CUBAN TRANSITIONS

“¡Hola! ¿Cómo están chicas?” An amiable address from the smiling bookstore owner welcomes us as we slow our stroll through Cienfuegos and peer into his shop. To allow us inside, the owner, Anabel, has to move the front display table back from the doorway. We squeeze into the small anteroom filled with Cuban books, posters and other chachkis. “¡Oh, Americans!” he exclaims with surprise and genuine enthusiasm. He begins guiding us through the books stacked on shelves and tables. Among these are copies of Garcia Marquez, books in French and English, and highly valuable Cuban Census books from the early 20th century. This shop is his aunt’s house, he tells us. He pays her a small sum of money each month for rent. She can be seen in the room just behind the store, sitting in a rocking chair, endearingly calling Anabel’s attention to new customers.

Entering businesses like this in Cuba requires a certain level of proximity to the owner’s personal life that we are not used to in North America. It can feel a little invasive, but most privately owned businesses in Cuba are run out of people’s homes, or more specifically their living rooms so we had to get used to shopping and eating in peoples’ homes.
Anabel is eager to talk with us about himself and Cuba. We unleash our curiosity that has been building up for the past two months.

He was an actor, a professional who earned a government salary, until five months ago when he decided to open the bookstore. He spoke about acting the way one talks about a relationship with an inevitable end. He said he missed it a lot – it was his passion, but the salary was not enough, like so many other Cuban jobs.

From few people I was able to have a conversation with in Cuba, I got the sense that many felt like this man had five months before. Now that Raul Castro has opened up the economy to allow private businesses like Anabels’, there has been a significant increase in restaurants (paladares), taxis, and clubs – many of which cater primarily to tourists. With this new sector, there are more career options for Cubans (although this is easier for Cubans receiving remittances). Some have come to accept that their lives are made difficult by insufficient food and low wages, so they figure that doing what they love and what makes them happy is the best they can do. Others, like Anabel, are tired of the government salary and have taken advantage of this opportunity to make more money, even if that means stepping away from their skilled professional job. Although he misses acting, Anabel is happy with his new business.

His shop is popular. I suspect it’s because of his friendly demeanor and genuine smile – personable qualities which he tells us are seen less frequently in employees of the state sector.

During our visit the shop attracts three Cuban customers, asking for books on beginning French and English, reiterating the emerging influence of tourism on Cuba. Anabel tells us that learning languages is becoming more and more important for Cubans, especially those wishing to work in tourism.

To me, this shop exemplifies Cuba’s “Transition” phase. When we ask Anabel what he thinks will be the impact if the embargo is lifted, he asks us to speak in English because he doesn’t want people around him to hear. Most of what he says is positive, and he talks about the hope that some Cubans have and will have if Obama is reelected.

The Cubans we got a chance to speak with are generally hopeful about lifting the embargo. They were not filled with idealistic pictures of the U.S.A. as they are well educated and understand the problems with our system. But they all acknowledged that their everyday struggles could be ameliorated by trade with our country.

As a tourist, I both understand this point of view, yet also wince at the thought of U.S. tourists flooding Cuban streets as more and more cheesy souvenir shops pop up to accommodate their desires for “Cuban” things (cigars, Che posters, etc.). Glancing around this bookstore, what I hope is that places like this can exist and prosper without turning into the shops solely dedicated to tourism. I hope that insufficiencies in Cuba can one day be alleviated by trade with the U.S., but that this trade and lifting of the embargo does not completely compromise the vibrant Cuban culture.

Cuban Census Book from 1919

Manual Azucarero de Cuba 1945-1946Mickey Mantle Baseball Card from 1958

Keds Ad in Cuban Commerce Records Book

Customers at Storefront

Mickey Mantle Baseball Card from 1958

Upon returning to the United States, all of my friends and family members have asked me about my trip to Cuba. Immediately, my mind wanders to the symbols of Cuba. I found myself thinking of the notion of Cuban symbolism while in the country, and I imagine that I will be trying to comprehend this complex issue for a while.

