Despite Obama’s decision to open the lines of communication and begin to re-engage with Cuba late last year, there’s a sense that since, Cuba and the fate of the Cuban people has once again been reduced to little more than a plaything of the American political elite. Ahead of the 2016 presidential election, there has been a race to adopt a stance on the issue – Hillary Clinton since taking up Obama’s mantel and calling to end the embargo once and for all, whilst Marco Rubio – a republican candidate and son of Cuban immigrants, enraged by the re-opening of the respective Embassies in both Washington and Havana in July, has vowed to reverse all the steps taken so far that even faintly symbolise a thawing of political relations with the “anti-American, communist tyranny”.
Posed as the cultural antithesis of the United States, and regularly reinforced as something far more sinister mostly (though not exclusively) by Republican front-runners, Cuba has long since appealed as the dream holiday destination to would-be radicals the world over. The romance of revolution, long since packaged up and marketed as little more than a commercial fantasy (though crucially, rarely by Cubans themselves) has been further sustained by this lack of reconciliation. Yet a trip to Cuba today, is strikingly devoid of anti-American sentiment – as noticeably absent from the country as the lack of advertising and billboards, that the cynical among us might be inclined to recognise as truly synonymous with the American spirit.
It’s not what might be expected from a country that has in so many ways, been stifled for so long by US intervention and severance. But Havana remains beautiful, despite its poverty, and a city awash with colour. Many of the grandest buildings have been hollowed out and repurposed – corrugated iron serving as makeshift barriers between the inside and out. In a city peppered with so many monuments – it hardly comes as too much of a surprise that when a building falls down, the rubble is rarely cleared away – as if to pay homage to its own former presence in the landscape. These instances do mean, however, that when one turns a corner and finds the immaculate Hotel Nacional De Cuba or EL Floridita – or really any of the establishments that Hemingway might have frequented during his time in Cuba, their impeccable upkeep can be unnerving (it’s said that if Hemingway relieved himself against a building, you can probably find a plaque memorialising it).
It is hard not to take pleasure in being transported straight back to the 50s, however, and though you can at times feel party to an eery exercise in tourism, it’s in those moments devoid of any exchange of money – walking along the Malecón watching the fisherman that inspired ‘The Old Man and The Sea’, or strolling through Old Town – that you’re able to feel most at ease. In these experiences, the Cuba that tourists have been told they can expect for the last 50 years is still alive. But it’s naive of us to go to Cuba looking for the same things that previous generations might have sought without feeling bound by the moral implications of those finds. Susan Sontag wrote that she felt what so many visitors to Cuba were seeking was “an energy, a southern spontaneity which we feel our own too white, death-ridden culture denies us” and whether or not that is still the case, it would seem like an injustice to leave Cuba thinking that the upbeat rhythms of the country’s music remain symptomatic of the people’s state of mind. The young Cubans that I spoke to whilst in Havana, were keen to convey frustrations that seem directly at odds with traditional presentations of Cuban living – such as the stifling of creative freedom by the State:
“Suppose you want to make a band, for example, and you’re good – and you have certain successes…you can’t earn money for your shows or your albums. If you didn’t study in a particular school of arts, you won’t get an ID card, and without the papers that claim you are a professional you cannot start to do anything. So that’s very bad because there are great things out there – and very interesting people that cannot develop or improve their life because they don’t have enough resources and they simply can’t get access to those resources. But so often those who can get the opportunity to get those papers, who the country supports – they’re making bad music, and it’s bad art. These are just some of the limitations I see – I’m not talking about politics…I’m talking about culture.”
Roberto and Juan (whose pseudonyms they agree on collectively, after much good-humoured debate) are both design students. They tell me that it’s a great time for designers – and their hope is that the cooling of relations with the United States will mean they can travel. “I mean, I suppose we can travel, but it’s too expensive – way too expensive, and so much paperwork is required – there are a lot of limitations on it. Working with the States might mean that we can maybe improve that. The idea would be not just to leave here and get out, but instead to stay, having acknowledged other culture. I’d go straight to Germany see the Bauhaus, and look around the German design schools – it’s such a great place for design. Then Brazil, and later, I’d go to Canada – just because I like it. And then I’d return to Cuba because I think there are things here that couldn’t find anywhere else.”
And yet some Cubans do travel, just as some Cubans can afford to drink in the expensive bars and hotels mainly occupied by tourists. I ask Roberto what he means by the “rich Cubans” he speaks about, and what their existence might mean for Cuban Communism. “I think it’s a lie, really, or at least it’s made up of lies. It tries to govern by the maxim everything for everyone – and it does with health and knowledge, education – and with the fact that you never die of not eating…but it also supposes that everyone should be economically equal, and that’s just not the case. I mean, there are definitely social classes. Workers – normal people, and then people that are somehow just above them. And then there are those people – I don’t know what they do, but they have lots of money…and just so much stuff. There is money in Cuba – at first sight, it might be invisible – but it’s here.”
