Dissidents in Cuba
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Visiting Raúl Castro's Cuba

Visiting Raúl Castro's Cuba
Samuel Farber

ON JULY 31, 2006, THE CUBAN government announced that due to a
serious illness, the nature of which was declared a state secret, Fidel
Castro was stepping aside as the head of state. His younger brother
Raúl, officially designated as his successor since the early days of the
1959 Revolution, was "temporarily" replacing the commander-in-chief.

Raúl is reputed to be more pragmatic and a better organizer and
administrator than his older brother. He has favored economic reforms
such as those implemented in the mid-nineties, like the expansion of
joint ventures with foreign capital, the legalization of the dollar, and
the opening of agricultural markets and small family enterprises in the
cities (although in recent years, the Cuban government has retreated
from some of these concessions to private enterprise and the market.)
Raúl is also an open admirer of the current Chinese model of
development. He has made the army the most important actor in the Cuban
economy, as in the case of the major tourist enterprise Gaviota and
hundreds of other enterprises where capitalist-type methods have been
introduced through the Sistema de Perfeccionamiento Empresarial (System
of Enterprise Perfection). High Army officers have also assumed
leadership roles in various sectors of the country's industries such as
sugar.

Raúl is also known as a political hard-liner, like the Chinese
leaders he admires. He played a central role in the execution of Arnaldo
Ochoa and other high army officers in 1989 and in the 1996 dissolution
of the Center for the Study of the Americas, an unorthodox Communist
Party think tank.

On the surface, nothing much seems to have changed since Raúl
replaced Fidel. The policies of the regime seem to be pretty much the
same as they were until July 30, 2006. The commander-in-chief may not be
in but neither is he out. Although he is no longer the hands-on chief
giving long speeches and moving around the country issuing orders and
instructions, he does have access to the telephone and regularly talks
to ministers Carlos Lage and Felipe Pérez Roque (see below.) He also
receives visitors, most prominently Venezuela's Hugo Chavez, who has
come to see him several times during the last months. Chavez' visits
with Fidel, parts of which have been televised, and broadcast phone
interviews, have become the main channels through which Cubans and
people abroad get a glimpse of Fidel Castro's physical condition.

Nevertheless, some significant developments have taken place below
that surface. Most important of all has been the marginalization of
Fidel Castro's staff. His "Grupo de Apoyo" (Support Group) constituted
by figures such as his personal secretary Carlos Valenciaga was the
principal organizational means through which Fidel intervened in the
political and economic life of the country. The Grupo de Apoyo, known as
the "Talibanes" because of its ideological orthodoxy, but now also
jokingly referred to as "los huerfanitos" or little orphans, has existed
for a long time, but recently acquired much greater importance and
relative autonomy within the system because of the central role it has
played in the Commander in Chief's campaign for the "Battle of Ideas."
This "Battle" was not just about ideological and political struggles and
the frequent massive demonstrations that went along with those, but also
about implementing economic projects, which often departed from existing
plans and usurped the powers and functions of the government's
departments and ministries. One such project involved the decision by
Fidel and his Grupo de Apoyo, contrary to established construction
priorities, to renovate the University of Havana's Law School that the
Cuban leader had attended in the late forties. These kinds of
interventions have apparently come to an end as Raúl Castro has made the
delegation of powers to ministries and other government agencies a
central feature of his rule, and has strengthened the role of
established government plans. In addition, there has been a reduction in
the number of government-sponsored mobilizations at places such as the
U.S. interest section building, apparently in order to increase the
productivity of labor, while also softening the constant pressure on
people to disrupt their lives and show their support for the regime.
Thus, it appears that "normal" ruling class bureaucratic rationality has
trumped Bonapartist and charismatic chaos and disorder in Round One of
the Transition.1

It is hard to predict what will happen in the rounds to come. Raúl
Castro, at 75 years of age, may well turn out to be a short-lived
transitional figure. Among the people in the next leadership rung there
is first, Carlos Lage, a medical doctor in his fifties who has been put
in charge of the Cuban economy; he has a reputation as a "moderate." So
does Ricardo Alarcòn, in his late sixties or early seventies, former
Foreign Minister and the head of Cuba's Parliament, although he appears
to be playing a lesser role in the transition that began last July 31.2
The youngest is Felipe Pérez Roque, the current Foreign Minister, who is
in his forties. As former chief of staff of Fidel Castro, he is seen not
surprisingly, as close to the "Talibanes" of the Grupo de Apoyo to which
he used to belong. None of these people, however, have the power and
prestige of the major "historic" leaders of the revolution. That is why
there has been a fair amount of talk about a "collegiate" leadership
team eventually taking over after Raúl passes from the scene. The record
of "collegiate leaderships" has been unimpressive in every type of
political system, even more so in Soviet-type systems like the former
USSR or China. In the absence of well-established, let alone democratic,
mechanisms to resolve important differences that are bound to develop,
it is likely that one or another individual leader will inevitably rise
to the top. If the army leadership remains united, whether under Raúl or
some other general, it is very unlikely that either the "Talibanes," or
any other force within the ruling circles, could prevail against them.
Thus, Cuba will probably follow a state sponsored capitalist road of
development in the manner of Vietnam and China.3 Meanwhile, a number of
Cuban leaders have reported that Fidel Castro's health is improving and
that he may even return to office. While unlikely, such an event would
greatly complicate and make much harder a prediction of Cuba's future.

