I was part of a group of University of South Alabama students who went to Russia in 1979. We toured the country and Ukraine as "cultural ambassadors". It was obvious that as a result of its global adventurism and the US embargo their entire system was teetering and on the verge of collapse. There were shortages of even the basics and the quality of their goods was horrid. On a truly personal level our interchanges were mostly with the Konsolmols who were our "tour guides". We were nothing like they expected. Most of us were history or political science majors. We had studied extensively for our trip and we came at them from New Left field, confronting them about their historic betrayals - Trotsky, Stalin ("A very misunderstood man"), etc. In all of the push and pull, politics aside, some stark realities came through. We did not shy from self-criticism, took almost an obscene pleasure in it. There was no tolerance for double speak or jargon.
We had unintentionally become agents provocateurs, a virus sabotaging the the system's central nervous system, it's people. When Gus Hall's name came up we shut him down as a farce. "But he is the head of the Communist Party," one of our guides said, miffed at a swipe at someone he obviously admired as his living in the belly of the beast champion. "He has a newspaper." "I have a newspaper," I countered. "There, anyone can have a newspaper." He went quiet. "What is that?", someone else asked of my use of a credit card. He marveled at my explanation; while he had to save and queue for the basic necessities, I could use the money in my bank back home. My luxuries - a Nikon, a walk man, my clothes (for which they would trade exorbitant amounts of case if we wanted) were all exotic and served as stark differences, material differences that translated into so much more for those in a position of want.
Reagan pushed the bear over the cliff, making Carter's detente efforts and the whole issue of the effectiveness of embargos academic. But there is still Cuba. Because of what I experienced in Russia (and given its horrible track record), the embargo has always seemed patently ridiculous to me. I've been there five times. I stay at people's homes. I fraternize with mi gente. They are candid, articulate, argumentative, and passionate. Cuban, it says it all. I first went there in 1995 at the height of the "Special Period". The government was issuing us documents, literally, on tissue paper from carbon manifold sets. In any set up for intervention - and the Bay of Pigs is a prime, but not the only example, - the sop is that the people are with us. It turned out not to be true. So, also 1995. This is obviously anecdotal but I would say that then it was divided in three parts: Kill Castro and get this over with; I love Castro and the system and all that it's done for me; and You guys figure this out. By 98, with things now much better, half wanted change of some sort and half wanted status quo. In the following three trips there was no open talk of foment.
I'm dubious when I see explanations of "what is happening there". They seem facile and usually agenda driven. I don't doubt that folks are pissed off or that there have been monumental government screw ups. I think the embargo is partially to blame but emphasizing it over the pandemic is utter nonsense as is characterizing it as a spontaneous eruption of revolutionary fervor. This is driven by people in a crunch. What happens next is anyone's guess.
I found this article insightful (follow the link inside to the other piece) but thought that the author(s) missed a very salient point that in a sense comes back to their point about the impact of the embargo on the Cuba Cubans. Whatever the spark for this movement, it owes in some small measure a lot to the success of the Obama administration and its tweaking of some concessions, a major part of that the ability of the people to speak to each other outside of government interference.
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