Upon learning of his passing, I couldn’t help but remember how close I was to shaking his hand, but the demons of political intolerance prevented it.
14ymedio, Yoani Sánchez, Generation Y, 14 May 2025 [delayed translation] – – This Tuesday, one of the few Latin American leaders who, after serving as president, maintained a regional prestige free of accusations and scandals, died. He had been a man who was a model for the politics of service so lacking on our continent. José Pepe Mujica, former president of Uruguay and emblematic figure of the Latin American left, passed away at the age of 89. Upon learning of his passing, I couldn’t help but remember how close I came to shaking his hand, but the demons of political intolerance prevented me from doing so.
It was 2015, and I was visiting Montevideo, invited by the local journalists’ association. The tour’s agenda included visits to media outlets, conversations with reporters and graphic artists, and an extensive cultural program that lasted late into the night. One of the highlights of that stay in Uruguay was, precisely, meeting Mujica, a respected political oracle who delivered opinions and teachings with great ease and a fair amount of authenticity. The moment was also transcendent.
That year, hopes for a possible democratic transition in Cuba had reached a peak. Just a few months earlier, in December 2014, a diplomatic thaw between Washington and Havana had been announced, and the world’s eyes were focused on what was happening on the island. Fidel Castro, recovering from the illness that removed him from power in 2006, barely received visitors, and Mujica was one of the few chosen to access Punto Cero, the heavily guarded estate where Castro spent his final years. The Uruguayan was very reserved about those encounters, but had begun to slip in criticism of the authoritarian nature of the Cuban model.
Talking to Mujica was an opportunity for me to hear the opinion of an informed and sincere political actor who knew my country closely and had a vision of everything that was happening in the region.
Talking with Mujica was, for me, an opportunity to hear the opinion of an informed and sincere political figure who knew my country closely and had a vision of everything that was happening in the region. But we were never able to have that conversation.
One day before the scheduled date for the exchange of views, Pepe told the event organizer that he had to travel a few weeks later to a tribute where he would receive at the Casa de las Américas in Havana. “You know how Cubans are; I don’t want any trouble with them,” he excused himself before canceling the meeting, alluding to the Cuban regime’s traditional intolerance toward any gesture of dissent. The journalist who heard that excuse later told me that the former president was embarrassed and annoyed at having to accommodate the sensitivities of the Castro regime.
That official tribute took place, and Mujica shone before the audience with his ease, but in the years to come, the Uruguayan increasingly distanced himself from the Cuban establishment. In an interview, he revealed part of the chasm that had opened between the pluralism he had embraced and the single party imposed by Castro. “It doesn’t work, this doesn’t work,” he declared with his usual frankness. Reading his words, I felt I was listening to him, and that frustrated meeting had, in fact, taken place, and that we had been talking in Montevideo or Havana for long hours about life, liberty, and the future. Buen viaje, Pepe.
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Editor’s Note: This article was originally published in Deutsche Welle in Spanish.
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