I ARRIVED IN CUBA during this transitional period on January 23,
2007 and stayed for two weeks. I was born and raised in Cuba and left
the island in early 1958 while the Batista dictatorship was still in
power. I visited the country for two weeks in January of 2000 and,
before then, for one week at the end of 1979, a few months before the
exodus from the port of Mariel in the spring of 1980. My impressions of
those two trips were published in three different socialist journals.4

The Havana metropolitan area that I saw this time looked poorer
than the impoverished Havana of 1979, although perhaps slightly better
off than the Havana of 2000. There was definitely more automobile
traffic with its accompanying pollution and smell of burned fuel. The
proportion of th
e ancient North American cars of the forties and fifties
had visibly declined. People, particularly women, were better dressed:
they wore new looking clothes and shoes. Jeans, in generally good
condition, were worn everywhere, whether in the relatively more
fashionable area of Vedado or in the various poor, working class
districts that I visited. Women of all ages wore makeup and nail polish.
There were a handful of beggars here and there, but these were always
old people rather than children. Many more elderly people were selling
peanuts and the Communist daily newspaper Granma, a multifaceted irony
that reflects the inadequate level of peso-denominated pensions, one of
the many serious problems confronting the country. The Cuban press also
recently reported that the authorities were trying to stop, as a threat
to public health, the growing activity of people going through garbage
bags in search of empty containers to be sold to self- employed traders
and for discarded food to feed animals.5 These expressions of extreme
poverty however, are considerably less visible than in the major cities
in Mexico, where I have traveled often. Friends told me that there had
been fewer blackouts in recent months, although I experienced a couple
of short-lived ones, lasting two minutes or so. Although more dwellings
looked freshly painted than in 2000, they frequently had broken window
panes, crumbling window frames, and rusty hardware. The overall
condition of urban housing in Havana seemed to be getting worse, as the
cumulative impact of rain, hurricanes and the sheer impact of time's
wear and tear, has gradually destroyed the housing stock. The Cuban
government claims that it built 100,000 housing units in the country in
2006, thereby expanding new construction by 30 percent in comparison
with 2005. I saw very little if any evidence of this in the poor,
working class areas of Old Havana, Cayo Hueso and other neighborhoods of
Central Havana, and various barrios of my native city of Marianao (near
Havana). Urban transport is in the worst condition with the incredibly
congested "camellos" (camels — or long buses with humped roofs built on
top of flatbed trucks) barely making a dent on people's need to get
around, including getting to and from work. This problem has had
devastating effects, isolating people in their neighborhoods and
seriously affecting work as well as family, leisure and cultural life.
Most of the streets in Havana were in a more or less acceptable
condition, but sidewalks were generally in a terrible state of
disrepair. The poor state of the sidewalks has been worsened by the
expansion of the telephone system carried out by ETECSA, the joint
Italian-Cuban enterprise, which has left gaping holes and telephone
poles lying on the sidewalks without signs or lights to indicate danger.
This has become a real problem particularly at night, since, in order to
save energy, streets are dimly lit.

Only those with access to hard foreign currency are able to afford
the best taxi service, and the comfortable bus service connecting Havana
with the principal cities of the interior. For example, a round trip bus
from Havana to Cuba's best known beach at Varadero — 120 kilometers
each way — costs 20 USD, a veritable fortune for Cubans since each
dollar is worth around 25 Cuban pesos (according to official figures,
the minimum salary is 250 pesos a month while the average salary is 385
pesos). A similar situation exists with respect to food. Walking around
various Havana metropolitan neighborhoods, street markets seemed to be
better stocked than they were in 2000, but at high prices in Cuban
terms. One dollar for a pound of pork is cheap in U.S. terms but out of
reach for the majority of Cubans with little or no access to foreign
hard currency. The peso- denominated official rationing book only covers
about 40 percent of the dietary needs of Cubans. The rest have to be
acquired in the parallel and free markets at much higher prices. As it
is, Cubans today are spending 57 percent of their income on food.
However, in assessing this figure, one has to keep in mind that the very
congested and deteriorated housing is practically free.

The relatively greater availability of consumer goods but only at
high prices is key to understanding the acknowledged growing inequality
of Cuban society and one of the things that most impressed me during
this visit: an all-encompassing law breaking and corruption. Although it
was visible during my visit in 2000, it did not seem as pervasive and
intrusive as I found it this time. I was often personally affected by
having to informally work out a fare with drivers of state owned taxis
whose meters suddenly "broke down" in the middle of a ride, prodding
cashiers who were trying to short-change me, or avoiding people offering
stolen goods in the street. Everybody I talked to agreed that breaking
the law had become a way of life in order to survive in Cuba. No wonder
then than in an important speech delivered at the University of Havana
in November of 2005, Fidel Castro warned that corruption could destroy
the revolution from within. In October of 2006, the Cuban newspaper
Juventud Rebelde ran an investigative report detailing how customers
were systematically cheated in retail establishments such as cafeterias
and shoe and watch repair services.6 More recently, on February 19,
2007, the daily Granma published a two-page centerfold on the important
social and economic damages caused by the frequent theft of the
"angular" sections of high-tension electric towers, notwithstanding the
risk to life and increased criminal penalties.7
Economic Conditions During the Transition

WHAT ARE THE ECONOMIC CONDITIONS that underlie the kinds of
behavior that we just described? How well is the Cuban economy doing? If
we are to believe the Cuban government, the economy is doing very well.
They have developed a new method of measuring Cuba's Gross Domestic
Product (GDP) that includes the freely provided social services which in
other countries are paid for by the public. Based on this new method,
Cuba's leaders claim that the economy grew by 12.5 percent in 2006, an
even higher rate of growth than China's. An independent-minded economist
I interviewed questioned this claim, arguing that there was a great lack
of transparency in the calculations that official government economists
made to arrive at such a figure. In his own estimation the Cuban economy
had grown in 2006 by 6 or 7 percent, a very respectable performance.
Notwithstanding some relatively good years, Cuba is probably just about
to catch up with the 1989 levels of production, right before the
collapse of the Soviet bloc.