To promote their tourist industry, Cuba has attempted to export certain symbols of the country that will be appealing to foreign tourists. This isn’t so different from other nations who do this in attempt to increase tourism as well as domestic revenues. This can be seen more concretely in billboards at airports, or just through a collected consciousness. For me in my tourist mindset, the images of a mojito, an antique car, and a Cuban musician were conjured in my mind. However, to placate my intellectual mind, the images of critical Cuban history; the 26^th of July Movement, the Castro brothers, Che Guevara, and the embargo are the symbols that were very highly prioritized in my consciousness in my preparation for our class trip to Cuba.

Being in Cuba, however, was a very different story. I found it so interesting what symbols Cuba chose to represent throughout the country. I knew from literature and previous class discussions that Che Guevara’s face was a very prominent image in Cuba as a pictorial depiction of the revolution and all that it stands for. However, I had no idea that the images of the Cuban Five would be such a profound symbol of nationalism (and anti-U.S. sentiment) throughout the nation. To be honest, I did not even know about the plight of these men, who are currently imprisoned in the United States for “espionage,” until our visit to ICAP on one of the first days in Cuba. This particular symbol was everywhere in Cuba. For example, the images of these five were even at Ernesto Che Guevara’s monument and mausoleum.

It was also interesting to consider what Cuba did not promote as a symbol of nationhood. While over 300,000 Cubans were sent to Angola during Cuba’s 15 year involvement in Africa, there is no national monument to celebrate the roughly 2,000 people who perished in the international conflicts. The memories of Angola were barely visible in Cuba, despite the fact that Cuba’s participation in Angola could arguably represent revolutionary ideals in their most pure form.

Another issue that crossed my mind throughout the trip is the endangerment of these symbols. For example, the antique, American car has become a symbol of Cuba for both all-inclusive resort occupying tourists and Cuban historians alike. However, if and when the embargo ends, these cars will all but disappear. And even if as the embargo continues, as I witnessed on our trip, there seems to be a steady progression of newer cars entering the picture. In Havana, I saw probably as many Japanese or European cars in Cuba as I saw old, American cars. The trend of being able to import these non-American cars will doubtlessly increase with the rise of tourism and the hopeful lessening of the embargo’s effects.

And, if and when the Cuban five are released, what will happen to the thousands of billboards and images of street art that demand their release? Will they simply be whitewashed, or will a new message about victory replace the pessimism that these images communicate?

Cuba has purposefully chosen which images should pictorially represent their country, and while there is a bit of a difference between the tourist and academic mindset, in the end, all visitors to Cuba are treated to the same images of a country that is trying to promote its own agenda in a world of competing images. 

I’m not quite sure where our fascination with the vintage comes from.  Maybe it’s the sentimentality or the thought that everyone wants it and nobody can have it. Maybe it’s the idea of looking forward through the window of the past. Either way, the vintage cars in Cuba, with their bright colors and beautiful design, captured my little aesthete heart.

The ’57 Chevy Bel Air we took coming back from Teatro Bertold Brecht one of our nights out in Havana had a sticky floor, lacked paneling on its ceiling, and had windows that no longer rolled down. It wasn’t as well maintained as some of the government taxis we spotted nearby, but its rustic charm won us over in the end.

I spoke to the driver of our cab, a middle aged man named Orlando, and asked him various questions about recent steps towards the privatization of Cuba’s cab industry.The streets of many touristic cities are lined with both public and private taxi competition, which ,Orlando says, has increased dramatically in the past decade.  He told me that him and many of his cab driver friends use driving a private vehicle as a means to supplement their meager government incomes from other jobs.

Perhaps another reason for the  influx in cab drivers in recent years is Cuba’s gradual shift to revive its struggling economy.

In 2008, Cuba approved new licenses for private taxis, creating an alternative to the elite government fleet of taxis, which are all too expensive for everyday Cubans[1]. The public taxi drivers are initially provided with a vehicle by the government, but they must pay a high daily charge.  Apparently, many Cubans already use private vehicles to give black market rides. They risk steep fines and even possible confiscation of their car by the state if caught. But the Cuban labor federation announced plans to cut one million public sector jobs, a number sure to increase in the years to come.[3] Is profiting from these black-market rides justified if its likely that many individuals will  lose their public sector jobs in the near future?

