now an occupation lacking in veracity, dignity or in the minimum decorum, with very few exceptions. And it must be really hard to serve a master as deceitful as the Cuban government while maintaining respect for a profession that is as old as it is necessary in a globalized world at the height of the age of the Internet.

Examples to support what I’m stating abound, but one of the most typical is being created right now. This past January 10th all the nation’s media announced the start of the trial in the United States against Luis Posada Carriles on charges of fraud, obstruction of justice, perjury and false statements, “despite his long history of terrorism against Cuba.” That day, the Round Table TV talk show was also devoted to this conspicuous character (on that occasion, the TV evening ritual was titled Posada Carriles and the Route of Terror, and it had two parts, aired on successive days), and — if that were not enough — the Cubavisión channel aired a special evening program conveying what they usually call “new evidence” against Posada, based on the very credible testimony of a Salvadoran rumored to be a confessed terrorist, sentenced to a 30-year prison term in Cuba, whose life was spared through the generosity of revolutionary justice, (which was exemplary and inflexible with three young Cubans shot against the wall in 2003 for highjacking a passenger vessel).

At this point, I leave a personal note: I do not defend Mr. Luis Posada Carriles, nor do I condemn him until, beyond any doubt, his participation in the heinous 1976 Barbados crime is established, as well as other criminal acts he is accused of by the Cuban government. I condemn any acts of violence, mainly those that threaten innocent lives, even if they wear the make-up of any supposedly higher ideal. To blow up a civilian airliner in flight is as criminal as to down planes or to sink ships full of defenseless people, so a much longer and fuller bench is required to judge the culprits of terrorism.

Daily since its beginning, the Cuban press has reported details of the trial being held in El Paso, Texas. Posada Carriles was, once again, the media’s supreme obsession, until someone from up high was forced to react to the dust under our own rugs: alternative bloggers again, with the usual nonsense, were pointing insistently to the absence of trials in Cuba for the murders at Mazorra. So, on January 17th, a week after choking us with the terrible shortcomings of the judicial system of the enemy Empire, which continues to ignore the proverbial Cuban government impartiality, the authorities allowed its anti-informative spokesmen to issue a brief, bare-bones note announcing the beginning, that same day, of the trial “against the principals involved in the untimely death of patients” at Havana’s Psychiatric Hospital that took place the previous year. The note closed with a significant sentence: “Once the judicial process has been concluded, the results will be made public.”

After that, Cubans have continued to learn everything about Posada Carriles’s trial that the authorities have seen fit to disclose, while the process that follows the deaths of scores of psychiatric patients in Cuba has remained a stubborn official silence, despite the impact that the crime had in people’s sensibilities at the time. Needless to mention that the transparency of the El Paso trial, with the disclosure of what happens in a U.S. court, contrasts against the murky conspiracy brewing inside the inaccessible and secret confines of a Cuban court. Management of information in Cuba, with its typical contempt for public opinion, has reached unparalleled heights of shoddiness.

Meanwhile, and in the absence of official reports, popular opinion declares that there are many obscure points in the trial being held in the capital’s Provincial Court. It is said that “all who should be there are not,” that filling the courtroom with people chosen by the authorities is not really “in public view,” that among the notable absentees from the bench of the accused is the then Minister of Health José Ramón Balaguer Cabrera, one of the darlings of the lesser Castro. It is said that, once again, a selection of scapegoats will cover responsibility for the corruption and the lack of scruples of the higher-ups. Only the naive and the morons will settle for the results of this farce.

The Cuban press, as always, is silent, but many people are not. And the national state of disbelief at the government is not the only thing, but the general discredit that employees playing a part in the media suffer in their unhappy compromise with a dictatorship doomed to extinction. Obtusely lacking common sense, they are a manifest reflection of the deceptiveness of the system, and, in the long run, as responsible as their master.

Note at closing: Today, Monday January 24th, the official press published the following information: “sentence ruling concluded in trial for the events at the Havana Psychiatric Hospital.” I suggest to readers that they visit the official website cubadebate.com and assess the news for themselves.

January 24, 2011

Before the end of this hectic 2010, I wish all readers health and prosperity in the new year. Some responses to messages you have sent me are still pending, some requiring deeper analysis than a few lines. I assure you I will reply in a few days, as soon as I can sit down and write in the midst of this year-end maelstrom.

