Cultural rectification

(June 1, 2006)

The stout, broadly smiling chief editor ushered me into his small office. The face of forbidden fruit—stern theoretician, military leader and organiser of the red army, “sorcerer” Leon Trotsky—stared defiantly at me.

Editorial de Ciencias Sociales is one of Cuba’s main book publishers. It had recently published a volume of the 1905 Russian revolution in which Trotsky’s role is objectively portrayed. Since book publishing, and all media and cultural production, is overseen by the Communist party can one deduce that Cuba was going mad? Was the editor a treacherous Trot?

No, asserted the rather young editor, neither he nor the party was going Trotskyist or mad. It was real debate that the provocative intellectual wanted to accentuate.

Intellectuals have more leeway in research, in discussing and publishing controversial ideas and analysis within leftist thought and practice than ever before. Editorial de Ciencias Sociales, for instance, publishes several books each year dealing with these matters. I cite two of their one hundred+ titles printed last year:

“Cuba sin dogma ni abandonos” (Cuba without dogma or abandonment). This collection of ten essays concerning the transition to socialism is written by Cuban professors. They reject specific models for constructing socialism-communism and tackle controversial Marxist themes: theory of the dictatorship of the proletariat, between perversion and historical necessity; rethinking the transition to a socialist economy; participatory democracy; revolutionary paternalism; and objectively described Stalin, Trotsky and various left tendencies and praxis.

“Rusia del socialismo real al capitalismo real” (Russia from real socialism to real capitalism) is a pensive analysis of Russia-Soviet Union-Russian developments written by two Cuban professors. They view the Soviet process primarily as a chronic of “political suicide”, one which negatively influenced Cuba’s own development but did not smother it.

Stalin(ism) is attacked for its brutality and for stifling critical thought. Trotsky, Rosa Luxemburg, Gramsci and other Western Marxists are no longer dismissed as heretics.

In many respects, the current rethinking of Marxism and “real socialism” takes up from where Che Guevera left off in his early critique of Soviet economy and politics. In fact, this same publisher came out with the first publication of Che’s critical notes of the Soviet economic model, in which he predicted its demise if the government did not change its bureaucratic, undemocratic and ineffective production and political methods.

Celia Hart, the physicist daughter of two of Cuba’s top leaders: Haydeé Santamaria—one of the first two women guerrillas in the July 26 movement, who committed suicide in 1980—and Armando Hart—political bureau member and former minister of education and culture—is a prolific writer, who views Trotsky as having played a positive role in the revolutionary process.

Hart sees threads from Trotsky through much of the thinking of Che and Fidel. She asserts that Cuba is living up to Trotsky’s concept of permanent revolution.

Fidel and other party leaders and intellectuals speak of the need to discard stifling models for socialism, which the Soviet Union imposed upon its allies. A breath of fresh air is blowing throughout society since the Special Period’s first years of rugged adjustment to the fall of European state socialism.

The cultural institution, which Haydeé Santamaría founded, Casa de las Americas, sponsors seminars on Latin American culture and philosophical matters. Last January, I attended one on scientific socialism and utopia. Authors from several South American countries and Cuba discussed the need for Marxists and revolutionary socialists to dream, to place the subjective—the utopian—into the process of scientific socialism.

An Ecuadorian intellectual maintained that utopian ideas can be based upon reality, that multi-dimensional approaches are necessary to building socialism materially, that there are no “laws of history” only processes.

Dreamers and realists converged at the gigantic annual book fair in Havana last February. Scores of seminars were held throughout the week. Dreamers were well received by large audiences for their visions of a future in which sensitive caring for one another would be modus operandi.

Twenty-seven Cuban publishers presented 520 new titles—all sold cheaply in national peso currency. Cuba has 188 book publishers in all. They printed 5.7 million copies of 520 new books and re-editions last year. Seven-hundred thousand books were sold at the fair. This is a leap forward from the early-mid 1990s when book publishing was cut back to ten percent its previous production.

Venezuela was the fair’s guest of honour. Publishers brought five million copies of 1,200 titles. Half-a-million visitors had a chance to browse through Venezuela’s and two score other foreign publishers’ stalls, in addition to national publishing compartments.

I bought Celia Hart’s book, “Apuntes revolutionaries: Cuba, Venezuela y el socialismo internacional” (“Revolutionary notes…), at the Spanish Foundación Federico Engels location.

Her collection of essays and articles, many published first at www.rebelion.org, concentrates on the need for an ever-changing revolution, in order to succeed in shaping socialism and improving the material and subjective lives of all citizens. She sees hope in Cuba’s future not only because of its internal growth but also because of the radical changes currently occurring regionally, especially in Venezuela and Bolivia.

While there were positive educational and entertaining books for all ages, cultural imperialism was allowed to creep in through some foreign publishers. A Mexican one, for instance, sold plastic Barbie dolls and folios about her.

I asked a family why they had bought one, and in precious convertible currency. “She is elegant, a good doll. Our children watch her on television and they wanted one,” the mother replied.

Where is the “Battle of Ideas”—the state campaign oriented against corruption and the “new rich” in favour of revolutionary morality—in presenting this distortion?

As the book fair travelled to 35 cities across the entire nation, I saw two Cuban films—a contrast to Usamerican glorifications of violence and consumism, which are shown on Cuban television and at movie houses.

Cannes winner “Viva Cuba” vividly presents daily problems and conflicts between parents who support the revolution and those who wish to migrate to Miami. Those who express dissatisfaction, who contend that “everything is illegal”, are not condemned as evil. Even critique of some rituals performed by the young Pioneers, an objection to indoctrination, is shown.

The internationally renowned director-writer Humberto Salas’ latest film, “Barrio Cubano”, also portrays these themes, as well as thievery and corruption. I was not the only one in the theatre shedding tears at the conclusion.

In addition to the contradiction of making some of Hollywood’s worst films available to Cubans is what is not shown. Cuba and the world have listened to the joyous music of “Buena Vista Social Club”. And tens of millions have seen the film of the now famous musicians, among them: Compay Segundo, Ibrahim Ferrer, Ruben González, Eliades Ochoa, whom Ry Cooder brought to us.

I dare say that this warm film has done more to promote Cuba—and, subtly, its fair social system—as a good place in this brutal world than any other single product or event. Yet when I asked Cuban musicians and others what they thought of it, they showed blank faces. No one had seen it! Why?

“We don’t know why it wasn’t shown here. But the media did write that the film existed and was well received world-wide,” was the reply I received from all but one person, a sociologist.

He told me that a group of 20 sociologists “found” a video copy and viewed it as part of a sociological study. Asked if they would recommend that the state show it, he replied negatively.

“It is racist,” he stated categorically, baffling me.

He recalled the scene where two black musicians are walking the streets of New York admiring it. His interpretation of this is that the film-maker wishes to show “two monkeys coming out of the jungle and admiring `civilisation´”. I could only hope that this warped thinking was not behind the decision to not show the film.

Another example of unmentioned censorship is the Oliver Stone-made documentary of Fidel Castro, “Comandante”. No one I spoke with had even heard of the film. Its existence was not made public. Why?

My speculation is that Fidel does not wish to reveal his private life, a bit of which reluctantly comes forth, and that he might think showing the film would be seen as presenting himself as a cult figure, something he and the state are most careful to avoid. Only dead heroes’ images are widely portrayed before the population—an admirable aspect in promoting a popular, permanent revolution.

[Printed in Morning Star as "Picking up from where Che left off", June 26]