Aside from nickel, a raw material that in conjunction with other
commodities has enjoyed several very good years in the international
market, and is produced in a joint venture with Sherritt, a Canadian
corporation, Cuba's economy has become rooted primarily in the provision
of services. Tourism is the most important of these services, and the
principal earner of foreign currency, although it experienced a decline
of 3.6 percent in the number of tourists that came to the island in
2006.8 The U.N. Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean
(ECLA) has estimated that 62 percent of Cubans have access to hard
currency [obviously in greatly varying quantities] while 20 percent of
the island's urban population is at risk of not covering its minimal
b
asic needs (Cuba is currently 75 percent urban).9 The impact of foreign
remittances, the source of hard currency for two thirds of those with
access to it, is highly concentrated, however, because a
disproportionate number of those receiving them are white Cubans
residing in the Havana metropolitan area. The possible benefits of
biotechnology and the oil that Cuba has explored and found in the Gulf
of Mexico in partnership with various foreign companies mostly lie in
the future, although Cuban oil is already covering 48 percent of the
country's domestic energy needs. The sugar industry is a shadow of its
former self as the majority of sugar mills have been shut down. Cuba
produced 1.2 million tons of sugar in 2006, and is facing difficult
climactic and organizational problems as it tries to reach its goal of
producing 1.6 million tons in 2007. These figures stand in stark
contrast with the long-term historic annual averages of 5 to 7 million
tons before the onset of crisis of the "special period" after the
collapse of the Soviet bloc. The non- sugar agricultural production is
not carrying its weight either, as Cuba has been importing 84 percent of
the basic foodstuffs destined for the Cuban non-tourist market ("canasta
basica") consisting of such items as rice, chicken and canned fish at an
annual cost of a billion dollars.

Although the Cuban government has placed much hope on Chinese
investment, not a lot has happened along these lines as the Chinese have
driven a harder bargain than the Cubans expected. Nevertheless, China
has become Cuba's second largest trading partner accounting for two
billion dollars in 2006, doubling the amount traded in 2005. For
example, Cuba has been exporting 400,000 tons of sugar to China, which
added to the 700,000 tons it consumes internally, accounts for the
lion's share of current sugar production. More significant is the
economic exchange with Venezuela, Cuba's principal trading partner,
although, to put these matters in perspective, neither Venezuela's nor
China's role in the Cuban economy approximate the massive subsidies that
the USSR provided from the early sixties until the late eighties.
Venezuela provides oil to Cuba in exchange for services, particularly in
the medical field, with thousands of Cuban doctors periodically sent to
the South American country. This has had a significant negative effect
on the Cuban health care system. The number of patients per doctor in
the up to recently well-regarded family doctor program has substantially
increased, and the number of specialists available to Cubans has been
reduced.10 The lack of medical supplies and provisions, from medicines
to bedding, has become seriously aggravated since the collapse of the
Soviet bloc in the early nineties. First aid and over the counter
remedies from aspirins to Imodium are difficult to get. The Cuban
government is unable to purchase large wholesale quantities of medicine
from the U.S. because of the criminal blockade that the U.S. has
maintained against Cuba since the beginning of the sixties. But this is
only part of the problem, the other part being Cuba's relative lack of
goods to offer for export and its overall poverty and consequently its
inability to purchase whatever non-U.S. medicines and equipment it can
afford to purchase from Canada, Latin America, and Western Europe.
During the last several years, Cuba has been allowed to import
agricultural and processed goods from the U.S. under a "humanitarian"
exception to the blockade established in November 2001, making the
United States the main supplier of food to the island. Cuba, however, is
not allowed to export anything to the U.S. to pay for these imports.
While these imports have amounted to 1.5 billion dollars, they have been
a financial drain that would be greatly alleviated if Cuba could sell
things to the U.S., or if, more likely, several hundred thousand U.S.
tourists could travel to the island.

The abolition of the blockade would be welcome for both principled
reasons — the right of nations to determine their own destiny against
foreign domination — and practical considerations: it would greatly
increase economic activity in Cuba11 and undermine the regime's
principal anti-imperialist claim to legitimacy. However, it would not
diminish the effect of the other principal source of economic problems
in the island, the visibility of which has, in fact, been hidden by the
imperialist blockade: the inefficiency and waste inherent in the present
bureaucratic administration of the economy. The old maxim attributed to
Soviet and East European workers that "they pretend to pay us and we
pretend to work," fully applies to Cuba. This became evident in the
visible lack of care, attention and maintenance of every type of public
sector property, from planes to hotels, restaurants, parks and
buildings, no matter how recently they were, often beautifully,
renovated. While economic hardship and the U.S. blockade may explain the
lack of building materials necessary to carry out certain kinds of
upkeep, it does not explain the absence of the simple, labor-intensive
activities that have no significant capital components such as cleaning,
sweeping and just plain run-of-the-mill neatness.

