CUBAN TRANSITIONS

In their text concerning Cuba and tourism, Joseph L. Scarpaci and Armando H. Portela venture to discover “the magnetism of Cuba for the international tourist, regardless of the merits and detriments of the communist government” (114). As the text proceeds to explain, in spite of Cuba’s controlling and repressive government, it nevertheless draws a large number of visitors due to its untouched beauty, ‘exotic’ atmosphere, and overall lack of an American presence. As is made clear in the article, while Cuba’s socialist government has alienated some of the international community (most notably the United States), it is still considered to be a top destination spot that can fulfill one’s desire for sex, sand, and sun.

In response to this, I found myself curious to learn more about how Cuba specifically presents itself to tourists. When one visits Cuba’s “Ministerio de Turismo” website, it is made quite clear that Cuba is a place of great beauty and excitement. In the website’s “About Cuba” section, one can learn about everything from the country’s size to its diverse ecosystem. Cuban people are even described as “joyful, witty, sympathetic, and fall in love very easily. They are also hospitable, kind, zealous of that what is of his own and open-handed and unselfish.” Through such descriptions, one gets the impression that Cuba is a serene, relaxing oasis where one can escape from the trauma and stress of everyday life.

However, interestingly enough, the site includes  little to no information about the government. While Cuba’s health and education programs are described as being some of the most successful and advanced systems in the region, there is no explanation about how they are run or why they are the way they are. When speaking of the nation’s history, the website leaves out the last hundred years (including the revolution, Che, and Fidel) and focuses solely on the colonial period. If anything, the one instance where one can detect a subtle nod to the revolutionary government in the description of a true Cuban citizen.  Above all else, Cubans are  “noble and honest patriots.” Taken as a whole, it is evident that  the Ministerio de Turismo has consciously glossed over topics or controversial subjects that could potentially be worrisome for visitors.

Moreover, this rather vague approach is not only used on the official government’s website. According to Canada’s Cuba Tourist Board, “Going to Cuba is like taking a trip around the world in perfect weather… Whether you’re in a car or on a bus, train or boat, you’ll find a new experience around every bend. Hang on to your hats…and get ready for adventure.” Once again, one can see that potential visitors are enticed with the promise of excitement, amusement, and one-of-a-kind experiences. In the website’s section of general information, one can learn everything from the national flower (butterfly lily) to the national bird (the Trogon bird) without so much as a sentence about the government or its politics. To the uninformed tourist, Cuba is just another ‘perfect’ tropical destination.

In particular, these descriptions are quite striking when compared to the United States’ official views on the country. As stated by the U.S. Department of State, “Cuba is a totalitarian police state which relies on repressive methods to maintain control. These methods include intense physical and electronic surveillance of both Cuban citizens and foreign visitors. Americans visiting Cuba should be aware that any on-line activities could be subject to surveillance, and their contacts with Cuban citizens monitored closely.” This depiction is a far cry from the imagery portrayed by Canada’s Cuba Tourist Board, in which Cuba is described as “a country of great artistic manifestations and world reknown [sic] creators.” Granted, one must realize the Department of Consular Affairs is not trying to sell Cuba to its audience. Nevertheless, it is significant to realize how presentation can affect one’s perception of place. It would be interesting to hear whether potential travelers would have any reservations about visiting Cuba after hearing such an assessment.

sources:

http://www.gocuba.ca/client/pictures/index.php

http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_1097.html#country

http://www.cubatravel.cu/otroe/

The contrast between Mario Conde and Yoyi Pigeon in Leonardo Padura’s “Havana Fever” highlights the generational divide that arose with the onset of Cuba’s Special Period. Conde, who is almost 50 years-old, grew up at the height of the Revolution and was raised under the communist promise of a “shining future.” Pigeon, who is only 28, grew up under the dire conditions of the Special Period and maintains a youthful skepticism towards the Revolution’s ideals. A casual conversation between the business partners exemplifies this difference:

Conde: “They made us believe we were all equal and that the world would be a better place. That it was already better…”

Pigeon: “They fooled you, I swear. Everywhere you go some people are less equal than others and the world is going to the dogs. Right here, if you don’t have any green’uns you’re out of the running…”

Conde: “It was nice while it lasted.”