We could list everything that has happened over these last 12 months, but that would be too lengthy. Suffice it to say that this year has struck a climax: the popular consensus is that the era of communist totalitarianism in Cuba is coming to an end. Castro’s socialism is collapsing.

2011 may possibly be an even more difficult year and, without a doubt, it will be crucial in many respects; I think that the main thing is that we should get ready for a new era. For my part, I’m always optimistic, though not overly confident, and I wouldn’t be able to predict the future either: the only thing I can assure you of is my willingness to remain in the network, alongside all who may wish to join me in this little virtual forum to try to broadcast from here the successes and — above all — to relay, for the readers to consider, my personal beliefs about them.

In retrospect, it seems clear that this year was intense from the start, full of incidents and milestones that have determined the precursors and aftermath of many events. The inertia has begun to break and, apparently, there is no turning back. Not to be ominous, but I see the slight and persistent signs of a civic gestation in some segments of Cuban society. I am hopeful that, this time, we have a safe delivery. None of us knows how changes will take place. The spark that will set off the process might occur in a most unexpected way, or in the most unpredictable context: it might be a drivers’ strike, a demand by a handful of disgruntled young people, or a mere push in a crowded bus. There may even not be a spark, and I hope from the bottom of my heart that there is no violence, but there will be changes, and many of us will be conflicted by them. I propose that, in the last minute of 2010, we have a moment of remembrance for our political prisoners who remain in Cuban jails because of the unfulfilled promise of this regime. Let’s not forget.

Just yesterday I talked to the poet Rafael Alcides about the Cuban situation, its generational legacy and the historic events from where it is derived. His fluid, emotional and profound dissertation climaxed with a sentence that only a poet could dream of: “Miracles usually take place under the guise of chance.” And I suddenly understood that what we are all manufacturing is just that: a miracle that may arrive at any moment, disguised in the trappings of the most unexpected happenstance. My wish for the new year is that we push the saving miracle by changing the situation that excludes and oppresses us; by finding each other in the midst of so much fog; by electing what we are and what we want to be, because it is definitely always about making choices and taking responsibility for them. I already know that there aren’t many reasons to be optimistic, but, like the poet, I choose to believe.

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 30, 2010

Since the publication of the Civic Manifesto addressed to Cuban communists, reproduced in this blog after it first saw the light of day on December 13, 2010 in the new digital site “We Ask to Speak” to which I created a link, many regular readers and other friends inside and outside Cuba have expressed their interest in signing the document. Originally, said Manifesto was not designed to collect signatures, so it shows only the eight signers who participated in its first debate and composition. However, due to the reception it has had among many readers, it has been replicated in several other digital sites as you have requested, and this January, the option for anyone wishing to sign it, independent of their nationality, ideology or political affiliations,will be added. This is a civic message, not of a partisan stance.

You can also contribute to the dissemination of the ideas presented in the referenced document by e-mailing it to friends and relatives within and outside Cuba. I will inform you as soon as possible when it is available for signing on the website cited above, where it was published initially. As co-author of the Manifesto, I appreciate the support you have given it, and I encourage whoever shares the proposals and ideas it contains to sign it. Thank you for your invaluable solidarity and support. A hug to everyone. Miriam.

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 28, 2010

Perogrullo is right in that we Cubans are basic means for the government; we are used or ignored, according to how useful we may turn out. As if this alone were not enough, we have an “inventory number” inscribed on our identity card which we are required to carry around, and, more important even than your face or name, is that pretty long number including your birth date, followed by another sequence indicating even your gender. I, for example, am not Miriam, but 59100900595. The identity card in question also has one’s fingerprints. Just by looking at that small card encased in plastic, the message is loud and clear: “I’m watching you”, which, of course, is one of its main purposes.

While it’s true that in other parts of the world people tend to have a document that identifies them, from a driver’s license to a dry cleaners card, no written gadget replaces the human person as in Cuba. Unless we are talking about a criminal, who, nevertheless, also has his rights. And this is the word around this issue: rights. Because in these last few days the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was celebrated, and the press in my (my?) country, with the touching modesty that they have us so accustomed to, once again harped on the extraordinary achievements on such rights that the revolution has introduced for us – the native basic means — and for tens of thousands of people around the entire world. They harp, above all, on health issues.