These richer Cubans tend to be the ones who circumnavigate the harder military service placements, compulsory for all Cuban boys when they get to the age of 17. Both Juan and Roberto served, and tell me that the worst part of their time known as ‘The Green’ isn’t the physical hardship, or the labour, but the psychological state they had to assume to get through it. “During that time, was the first time – really the only time that I was scared of my own feelings.” cites Roberto, “One day – I was in the desert, crawling along on my front with my gun, and I just stood up and said that I wouldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stand it – I hate war. And my boss wasn’t wild on that. I spent some time on my own after that. It wasn’t the worst – I read a lot. But perhaps if my Grandpa had been a revolutionary, I could have found myself in a kitchen, or the ministry of Cuban Armed Forces. You know – in an office, with air-conditioning. Probably a television.”
Over the course of the evening, Juan jokes about the interview landing them both in prison, though the pair seem to relax as the night wears on. It’s clear though, that their fears aren’t unfounded. Roberto asks if I’ve read 1984 – and tells me that I needn’t look any further for a parallel of Cuban society. But all the while, it’s also clear that their fondness for the country, and what it could be – remains paramount. Fidel commands a certain amount of respect, they tell me – though perhaps not as much as the generation above them are willing to give. ”Before the revolution most of those people were poor, they couldn’t read, they didn’t have any belongings. And when the revolution came the first thing that Castro did was nationalise all the enterprises that were from other countries, nationalise all the land – and he gave that land to the poor, he gave them a lot of things that they actually needed – and it was good. But you can’t live on that for more than 50 years – obviously it gets stuck. I understand those people’s loyalty because they got what they needed and in many cases he saved their life, but in the end – there’s a new generation with new needs that he cannot satisfy. And so that’s the trouble right now – that we cannot get what we need and want.”
Interaction with the U.S. should, they hope, readdress some of these needs. “Even with the little leak of internet in Cuba – a lot of information is coming in, and a lot of changes are happening.” This leak, has set in motion the changes that the rest of the world is waiting with baited breath for. It should suffice as proof that the introduction of external influences won’t rupture Cuban society and culture in the way that many seem to fear, but enhance and enrich it. The greatest worry, for many Cubans, though, lies in the logistics that will have to pave the way for these changes. “It’s a slow process, and I’m very skeptical – I don’t know if it’ll work. I mean, immediately I think there will be a lot of software licensing problems – just taking the example of us as designers, for instance. We use so many programs – and it’s all illegal. We don’t mind, because we’re in Cuba and it works – but that’s not going to be how the USA will see it. They’ll tell us we owe them – and most of those programs are more expensive than any of us could afford.”
This example – transferrable as it is to so many sectors, poses a real fear for Cuban industry, very much aware, that in this new relationship with the U.S., it is unlikely to be Cuba calling the shots. The ironing out of such issues, is going to be a long and fraught process – and it places a tremendous amount of responsibility on the United States to treat Cuba as something far more than a new political or commercial venture. But in turn, as Cuba takes to the global stage once again, after its long absence, the rest of the world too must play a culpable part in its observation and critque of the changes. The danger, it seems, is that we will feel the need to hold Cuba to a cultural standard of our own creation – feeling that a prosperous relationship with the States might go some of the way to undermine the Cuba that we find so interesting. But much as we, as tourists, might like to visit a land that it seems time forgot – the Cubans do not owe it to us to remain forgotten, and we cannot ask it’s youth to further maintain such a pretence.
To many of the young people of Cuba the Revolution has faded in significance, and is now simply something that happened to their parents. Though it’s still described as a Revolution of consciousness, its cultural counterpart that drags behind and leaves Cubans bereft of liberties that we might expect to flourish. The country is poised, and ready for a change that has already begun to happen from within – the introduction of the internet paving the way for the more dramatic changes that will follow. The hope is that the USA will be able to divorce their position from party-politics and take the opportunity to really help the Cubans in the ways in which they now need it, much as Castro was once able to. In viewing their exchanges, the rest of the world needs to ignore any of it’s own outlying anti-Americanism, and also re-evaluate what it perceives to be radical – and thus in keeping with Cuban tradition. Once again, Cuba is ready for a truly revolutionary period of its history, and it can only be hoped that the USA will recognise this, lest in setting it free, they confuse it with little more than political currency in the upcoming election.
Words: Julia O’Mahony
Photos: Justin Hintze