The fundamental problem is the lack of initiative, motivation and
of managerial and labor discipline. Over the centuries, capitalism
developed bureaucratic, hierarchical systems where workers make no
decisions and have no idea of what the overall process of production is
for or about. Nevertheless, workers were bound to perform up to a
certain level of competence prodded by the sticks — produce or you will
get fired — and carrot — the promise, if not the reality, of higher
wages and promotions — policy. On the whole, the Soviet type systems
have not been able to develop a parallel system of motivation that could
at least match the effectiveness of capitalist methods. Workers in this
equally, if not more, bureaucratic and hierarchical system, do not grasp
any better than in capitalism what the whole process of production is
for or about. One of the "sticks" available to the single government
employer was removed by the policy of overall security of employment
(except for those who get in political trouble with the authorities).
The systematic scarcity of goods characteristic of what the Hungarian
economist Janos Kornai called "shortage economies" has taken care of
removing a good part of the carrots. This provides the context of and
helps to explain the preachy, ascetic emphasis on "moral" incentives
that people such as Che Guevara advocated as a fundamentally flawed
solution to the bureaucratic dilemma I just described. Classical
Marxism, besides assuming that socialism would take place in a society
with a relatively high level of material abundance and cultural
advancement, emphasized not "moral," but what could be called "political
incentives" that involved democratic control of the economy, polity and
society, including the control of the workplace by the workers.
According to this approach, only by participating and controlling their
own productive lives would people become interested and responsible for
what they do for a living day in and day out; that is, only thus would
they get to care and give a damn. In this sense, workers' democracy was
seen both as a good in itself — people taking control of their lives —
and
as a truly productive economic force.

Absent an alternative approach, Cuba will witness an inevitable
drift towards capitalist ideology and practice. Cubans who are
witnessing the small existing private enterprises, whether farms or
small urban firms like the tiny restaurants called "paladares" being run
better and more efficiently than the larger state enterprises, are
already concluding that capitalism can deliver the goods better than the
state. Nevertheless, it is highly unlikely that the mass of the
population will adopt a neo-liberal version of capitalist ideology.
Although they may look towards capitalism as the desirable system to
produce goods and services, they will ferociously defend free public
health, education and other social services, no matter how much they
have deteriorated, particularly under the impact of the "special period"
since the collapse of the Soviet bloc.

Viewed statically, there seem to be few prospects for a democratic,
revolutionary socialist politics in Cuba. However, the ample history of
Communist transitions to capitalism shows that it is highly unlikely for
a transition to take even a relatively benign form. Instead, we are
highly likely to witness "shock therapies" and sharp reductions of
"welfare state" institutions and spending enforced by dictatorial rule,
whether in the openly despotic Chinese form or the cosmetically
disguised Russian style (these two countries share with Cuba the
significant fact that Communism originated in home grown revolutionary
upheavals.) Such a neo-liberal course is likely to be accompanied by a
substantial U.S. control over the internal affairs of the island, with
its IMF-type structural adjustment, privatization and austerity
policies. It is in opposition to such a type of transition that the
possibilities of a democratic revolutionary politics lie.
Intellectuals Defend Themselves

IT IS IRONIC THAT THE DISASTROUS ECONOMIC breakdown of the Special
Period that came about after the collapse of the USSR in the early
nineties was a major factor in forcing the Castro regime to allow a
religious and cultural liberalization that has continued until now. On
the religious front, the Fourth Congress of the Cuban Communist Party
that took place in 1991 removed restrictions on religious practitioners
and declared the latter eligible for party membership and to hold
official positions in the government. (It is interesting to note in this
context that in my recent visit I saw half a dozen Cubans, mostly women,
openly wearing Christian crosses on their necks, something that I had
not seen in the year 2000, much less in 1979.)

A similar relaxation took place in the cultural front. The public
harassment of homosexuals and other "deviants" significantly diminished,
although there was, and continues to be a marked tendency for most
homosexuals to "stay in the closet." Since then, more critical views,
although well short of political opposition, which would automatically
be a one-way ticket to dissident status outside of the system's
boundaries and all that implies, have begun to be expressed in a number
of small but sophisticated and well-written journals. Among these are
Temas, La Gaceta De Cuba (organ of the UNEAC, or writers' and artists'
union) and Revoluciòn y Cultura. These journals have on several
occasions included contributions on exile writers and academics and read
very differently, in style and content, than the turgid, boring and
dogmatic Granma. Plastic artists and musicians have also been given more
leeway including much greater ease to travel abroad, a concession that
writers and academics have also obtained. In fact, there are now many
artists and professionals who are allowed to work and reside abroad and
regularly return to visit their relatives on the island. Needless to
add, the Cuban government gets a cut of the action through a substantial
taxation of these activities abroad.

Given the unavoidable uncertainty of a transition that just started
on July 31, 2006, it is no wonder that Cuba's intellectual and artistic
worlds were alarmed with the startling events that took place at the
beginning of January. Three former high cultural functionaries — Luis
Pavòn Tamayo, Armando Quesada and Jorge "Papito" Serguera — reappeared
in several television programs and were presented as important
contributors to Cuban culture. The three former functionaries had
presided over the most culturally repressive period in the history of
Cuban Communism, the so-called "Quinquenio Gris," Gray Five Years
period, from 1971 to 1976. The sense of alarm was strengthened by the
fact that members of this group had, in the past, been closely
associated on and off with Raúl Castro. For example, Luis Pavòn Tamayo
had worked directly under Raúl as the editor of Verde Olivo, the Army's
official newspaper, before he became Cuba's cultural czar in the
seventies. Writers and intellectuals were also worried about the coming
elections in the UNEAC (National Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba)
and who would replace the current relatively liberal leadership that was
stepping aside.12

