In Miami, Some Cuban-Americans Take Less Popular Views
By Juan Forero. The New York Times. April 28, 2000
MIAMI, April 27 -- As a playwright in Cuba, Carmen Duarte knew all too well what state-controlled repression meant. Her work was often censored, Ms. Duarte said, and she and the actors in her theater troupe were once beaten by policemen incensed by the scathing social commentary in one of her
plays.
Now living here, in the heart of the nation's largest and most potent Cuban-American enclave, Ms. Duarte is trying once again to give voice to a point of view that many like her say can lead to ostracism or even threats. She believes that Elián González should have been reunited
with his father months ago, and has said so on her daily radio show, "Transitions," broadcast on a Spanish-language station here.
Such talk, though, has been met by a reverse form of the anger that Ms. Duarte encountered in Cuba, with callers to the radio station accusing her of being an agent of Fidel Castro's government, or worse.
"There are always calls," said Ms. Duarte, 40, who came to the United States in 1993. "There are always insults. You always see it with any case that inflames the people."
In Miami, Cuban-Americans who favor more open relations with Havana say that advocating an end to the American embargo of Cuba or closer ties to the island has always brought scorn and threats and, in some cases, violence.
But many here say that the federal raid that took Elián from Miami has impassioned people as never before, to the consternation of Cuban-Americans who, despite their own hatred of Mr. Castro, feel their alternative ideas regarding Cuba are rarely aired in this politically charged city.
In Miami, it is unclear how many Cuban exiles have views divergent from those most often heard on local airwaves and in newspapers, though experts believe they are not a silent majority, as some claim.
"As much as I'd like to see it," said Dr. Lisandro Perez, director of the Cuban Research Center at Florida International University, "I don't think that there's any evidence to show that."
Polls conducted by Florida International University to gauge exile reaction to Cuban issues showed that, as recently as 1997, 78 percent of Cuban-Americans expressed support for the continuation of the embargo. But at the same time, 51.6 percent said they supported a "dialogue" with
the Cuban government.
On the Elián matter, however, the exiles have appeared more united against Cuba's government, with 83 percent of Cuban-Americans in Miami-Dade County wanting to see the boy remain in Miami, according to a Miami Herald poll published on April 9.
"I've never seen it so polarized," said Dr. Max Castro, a senior research associate at the University of Miami who studies the exile community.
"I've never seen such a situation where you are accosted if you say the wrong thing. It's a very heart-rending thing, and we can't stop talking about it; and once we get talking about it, we get very emotional and it can become ugly."
Hilda Cossio Cohen, a legal assistant at a Miami law firm, found out just how emotional people can get, a few days before Elián was removed from the home of Miami relatives. After expressing support for efforts to reunite Elián with his father, Ms. Cossio Cohen said, a co-worker
berated her as a Communist.
"It's very difficult to voice your opinion in Dade County because you will be branded," said Ms. Cossio Cohen, who fled Cuba with her mother and two brothers in 1960.
"I work for a law firm, but if I owned a business or tried to go into politics, I would be blackballed forever."
Ms. Cossio Cohen, who believes that ending the embargo of Cuba would be the best course for furthering democratic change in Cuba, said she had been disheartened by what she saw as a widespread disregard for the free flow of ideas since the Elián case began.
"I think this thing has set us back 40 years," she said. "It's driven a wedge in the Cuban community. It's turned friends against friends, family against family. I pity my Cuban people because I truly think that we have pain in our hearts."
Many with minority views steer clear of nasty confrontations by simply not speaking out, even if it is at the office with well-known co-workers or in a bar with friends. Some believe sharing their views could hurt them professionally. Others simply want to avoid the discomfort of angering
someone they know. Some even are even reluctant to voice their opinions with relatives.
"It's incredible," said E. Rodriguez, a 48-year-old educator who asked that she not be fully identified. "Here, I could be labeled a Communist. I could lose my job."
Ms. Rodriguez, who arrived in Miami in the 1960's, said she had long believed that closer ties with Cuba -- an end to the economic embargo, and the unfettered movement of tourists and others to the island -- were more productive than the hard-line stand that has defined 41 years of American
policy. She also believes that Elián was manipulated by Cuban-American exile leaders looking for a symbol to further their own cause, not because of concerns over the boy's well-being.
But while she shares her views with close friends, she said, she has been told to be careful what she says to others.
"I've never made it public," she said. "What is the story here is the lack of freedom. I've been warned not to talk."
Dr. Perez, of the Cuban Research Center, noted that in the past, violence and threats have been directed at those who called for easing the sanctions against Cuba, notably in the 1970's when a series of bombings and killings shook Miami. But he said that these days those who took a less
hard-line stance against Mr. Castro feared the consequences at their workplace, a very real possibility in a city where Cuban-Americans have broad influence.
"Anything less than a hard-line position is seen as sympathizing with the Castro government," Dr. Perez said, "and the community has a lot of institutions through which it can pressure people to conformity."
Many who favor an open channel to Cuba blame much of the unbending nature of exile dialogue on Miami's Spanish-language stations, whose talk-show hosts often label those with softer positions as Communists and even give out home phone numbers of people like Ms. Duarte.
"It's the way people are attacked," said Angel Fernandez Varela, a retired bank chairman who served in the Cuban Congress before the revolution. "And among the worst is that radio. There are people, many people, who feel like I do, but they're terribly quiet because they're
scared."
Still, several groups have for years lobbied the United States Congress for a softer stand on Cuba in order to improve the lives of ordinary Cubans who they say are suffering under the embargo. While those leaders have made a conscious decision to speak out publicly, they say that it has been
hard to gather public support.
"People come up to me all the time and say, 'We feel exactly the way you do, but we would never say this in public,' " said Elena Freyre, executive director of the Cuban Committee for Democracy, a group of Cuban-American professionals that lobbies from Washington and Miami.
Leaders in well-known anti-Castro groups in Miami scoffed at such complaints. Felix Rodriguez, vice president of Brigade 2506, an organization composed of Bay of Pigs veterans, said that in Miami "there is liberty to say what you want."
But Mr. Rodriguez, a former Central Intelligence Agency operative who wrote about his anti-Castro experiences in a book, "Shadow Warrior," said some groups advocating relations with Cuba were controlled by Havana.
"There are small groups that are being run from Cuba," he said.
Cuban-Americans like Elisa Greenberg, who believes Elián should be with his father, cringe at such comments.
"If you want to call me anything, call me a Cuba lover because I believe in democracy and I believe, in time, if we work towards it, good things will happen over there," said Ms. Greenberg, 58, who came to the United States before Mr. Castro took power.
Still, when she was invited to Ted Koppel's town hall meeting in Miami earlier this month, a gathering broadcast on ABC's "Nightline," she was afraid to speak up.
"There was apprehension on my part to speak my mind on the matter," said Ms. Greenberg, noting that most of the exiles in the audience were vocally supportive of keeping Elián in Miami. "I was afraid to speak up. I didn't feel comfortable and over there, I was in the
minority."
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