The privatization of sectors of the cab industry is one of the few economic reforms President Raúl Castro has taken in his steps to create a more economically efficient Cuba. This law was created in stark contrast to Fidel’s ideals. He saw the private cab industry as reaping profit off of Cuba’s hard earned state subsidized gasoline prices.

Cuba also recently instated a law that gives permission to Cubans to freely engage in the buying and selling of cars. [2] Is this small free-market type opening in Cuba’s economy aligned with the original goals of the revolution?

After speaking with the cab drivers in Cuba, it surely doesn’t seem like the type of career someone could get very wealthy off of. The heightened competition, not only with the number of public taxis catering to tourists but also with the increasing number of private cab licenses and black market cabs put into operation, makes it seem as if the average cab driver serves to earn roughly $10-$15 a month after taxes and maintenance charges. Though this will amount to an income gap of sorts, it doesn’t seem significant enough to garner a concentration of wealth into the hands of a few.

What it does stand to illustrate though, is the gradual shift of Cuban ideals and the reappropriation of the goals of the revolution. This small act of privatization demonstrates how contemporary Cuba seeks to create greater market freedom to combat the transportation, food, and housing shortages that arose during the years of the Special Period.

On the way down to Cuba we spent a lot of time sitting around in airports as our flights were delayed over and over. Though it seemed like the universe was conspiring to make it so that we would never get to Havana, the airport (Miami, not LaGuardia) proved to be a place of insightful discussion.

Miami Airport

Many of the workers in the Miami International Airport are Cuban Americans. I had certainly heard a lot about the views of Cuban Americans toward Cuba and toward the Revolution from my readings. Having fled Cuba, they predictably don’t approve much of its political or economic systems. Most come to the United States with the goal of creating a better life, one less controlled by the state and one with the potential for them to advance economically. This was my perception of Cuban Americans before getting to Miami, and I was surprised to find out that what I had learned was largely a reality.

I spoke to three men working in the airport as bag wrappers: Hector, Pablo, and Frank. They were extremely interested in the fact that we were studying Cuba and that we would be going there in a few hours (if the plane was ever going to actually take off). The three were very different but definitely espoused that anti-Cuban sentiment I had heard about.

Note: This is not one of the men, but is an exact representation of their job and uniform.

Hector was definitely the least political and had been in the US for three years. He told us about all the places we should visit in Havana and described in detail the area where we would be staying, including the Plaza de la Revolución. it was really exciting when we did actually get to see those things. Though he still had children in Cuba (who he assumingly sent remittances to), it didn’t seem like he was overwhelmed by grievances toward the state.

If Hector didn’t speak strongly against Cuba, Pablo did enough for the two of them. He had been in the US for six years and was adamant in his disapproval of Cuba. He told me that just by travelling there I would never be able to know Cuba because I was born with freedom and so couldn’t possibly understand what it is like not to have it. he said I should leave all of my things, all of my money in the airport and go live and work like a real Cuban if I wanted to know what it was like. Pablo also insisted that everyone in Cuba has a political opinion, everyone questions the state. He was overall very…intense, and gave me the general vision that Cuban society was secretly and subtly oppressive and that I should be skeptical of what state officials and tourist agencies told me about the country. Though he intimidated me, I wondered how much of what he was saying was true.

The last was Frank who had been in the US a few weeks short of one year. He also had strong opinions about Cuba and socialism in general, but was less intense about it. He gave us an interesting comparison to ponder: In a classroom, everyone is given the same grade (the class average) on every test. The first test most of the class studies and everyone receives the same grade. Noticing that everyone gets the same grade regardless, for the next test less people study. Even less study for the next test and it continues until finally no one is studying and the class average is unacceptably low. This, Frank said, was what is occurring in Cuba. It was also for this reason that he liked the capitalist system better: everyone gets what they work for (in theory anyway, I would add). He was making more money wrapping people’s luggage in cellophane at the airport than he ever made as an engineer in Cuba.

It was hard for me to argue with their logic, having never been to Cuba. Now, having gone, I still am not sure what I’d say. Socialism has its flaws, yes, but I’ve spent the last few years (and several lengthy papers) analyzing the flaws of capitalism and am completely unwilling to accept that it is the better system. Perhaps I really do not “know” Cuba as Pablo said I can’t, but I don’t believe any more that he knows the United States and understands the downsides of capitalism. I personally can’t argue that a system involving free education and healthcare, equality, and an inherent respect for all people is bad. It actually sounds pretty great to me. I’m really glad I got to talk to these three men; it was certainly an interesting way to begin my experience exploring Cuba.