A storm of protest ensued among intellectuals and artists and
continued through the remainder of January, during the time when I had
coincidentally arrived in Cuba. The protest was politically limited. It
was mostly aimed at preventing a return to the darker and more
repressive past, and not at abolishing censorship and expanding the
concessions that had already been obtained from the state, much less to
protest the repression of outright dissident artists and writers. But,
the protest was, at least initially, truly spontaneous, a rarity in
Castro's Cuba. The artists and intellectuals relied on the email as the
principal means of expressing and organizing the protest. (Computers are
relatively scarce in Cuba, and people have access to them usually in the
workplace, where access to Internet sites is supervised by the
authorities and must be justified in terms of relevance to work duties.
Email communication, particularly among people inside Cuba, is less
supervised than access to Internet sites.13) The regular Party-
controlled press essentially ignored what had taken place. A brief
communiqué formulated the Party's response that essentially conceded
that the appearance of the three former functionaries in television had
been an error and tried to reassure the intellectuals and artists that
no change in cultural policy was being contemplated. Abel Prieto, the
minister of Culture, played a key role as a go between the party and the
protesters who were represented, in this context, by the UNEAC. With the
support and endorsement of the Party, a big, invitation-only meeting of
over 400 people took place on January 30 at Casa de las Americas, one of
the most important cultural institutions in Cuba. The meeting was
addressed by Ambrosio Fornet, a leading Cuban intellectual associated
with the current relatively liberal policies of the regime who in the
past has argued that the intellectual and cultural life of Cubans abroad
had to be part and parcel of a single Cuban culture. His address was an
account and reflection on the Quinquenio Gris — a term which he had
originally coined — but with the clear implication that it stood in
contrast with an obviously satisfactory present. It goes without saying
that Fornet did not address the key quest
ion of who gave the orders to
the functionaries who presided over the Quinquenio Gris. His speech and
the meeting where it took place was an effort, endorsed by the party, to
contain and bring the matter to a close. This is possibly why this
important party-endorsed event was not even mentioned by Granma.
Nevertheless, a few days later, on February 9, the poet César Lòpez, in
his address to the inaugural crowd at the Havana Book Fair that included
Raúl Castro, revindicated several deceased writers who had become
prominent exile oppositionists such as Guillermo Cabrera Infante,
Heberto Padilla, Reinaldo Arenas and Jesús Díaz . César Lòpez claimed
that their work was an important component of Cuban national culture.
Although Granma reported that Lòpez had spoken at the event, it omitted
any reference to this most unusual content of his speech.

The emphasis that people such as Ambrosio Fornet and Cesar Lòpez
have placed on incorporating exile writers and artists into the national
canon poses some interesting questions. To the extent that raising these
matters is intended as a blow against the harsh censorship that for many
decades has prevented people from even being able to listen to the music
of Celia Cruz on the radio, it is welcome news. Beyond that, there is a
degree of ideological ambiguity and lack of clarity about the problem of
the "divided Cuban family" that has long troubled many Cuban
intellectuals, and Cubans in general, both inside and outside the
island. In so far as it constitutes an at least implicit demand for
removing the travel barriers that have been imposed by both the Cuban
and U.S. governments, it is again, good news. But something else is
lurking in these discussions that goes beyond these incontrovertibly
democratic demands. There might be a tinge of liberalism among some of
these thinkers, in the sense that they regard that what is needed is to
"split the difference" in order to have the capitalism of South Florida
and the Communism of Havana converge with each other. Unfortunately, the
regime's censorship and controls have prevented a frank and open
discussion of these critical matters. I should note that in my
discussion I have described this intellectual and artistic milieu, as
predominantly a liberal Communism loyal to the system. In reality,
however, it is a more complicated environment that includes people to
the right and left of that group. The liberal Communism that prevails in
these circles in many ways provides a protective umbrella under which
both conservative and revolutionary leftist opponents of the regime that
have not become open and public dissidents can take cover and at least
survive, if not prosper, politically. During my trip, I had the
opportunity to talk with one of an informal group of young revolutionary
Cuban intellectuals who function within the broad limits of this
milieu14 and who have been influenced by such figures as Leon Trotsky,
Rosa Luxemburg and other leftist libertarian thinkers. This group is
interested in what these major thinkers had to say about the
relationship of equality, democracy and liberty to socialism. They are
also concerned about how they can be politically active and relevant in
a way that will help to empower and politicize people in what overwhelms
the great majority of Cubans: the daily struggle to survive. It is
revealing that this young revolutionary used the Marxist metaphor of the
"Old Mole" to refer to their small group's present role in Cuba.

Left pending is the question of why the three former functionaries
appeared on Cuban television one after the other within such a short
period of time, particularly in the context of a political transition.
This was a question I repeatedly raised with a number of people of
varying persuasions and could not get a fully satisfactory answer.
Responses ranged from its having been instigated by Raúl Castro as the
prelude to a crackdown, to the notion that it had just been a
coincidence. I heard a third interpretation, somewhere in the middle,
which, regardless of its truth-value, was put forward by liberal
Communist academics and intellectuals who personally did not know each
other, and is thus sociologically revealing. According to this view,
repressive elements in the media, formerly associated with Raúl Castro,
saw the transition as the right moment to send a signal to the new top
leader that they were ready, willing and available to go back to the old
days the moment he gave the go ahead. This may be a reasonable and
plausible hypothesis. The problem is that the liberals putting forward
this interpretation also saw Raúl Castro as a man who was going to
maintain and perhaps expand the existing liberalization, and, much more
telling, that he was not, in any case, the repressive type he was
reputed to be. These liberals claimed that Raúl had just done the dirty
work at the behest of his older brother who did not want to be directly
involved in those disagreeable tasks. In other words, Fidel Castro had
forced him to behave like the "bad cop," although Raúl was in fact a
very practical fellow who would improve the economy of the country by
introducing more rationality into the system and would also experiment
with some additional economic reforms.