Just my bad luck that around that same time I had visited an old relative at the Altos clinic at the Calixto Gracía Hospital, and I was able to evidence, alive and directly [in the flesh], as we say in Cuba, the conditions in which basic means are warehoused in such as a place. A ward where, in unabashed promiscuity, patients of both sexes share their stay, even the same cubicle, so that if they need to use a bedpan or a urinal, or if a patient (yes, you have to be patient) has to be catheterized, or if someone who is not ambulatory has to be given a sponge bath, it has to be done in the presence of others, because the ward does not even have devices that allow curtains to be drawn discretely to isolate patients from each other when it is necessary or desirable. The highest aspiration of the poor flesh and bone pieces of furniture, “cared for” in this manner, is for the roommate and his visitors, and even the patient’s own visitors, to discretely look away while they the patient uses the bed pan, while he gets washed, or simply while the doctors’ or the nurses’ treatment requires that their bodies be exposed.

It is a very bleak spectacle indeed. It is overwhelming to just think that a human being might stumble into a situation in which dignity and respect are stepped on like this and, to top it all off, that they have to be grateful that “at least we have free and guaranteed medical attention”.

In the midst of all this, I am wondering if the embargo is responsible for an individual who is ill to be subjected to expose his intimacies and his miseries in such as crude manner. I wonder if, at any time, someone had the rare privilege of sharing his in-patient cubicle with any of our olive-green dinosaurs or with any other member of the upper caste, or if any one of the executives or other foreign visitors that are always bragging about the Cuban health system has ever seen these hospital wards, or if they would like to be cared for with these “attentions”. I wonder, above all, how we can cure someone while at the same time lacerating his sense of personal dignity. Definitively, this December 10th I have discovered another one of the dirty corners of Castro-style Human Rights.

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 14, 2010

Old Rubén is over 80 years old, but he is one of those whose “suckling pigs will not die in his belly,” so, since he retired more than a decade ago, he has always sought ways to round out his meager pension and increase his income. So old and already infirm, he must spend a fortune on his meds every month, but he won’t complain or veg out in a rocking chair, so every day around noon and in the afternoon he leaves his house and walks toward some school’s entrance so he can sell candy.

Rubén has thus found a way to stay active and, at the same time, make some extra money, though a few times he has had to run away as fast as his tired legs will allow because the police harasses all “illegal activity”, even the small escapade of an old man struggling to survive this shipwreck. At times, they have caught Rubén and he has lost his profits and his “merchandise”; on more than one occasion they have “warned him” that if he continues the activity, they will apply “other stronger measures”, but it would not be honest of me to deny that on several occasions the agents have let him go with his candy and his few little pesos… “Old man, behave yourself and stay put at home!” “I don’t want to see you with candy or anything, OK?” But, after a few days, when the wallet starts to wane, Rubén once again fetches the candy and peers cautiously around the school. One has to make a living!

However, these days Rubén has received bad news. Lalo, his candy supplier, as old and worn as Rubén, has decided to submit the license application to manufacture the goodies. Police and inspectors will have declared war on him, and he feels a constant watch on his home, making it difficult to work; sugar is difficult to obtain, and has greatly increased in price… He already has a tired heart and is not up to these sudden shocks. The problem is that we now Lalo will have to do twice the work: cook up the candy and go out and sell them, because – according to the “new reforms” implemented by General Raúl (a little old man who doesn’t have to sell candy) — if Lalo contracted with Rubén and other sellers of his products, he would have to pay social security taxes for each “employee,” which would reduce to a minimum his own profits and make his efforts completely inoperative.

Now Rubén is scheming to see what new market to explore. He might accept the proposal of a numbers bookie in his neighborhood and may become one of his runners. Rubén has always been good with numbers, knows thousands of tricks, and the old man is very lucid. On the other hand, he has the air of a semi-orphan which could serve to dispel the suspicions of distrustful neighbors. He would have preferred not to get into this mess, but he knows that he “cannot stop” because his legs feel more awkward with every passing day; the day may come when he is confined to a wheel chair, and “by then, I must have saved my pennies.” Besides – and this is what I admire most in Rubén — “One has to make a living!!”

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 10, 2010

Several days ago, I was reading some works published on a site that switches between the informal and the official. Contrary to what many may believe, it is interesting to meet views opposing to one’s own, especially if they provide elements that force us to tune-up the arguments, or – as in this case – when it deals with personal testimony that allows us to face facts that, no matter how you look at them, affects many, independent of their individual political preferences or ideology.

