Interviewed two years ago in Malaysia, Fidel Castro made proud claims for his isolated island country, and suggested that that his people were productive and happy. Yet a monthlong visit to the country in April revealed none of the optimism that used to exude from Cubans despite their financial hardships. Nowadays most Cubans are not only demoralized but, following the toughest crackdown on political dissent in a generation, demonstrably disenchanted. Not long ago, many were contemplating a transition to a younger, more flexible leadership. But those hopes have vanished as Castro has bluntly reasserted his authoritarian grip.
More and more Cubans, including some who still support the revolution, openly say that, after 44 years in power, it is time for Castro to step aside. “Fidel is too orthodox, too inflexible a Marxist,” sighs Felipe (not his real name), a 36-year-old veteran of Cuba’s African wars. “At his age,” adds Felipe, “there is no way he is going to change.” Even former Communist Party members are disillusioned. “I want capitalism,” says Nestor, 43, a resident of Santiago de Cuba who fought in Angola but now isn’t sure why.
Cuba’s economy is a disaster. Not only are no new jobs being created, but the island’s traditional employment base is eroding. The government has announced that nearly half the island’s 156 sugar mills are being closed. The average income is a meager $12 a month. There is no famine here, as in North Korea, but city dwellers say that Cubans in smaller towns are often hungry, despite a social safety net of cheap meals for pensioners, who get just over $2 a month. Even in tourist towns like colonial Trinidad, museum staff earn $4 a month and say openly they barely survive. “Maybe El Comandante does not know,” one woman says.
Two years ago, when Castro fainted while speaking at an anti-American rally, Cubans began to speak more freely about their leader. A taboo was broken–and after that there was much talk that the government might loosen up. Carlos Lage, the moderate economics czar, was mentioned as a possible future leader. Last year the Varela Project, a petition calling for a referendum on civil rights, amnesty for some political prisoners and the introduction of economic and political reforms, was presented to the National Assembly (Castro quickly closed this loophole).
But nothing has changed on either the political or economic front. There have been some joint ventures but no meaningful reforms like those seen in China and other communist states. Political repression has increased, and meantime Cuba’s vaunted health and education systems are faltering. Cubans talk of having to pay nurses to be looked after in hospitals. In schools, older teachers are quitting to look for more lucrative work, leaving students in the hands of less experienced educators.
As it was under the corrupt Batista regime that Castro overthrew, Cuba has become the kingdom of the hustler and the jinetera (prostitute). Workers in the tourist industry (waiters, bellhops and bartenders) and the top –Communist Party nomenklatura are the elite. “I want to help build up the country,” said Alfredo, a government engineer turned taxicab driver, “but I have to consider my children’s well-being. My state salary was not enough to support them.”
Castro launched the political crackdown to quell internal opposition that is rising just when he feels threatened by the Bush administration. In recent weeks, 75 political dissidents, human-rights workers and independent journalists have been arrested. After cursory trials for “treason,” many have been sentenced to up to 28 years in the gulag. Un-til now, Cuba wasn’t viewed as an Orwellian state, but the use of police informers–trusted colleagues of the dissidents–and the nature of the trials smack of Stalinism.
It was once possible for sympathetic leftists to compare Castro with communist leaders of stature like Ho Chi Minh or Tito, who struggled against colonialism or for national unity. But Cubans themselves, too young to remember the revolution as anything more than classroom indoctrination, now liken Castro to a belligerent senior citizen living on past glories. The young are especially disaffected. “We’ve got nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to look forward to,” says Marta, 21, sitting on the wall of the Malecon, Havana’s balmy seafront promenade. She claims to be a model. “Only the jineteras and their foreign boyfriends can afford the discos.” Adds 18-year-old Carmen: “It’s not worth going to the university. You know even if you get a degree, you’re only going to earn at most $20 a month, not enough to raise a family on.”
For all the frustration, there is little the average Cuban can do to change the situation. The democracy movement hasn’t disappeared but is being pushed underground. Meantime, Castro said last month that he was ready to serve “until the end of my life.” He no doubt considers that another gesture of his benign paternalism. But right now, it’s the last thing many Cubans want to hear.