It may well be that there will be no more "crackdowns" under Raúl's
rule if for no other reason than from his standpoint as a "practical
leader" fundamentally uninterested in those matters, he may see little
danger in allowing intellectuals and artists some elbow room while they
play in their "sandboxes." From this perspective, what counts is what
appears in the very strictly controlled mass circulation newspapers and
television, and not in the little magazines and artistic exhibitions
that relatively few Cubans ever see or hear about.

Be it as it may, even if the government succeeds in containing and
bringing this protest to a close, the fact that artists and
intellectuals "flexed their political muscles" independently of the
control of the one- party state constitutes an important precedent and
contribution to future democratic struggles to the island.15
Race and Marginality — The Sleeping Giants?

HAVING ARRIVED IN CUBA in the middle of the artists and
intellectuals' protest against the possible return of the darkest days
of the revolutionary period, I attended every intellectual and artistic
event I heard about that was open to the public. My purpose was to hear
what was said and discussed and also to look around to get a feeling of
the various audiences involved. I was shocked although not surprised to
see that the speakers and audiences were overwhelmingly White. No more
than five percent of the people present in the various venues were Black
or Mulatto (a term widely used in Cuba to describe people of visibly
"mixed" White and Black descent). Interestingly, many of the darker
Cubans who did attend these events were rather young: they might have
been students or disciples of the White presenters.

Compared to my previous trip, the racial situation looked a bit
more balanced in the various tourist-related locations that I visited.
While the front-line personnel in those kinds of jobs was still
predominantly White, there were many more Black Cubans than in the year
2000. This might be due to a change in the government's recruitment
policies in r
esponse to widespread criticism. In particular, people
broadly associated with foreign left and civil rights organizations
strongly objected to the blatantly racist policy of excluding darker
Cubans from front-line jobs in the tourist industry under the claim that
they lacked a "good appearance."

Or perhaps the tourist industry is merely reflecting the major
demographic changes that have been taking place in Cuba. Historically,
the present Cuban government has not been quite open about the racial
breakdown of the country, although it did acknowledge that the last 2002
census registered a 24.9 percent increase in the number of people
classified as mixed race in comparison to the previous 1981 Census.
According to the 1981 census, 66 percent of the Cuban population was
White, 12 percent Black and 22 percent mixed-race. This in turn
constituted a significant increase in the mixed-race population since
the last pre-revolutionary census of 1953 where only 14.5 percent of the
population was counted as mixed-race (the proportion of people
officially counted as Blacks had not changed significantly from 1953 to
1981).16 The official figures for the post-revolutionary period almost
certainly overestimate the size of the White population in Cuba. While
Cuban fertility has been very low for quite some time (raising worries
about overall dependency rates in the near future), emigration has
continued at a steady clip. The United States has committed itself to
accepting 20,000 Cuban emigrants a year (this figure does not include
the rafters and others who manage to touch U.S. land and are thus
eligible to apply for political asylum under the 1966 Cuban Adjustment
Act). Emigration to other countries is also taking place. On various
occasions during my trip, I saw long lines at the Spanish Embassy
located near the entrance to the port of Havana. Spain has extended
immigration and citizenship rights to the numerous Cuban descendants of
the more than a million Spaniards who emigrated to the island, one of
its last major Western Hemisphere colonies, in the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries. As one can imagine, the great majority of the
descendants of these emigrants are White, as are those going to the
United States. In the case of the U.S., a family tie to those who have
already gone to that country is the easiest way of obtaining a visa in
Havana, and since the Cuban community in the U.S. is overwhelmingly
White, so will be the new emigrants. There are, in addition, educational
and work criteria that facilitate entry into the U.S., requirements that
are much more likely to be met by White Cubans.

The Cuban government has, ever since the early days of the
revolution, adhered to a "color-blind" policy that allowed Cuban Blacks
and Mulattos to make some progress but fell far short of what an
"affirmative action" policy could have accomplished. Under the
"color-blind" policy, Cuban style Jim Crow was abolished. While Cuban
Jim Crow was historically never as important as in the U.S. prior to the
revolution, darker Cubans were barred from most beaches and in many
provincial towns were segregated from Whites in public parks. Darker
skinned Cubans were also barred from many white-collar jobs,
particularly in the private sector. Under the revolutionary
"color-blind" policy, darker Cubans, who have been a disproportionately
large part of the Cuban poor, have been able to benefit from measures
designed to help the poor, particularly in terms of health and access to
educational facilities. As a result there are, proportionately speaking,
many more Blacks in positions of influence and power than there were
before the revolution, but still substantially below any even rough
correspondence to their overall proportions in the population as a
whole.17 Most of all, under the one- party system prevailing in Cuba,
Blacks (along with any other groups such as workers, women, gays) are
not allowed to independently organize to defend their interests.
Notwithstanding this ban, there has been an amorphous but growing Black
youth protest developing in Cuba today, centered on the issue of police
brutality and often expressing itself through a Cuban version of hip-hop
music. A friend also mentioned that protests had taken place in the ICRT
(Cuban Institute for Radio and Television) objecting to the overwhelming
dominance of White faces in Cuban television.