I do not intend to hash out an article, but to comment on one of the topics to be addressed: the elimination of workplace lunchrooms as a way to alleviate the extreme “subsidies” hanging over this indulgent father they call the State. The “measure” was announced loudly over a year ago in the national media and was implemented experimentally in several work places, whose workers would now receive the sum of 15 pesos (national currency) in place of each lunch. Many of these workers received the news of the end of their mess halls with real pleasure, and with good reason: those who worked all 24 workdays of each month would receive a total of 360 pesos under this model, in addition to their salary. In some cases, taking into consideration that the amount was the same for all workers regardless of salary scales or complexity and responsibility of their positions, lower-income employees would have a substantial increase in income over their own salaries. It goes without saying that the workers who were not chosen for the experiment hopefully and anxiously awaited the measure to be extended to everyone in the work centers.

With the enthusiastic immediacy that characterizes any revolutionary initiative in this country, the experiment began with the purpose of verifying the results in order to extend the measure to all workplaces. However, though the matter has not been mentioned again, the lunchrooms have gradually been disappearing from countless workers centers without workers getting any compensation in return, since they were not among the elected at the start of the great experiment. The ones who were excluded, therefore, do not have lunchrooms or the benefit of the redeeming 15 pesos, though compliance with the rigorous 8-hour workday established by law is maintained. It must be noted, by way of parenthesis, that these laws also state that a 9-hour shift without a lunch break cannot be fulfilled, so – with their wicked skill — management of each work center has been careful to maintain an hour of recess intended for workers’ lunch breaks, when they must find a way of eating, be it by reducing their meager incomes to buy whatever “street” food seems cheapest (therefore devoid of any quality) or by eroding their no less flagging household food stocks, with all the inconveniences that entails. By the way, in spite of the problems it causes, I don’t have any information that the slightest workers strike has taken place… nor will it ever. You can take that to the bank.

Beyond the small gastronomic and financial tragedy, however, isn’t it truly cynical that the government’s experiment decided to allocate 15 pesos to each worker to buy his own lunch? As I see it, if the officials themselves conceived that that amount was essential for an individual to obtain a simple lunch; if, in addition, it is well-known that a median Cuban income is approximately 300 pesos, isn’t it tantamount to official recognition that an individual’s income in Cuba is barely enough to guarantee one meal a day per person? This is, from my view, the crux of the problem. The drama lies not, as seems to be projected in the opinion of some who are affected, whether or not they are granted 15 pesos for each lunch or whether they maintain a trough (not “lunchroom”) which guarantees a miserable and generally bad food ration in their workplace at a nominal price. The real tragedies are that the salary earned after a month’s work is not even enough to satisfy the most basic feeding of an individual, let alone of a whole family; that the State Chiefs — aware of this — should wash their hands of the matter and that the ever-victims should continue to suffer in silence the scorn and arrogance of these XXI century slave drivers.

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 7, 2010

In late November, a kind reader wrote to me suggesting I prepare a list of all dissident groups and political parties on the Island. Since the proposal has appeared publicly in the comments on more than one occasion, I propose –in turn- to answer publicly and take the opportunity to share some impressions, given that other Cuban friends inside and outside the country have shown interest in the subject.

I, for one, decline the privilege and the overwhelming responsibility of that task for many reasons. The first and strongest one is that I am part of this varied set that is grouped under the generic name of dissidents, truly diverse in interests, proposals, projections, performances, stories, successes, failures, etc., not to mention the human components and personal nuances that dot all these aspects. It is against all ethics to be judge and party to any process. It also happens that, in order to compile a list of this nature, basic concepts would have to be defined, such as “political party”, “opposition group” or “independent civil society” (in all its manifested forms today in Cuba). This omission also involves risks that could hurt feelings, or carry value judgments that may be subjective.