As we explore the complexity of the nature of the nation and nationality in the Período Especial, the role of the artist in Cuban society becomes increasingly blurred and dynamic. As Sujatha Fernandes discusses in her article on postwar reconstructions, even the definitions of “commercial” and “underground” have become distorted. Cuban youth struggle to reconcile their culture through music as the state, under Raúl, begins to gently open its doors. This increased acceptance of global markets and outside funding gives the Cuban music scene a whole new role in Cuban society.
Rappers are split into “underground” groups that challenge race stereotypes and are state funded and “commercial” groups that receive international funding and speak to a more global audience. This divide causes stratification in a once unified industry and calls into question the nature of truly Cuban music. Neoliberal globalization has touched all aspects of the music trade, from consumptive practices to American clothing and styles. Fernandes even suggests that the mixed styles characteristic of Orishas, Buena Vista Social Club, and Candido Febré y su Banda reflect this shift towards commercially centered music production. Others argue that these shifts are simply creating a new “estilo cubano,” often labeled “timba,” or Cuban dance music.
Cuba has always been known for its lively music scene, influencing musical genres globally pre-Revolution through the spread of Latin jazz, mambo, and cha-cha-cha. The recent Cuban film Habanastation touches on this global impact when they create a main character as an internationally renowned Cuban jazz singer. The novel Havana Fever illustrates this culture of music when music writer Rafael Giró speaks nostalgically of “sixty clubs and cabarets with two or three shows a night. Not counting restaurants and bars where trios, pianists, and combos played” in Havana. Conde obsesses over a long forgotten culture of bolero singers, implying the suffocation of artistic talent in the poverty stricken Cuba of the Período Especial. “You’ll Remember Me,” the haunting bolero of Violeta de los Rios, suggests a lost era that will forever influence Cuban rhythms. Sweig discusses a recent depoliticization of music; as artists are given more liberty, will music return to music for the sake of art or music for the sake of profit?

Guaracha is a style of fast paced lyrics and tempo known for being played in the brothels of Havana

Our trip to Cuba will help answer this question as we explore the influence of the many Cuban legends Conde speaks of in Havana Fever; Anacaonas, Elena Burke, Benny More, Casino de la Playa, Olga Guillot, José Antonio Méndez, Chori, Bebo Valdéz, and Negro Vivar, to name a few. Elena Burke, known as the “senora sentiment,” had a loyal following at a local nightclub in Havana until her death in 2002. José Antonio Méndez, known as the author of the trova sub-genre “el feeling” crooned classical tunes starting in homes and later becoming globally renowned. Negro Vivar, the passionate pianist recognized for uniting Cuban exile musicians with their Cuban counterparts, is the most recent of these influential Cuban artists. Through interviews and observation of musical events in Cuba today, the current contributions of Cuba’s past rhythms to modern styles will become apparent.

The king of "el feeling"

"Senora Sentiment"

One thing is certain, Cuban artists have learned to navigate the many fluctuations in their liberties, giving rise to new and dynamic music that soars above the hegemony of the state, constantly reaffirming itself as Cuban culture. As Olsen and Sheehy attest in their book Latin American Music, Latins consider music to be movement. Dance must inevitably be part of musical accomplishment and vice versa. Consequently, Cuban culture is Cuban music, they reflect and reinterpret each other in a never-ending danza.
Sources:
Cebrian, S.. “Orquesta “Anacaona”. ” Bohemio News 19 Dec. 2008,Ethnic NewsWatch (ENW), ProQuest. Web. 2 Mar. 2012. (Placeholder1)
Dalia Acosta. “MUSIC-CUBA: ELENA BURKE, LEGENDARY SINGER, DEAD AT 74. ” Global Information Network 20 June 2002 Research Library, ProQuest. Web. 2 Mar. 2012.
Olsen, Dale A., and Daniel Edward Sheehy. The Garland Handbook of Latin American Music. New York: Garland Pub., 2000. Print.
Sanchez, Armando Ledon. La Musica Popular en Cuba. USA: Intelibooks. 2003. Web. 27 Feb. 2012.

