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Leadership in the Cuban Revolution

The Unseen Story

Zed Books Ltd

THE CORE LEADERSHIP: THE FAMILIAR TRIUMVIRATE

Taking up this question and searching 'beyond Fidel', we find a familiar problem in the literature on modern Cuba: alongside (and perhaps as an extension of) the usual Fidel-centrism, there is a dogged focus on leadership with the same potential to distract and mesmerise. This refers to the idea that, at least during the early 1960s, Fidel partly shared power with, and was close to and even influenced by, Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, until Guevara's departure from Cuba in 1965 (according to some following a split with Fidel). Yet there is now also a third member of this leadership: Raúl Castro. Ignored for years – or, more typically, assumed to be either the 'red under the bed' that US policy-makers sought and always assumed was, and dismissed as, an 'ideologue' and pro-Soviet hardliner – he came back into most casual outside observers' reckoning in 2006 when given temporary responsibility for governing Cuba because of Fidel's ill health. In fact, the external reaction to this 're-emergence' was interesting: while his temporary accession was logical (he had been first vice-president since 1976 and was the last of the main guerrilla leaders to survive), it was initially either dismissed (by the Bush administration) as 'Fidel-lite' or (Raúl being Fidel's younger brother) assumed to reflect the Cuban system's dynastic nature. Since the reality was bound to be more complex than these simplistic approaches, what was the nature of the original 'triumvirate', and what roles did all three actually play from 1959 – a question that goes to the heart of a necessary understanding of the Revolution?

Fidel Castro

Despite the case made against 'Fidel-centrism', understanding the triumvirate inevitably starts with Fidel, if only to set his significance within a proportional context. However, the question immediately arises as to where to limit this assessment, given the plethora of writing about the man and his role in the Revolution, making anything that can usefully be said in one-third of a chapter inevitably partial or narrowly focused. Thankfully, this book's subject (the activists and leaders beyond Fidel) allows us to ignore much of what has fascinated biographers: his childhood and youth, his character and personality, and his motivations. Instead, what matters here is an overview of his importance within the post-1959 process.

Of Fidel's leadership qualities, there can be little doubt. From his earliest political activism in the late 1940s he seems to have led those around him, using his decisiveness (occasionally becoming impetuousness), dynamism and charm to persuade people to accompany him on different ventures. These included the abortive 1947 plan to liberate the Trujillo-dominated Dominican Republic, which ultimately petered out into a frustrated wait on Cayo Confites by a group of mostly young would-be 'liberators'. These ventures did not, however, include the murky world of armed student politics in and around the University of Havana; here, although the so-called bonchismo ('gangsterism') of the late 1930s and early 1940s had declined and had been channelled in different directions (Aguiar Rodríguez 2000), enough remained for Fidel to become attached to one of the supposedly political groups, the UIR (Revolutionary Insurrectionary Union). However, his involvement was never more than marginal. From 1952, though, there was no doubt about his tendency and capacity to lead: the Moncada episode (the attack on the Moncada barracks in Santiago de Cuba on 26 July 1953, which launched the rebellion against Batista, who had seized power on 10 March 1952) showed a remarkable degree of trust in his plans, since, even though almost all of the would-be attackers knew nothing about the plan until the last minute, only a handful left at that point, the rest following his lead into what many must have assumed was certain defeat if not death.

Likewise, his ability to command loyalty continued as others constructed the new 26 July Movement on his behalf, while he remained in prison or subsequently in Mexico. And so it went on: the Granma invasion, the bloody Alegría de Pío debacle immediately afterwards, the Sierra and so on. With each venture and defeat, Fidel's power to persuade seemed to grow, rather than dim. Indeed, with each defeat leading to yet another survival, this seemed to persuade more followers, and then, after 1959, more Cubans, of his ability to endure and recover, and of his evident determination to continue against all odds. Certainly, few could ever accuse him of an easy compromise; in the Cuba of the time, after a history of disillusion in successive leaders' compromise or corruption, this ability and determination undoubtedly helped to cement his popularity and people's trust.

If loyalty was one key to his leadership, another was his capacity to lead. Not only did he evidently exude charm, but his speeches could often be electrifying, if somewhat exhausting, always either pressing the right buttons or rallying support. That same capacity was also helped by his political acumen, whether balancing different viewpoints in Cuba or playing the international system. Indeed, Cuba's whole post-1960 relationship with the Soviet Union was influenced by his ability to gain leverage with Moscow, playing on their fears (about 'losing' Cuba to China), their embarrassment (for example over the missile crisis) and their needs, and even entrapping them into supporting Cuba, to ensure leeway to differ ideologically and politically. That same acumen produced perceptive judgements: during the insurrection (when negotiating with rival movements), in discussions with (and about) the PSP, in balancing Cubans' demands for change with the need to survive economically, and in judging the changing Latin American mood of the 1970s and then the 1990s.