I have personally heard criteria that overestimate the strength and organization of Cuban dissidents, and others that undervalue it. In fact, after two decades of what we conventionally call here “the surge of the opposition” — characterized by the emergence of some peaceful organizations under the influx of transformative ideas that swept the former socialist camp, and amid the general crisis known as “The Special Period” — the different groups have yet to achieve enough visibility or roots in Cuban society, despite the efforts they have made and the repression suffered by many of their leaders. The causes and ratings for this phenomenon will be properly analyzed in a conceivable immediate future by political scientists and historians better able to do it than this blogger, so I will limit myself for now to say that –- beyond their successes and failures — movements and opposition groups that have existed and still exist in Cuba have set an important precedent in the struggle for the rights and freedoms of the Cuban people through peaceful struggle, and have also demonstrated the existence of a large segment of the population of the Island that does not share in the ideology imposed by the dictatorship and is demanding changes. Breaking the idyllic image of a false unity and the highly publicized “the people united with its government” was a titanic chore that these opponents had to fight against in the last 20 years, at a high personal cost. At some point, its true value will need to be recognized.

Another factor that undermines the development of a reliable list is the instability of some groups. Many of them have had or have a short life, i.e., they surge around a leader’s nucleus but quickly disappear, either by the loss, incarceration, or departure of the leader, or the lack of strength, civic, or political culture of their members. Sometimes they group under one name and then change it when they merge into other groups, or groups split and give rise to lesser groups in continual multiplication. At times, there seem to be lots of opposition groups or political parties, and there are people abroad who cannot imagine how, if this is so, the groups have not been able to overthrow, or at least weaken the dictatorship. In fact, not even peaceful means can be effective unless parties are consolidated and venues for moderation are found, both among social actors who promote change and society as a whole, as well as between them and the government. The old vices of Cuban culture that push us over and over again toward immediacy, improvisation, the search for the limelight, and leaders who are more or less charismatic are key difficulties that have fragmented basic problems and have weakened opposition movements for many years, hence they have not managed to become alternatives to power or even observers of political processes of interest in half a century, as happened with the recent (and as yet without complete results) talks between the government of R. Castro and senior Catholic hierarchy of the Island. This is so true that the very Cuban government, in the midst of the most serious structural crisis of the system that he introduced, allows itself the arrogance to launch insufficient and ridiculous economic reforms that guarantee him more time in power, at least time enough to finish divvying up the piñata and parcel out the spoils of this poor flattened out hacienda. I believe, therefore, that a “list of opponents” at present, far from contributing, could become another element of discord among some jealous and restless spirits. I really don’t think it appropriate or a priority.

But opponents are not only grouped in political parties. There are also civic organizations, for example, The Ladies in White, the Latin American Federation of Rural Women (FLAMUR), the Cuban Commission for Human Rights and National Reconciliation, headed by Elizardo Sánchez; the website Desdecuba.com, where multiple blogs share space, including Yoani, and several portfolios that can be considered the cradle of the Cuban alternative blogosphere, the blogger platform Voces Cubanas, with a large group of people of all ages and diverse views and interests, as well as the digital magazine Convivencia, which Dagoberto Valdés manages from Pinar del Río, among other civic groups. The importance of these stems from gradually creating venues for free, open and spontaneous debate, without belonging to any political party or answering to any ideology. Political parties and citizens of the future might someday emerge from these groups, without excluding any current groups. Life is always richer than any human forecast, but some of us Cubans are convinced that developing citizens to democratize Cuba is an inescapable and foremost task. The end of a dictatorship would be of little worth if the danger of an escalating one is sustained. We mustn’t forget that it was we Cubans who placed ourselves in the critical point where we are today.

In conclusion, I believe that Cuba is set to create different venues that will encourage the growth of the alternative civil society, which will, in turn, give way to the emergence of institutions capable of upholding the rights and freedoms of citizens. It’s important to create citizens rather than political parties; to create civic culture, accentuating within it the ethical and juridical culture; to convert complaints into requests, into claims, into positive actions. The Ladies in White, Orlando Zapata and Guillermo Fariñas are the most visible evidence of this. It truly is a very long and arduous road that we will have to travel simultaneously toward the eventual extinction of the dictatorial regime. This imposes the dual action of pushing and forcing the government as much as possible, and, at the same time, of creating civic conscience in millions of slaves. However, it has been plainly shown that when it comes to a common destiny, improvisations are useless. Over one century of being a Republic without citizens has been lesson enough.

