By Daniel W. Weil.
July 30, 2001. Chicago Business.
It's a land where time has stood still.
Arriving at Havana's José Martí International Airport, which
serves a city of nearly 3 million people and a nation of 11.5 million, one first
notices that there is only one other plane in sight, a tired twin-engine prop.
Outside the worn terminal building, vendors sell beer, rum and cigars from
carts. No Golden Arches, no KFCs, not even a Taco Bell. The only things American
are the vintage cars in the parking lot — two-toned, sporting fins and
wings and lots of chrome. Welcome back to the 1950s.
Fidel Castro is one of the 20th century's giant and most enduring (as
opposed to endearing) political figures.
Since coming to power in 1959, Mr. Castro has established excellent health
care and educational systems with benefits extending fully to the lower classes.
He also banned gambling, evicted the Mafia and nationalized all industries and
private property, much of it owned by American conglomerates and a few wealthy
Cuban families. And he has made Cuba a world presence in sports and the arts.
But the price Mr. Castro has extracted is a totalitarian dictatorship, a
police state where the government and its functionaries control all aspects of
life, a concept Americans can scarcely comprehend because of its pervasive and
insidious physical and psychological impact.
Yet, there are no statues and few pictures of Mr. Castro to be seen anywhere
— not even on postcards.
Instead, it is Che Guevara, hero of the Cuban revolution who was later
killed while trying to lead a revolt in Bolivia, who is exalted. His image is
everywhere: postcards, posters, T-shirts. Young, handsome, cigar in hand and
shirt half-unbuttoned, his compelling eyes gazing into the distance, Che has
been made the symbol of the revolution — and proof that a dead
revolutionary is the safest kind.
Understanding that Latin Catholicism is deeply ingrained in the Cuban
culture, Mr. Castro seems to have created his own symbolic Trinity, with himself
as the distant father figure, Che as the martyred son of the revolution and
communism supplanting the religious creed. America, of course, represents the
incarnation of evil.
Still, there is the intriguing question of continuing the embargo,
especially when America has relations with other communist regimes far more
offensive, Vietnam being the best example. The reason is that Mr. Castro does
remain a threat to America's security. He has become the symbol of hope and the
quest for justice for the 224 million Latin Americans who live in abject
poverty.
The Miami Cuban equation, involving rich and middle-class Cubans who fled
the island over the past 40 years, is also a consideration. They will insist
that America only lifts the trade embargo if their nationalized property is
returned to the original owners. Most Cubans will fiercely resist.
What would be unfortunate, however, is if the post-Castro era resulted in
Cuba being smothered with America's dumbed-down, materialistic culture. Cuba
needs a strategic plan for preserving its own traditions while achieving a
better quality of life for its people.
One arena where it could excel would be as an affordable and highly
desirable retirement destination, a development that could benefit Cubans as
much as Americans.
But for now, I'd settle for just being able to bring back a 1955 Chevy Bel
Air.
Daniel W. Weil is a Chicago attorney.
©2001 by Crain Communications Inc. | 
