In 1959, Fidel Castro established the “socialist state” of Cuba “guided by the political ideas of Marx, the father of communist states, Engels and Lenin” (excerpted from the Cuban constitution). Castro’s revolution had cost the lives of nearly 20,000 Cubans, who had rallied around the lure of a communist utopia that Castro and his men had created. I recently visited Cuba to witness the accomplishments of 53 years of socialism and experience the society. What did I see?
Since its establishment and subsequent American economic embargo, the socialist state survived with a subsidy of up to US $6 billion a year from the former Soviet Union. The subsidy dried up after the fall of the USSR in 1990. Castro characterised the resulting hardship as a “special period” and promoted tourism (over two million tourists visited Cuba in 2011) to revive the economy. The special period still continues.
I arrived in Havana’s dimly lit Jose Marti international airport at around 9:30 pm and went straight to my casa (privately owned homestay allowed by the government to attract tourists) in Old Havana. The main tourist attractions of Cuba today are old Spanish colonial buildings surrounding large stone paved piazzas; Roman Catholic churches which the socialist state converted to music halls and museums; beautiful harbors; lovely white sand beaches and very friendly, fun loving Cubans. The tourists stay in Cuban government-operated resort hotels and casas; travel in luxury buses and dine in government-managed restaurants where they are entertained by freelance Cuban musicians who go cap-in-hand for tips in Cuban Convertible Pesos (CUC) whose value is 25 times that of the Cuban National Peso. The Cubans commute on foot or ride bicycle rickshaws or horse-drawn carriages or crowded public buses and dine in government-subsidized restaurants.
The dream of every Cuban I met was to work in tourist hotels. Romario studied law but was working as a waiter in a tourist hotel. Any job where a Cuban can come in contact with tourists and get CUC in tips is coveted because, according to Romario, it is very difficult to live with US $15 per month—that was his monthly salary. He says the highest salary in Cuba is US $25 a month. With tips, Romario says, he makes about US $150 per month. Working in tourist establishments is a bit tricky though, because the government does not like contact between the Cubans and the tourists—“tourism apartheid” some Cubans I met said derisively of the arrangement.
Only a small number of Cubans work in the tourist industry. But how do others manage with as little as US $15 a month? I was curious. Carlos, a young Cuban, working as a guide in a tourist bus, explained: rationed food is provided by the government; public transport is cheap; education and medical services are free too. But every Cuban, he said, tries to make money on the side. I was told that securing a bicycle taxi licence costs about US $150 in bribe.
I did not see any evidence of bribery, but in Cenfugos in central Cuba, I was woken up by a cacophony rising from the street at five o’clock in the morning. Nearly 70 people had gathered round the government’s ration food distribution office to collect their monthly ration of 6.3 kg of potato per person. I saw a ration card with a list of about 15 items of food and the daily necessities the government provides at a subsidized rate. “Not everything on the list is available all the time,” Katerine, a casa owner, said. Although Cubans appear to be reasonably well fed, even after 53 years of socialism, the life of the poor appeared hard—I saw a number of farmers ploughing their fields with bullocks.
Even the much-vaunted free health services appears to be two tired—one for the Cubans and one for the medical tourists. There is a startling dearth of drugs and equipment in hospitals for Cubans. “I was not able to get my father’s teeth fixed in six months, because the hospital ran out of anesthesia”, complained a young student of dental surgery; contrast this with facilities in medical tourist hospitals where everything is up to modern standards. The benefits of universal education are also highly limited, because there are no books in the stores other than those approved by the government. The internet is censored and prohibitively expensive for ordinary Cubans. They are not allowed to leave their country; a passport is a privilege, not a right; mobile phones are still a novelty which only a few Cubans can afford.
I asked young Cubans how they saw their future. One said he wanted to get married and have children. Others saw no hope; they wanted to leave the country (a quarter of Cuban population have left the country since Castro’s revolution). No one was willing to discuss the country’s politics—“this is difficult to discuss” is all I was able to get. I could sense fear in the air because any criticism of the “accomplishments” of the revolution is forbidden. The ubiquitous “Defendiendo El Socialismo” (government’s neighbourhood watch organization) is responsible for ensuring that the “revolution is for ever”. They do this by keeping a watch on every Cuban’s activities. A horse-drawn carriage driver said: “There are three army men and two police after every civilian”.
In 53 years, a number of countries around the world, including in Latin America, have advanced from the so-called third-world stage to rapidly developing economic powerhouses. The socialist state guided by Marxist ideas and led by its communist leaders, whose hubris, lust for power and ideological orthodoxy overrides their purported concern for public welfare, has turned Cuba into an intellectual wasteland and economic swamp where its young have few opportunities. The apologists for Castro’s government blame with some justification the American embargo for Cuba’s woes; but Castro and his followers launched their revolution based on the supposed superiority of the Marxist ideas and its promise to wipe out capitalism from the world. That has not happened and ordinary Cubans have suffered. The revolution may have taken a different turn if the Cubans were told that its success was contingent on the good behaviour of capitalist Americans.
I left Cuba sorry for its young people whose parents gave up their lives for the promised communist utopia only to end up craving a few tourist pesos to live a decent life. On board my flight to Toronto, I thought of thousands of our young men who, lured by UCPN (Maoist)’s utopian dream, either lost their lives or ended up lining up to be recruited as a lowly soldier in the Nepal Army. I returned home with a heavy heart; but the trip provided a window into Nepal’s possible future, should Nepali proponents of “Peoples’ Republic” successfully seize power.
The names of Cubans have been changed to protect their identity.
The author is a Canada-based geotechnical engineer
naresh1@shaw.ca