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 22, 2010

To discuss the topic that want to devote this post to, I am forced to tell a bit of history. In 1984, I started to work in the Department of Archaeology of the then Institute of Social Sciences, (ICSO) of the Academy of Sciences, in the National Capitol. In those days, we were a large group whose fundamental mission was scientific research, and we had at our service a very well-stocked library on the second floor, in the room occupied by the Library of Congress in the Republican era, that is, the Social Sciences Library of the Academy of Sciences was the successful heir to a valuable library collection, a treasure of enormous scientific, historical, and cultural value.

In the quiet of the Social Sciences Library I had the opportunity to check out works of classic universal philosophy, encyclopedias, dictionaries, art books, many works of chroniclers and rare literary specimens that were part of an accumulated scientific heritage from the early years of the Republic, exceptionally well-preserved over the years, protected in the safety of their shelves and in the care of specialists.

But it so happened that one sad day the Destructor by Antonomasia laid eyes on the historic Library of Congress. Oh, sacrilege! How could that collection have the arrogance to keep itself intact and to survive his infinite power?! How, when a library like this one had never existed in Birán, could the National Capitol luxuriate in exhibiting, with such great impudence and vanity, the nefarious works of the decadent bourgeois past?! And remembering, with admiration and envy, the burning of the Library at Alexandria and also the ones that the fascist hordes carried out in Nazi Germany, among other pyromaniacs in History, he decided to destroy, once and for all, the Library of Congress. In order to carry it out, he had a brilliant idea, so brilliant that it blinded Dr. Rosa Elena Simeón, the then Minister-President of the Academy of Sciences, who, without hesitation in the least, assumed it with the greatest of enthusiasms: in the area occupied by the Library of Congress and in other areas of the Capitol building she would create the greatest library of science and technology in Latin America; it would be called National Scientific and Technological Library (BNCT). It would have the latest information, and it would extend its services — beyond scientists and specialists — to the entire population.

It was in the last months of 1987 that we saw the old book shelves of the Library of Congress piled up in the Great Hall of Lost Steps, and the books exposed to the voracity of all who would loot the libraries. I cannot ever forget the floor, books tousled everywhere in disarray, thrown unscrupulously by the hordes, who were selecting the rarest to be sold in second hand book stores. We were all encouraged to take whatever books we wanted or could carry. Merchants took away books, so long cared for, in wheelbarrows, full to their very limit. A friend of mine, a reference librarian, had let me know, with tears in her eyes, so that I could also look for a few items that might interest me. Only when I arrived at the enormous room did I understand her grief. I assure you that it was one of the most impressive sights I ever witnessed, a disaster of books scattered, kicked, open, some already destroyed by the rush of the crowds over them: years of knowledge and culture destroyed in a matter of hours in the “most cultured country on Earth”

The dazzling Commander inaugurated the BNCT in July of 1988. It left behind the destruction of the old library, as well as the replica of the Punta del Este Cave, with its aboriginal pictographs perfectly copied with mathematical calculations and artistic patterns, which numerous Cuban and foreign specialists had achieved. Everything was worthy of being sacrificed in the name of the new lunacy. The press did not publish these events, although they orchestrated the fanfare of the inauguration.

The BNCT never had the riches of the Library of Congress. In addition, it never attained the dream of providing the latest scientific information services, not to mention equipment, shelving and furniture, which had nowhere near the quality, comfort and elegance of the old library that was destroyed. It was a short-lived bubble, because ideas based on destruction are doomed to failure. That has been the sign of each of the Orate’s initiative.

It turns out that the Capitol has recently become part of the Heritage under The City Historian’s works of restoration. I found out that, at the end of the day, the BNCT has also fallen into disgrace and it must abandon its current premises. To that end, the most exalted science library in Latin America has been assigned a few small locations where its collection does not fit. Workers have been forced to discard many resources that they have had to pack away, and, evidently, there won’t be space for the BNCT in the Capitol this time around, once it is restored. Thus, the BNCT must also prepare its epitaph. Hereinafter, it will become part of the long list of destruction that the Commander of Perverse Lunacy has left in his passage through life.

Translated by Norma Whiting

December 6, 2010

After a long time without participating in readers’ debates, I am encouraged by comments arising from the post “Cuba: potential exit scenarios”, which, as I stated at the end of the text, was written precisely with the intention of the discussion of the proposals I listed in it.