Sujatha Fernandes, “Fear of a Black Nation: Local Rappers, Transnational Crossings, and State Power.” Anthropological Quarterly 76:4 (Fall 2003), 575-608.

Cuba: What Everyone Needs to Know, Julia E. Sweig

Cuba’s waters may be known for their rich biodiversity and healthy coral reefs, but they are now in the news for something different: oil. Geologic surveys suggest there are around five billion barrels of oil off of Cuba’s coast, and exploratory drilling to find those reserves began in late January of this year. A Chinese oilrig has set up in Cuba’s northern waters, just 50 miles from the coast of Florida and has a long list of foreign companies hoping for their chance to strike “black gold.” The first wells are being drilled by a Spanish company, Repsol, which is paying $500,000 a day for the opportunity to keep half the profits from their discoveries.

The discovery of oil has tremendous political and economic implications for Cuba. The collapse of the Soviet Union meant, among other changes, the end of subsidized oil to the Cuban economy. This dearth continued until Cuba became a close ally of Venezuela with the election of Hugo Chavez and the oil-for-doctors arrangement was signed in 2000, through which the services of thousands of Cuban doctors have been exchanged for deeply discounted oil.  As long as Chavez remains in power there is the likely guarantee of a continuation of Venezuelan oil subsidies. However, this does not change the overall fact that Cuba’s ability to access the oil needed for industry and transportation remains tenuous.  Offshore oil reserves promises to drastically alter Cuba’s economy, and convert the country into a “major regional exporter.”

Due to both the proximity of the wells to Florida and to the economic strength offshore oil deposits will likely confer to the Castro regime, American political leaders have reacted strongly to this development. Cuban-American hardliners like Rep. Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-Florida) are calling for actions against Repsol and other companies looking to engage economically with Cuba’s oil industry.

Other people are much more concerned by the possible environmental impacts of Cuba’s drilling. In 2010, the largest marine oil spill in history occurred when there was as explosion at the BP-run Deepwater Horizon operation in the Gulf of Mexico. That oil spill caused liabilities of more than $43 billion dollars and incalculable costs to the marine ecosystem. Cuba is generally considered to be unprepared to deal with a spill, especially one of a similar magnitude, and in the event of a disaster, U.S. sanctions would greatly inhibit clean-up efforts.

Despite the possibility of environmental degradation, Cuba is expected to extract whatever oil is found. This means that there is immense pressure on the United Sates to take steps to normalize relations with Cuba, both from environmentalists who want a U.S. role in ensuring the drilling is done as safely as possible, as well as from representatives of the American oil industry who want a share of the potential profits. Oil promises to drastically change conditions both within Cuba and between Cuba and the rest of the world. Though a potential disaster for Cuba’s environmental health, oil would be tourism would cease to be Cuba’s only means to accessing hard foreign currency, and perhaps lead to a reduction of the inequalities that have risen in Cuba during the Special Period.

References:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/world/cuba-drills-for-oil-but-us-unprepared-for-spill/2012/02/23/gIQAWTx0jR_story.html

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-16753646

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-15907174

Cuba: What Everyone Needs to Know by Julia E. Sweig,  page 200

With the rise of social media and technology in our contemporary internationalized world, I wondered how a country like Cuba, where freedom of speech is often repressed, responds?

Cuba’s population of 11 million[1] faces limited Internet access, particularly with social media and networking sites. Private ownership of a WiFi network is difficult, if not impossible to obtain, albeit leaving Internet cafés and other collective areas approved by authorities amongst the only ways to access the Internet.

The cost of accessing the Internet for Cubans is roughly $1.50 per hour while the average monthly salary is only $20.[2] This cost is incredibly high when factoring in that this same salary must be used for other necessities.  Presumably, Cuban authorities have elected to restrict Internet usage as a means of dampening political and economic activity between Cubans and the international community. Old forms of media are largely undemocratic; government forces are selective about how certain pictures and quotations could be used to create the frame they wanted. New media on the other hand, allows participants to decide how they want their expression to be portrayed in.

