Economics With A Face

In the streets of Havana, I looked for the culture I had gotten a glimpse of in Cuban communities in other countries and had loved: the music, the flavor, the love for life. Being foreigners in Havana, it elluded us. It was like looking for something that seemed to always be just around the next corner, but never was. We weren’t lucky enough to meet a person our own age willing to show us how happy they were, and what it was that made them love life. And we refused to simply be tourists: we only could observe and listen and absorb. We’ve been called super-libertarians in a super-socialist country by another American blogger, our age, who spent about the same amount of time in Cuba as we did. He feels like we aren’t representing Cuba fairly. He met a Mexican student and her circle of Cuban friends, and loved it. He even became chummy with a police officer. How different than our experience!

How can you argue with such a wonderful ideal, such an incredible end: equality? Food for everyone, healthcare for everyone, shelter, employment and an opportunity of a free university education for everyone: all noble goals. For forty years, these ideals have taken the driver´s seat in Cuba, at the expense of some very important liberties which I personally hold dear but often take for granted.

What made me livid was this: despite this incredible Cuban sacrifice of basic freedoms (to associate, to speak freely, to own property, to elect government representatives) in order to sustain a system of providing for everyone, it was clear that everyone does not live equally. I saw people living in poverty who were completely disallusioned and I saw others who were much more comfortable. We spoke with people in both situations. I was seeing a great deal of support for scholarship for those that got the grades and excelled in sciences or in the arts. For the rest, I only saw people in basic jobs without much else to live for. Their hands are tied.

I suppose Miguel would argue that you see this same lack of hope in Mexico but without the noble goals.

However, in Mexico, at the very least, I see both loud and subtle public displays of criticism of President Vicente Fox and of the deeds of the Mexican and foreign governments. Mexican teachers are comfortable teaching their students to be critical of everything. I see an incredibly vibrant informal economy in which those who are struggling can be a part of. I see a plethora of cheap internet access allowing ideas to be exchanged without restriction. And despite the difficult political realities of the past and present, I see enthusiasm for the upcoming 2006 presidential election. These basic interactions, alive in Mexico, are seemingly absent in Cuba.

The Cuban government with one hand provides, at inexpensive prices, the bare necessities to live, yet with the same powerful hand, sweeps away any interactions that would allow people to help themselves. We spent time with Cubans who wished to show us what a great life the system has provided for them and others. They have lived full lives, have raised children (who are now in Canada and the U.S.), consider themselves to be lifetime scholars, loved their jobs, have a wonderful apartment in a beautiful part of town, and now are lucky enough to have a license to make extra income by renting out part of their home to foreigners. Yet in the same breath, they are critical of their system. They have lived on the fortunate end of the socialist stick, while there are many who have not. Those that express their discontent publicly are quickly silenced. The same people that freely march and hang banners in the Plaza de Armas in Guadalajara, Mexico declaring Fox and Bush imbeciles or the G8 a gang of mafiosos, if they happened to be Cuban in Cuba criticizing Fidel Castro in this way, they would be strung up as contra-revolucionarios.

To me it seems that there is a wide held belief in the U.S. and elsewhere that people in Cuba are content with their form of socialism. Cubans have been denied a voice in their political system as long as Castro has been in power. How can we just shrug our shoulders assuming that Cubans must not have the same kind criticism of their government as we do of ours, when they are silenced by force from speaking publicly about it? Or worse, how can we excuse the Cuban government for forcing its citizens into a kind of numb silence?

As noble as the goals may be and as complicated as the situation has become, I refuse to simply shrug my shoulders. All I can do is try to give something of a voice to those we spoke with in Cuba who are miserable, because while publicly numb, privately they are full of life and about to explode.

Serene, peaceful and compromising this entry is not. But at least I can now look at the photos I took and realize that we were exposed to a wonderful, vibrant, and inspiring part of la cultura Cubana: the inextinguishable fire.