Doing a general review, some readers coincide on points that one can almost say are in agreement, for instance, preferring changes in Cuba to be peaceful, seeking consensus, eliminating exclusions, overcoming social apathy, giving up positions of hatred, and encouraging participation by the young. Other readers exposed somewhat more complex views; there are also extreme positions and plenty of pessimism (justified, by the way), from those who believe that nothing is worthwhile. I first want to insist that, as far as I am concerned, all criteria is valuable, but I can’t help but disagree with some cases and qualify others. If we want consensus, it must be assembled. I will try to be as concise as possible, although such a long, turbulent and complicated scenario as the current Cuban reality and the circumstances that led up to it cannot be summed up in this small space, nor will it be completed in a forum of such modest proportions as ours. I ask of you, therefore, to be patient with me. I will dedicate two posts (not necessarily continuous) to the issues, to avoid a long write-up.

I will base some of my principles on interesting points that have been made among the commentators. One reader believes that the intervention of international agencies, proposed as a possible solution to a humanitarian crisis should not be considered, since such a case should have occurred before 1994, when hunger and poverty reached high levels in the midst of the worst economic crisis when the socialist bloc collapsed, a phenomenon that was officially and euphemistically called “The Special Peacetime Period”. However, despite the hardships of those years, and particularly between 1993 and 1994, what might be described as a “humanitarian crisis” did not quite take place. It is true that there was a large segment of the population that was more vulnerable, including the elderly without filial support, children from dysfunctional homes, families with lower incomes and, of course, the most vulnerable groups in crisis situations: the physically and mentally handicapped, people with chronic illnesses, the homeless, etc. But at the same time, there were factors that helped alleviate the ravages of the shortages relatively quickly, among them, the legalization of the dollar, foreign capital investment, the proliferation of self-employment and -of course, a very important role- the family remittances. We should also not forget that, back then, the ration card was “more generous”, and we must take into account that a series of products was distributed that –though they were of low quality- they served the poorest tables. I keep those years’ cards, significantly more voluminous than today’s. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t deny the terrible wrongs suffered by most Cubans at that time, but, according to the parameters that international organizations establish, so far, Cuba has not actually produced a humanitarian crisis as it has happened in Rwanda, for example, or the former Yugoslavia, even in Haiti and in many other parts of the world, with the ingredients of massacres, famines that have claimed thousands of lives, permanent epidemics, wars, conflicts (ethnic or otherwise), the absence of social control, anarchy, etc.

On the other hand, the 1994 emigration was massive, but that is not the only or sufficient requisite for the intervention of such organizations.  Previous migrations had also been massive, as in 1980 (Mariel) or 1967 (Camarioca); and in the first few years of the revolution, let’s say between 1959 and 1963, when extreme positions were being defined, both in the Island as well as in its foreign policy, and the process was polarized, which led to the flight of thousands of Cubans who were affected in some measure by laws dictated by the new regime, those who thought that the revolution would be a brief and transitory period, or that they simply did not share in Castro’s politics, among other reasons. There are mass migrations from the world’s poorest countries to more developed and rich ones. Revolutions have also driven migration. It is the story of Humanity, and there is little that international organizations can do about it.

Another position I do not share, but one that encourages a debate of vital importance, is the eternal accusation against the young. The view that young Cubans are apathetic, irresponsible or comfortable with the status quo does not seem very reasonable or realistic. It is true that there is a general crisis of values, that the lack of expectations creates a sense of frustration among the young and that fleeing the Island has become the hope of thousands of… young people? Isn’t that what they have seen and are still seeing their elders do for decades? Hasn’t it been and still continues to be the desire of tens of thousands of Cubans well into adulthood?  Young people have also been leaving for 50 years, ones who did not decide to change the reality they rejected, ones who elected to (sacred word, by the way) create a destiny for themselves away from their country of origin. The “youth of today” are not, then, the ones who circumvent confrontation or the promotion of civil liberties. “Today’s youth” are not exactly the ones who are apathetic. It is not fair, nor can we forget that these young people of today saw us (their parents and grandparents) avoiding responsibility, failing in our professional projects, surviving within the double standard of public compliance and private protest, accepting, lying, often nodding in silent complicity, and always afraid.