The issues of race and class have been more intermingled in Cuba
than in the U.S.; consequently, much of White Cuban worries and
hostility toward Black Cubans have been so mixed in with the issue of
social marginality that it has been very hard to separate one from the
other. This historical entanglement was exacerbated by the serious
economic effects of the Special Period after the collapse of the USSR
that led to the growth of a mass of disproportionately Black unemployed
or underemployed people living in highly precarious conditions. So many
of them migrated to overcrowded Havana that the government officially
restricted movement into the city, although nobody seems to know with
what actual practical effect. New terms began to be coined to refer to
this increasingly visible marginalized group, like "Palestinos" in the
case of the dark-skinned migrants from Oriente, the easternmost part of
the island. The Cuban author Pedro Juan Gutiérrez made an international
name for himself, with his "dirty trilogy" describing life among the
marginalized people of Havana in all its gory and, especially sexual,
detail. The sophisticated liberal Communist magazine Temas had nothing
less than eleven social scientists and writers discuss the issue of
marginality in one of its issues.18 The foreign press got into the act
with, for example, the important Mexican newspaper El Universal having
recently published an article about "El Fanguito" ("Little Mud"), one of
the favelas surrounding Havana.19

In reaction to this phenomenon of marginalization, White Cubans —
including those integrated in the ruling system — made many more
hostile and open comments directed towards Black Cubans than I heard in
2000. A high housing official trained in the Soviet bloc brought up
Oscar Lewis' "culture of poverty" theory to explain what was to her the
otherwise inexplicable behavior of many of the poor people who had moved
into new housing she had helped to plan for. No sooner than having moved
into their new quarters. the poor people had dismantled and disconnected
the brand new fixtures in order to sell them in the black market. To
her, this was irrational behavior that could only be explained on the
basis of the values of a "culture of poverty" passed from generation to
generation. Apparently, the official, manual-based "Marxism" that she
learned in Cuba and in Eastern Europe had never exposed her to what Marx
called "the same old shit," referring to what serious scarcity could
bring about in people's behavior. Although it was unfortunate and even
tragic that these new tenants would ruin the facilities that they had
just been provided by the state, that was not irrational since they
needed money, and hard currency, to feed and clothe themselves. In any
case, it is not necessary to raise the issue of so-called values, even
if we make the highly doubtful assumption that they have any independent
explanatory power, to explain why these poor, marginalized people
behaved the
y way they did after they were installed in new houses and
apartments.

As it turns out, none other than Fidel Castro himself has recently
endorsed and put to use the "culture of poverty" theory. In his 2005,
and probably last major book-length interview, with Ignacio Ramonet, the
Spanish-born editor of Le Monde Diplomatique, he alluded to it on a few
occasions. Thus, Fidel Castro told Ramonet that "at the beginning [of
the Revolution] we eliminated some marginal neighborhoods. But already a
culture of marginality had been created, that even if you make new
houses for them, the phenomena that took place in those areas, prolong
themselves. That is a culture that repeats itself, and then their
children . . . " Elsewhere in the interview, Fidel Castro also asserted
that "I remember that we discovered that there was a culture of rich
people and a culture of poor people. That of the rich, very decent: I
buy and I pay. That of poor people: how can I get this? How do I steal
from rich people or from whomever? Many good, humble and patriotic
families, told their son who works, for example, in the hotel industry:
'Hey, take away a bedsheet, a pillow, bring me this, bring me that.'
Those attitudes are born from the culture of poverty, and when social
changes are made to change all that, habits last a much longer time."20

In that interview, Fidel Castro added a twist to the "culture of
poverty" theory that has a special resonance in Soviet-type societies
such as Cuba with highly selective institutions such as the famous Lenin
School outside of Havana. He indicated to Ramonet that the country's
selective and meritocratic education system had created a situation
where the children of workers and of Afro-Cubans tended to perpetuate
themselves in the lower levels of society. Castro explained that this
had happened because "the parental level of schooling, even where there
has been a Revolution, continues to have a tremendous influence in the
eventual fate of the children. And you see that the children whose
parents come from the humblest sectors, or with less knowledge, don't
get the necessary grades to enter the best schools. And that tends to
perpetuate itself through the decades. And if you leave things as they
are, you can predict the children of those people will never be
directors of enterprises, managers, or will occupy important positions
because today you cannot direct anything without a university education.
What they can expect, in the first place, is to go to prison."21
According to Fidel Castro, the Cuban government had begun to tackle the
problem in 2001. At that time, the government began to substantially
expand access to higher education through a system of university
extensions in a variety of locations such as municipalities, sugar
mills, and even prisons. As Castro explained it, this expansion had, on
the one hand, turned into state-supported university students people
between seventeen to thirty years of age who had not finished their
secondary education and who for a variety of causes were neither
studying nor working when they were grafted into the program. On the
other hand, the expansion made adjunct professors out of laid off
personnel from the administrative staff of enterprises such as those in
the sugar industry. According to Castro, there were 500,000 university
students in Cuba in 2005 and over 90,000 [or approximately 20 percent of
the total] had been recruited through these new means.22 What Castro
left unsaid was the obvious fact that this was a program designed, in
great part, to address the issue of unemployment. (I should mention that
during my recent visit, one former academic explained that the principal
reason for her recent retirement had been her objection to the low
educational quality of the new program.)

Leaving aside the intrinsic merits or flaws of Fidel Castro's
educational innovations, he assigns an excessive weight to education as
an explanation for the fate of marginalized people in Cuba. This is
Castro's way to change the subject from the state of the Cuban economy
since the collapse of the USSR, and particularly the devastating and
sharply inequitable effects of the establishment of a two-track economy
of pesos on one hand and hard currency on the other. Fidel Castro's talk
about educational inequalities, as real as they undoubtedly are, is a
way of not talking about class and race as such or about the fundamental
economic inequalities mentioned above, let alone the political
inequalities of the highly hierarchical one-party state. It remains to
be seen what impact these changes in higher education will have first,
on the educational system itself, and second, on the composition of the
higher circles in Cuba. It will be important to find out the impact that
a program not specifically and explicitly oriented to the elimination of
racial exclusion may have on the latter.

