Don Bohning. Published Friday, December 7, 2001 in
The Miami Herald
No one disputes that South Florida's Cuban exile community has made enormous
and oft-recounted contributions to the region's economic, political and cultural
life. But tolerance for dissenting views -- particularly by much of its
Spanish-language broadcast media when the subject involves Cuba -- does not rank
among the contributions. And admire or despise him, Bernardo Benes is among the
most prominent victims of that intolerance.
For what? For undertaking a dialogue with Fidel Castro, sanctioned and
supported by the Carter administration, that led to the release of more than
3,000 political prisoners and family reunification visits to the island by Cuban
exiles in the United States.
It's an effort that one might have thought would win him acclaim. Instead,
it brought acrimony and condemnation, and it cost Benes and his family dearly.
The story of his transformation from high-profile civic activist to pariah
is chronicled by Robert Levine, director of the University of Miami's Latin
America Studies Center, in his recently published book,
Secret
Missions. Fidel Castro, Bernardo Benes and Cuban Miami.
Benes's unwanted evolution came after nearly two decades when he, a
red-haired Cuban-born banker, was one of the most prominent Cuban exiles in
South Florida. As an activist attempting to bridge the gap between the Anglo and
Cuban communities, he was involved in varied civic and charitable activities.
There is no question where Benes believes the blame lies for his fall.
He told Joan Didion, as quoted in her 1986 book, Miami: "I am frank. I
do not beat around the bush. Until 1977, 1978, I was 'The Cuban' in Miami . . .
the guerrilla in the establishment, the first person to bring other Cubans into
the picture. And then came the big change in my life. I was no longer the first
token Cuban in Miami. I was the Capitan Dreyfus in Miami. This is Miami. . . .
Pure Miami. A million Cubans are blackmailed, totally controlled, by three radio
stations. I feel sorry for the Cuban community in Miami. Because they have
imposed on themselves the same conditions that Castro has imposed on Cuba, total
intolerance. And ours is worse because it is entirely voluntary.''
It hasn't changed much since those remarks were made.
In some ways, Benes, whom I have known for more than three decades as a
friend and journalistic source, was an easy target -- something that in part may
have been of his own doing. He is seen by some critics as too aggressive, a man
with an over-sized ego and given to hyperbole as the above quote might indicate.
A tinge of anti-Semitism and his affiliation with the Democratic Party
contributed to his self-described status as an "outsider'' within the exile
community's power structure.
As another Benes friend involved in Cuban community programs notes, for
hard-liners within the exile community, "political prisoners were more
valuable than ex-political prisoners'' in the anti-Castro campaign.
Agree with what Benes did or not, it hardly warrants the approbation and
pariah-status that Benes has been accorded over the past two decades.
While he was among the highest profile targets, Benes is not the only
casualty of the more-extreme Cuban exile broadcasting media elements who -- for
some four decades -- have served as self-appointed thought police straight out
of George Orwell's 1984. The difference is this is 2001.
In so doing, that same small but influential minority has intimidated,
inflamed and polarized South Florida, in the process stifling an open debate how
best to end Fidel Castro's repressive 43-year-old dictatorship.
Unwittingly or otherwise, those who engage in such fire and brimstone have
done far more than folks such as Bernardo Benes to perpetuate Castro's rule by
antagonizing would-be supporters and stiffening the resolve of their enemies.
Don Bohning is a retired Herald foreign correspondent.
Copyright 2001 Miami Herald | 