It is even less accurate to say that today’s youth lack a rebellious spirit. They may become disoriented or confused at times, but they are in many ways nonconformists and rebellious. Why should we demand from them that which the ones with the most experience, the most reflexive and the best prepared have not been able to accomplish? I’m not saying we should leave things as they are, I say we should infect them with willpower and awaken in them the courage that every young person carries inside; I say we should chart a path of freedom where a lot of them will run us over. The phenomenon of the alternative blogosphere is there, begun by a handful of Cubans, mostly mature adults, which today includes a number of invaluable young people. Involving our youth requires the direct involvement -with positive actions- of the less young, members of all the forces of the emerging civil society, including the opposition, under all insignias, who must work on it.

Young people have been held back for half a century, submerged in the midst of a system that told them the future was a done deal, that destiny had already been charted by a process born of violence. At home, we did not tell them: “come on, let’s change things, let’s demand our rights and let’s make the Cuba we want”.  The fact is that we told them: “stay put, don’t believe them, but shut up so you don’t get hurt; pretend to obey, study, get an education, one day things will change… and if they don’t change, leave. Look for a better world than this death place.  Fighting the windmills is not worth the trouble, the others definitely do not appreciate it nor deserve it”. That has become the national truth.  We haven’t exactly been a paradigm of civility and responsibility to our young people. Even worse, we have failed them. How can we claim from them what we are responsible for? Who made them the way they are? Are we better than they are by any chance? I don’t think so. I am especially grateful that some readers have debated such a crucial theme as the role of the young people in the process of change, because, to win their trust and to engage them at the end of a dictatorship and the nation’s reconstruction, is the greatest possible utopia in today’s Cuba.  In spite of everything, I, for one, will continue to bet on the young.

Translated by: Norma Whiting

November 30, 2010

If, as the result of some wonderful spell, lots of Cubans on the island were able to (and wished to) participate with us in this blog, they would agree with me in that there is a phenomenon, as curious as it is widespread, that has been ordained as usual, at least in Havana: taxicabs are a kind of rolling confessional. Anyone wishing to be convinced of this need only have 20 pesos in national currency, that is, the most national; choose any of the longer routes covered by the “boteros” or “almendrones” (shared-ride taxis), and listen to the verbal unloading of almost every traveler who climbs aboard the car. We really could do a study in Cuban society, its needs, aspirations, disappointments, frustrations and despair by only boarding an “almendrón”. But I am slipping: the phenomenon is not confined to almendrones on route.

Any car for hire, licensed or not, becomes an adequate venue and forum –- with no previous agreement — for an analysis of “things” to start flowing between travelers and driver. It is amazing how the simple act of boarding an automobile, getting seated, and shutting the door of such a minuscule space that it even forces physical contact with people who, up to that moment, are absolutely unknown and strangers to us, triggers a kind of magical communicative effect, and people unload a whole universe of complaints, tribulations and disagreements that, as a general rule, are not even heard in labor meetings or Popular Party assemblies.

In a moving vehicle, I have listened to everything, from the deepest analyses to crazy plans for fleeing the Island. Everything exists in the vineyards… of this other guy. No exaggeration. And most relevant is the almost unanimous feeling of discontent and dissatisfaction that prevails among travelers. There is talk of licenses to the self-employed (which most do not intend to apply for) and high taxes, the country’s untenable situation, the countless shortcomings, the market shortages, the horrible state of public transportation services, the poor conditions in hospitals, the overlapping but unstoppable rise in prices of primary (plus secondary and tertiary) goods, talk of “there is no fixing this”, “these people are not going to solve anything “, “how things were before (before the Revolution, before the Special Period, before the dual currency…)”, of the children who have left to live abroad and of those who yearn to leave, of the experiences of 50 years of deceptions expressed by people of diverse ages, backgrounds and professions in a few minutes of fleeting company. The interior of a taxicab is probably the only sincere public space we have left, a microcosm of complicity and consensus that unite us, though, at the end, it might only be an illusion as fleeting as the travelers themselves.

The day this country becomes like any other, in which each person is free and master of her own self and of her destiny — if that idyllic day ever comes at last — we will have to erect a monument to taxicabs. Not just because, overheated, noisy and rattling, they were able to assume the daily and permanent transportation of hundreds of thousands of individuals, or because they are humble substitutes for the psychiatrists’ couches that we see in the movies (our psychiatrists probably don’t have couches), but because they have also been small spaces of spontaneous freedom in which Cubans, when expressing themselves, and almost without realizing it, have played at not being slaves to transform themselves into — though only for a few minutes of their lives — citizens.

Translated by Norma Whiting

November 26, 2010