Though Internet users in Cuba already face strict Internet controls and limited access for financial reasons, Cuba’s nationalized network prevents unwanted information from foreign countries from entering their closed system. Recognizing the growth of social media sites and their impact on the international community, the Cuban Ministry of Education recently created “Red Social”[3], a near clone of the popular networking site Facebook, which only enables Cubans to communicate with other Cubans on the island and not with the rest of the world. This site comes nearly a year after the government’s creation of a “Cuban Wikipedia”, called EcuRed[4], aimed at providing a government approved online encyclopedia of all Cuban knowledge. With the types of websites prevalent in the Cuban community, technologically savvy youth, in particular university students, have a means of communicating with each other throughout the island at an unprecedented pace.

The Internet’s capabilities distribute information at a higher speed and at a lower cost than traditional means. Social media, particularly Facebook and Twitter, have the potential to foster grassroots activism and political inclusion. It links together those with similar political ideals and enables users to create a transnational communication network. Though EcuRed and RedSocial may only be Cuba inclusive, Cubans can utilize the Internet and other forms of new media to criticize life under the current government, garner widespread support, and organize information as a means to promote their collective aims.  Furthermore, the internet in Cuba remains a contested space because its role in the revolution is uncertain-it provides a boundless universe of culture and knowledge,  but can also be used as a weapon against the aims of socialism.

When he found out I would be going to Cuba this spring, my 17 year-old-brother’s first comment was to request a certain souvenir: a pair of authentic Cuban cigars with which to celebrate his 18^th birthday with our Dad.  And he wasn’t the only one to quickly associate cigars with Cuba; “Going to bring back some cigars?” has actually been a frequent question I’ve heard in these months leading up to our departure.  And it’s not hard to see why.  The Cuban cigar is arguably one of the most recognized symbols of Cuban culture, especially in the foreigner’s perspective.  Some of the most widely produced images of Cuban men—both real and fictitious—feature a Cuban cigar.

But what is it that gives the Cuban cigar such distinction in the world of tobacco consumption?  And what explains the governments current prohibition on bringing any Cuban cigars out of the country?  Helping in part to answer these questions, Daniela Muhor’s essay entitled “Socialism and the Cigar”, offers an insightful look into the operations of Cigar producers and the politics surrounding the industry, especially as they have developed since the economic crisis of 1994.

THE DISTINCTION OF CUBAN CIGARS

A possible, if not probable, explanation for the wide recognition of Cuban cigars as the best in the world is that cigar production is such a long-standing tradition in Cuba that has gradually become intertwined with its national identity.  The existence of the Museum of Tobacco in Havana, or the common quip “Don’t tell me the whole history of Tobacco” used to cut off a chatterbox, attest to the prominence of tobacco in Cuban history and to the Cuban national identity.  Even in recent years, when the Cuban government and economy has undergone drastic changes, the nature of cigar production has changed relatively little—it continues to be quintessentially Cuban in nature.  Small farmers, or cooperatives established by groups of small farmers, continue to be the primary producers of the quality cigars that can fetch prices of up to 500 U.S. dollars per box when sold abroad.  Creating a Cuban cigar requires a very specific and thorough knowledge of the entire agricultural process and of the anatomy of the tobacco plant itself—for which many cooperatives of small farmers have hired knowledgeable instructors to educate increasing numbers of employees.  And even after initial training, the Cuban tobacco industry has historically been known to emphasize the broader education of its workers, as attested to by the existence of “readers” in cigar-rolling warehouses before the invention of the radio.

In the course of its growth over a period of about six months, each tobacco plant is visited at least 150 times! During that time, the farmers must plow, sow, transplant, fertilize, weed, irrigate, and finally harvest their plants.  Next the tobacco leaves are dried out, cured, rolled into cigars (another complicated process in and of itself), sorted by color, packaged, sealed, and shipped.  Throughout the entire process, farmers and cigar rollers carefully record the movement of every bit of tobacco to avoid costly waste or theft.

