CUBA AND UNCLE FIDEL
What is extraordinary about Fidel Castro is that he is here at all.
More than 40 years after coming to power, he survives. He survives in
the face of the unremitting hostility of a superpower only 90 miles
away. He survives in spite of these facts: his main patron, the Soviet
Union, has disappeared, his ideology, Marxist-Leninism, is discredited,
and his economy is in shambles. Despite the fact that an extraordinary
number of ordinary citizens prefer to chance death at sea rather than
remain in his nation, Fidel survives.
Not only does his survival require explanation but it begs a serious,
strategic question: What does the survival of Cuba mean to the
international system? As important, what does Castro want it to mean? He
is a man of intentions, many of them admittedly failed. But unlike
others who have clung to power because they did not know how to let go,
Castro portrays himself as a man for whom power is a means to an end,
not an end itself. After all, there have been easier paths for him to
take. Therefore, understanding Fidel - and what he means in a larger
sense - means understanding his intentions.
>From the beginning, Castro has shown an extraordinary understanding of
how to shape public opinion. It is difficult to think of any world
leader, let alone the leader of a minor Third World country, who has
been more successful not only at drawing attention to himself, but in
generating a positive global image. His 1953 attack on the army barracks
at Moncada led only to his arrest and trial; but his "The World Will
Absolve Me" speech at the trial sparked a movement. Even today, in the
face of failure, human rights violations and isolation, he continues to
generate support and admiration.
That skill is not incidental to his understanding of how the world
works. Consider the latest affair. A small group of ordinary citizens,
clearly driven by despair and desperate for an alternative, choose to
escape. These people are so desperate to leave that they risk their
lives in a rickety boat unsuited for the high seas. This is far from an
isolated event. Men, women and children bear this risk regularly. In
this particular case, a woman falls overboard and drowns, leaving behind
a small son, who is taken to live with relatives.
In almost any other country, what would be considered shocking is the
misery and hopelessness that led to the escape - and the moral character
of a regime that holds its citizens as prisoners. Had this event
involved Iraq or Serbia, the focus of the media would have been on the
regime that generated the refugees. But Castro spun the situation
brilliantly, turning the United States into the victimizer and Cuba into
the victim. He did so by understanding the structure of international
public opinion brilliantly, and with it, the dynamics of power.
Castro did not allow the world's attention to linger on the causes of
the voyage. Instead, he fixated on the outcome of the voyage and the
fact that the little boy had a father in Cuba to whom he should be
returned. Now, there was certainly justice in that claim. A child's
father surely has the right to a child when the mother is dead. The
hesitancy of the United States in returning the child was based largely
on political concerns in the Cuban-American community, as well as other,
humanitarian concerns.
Castro seized on Washington's hesitation as an assault on paternal
rights and he achieved two things. First, he turned Cuba, via the
father, into the victim of an insensitive United States. Second, he
forced discussion to focus on the aftermath of the escape rather than on
the causes of the escape, namely conditions in Cuba. In short, he spun
the issue.
This is far from the first time that Castro has humiliated the United
States with the fact that Cubans want to flee. Recall the 1980 boatlift
from the port of Mariel, in which 125,000 Cubans departed aboard boats
from Miami. Castro only allowed the boatlift after crowds had stormed
the Peruvian embassy demanding to leave. And he included criminals and
the mentally ill among the refugees. Unprepared, the Carter
administration placed many in camps. But by then Castro had spun the
story to Washington's mishandling of the refugees; the United States was
the heavy.
Castro deploys similar measures in a broader context. Cuba's economy is
in disastrous shape - $11 billion in debt, years of poor sugar harvests
and little industry other than tourism. But it has been this way since
the fall of the Soviet Union, and the loss of $3 billion in Soviet-era
subsidies. Castro's defense, however, is to blame the U.S. economic
embargo. The fact is, of course, that the U.S. embargo is completely
ineffective. Hardly any other nation in the world honors it. Cuba has
access to capital in Canada, Europe and most of Asia. It can sell goods
nearly anywhere and those goods can be reshipped to the United States
with minimal difficulty.
As preposterous as it is, Castro's assertion is nevertheless widely
believed and the United States is widely condemned for its boycott.
Now, where many in the international community demand that the United
States stop trade with countries that violate human rights, like
Myanmar, many of the same people reverse themselves on Cuba, making the
exact opposite argument. Castro turned the failure of his economic
system into an indictment of the U.S. embargo. Rather than being lumped
with other human rights violators, he casts himself as the victim of an
oppressive U.S. foreign policy.
The key to Castro's ability to control these situations is that he
understands the fundamental issue: it is not Cuba, but the United
States. There is a deep ambivalence, a love-hate relationship between
the United States and the world. On the one hand, no nation is more
imitated than the United States. The United States serves as the
standard against which the rest of the world measures progress. There is
no nation that others would rather go to, if forced to leave their own
home. The United States and its culture is overwhelming, powerful and
penetrating.
On the other hand, it is this very power that makes the United States so
deeply hated. Precisely because it overwhelms, overpowers and penetrates
everywhere, precisely because the United States is so relentless and
indifferent to the rest of the world, the United States is profoundly
resented. The sense of helplessness in the face of U.S. power breeds a
sense of rage against America. This ambivalence, it should be noted,
exists not only abroad but in the United States, as well. It peaked in
the 1960s, but remains a part of the political landscape.
Castro is a master of manipulating this ambivalence. His survival in
Cuba is based on a state security apparatus that controls all
opposition. His survival as an icon in global culture, however, is not
rooted in anything that he has achieved in Cuba; it is rooted only in
the fact that he defies the United States. Castro instinctively
understands this. He understands that the world admires the United
States infinitely more than it admires Cuba, that masses yearn to become
American while hardly anyone would wish to be a Cuban. Yet, at the same
time, he knows that those very same admirers resent the very success of
the United States.
Castro has played this ambivalence to his advantage for 41 years. But
at no time has he played it more brilliantly than since the fall of the
Soviet Union. Having lost his strategic value and teetered on the brink
of disaster, Castro has combined his internal security mechanism with
his deep understanding of the global psyche to make himself the champion
of the anti-American in everyone. He is given a pass on human rights not
because anyone has any illusions about him, but because he is useful in
countering American wishes.
Castro's use of global ambivalence points to an underlying source of
energy that will fuel the geopolitical system for the rest of this
century. We tend to look for non-psychological, material explanations
for the behavior of nations. In general, that is a good methodology. But
accompanying geopolitics is the psychological topography of the world.
The existence of a single, overwhelming power must generate a
psychological reaction. The very power generates fear and resentment.
That fear and resentment can reinforce geopolitical processes.
This dualism about the United States is one of the most important
features of the global political landscape today. Anti-Americanism is
not ultimately ideological; it is an unavoidable reflex against
overwhelming power. During the Cold War, that anti-Americanism coalesced
in various Marxist and Marxist-inspired movements that ranged the world.
Many of these movements, in turn, were inspired less by what they
believed in than by what they despised - the United States.
At the moment, there is no ideological hook on which to hang anti-
Americanism. But there are some signs of a stirring coherent movement
centered on issues like global economics, environmentalism and so on. It
surfaced during the Seattle demonstrations against the World Trade
Organization (WTO). The movement has not yet congealed. It may not. But
the root cause, anger at the United States and the world it has been
instrumental in creating, remains. It is that anger that has sustained
Castro on the world scene. It is an anger that should not be dismissed
lightly.