Pigeon: “That’s why you’re all so fucked up now: too long spent dreaming. What the hell was the point of it all?”

Most of Pigeon’s life has been defined by the current social and political situation: illicit activity, corruption, drug deals, prostitution, and a growing income gap between those who have access to dollars and those who do not. He is part of the youth movement ready to question Castro’s utopia, whether that be through music and art or capitalist practices and black market activity. While Conde lives the day-to-day reality of the black market, he is much more hesitant than his partner to accept modern conditions. He is torn between two worlds: “the life he’d known in his youth, [and] the one he was now contemplating in his mature, illusion-free years.” He feels somewhat lost in this new Havana, which now seems to be “an unknown city, one that didn’t belong to him, and one moving him on, shutting him out.”

Conde is part of the “Revolutionary Generation,” a generation that believed communism would raise Cubans above the evils of the capitalist outside world. His contemporaries would have been soldiers who, inspired by revolutionary solidarity, fought in Africa in the 1970s. During this time, Castro’s regime urged support for revolutions abroad to help cultivate the revolutionary zeal back home.

Pigeon, on the other hand, is the product of another time; his contemporaries are more wary of communism’s potential. He explains to Conde that in his current business, he sleeps “until midday with air-conditioning, and stealing from no one, I earn more money than if I worked for a whole month as an engineer, getting up at six and struggling onto the bus (if the damned bus actually came)…putting up with a boss set on clearing up at the expense of everyone else…” To him, the Revolution is full of lies and his business and everyday reality are a testament to that conviction.

Despite Conde’s understanding that the Revolution never lived up to its promise, that “they dazzled us with all that glare and we walked past the future and didn’t even see it,” he speaks of a “romantic insistence on keeping [the past] intact.” While he dropped out of the police force and actively contributes to the underground private sector, he is morally conflicted about his behavior. Padura thus underlines the psychological toll that the Special Period took on romantic idealists of the 1960s and 70s. In a daily fight for a survival, members of Cuba’s middle-aged population must reconsider their understanding of the Revolution when confronted with the pressing question of where to find their next meal.

Scholar Sujatha Fernandes points out an interesting dichotomy between Cuban hip hop and the state. The lyrics of this popular local genre often criticize and challenge state policies and norms, yet the state recognizes the popularity of this musical movement and successfully uses hip hop as a way to reach out to a younger generation of Cubans.

What struck me most in Fernandes’ writing was the way the government was able to transform hip hop’s seemingly critical stance on government into a nuanced view that the state shared with these performers, creating unity between hip hop and the state. If an artist claimed Cuba’s poor were not allocated enough resources, the government transformed this criticism into an opportunity to affirm their own and hip hop’s commitment to the revolution; the state, like the rappers, supports better education and resources for the poor. The fact that the state is at fault for not supplying these resources is swept under the rug and instead the blame is laid on international capitalist governments who are guilty of these criticisms. If rappers sing about government corruption and inefficiency, the Cuban state manipulates this message to address outside governments and affirm their own Cuban state and peoples’ commitment to the revolution instead.

The state solidifies its role and influence in the Cuban hip hop world by providing funds and organizational structure to the movement, forcing underground hip hop artists to negotiate their values and messages to fit into government parameters. In this way the government has used hip hop’s popularity to further its own agenda of reaching out to a younger generation while controlling the dissidence expressed through its popular music.

Cuban Transitions: Cultural Transformations in the 21st Century

In the aftermath of the Período Especial (Special Period), Cuba has undergone far-reaching change. This blog book looks from the inside out at the cultural and political manifestations of that change, which range from a new cultural openness to protocapitalist entreupreneurism, from alternative definitions ofCubanidad emerging from below, to regional leadership in sustainability projects.  The project stems from a course offered by Vassar College in Spring 2012 and contributors include our 42 students and three faculty members.

Colleen Cohen, Leslie Offutt and Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert