In Castro's Cuba, reporters who reject the party line pay dearly
Richard Raeke, Chronicle Foreign Service.
San Francisco Chronicle. Thursday, July 5,
2001
Havana, Cuba -- This story is one in a series on Latin American issues and
culture that appears every Thursday in The Chronicle World section.
---------------------------------------
They are a sullen bunch, smoking cigarette after cigarette as they wait
their turn to use a single telephone in a small apartment.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings and talk stops. Estrella Garcia, the apartment
owner, heads to the porch to toss a door key down to yet another journalist, who
slowly trudges up the stairs.
As a self-described ""member of the opposition'' to the government
of President Fidel Castro, Garcia has opened her home to journalists who work
outside the state media. Three days a week, the reporters meet to discuss ideas
and send uncensored articles by fax or telephone to editors of Spanish- language
newspapers, radio and Internet news services in Europe and the United States
with names such as CubaNet and Nueva Prensa (New Press).
Garcia says the telephone company regularly cuts her service, and police
keep a steady eye on the building. The journalists say that their relatives have
lost jobs in the state-run economy, that members of the ubiquitous Committees
for the Defense of the Revolution follow them and that police are likely to
place them under house arrest when an opposition event occurs.
Most recently, they say, police have begun to drive them to other provinces,
dropping them off far from home. Last year, 19 Cuban journalists chose exile,
according to the French group Reporters Without Borders.
"It is low intensity warfare,'' said Sauro Gonzalez of the Committee to
Protect Journalists (CPJ) in New York.
Despite such harassment, the Castro government has failed to suppress the
surge of risk-taking reporters throughout the island. There are now about 20
unofficial news agencies with more than 100 journalists. In contrast, Cuba had
only five such agencies with about 20 reporters in 1995.
At the end of May, 40 journalists led by Raul Rivero, a former Moscow
correspondent for Prensa Latina, Cuba's official news agency, announced the
formation of the first independent association for journalists under the Castro
government.
"It has become increasingly difficult for Castro to crack down,"
said CPJ's Gonzalez. "He knew that in the end, (Law 88) would be
counterproductive because it raises the attention of the international
community."
Gonzales is referring to a 1999 law passed ostensibly to punish those who
aid the objectives of the Helms-Burton law, the 1996 U.S. legislation that
establishes harsh penalties for foreign businesses that invest in Cuban
properties claimed by American companies and exiles.
But Article 7 of Law 88 punishes anyone who "collaborates in any way
with foreign radio or television stations, newspapers, magazines or other mass
media with the purpose of . . . destabilizing the country and destroying the
socialist state." While penalties range from two to five years in prison,
the sentence increases to three to eight years if such collaboration "is
carried out for profit."
The communist youth daily Juventud Rebelde typified the propaganda line
accompanying the passage of Law 88 by the National Assembly, writing: "Independent
journalists are mercenaries: The (U.S.) Empire pays, organizes, teaches, trains,
arms and camouflages them and orders them to shoot at their own people.''
In public speeches, Castro refers to independent journalists as
counterrevolutionaries and "those who would say otherwise." The
government accuses them of receiving money from Castro's political enemies in
the Cuban exile community in Miami. The journalists deny the charges.
Ricardo Gonzales, the president of the new independent journalist
association, recently said the group would also not "accept money from any
government, including the United States." He was referring to a proposed
U.S. law that would provide $100 million in government aid over four years to
help dissidents with cash, fax machines, telephones and other items.
The CPJ has included Castro on its annual "Ten Worst Enemies of the
Press list" for seven years running -- along with other regulars such as
Ayatollah Ali Khamenei of Iran, President Jiang Zemin of China and Prime
Minister Mahathir Mohamad of Malaysia.
Direct criticism of Castro's policies is a quick way to a prison cell, the
journalists say. But the government has so far shown reluctance to use Law 88,
preferring a policy of day-to-day harassment.
Currently, only Bernardo Arevalo, the head of the Linea Sur Press agency, is
languishing in prison. He was sentenced to six years in 1997 for calling Castro
a "liar" for not enacting promised democratic reforms. The CPJ says
Arevalo also angered officials for writing about Communist Central Committee
members who had appropriated cattle for their own use during a food shortage.
Reporters Without Borders has asked the government to free Arevalo, who has
been eligible for parole since October. In February, journalist Manuel Antonio
Gonzalez was released after spending 2 1/2 years in prison for insulting Castro.
Adolfo Fernandez, who says he has been arrested, interrogated and threatened
on numerous occasions, publishes his own newsletter. Four times a year, he makes
about 1,000 photocopies, passing them out for free to friends and acquaintances.
He says he deliberately moderates the tone of each story.
"It is better to be a little careful and keep publishing," he
said.
A former English translator for the government, Fernandez quit his job to
become a reporter in 1994 after noticing discrepancies between the official
Communist party line, news reports from abroad and the situation on the streets
of Cuba.
While Fernandez has no access to government agencies, he says he finds
information "by reading between the lines."
With a shortwave radio and an occasional outside publication, he has become
a watchdog over the state's two major publications -- Granma and Juventud
Rebelde. He also keeps track of Castro's promises and notes when they are not
being kept.
"At least I can tell the people how they are being cheated," he
said.
Lazaro Echemendia, a former doctor, focuses his reporting on the island's
medical system. Three years ago, at age 27, he quit his practice.
"To be a doctor here is like being a slave," he said referring to
long hours and a monthly salary of $25.
Not all independent journalists have had other careers. Many have simply
left the government-run media, disgruntled with regurgitating the official line
and the ability to write without censorship.
Tania Quintero, for example, worked for years for state-run media. In 1999,
she joined the Cuba Press Agency so she could write about such economic issues
as rising prices and the daily struggle by housewives to make ends meet.
Jorge Olivera, the director of Havana Press, was a television producer who
tried to leave Cuba by raft in 1994. After he was caught in Cuban waters, he
lost his job and joined the ranks of the independents. Olivera, who says he no
longer wants to flee to Florida, has also been arrested numerous times but
considers it part of the job.
"It is a sacrifice that we make," he said.
©2001 San Francisco Chronicle
Law 88 or Gag Law
(spanish) | 