But Cuban cigars aren’t world-renown due only to the dedication of farmers, but also to the expertise of the cigar rollers.  Each roller recognizes the differences between the five essential types of leaves included in a single cigar known as capote, seco, volado, ligero, and pica dura.  Each comes from a distinct part of the tobacco plant and has a particular role as part of the cigar.  Some leaf types such as the ligero are crucial for the flavor of the cigar, while others like the seco are meant to help the cigar burn properly.

CIGARS AND THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION AND THE 1994 ECONOMIC CRISIS

Because the creation of each and every cigar requires an extremely meticulous process, even the crisis-driven demand for higher production couldn’t cause the industry to undergo a transition to the large state-farm model, as so many other agricultural industries experienced.  That is not to say, however, that the government has abstained altogether from involving itself in the tobacco industry.  Quite the contrary, it has encouraged higher rates of cigar production than ever before by giving producers priority access to agricultural resources (fertilizers, machines, materials, etc.), by maintaining tobacco prices as 10 cents per pound, and by implementing incentives for higher production (particularly by paying producers in part with U.S. dollars, or paying extra for each cigar produced in addition to a worker’s daily quota).  And its not hard to see why the government would have an interest in taking these kinds of measures, especially in an economic state of crisis: the cigar industry is second only to tourism in terms of creating U.S. dollar revenue.

And these measure are arguably proving very effective.  Between 1996 and 2000, cigar production jumped from 70 million to 118 million cigars made annually.  However, the small farmers who dedicate so much effort towards producing cigars aren’t the recipients of the wealth that labor produces.  On the contrary, most small farmers cannot subsist off of the revenue made from tobacco harvests, and dedicate only a portion (approximately 30%) of their arable soil for tobacco crops.  The rest of their land is reserved for alternative crops, and especially those intended for local sale or auto-consumption.  Nevertheless, rural farmers don’t express much resentment towards the limited profits they see from tobacco growth.  In fact, many small farmers are fervent supporters of the socialist system of the current government and eagerly embrace the concepts of solidarity, patriotism, and cooperation preached in the socialist model.  This enthusiasm to “serve the revolution” explains, at least in part, the tendency of so many small farmers to establish small cooperatives amongst themselves and heighten production.  For them, the government’s emphasis on tobacco production not only raises income levels (albeit an disproportional increase to production rates), but it also provides lobbying power when rural areas make requests, such as the establishment of cigar-rolling factories that provides jobs in the community.

Unfortunately, however, the emphasis on high production of cigars in recent years has been cited as responsible for declines in cigar quality.  Additionally, as profits from cigar sales rose, and as many Cubans simultaneously became desperate for alternative sources of income during the economic crisis, illicit sales of cigars rose sharply.  Many times these black market cigars are of lesser quality, despite the claims of salesmen that they are genuine brand name specimens.  This has added to the decline in the reputation of the Cuban cigar among enthusiasts. Currently efforts are being made by the government to minimize the black market circulation of cigars and tobacco products and reinstate the notoriety of the Cuban cigar.

Sources:

Muhor, Daniela. “Socialism and the Cigar,”  in Chávez, ed., Capitalism, God, and a Good Cigar: Cuba Enters the Twenty-First Century (Durham: Duke University Press, 2005)

A Cuban soldier is depicted alongside an Angolan soldier, with both countries' flags waving in the background.

The 1960s brought a new outlet for Cuban revolution and aid that wasn’t focused inwards towards Cuba. As Fidel Castro officially adopted the specific title of Prime Minister of the Revolution in Cuba,  in 1974, Portugal was officially withdrawing from it’s colonial territories spread throughout Angola. With this withdrawal brought tension between opposing Angolan factions who desired control over the country’s capital, Luanda. As the People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA)—a Marxist Leninist labor party headed by Agostino Neto—struggled for influence against factions like UNITA and FNLA, Cuba was organizing their domestic house in order to be able to reach out to other countries’ revolutions.

