Any point of view taken to its most extreme is dangerous, and opinions about Cuba have always been intensely polarized, deeply divided. On the one hand, conservative Cuban-Americans and a fair number of U.S. liberals come together in an odd political mix to attack Fidel Castro as a menace to the world and a dictator who is crushing Cubans half to death in the name of a Revolution only he believes in anymore. On this side, Castro is seen as a terrorist and a dictator, not a visionary; they believe he violates human rights regularly. This voice dominates the U.S. press. They believe Cuba will only be free once the dictatorship falls and socialism is gone from the island so they, the exiled, can get their homes and lands back. They see dissidents as unjustly jailed for fighting against the system Castro has imposed, and in typicallly extremist fashion, they recognize little or none of the good the Revolution has done for the Cuban pueblo, the people. These people are generally materialists, capitalists, imperialists.
The other side can get just as extremist, sadly. People who are devoutly pro-Revolution can also become fundamentalists, and in an equally odd mix of liberalism and right-wing conservativism, they believe Castro has the right to impose socialist thinking because it's better for more people in Cuban society and has significantly improved the life of the poor. In their fervor over Revolutionary philosophy and pedagogy, they often brush off questions of limitations to freedom of expression and controlled press, and invite too little dialogue or critical analysis of the failings of the Revolution. Their voice totally dominates the Cuban press. These people are humanists, socialists, Marxists and Martianos (followers of the philosophies of
poet José Martí), and they think differently about human rights.
They become so dedicated to the Revolution because it represents free socialized health care, free education and less extreme social classes and limitations. To them, the right to well being for more Cubans matters more than the difficulties faced in daily life. They believe Cuba is already free, and that dissidents and counter-revolutionaries are the real terrorists, as their attacks so often take Cuban lives.
To understand how this odd dichotomy splits political and social thinking, take the example of Luis Posada Carriles, the Cuban-American convicted in U.S. court of the 1976 bombing of a Cubana flight which caused the death of 73 people. Sympathizers with the Revolution believe he is a terrorist and belongs in jail for his crimes; in the U.S., however, he has been allowed to go free as a dissident in spite of his conviction in the bombing. In contrast, "The Five" are five Cuban-Americans who were jailed for working against counter-revolutionary violence, a story kept from the American people almost completely. Revolutionary sympathizers feel The Five were protecting innocent lives and protecting Cuba against terrorist violence, and in Cuba they're called "Los Cinco Heroes." In the U.S., they are all facing severe sentences as terrorists and spies, and no one seems to know they exist.
So perhaps I need to make my own biases clearer, as I've never been called an Imperialist sympathizer before. Communist, yes. I've been called a radical and a leftist idealist, and I'm a self-proclaimed socialist because it seems just and right to make sure more humans have more of their needs and rights met. I belong to the second group. I am a teacher and a humanist, and I believe in the goals of the Cuban Revolution. I believe in standing up to injustice, and I believe in action. I remain personally committed to the fulfilment of the United Nations' Declaration of Human Rights for all world citizens. I agree with Che Guevara that the most beautiful quality of a Revolutionary is his/her capacity to feel indignation at any injustice committed anywhere, against any people of the world, and that constructive action and revolution are needed across the globe to improve the human condition.
At the same time, I can't let myself become an extremist, as extremists become so dichotomized that they miss the grey area completely. It's one thing to believe in goals, philosophies and pedagogical approaches, and it's another thing entirely to experience real life, far from the dreamland of ideals. The ideas of the Revolution are exceptional, in my opinion, but many of the practicalities of daily existence demonstrate problems in the system which even Raul Castro openly recognized in his speech to the nation on July 26, 2007, Cuban Independence Day (probably a day of mourning in Miami). Raul has already acted to break down the corruption which has kept the Transportation Ministry in such disarray, and improvements to services are in the works. He spoke in his address about the need to produce more of what they need on the island rather than depending so much on imports they can't afford as a nation, and about the need to refocus on Marx's idea of each receiving according to his work and capacity so that Cuban youth won't want to leave the island but will improve their work ethic and work harder to build a better socialist society. He said it was time for Revolution again on the island, this time a
revolution for what needs to be improved and updated in the system itself. One of his best examples was milk; Cuba is one of the only countries on the globe where children are guaranteed milk until age seven, which is an exceptional accomplishment. However, as Raul pointed out, the real goal needs to be to ensure milk for everyone, at any age. Even my cynical friend Micha was hopeful, encouraged by Raul's promises and willingness to analyze the system so that it can be
improved. And I hope the U.S. took note of Raul's willingness to begin dialogue with us again, too, as anyone with a heart can see that the embargo is only making a bad economic situation much worse.
In Cuba, I've argued endlessly in the name of the achievements the Revolution has made, of the rights they've managed to fulfill better than most countries on this planet. Sometimes I get tired of listening to cynical, bitter Cubans complain. When Cubans complain about their salaries and their lack of motivation, I point out how many more hours a week I have to work than they do, how much more my life costs in the U.S. When they complain about economics, I point out the right to a ob and a home in Cuba and the U.S. problem with unemployment and homelessness, how quickly it can happen to anyone in a capitalist system. When Cubans complain about unmotivated teachers, I talk about the U.S. system and how it is developing an exam culture and maintaining class structures because of its pricetag. When they say the hospitals aren't good enough and the doctors pay more attention to people with divisa, I remind them that most of the world doesn't enjoy free health care of any quality. But I also argue with Revolutionaries about the controlled press and lack of freedom to print radical ideas, the lack of real classroom debate in a naturally argumentative culture, the loss of relativism I see across Cuban youth
culture. I argue when Revolutionaries say the system is perfect, and I do see the impact low salaries have had on the quality of education, the motivation of Cuban youth, the Cuban work ethic and even their
sense of national pride.
So it's not balance I'm actually seeking, but the ability to see what's really there, to avoid the blindness that comes with extremism so I can notice what Cuban life is really like. It has to be possible to criticize without being an Imperialist, to celebrate without being a Communist. It has to be possible to analyze the system without being a traitor to all it stands for, just like it needs to be possible to criticize U.S. governmental action without being accused of a lack of
patriotism. I talk to everyone willing to talk to me in Cuba, from extremist dissidents to extremist Revolutionaries--and everyone in between. They all love their country, and I ask what they think of the Revolution, what they appreciate as well as their frustrations. Even with the double moral, they usually say what they really think
eventually. I listen, I write, I try to ask good questions that span a pluralistic array of nuances and political views, and only at the end do I argue. And I probably love Cuba as much as they do, and I try to share the realities of Cuban ideologies and daily life as honestly as I can.
These are the images I take home with me, the images that make me love Cuba and the Cuban people. In Santa Clara during a rainstorm, I watched children turn a tiled sidewalk into a water slide, narrowly avoiding head-splitting concussions and squealing with glee as shoppers tried to pick their way through without being tumbled. During the Panamerican games, I loved how every Cuban win was audible wherever I was because the cheers emanated from homes, markets and streetcorners.
Cuba was second only to the U.S. in gold medals, with 59 golds, beating out the much larger country of Brazil. With 135 total medals, Cuba showed that you don't have to have a giant population to pull from if you know how to train athletes. I met every sort of character you can imagine, from an old man dancing rhumba so well he was allowed to make himself part of the show at El Heron Azul, to the MC at the Casa de la Trova in Baracoa, who had the audience in hysterics with random guesses at people's origins, including "Alaska?" and "Malasia?" One of the best was the one-eyed, black Cuban Elvis who sang some seriously wicked versions of the Cuban classics without most tourists having the slightest idea how raucous his versions were; he made me blush, and that's not easy.
I was invited into homes and lives, even into the 90th birthday party of a stranger. I cried with her when they sang Polo Montañez and his hope to have his life end romantically, and I clapped when her great-grandchildren recited poems about an island so beautiful both the Spanish and the Yankees went to war to try to claim it. I watched Ana ream out the police after a neighborhood mugging, screaming at them to get the streetlights fixed and put a cop on the corner, hands on hips and chin up high, shouting, "This has never been a bad neighborhood before!" And I felt pride when she went to the regional director the next day to announce a neighborhood strike, and how she refused when he asked her to be the neighborhood snitch, saying it was their job to protect the neighborhood, not hers.
I love Cuba. I love its well clothed children and its educated, insightful adults. I love walking streets without homeless and with only the rare beggar. I love Cuban generosity, the way strangers gather to help an old man to his feet and rush him to the hospital, the way people with so little offer me so much. I love the smile of my tiny goddaughter when she hears my voice, and how her eyes were really taking me in the day before I left. I love Cuba's barracks turned into schools, seeing policemen and soldiers reading on streetcorners. I love how everyone wants to teach me history, how every Cuban reveres
poet José Martí and quotes him regularly. I love how people want to argue U.S. politics constantly, even if it's exhausting sometimes. I won't let my eyes close to what's still wrong here, but I love this country and its vibrant people. I have learned more from them than I have imparted, and that should always be the goal.
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