Max J. Castro. Published Wednesday, May 3, 2000, in the Miami Herald
Where could you have gone in Miami four weeks ago to escape the all-consuming topic of Elian? Would you believe a conference of Cuban-American psychologists meeting at Florida International University to discuss ``the psychology of exile''?
It was as if the Union of Atomic Scientists convened in the middle of a nuclear war and all anyone wanted to talk about, from the podium at least, was theoretical physics. There they were, people whose main mission in life is getting others to talk about what they would rather avoid discussing,
professionals committed to the notion that breaking the resistance to opening up created by pain and trauma is the path to healing.
The day before, several of their colleagues, working on behalf of Elian's Miami relatives, had held in press conference in which they disclosed confidential psychological information obtained from therapy sessions with the child in an effort to prevent the transfer of custody to the father. It
was a move sharply criticized by a medical-ethics expert consulted by The Miami Herald. Yet, at the FIU meeting of Cuban psychologists, not one could bear to mention the name in everyone's mind, never mind utter a criticism of their peers or shed light on a case that has everything to do with the
traumatic psyche of exiles in general and Cuban exiles in particular.
What force is so strong it can produce that level of self-censorship among people so keenly aware of its dangers? Fear is that force.
Largely unspoken, the fear was occasionally acknowledged, as when one of the presenters, evidently concerned that some connection might be made with the Elian controversy, even declined to discuss the differences in family dynamics between 1960s-vintage Cuban refugees and more-recent arrivals.
What fear is this? It's the fear that any discussion would reveal and widen divisions and lead to bitter debates. Mostly, it's the fear that any break from the lockstep position could produce bad consequences for the offending group or its members, ranging from virulent attacks on the radio to
loss of clientele and income to family troubles. ``Most of the people here are in favor of the father getting custody,'' a knowledgeable participant at the event told me privately.
Psychologists are hardly alone in their fears; they just represent a telling example. Yet, what happens to a community in which even the intellectuals are unable or unwilling to discuss openly the really tough issues, much less provide a reality check against group delusions and irrational,
self-destructive attitudes and actions? Devoid of a self-corrective mechanism to steer it away from disaster, such a community is vulnerable to manipulation by pied pipers capable of leading it to one debacle after another.
PICK UP THE PIECES
The great community organizer Saul Alinsky wrote that ``a movement without organization is a bowel movement.'' That hard truth was evident in the chaotic, ``who's on first?'' way the campaign to keep Elian in Miami was conducted. More important, a movement that excludes or shuns criticism from
within forfeits any claim to represent a democratic ideal and risks absorbing devastating defeats borne of conformity to ``group think.''
Plans to pick up the pieces are underway in the aftermath of the Elian disaster. That's great, as long as it's not a public-relations game or another futile attempt to sell the hard-line Cuban-exile view of the world to the rest of the nation. Instead, to be credible, any effort to repair the
grave damage to Miami, ethnic understanding and Cuban Americans' image must be centered around replacing the climate of fear and silence that too often still prevails with an ethic that encourages democratic debate, celebrates tolerance and honors dissent.
maxcastro@miami.edu
Max J. Castro, Ph.D., is a senior research associate at the University of Miami's Dante B. Fascell North-South Center.
C opyright 2000 Miami Herald |