Fidel Castro supplied 500 Cuban troops to the effort to bolster the MPLA. As South African troops became involved in the conflict, so too did the United States and the CIA–both backing UNITA and FNLA against the MPLA. As Castro himself put it, “At no time did the US president, or his powerful Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, or the US intelligence services, even imagine the possibility of participation by Cuba. Never before had a Third World country acted to support another people in an armed conflict beyond its geographical neighborhood.” The total deployment of more than 300,000 Cubans from 1975 to 1991 in Angola became the image of a selfless Cuba–a Cuba that fought for the revolution, wellbeing, and freedom of their neighbor. Castro pushed for the portrayal of a nonaligned movement in Angola—that is, there being no side taking with the Soviet Union nor the United States. In his speeches regarding the deployment, he discussed the lack of discourse and complete compliance between Cuba and the Soviet Union prior to and during this time in regards to Cuba’s support of Angola. Although the Soviet Union was pushing for extraction of Cuban troops in 1976, ultimately, Cuba’s men and women stayed throughout the the duration of the conflict, offering literacy, medical care, and support.

Castro mentions how Angolan armies were trained by Cuban soldiers, families in Cuba supported their loved ones abroad, and countless lives were lost, while today, as Castro mentioned in his 2005 ceremonial speech observing the 30^th anniversary of the Cuban Military Mission in Angola, the US refuses to acknowledge the full story: “Cuba, it seems, never played any part at all in Angolan independence, Namibian independence or the defeat of the until-then invincible army of apartheid. In fact, Cuba doesn’t even exist; it’s a figment of people’s imagination. It is as if the US government had absolutely nothing to do with the hundreds of thousands of Angolan dead, the thousands of villages razed to the ground, the millions of landmines planted in Angolan territory, where they still take the lives of many children, women and other civilians.” Castro described how this wasn’t just a soldier’s job, it was the job of the Cuban revolutionary; doctors, teachers, men and women had been deployed to Angola to selflessly promote the ideals of the People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola. 1991 saw the withdrawal of Cuban forces and the Angolan Civil War finally came to an end in 2002 with the passing of the head of the UNITA party, Jonas Savimbi.

Sources:

http://www.cuba.cu/gobierno/discursos/2005/ing/f021205i.html

November 10, 2011 Latin American History in the 20th Century class notes, Leslie Offutt

Cuba: What Everyone Needs to Know, Julia E. Sweig, (page 114)

Image Source: http://repeatingislands.com/2010/03/13/amateur-historian-writes-book-on-cuban-soldiers-in-angola/

The Cuban Revolution Today

Although the Cuban Revolution began with the 26th of July movement in 1953, finally overthrowing the Batista government on January 1, 1959, the revolution is far from over. In fact, today Cubans still speak of their support (or lack thereof) for the current system under which Cuba is operating as support for “la Revolución.” The ongoing use of this word is interesting, and I think that it has some profound effects on the psyches of Cubans.

In the United States, we refer to the American Revolution as a brief period of time that specifically involved fighting with the British and ending more or less with the ceasing of fighting and the Treaty of Paris in 1783. Although we are clearly no longer under British rule and have continued our experiment of representational government, it would sound absurd to refer to our current government as “the revolution.” The term’s ongoing use in Cuba is distinctly Cuban and its definition implies many things.

First, the use of the world revolution implies something new, something revolutionary, there was something that came before the revolution, that it has sought to change. This serves as a constant reminder of the widespread lack of support the oppressive, and often violent, Batista and preceding regimes had in Cuba preceding the Revolution. Even though there may be disagreements over some of the government’s policies, Cubans are still able to rally behind “the Revolution” because it is a reminder that it is still an improvement from the rural and urban warfare in Cuba in the early 1900s. This also demonstrates that the term Revolution is a cause that is too a great extent independent of the government. It allows for criticism of the government, while still backing the principles which it stands on, the principles of the Revolution.

Implicit in the idea of something new is the idea of change. And so the Revolution by definition has an element of change. The term itself has also changed in what it has come to mean for Cuba. As the revolution has moved on, its ideology has had to make concessions and adaptions with the times and the circumstances, whether it arises out of the economic crisis of the Special Period or out of an obligation to the alliance with the Soviet Union. The ambiguity of the term allows it to do so and continuously do so while still relying on fundament principles of equality for all and empowerment to the common man that the Revolution depended on.

The revolutionaries of the ‘50s could not have known how long the Revolution would last or the changes it would have to endure and adapt to in light of modern problems. There could not have known that the revolution in Cuban would live on for over 50 years and that “la revolución” would be as much of a cause to rally behind today as it was then.