We do not know, in the last analysis, what actual role race and
marginality are likely to play in a Cuban transition. For one thing,
racial consciousness in Cuba is not likely to develop along the lines it
took in the United States, nor we do know at this time what political
and organizational forms popular resistance to the likely state
sponsored capitalist transition is going to take.

Notes

1. I was unaware of these developments previous to my recent
visit to Cuba. See "An Interview with Samuel Farber: Cuban Reality
Beyond Fidel," Against the Current, 126, January/February 2007, 14-15.
return

2. In an interview with the Argentinian newspaper Clarín (March
3, 2007), Alarcòn declared that "the reforms of the compañero Deng
Xiaoping in China are very positive for the Chinese people. But one has
to understand those reforms within the context of the Chinese
revolution." In the same interview, Alarcòn also stated that "the world
has not changed in a restorationist sense that will bring back the
Bolsheviks and the soviet model, nor will it be the bare capitalism of
neoliberalism. It will be a diverse world. Why shouldn't we copy
something from China or the United States? And why wouldn't the United
States adopt some of the good things that Iran, Korea or Argentina may
have? There has to be pluralism and to let everyone choose its own road.
We will search for ours within our revolution." return

3. For a more elaborate analysis of this prospect see my article
"Cuba's likely transition and its politics," International Socialist
Review, Issue 48, July-August 2006, 43-50. This article was published a
little over a month before Fidel Castro left office on July 31, 2006. return

4. Samuel Farber, "Going Home to Cuba," Critique (Glasgow,
Scotland), No. 13, 1981, 138-150, "A Look at Cuba Today," Changes,
July/August 1980, 13-21, and "Cuba Today & Prospects for Change," New
Politics, VIII, 1, Summer 2000, 164-174. return

5. See "Busca Cuba frenar a pepenadores de basura," La Jornada
(Mexico City), March 26, 2007 reporting on an article that had appeared
the same day in the Cuban regional weekly Tribuna de la Habana. return

6. Yailin Orta Rivera and Norge Martínez Montero, "La Vieja Gran
Estafa," Juventud Rebelde, October 1, 2006. return

7. María Julia Mayoral, " 'Canibaleo' en las Torres," Granma,
Lunes, 19 de Febrero del 2007, 4-5. return

8. Tourism continued to diminish in the early months of 2007
with a decline of 7 percent in January and 13 percent in February
compared to the same months in 2006. The high season for tourism in Cuba
starts in January and ends in April. "Turismo en Cuba sigue declinando
por precios y embargo," Reuters dispatch of March 14, 2007. return

9. Andrea Rodríguez, "Expertos cubanos investigan sobre
marginalidad," Associated Press dispatch, December 8, 2006. return

10. Thus, for example, the wife of an old friend of mine had a
botched colonoscopy that was administered by a technician, rather than
by a qualified specialist, and without anesthesia, since there was none
available. return

11. Pedro Alvarez, the head of Alimport, Cuba's food import
agency, has stated that if the U.S. blockade was lifted, bilateral trade
in goods and services could total as much as $21 billion in five years.
Esteban Israel (Reuters), "Cuba says US rules limiting food trade,"
Washington Post, March 28, 2007. return

12. At the time of this writing in late March of 2007, no changes
in the leadership of UNEAC had yet taken place. return

13. In fact, one of my friends in Havana asked me to locate some
research sources on the Internet and to email him what I found there. return

14. For an example of an article written from an leftist
oppositionist perspective inside Cuba see Manuel Paz Ortega (pseudonym)
" 'The Battle of Ideas' and the Capitalist Transformation of the Cuban
State," IV Online Magazine: IV386, February 2007. return

15. In fact, the ferment among intellectuals and artists that
began in January apparently still continued at the time of this writing
as shown by a very critical article by the distinguished architect Mario
Coyula that was being circulated in Cuba via email in March of this
year. Under the title of "El Trinquenio Amargo y la Ciudad Distòpica.
Autopsia de una Utopía," Coyula argued that the darkest period of
repression of the present regime lasted fifteen, and not five years, as
Fornet claimed, and that its consequences have lasted until the present
day. Coyula goes well beyond historical matters and presents a very
critical perspective of things that need to be corrected in Cuba, with a
special emphasis on urban issues. return

16. Alejandro de la Fuente, A Nation for All. Race, Inequality
and Politics in Twentieth-Century Cuba, Chapel Hill, N.C.: The
University of North Carolina Press, 308, and "Data from the 2002
Population and Housing Census are officially announced," Granma Digital
Internacional, November 14, 2005. return

17. A recent article by Henley C. Adams in the Latin American
Research Review (February 2004) painstakingly documents the relatively
small proportion of Blacks in the Political Bureau and Central Committee
of the Cuban Communist Party, in the Council of Ministers, and among top
officers of the Cuban Armed Forces. return

18. "Controversia. Entendemos la marginalidad?" Temas, 27,
Octubre-Diciembre 2001, 69-96. return

19. César Gonzàlez-Calero, "Cuba: Memorias del Subdesarrollo," El
Universal, Monday, November 20, 2006. return

20. Ignacio Ramonet, Fidel Castro. Biografía a Dos Voces,
Barcelona, Spain: Random House Mondadori, S.A., 2006, 211, 323-24. My
translation. return

21. Ramonet, 365. My translation. return

22. Ramonet, 365-67. return

SAMUEL FARBER was born and raised in Cuba. He is a long-time
socialist and the author of numerous works on Cuba including The Origins
of the Cuban Revolution Reconsidered (University of North Carolina
Press), 2006.

Farber, Visiting Raúl Castro's Cuba (5 June 2009)

http://www.wpunj.edu/newpol/issue43/Farber43.htm

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