Moreover, despite the frequently alleged impetuousness or whimsy, this astuteness led him into essentially pragmatic decisions, although the line between apparently 'ideological' decisions and policies and seemingly 'pragmatic' ones was often blurred: was the decision to opt for the supposedly utopian 'moral economy' of the late 1960s an ideological commitment with little practical benefit or a pragmatic recognition that, with the embargo in place and few manufactured goods available, paying Cubans to work harder was a recipe for inflation and economic weakness? Was the Cubans' commitment to insurrection in Latin America quixotic idealism or a realistic assessment that, since all but one Latin American government had isolated Cuba and the United States was committed not to invade, Cuba had nothing to lose and much to gain by fomenting revolution? Indeed, Cuba's external relations since 1959 have always been governed more by a practical need for allies and trading partners than by idealistic visions.

In this latter respect, Fidel's role has always been crucial in one particular way: his ability to cultivate close friendships with other countries' leaders, helping Cuba to cement formal diplomatic, commercial and political relations. Certainly, there was an evident special affinity with people such as Indira Gandhi, Omar Torrijos, Pierre Trudeau, Michael Manley, Daniel Ortega, Tomás Borge, Maurice Bishop, Hugo Chávez and Evo Morales.

Pragmatism has, however, been less evident in Fidel's occasional fixation on some scheme or other – the drive to produce a 'super-cow' in the first decade or his enthusiasm for the abortive 'energy revolution' in the early 2000s – but even these quirks have not lacked a logic. Therefore, overall, we are left with the conclusion that, for most of Fidel's five decades at the helm, decisions taken were more often than not the only ones possible in the circumstances or given the ideological, economic or political imperatives. Most obviously, for example, given the reality that US governments have lacked either the willingness or the freedom to engage in dialogue for most of the years after 1963, continuing a formal hostility on the Cuban part has often made more sense than chasing ephemera.

What is also clear is that, despite allegations and Forbes magazine's once annual inclusion of Fidel in its 'rich list', there is little evidence of either Fidel's accumulation of personal wealth or his overweening desire for total power, as opposed to an evident mistrust in people's ability to be as reliable or as effective as he is, and a preference for unnecessary and often inefficient micro-management.

That, however, leads on to a further dimension worth discussing: his politics. Since 1959, there have been various interpretations of his ideological development, his supposed pragmatic machinations in manipulating and dissembling (not helped by his own talk of deliberately remaining silent on the United States in his 1953 'History will absolve me' speech), or his whimsically reactive responses to ideological options or opportunities. However, what was always clear was a constant commitment to 'the Revolution' and a determination to achieve it by whatever means, develop it in whatever form, and protect it with whatever weapons (real or metaphorical). In that context, he was always prepared to meet would-be rebels from other organisations, including ex-President Carlos Prío, the FEU's Echeverría and even, in 1946, members of the PSP's youth wing, the JS (notably Raúl Valdés Vivó, Alfredo Guevara and Flavio Bravo: Castro Ruz 2010: XXXII).

However, although he may have come late to Marxism (compared with Raúl or Guevara), his ideological instinct was always radical. This led him from an unattached radicalism, through a commitment to the Ortodoxo Party (see Chapter 2), towards a more sympathetic view of Marxism, and finally to a more sui generis version. But that Marxism was never superficial; it grew out of the Marxisant elements in the Cuban political culture, enhanced by his reading and by those around him, and confirmed by the long but chequered relationship with Moscow and other socialist and nationalist states. Hence, by the 2000s, it was clear, deep and committed – but no less flexible and unique for all that.

So, apart from through his character and motivations, how did Fidel play a crucial role? One problem here, of course, is the dynamic nature of the whole Cuban system, changing Fidel's role continually to adapt to the increasingly complex structure, social changes and external pressures. What might have been true in the early 1960s was therefore less so ten years later, and very different thirty years later.

Overall, it is clear that he played a key role at moments of real or imminent crisis, such as in 1959 (when his authority was greatest but when the emerging system was most fluid), 1961 (when the Revolution reached several 'turning points') or 1970 (recognising the need for a reassessment). Equally, the 1991–95 crisis saw Fidel return to centre stage decisively, especially when quelling the August 1994 street disturbances, convincing fearful Cubans that all was not lost. Equally decisive were moments when his intervention changed things: the 1965 and 1980 decisions to hasten a mass exodus (Camarioca and Mariel), the latter being especially traumatic and politically damaging; the unrealistic scale of 1970's planned 10 million ton zafra (sugar harvest); and the post-2000 Battle of Ideas, which, while making some sense (since, after a decade of demoralisation and ideological doubt, there was a clear need to reinvigorate ideologically), almost certainly erred in its scale and impracticality. Beyond that, there is no doubt about his role in the creation of the 26 July Movement and the Sierra struggle, his early recognition of the importance of political unity, or his championing of the explosion of 'internationalism' in the 1970s and 1980s.

He also intervened decisively in many debates, either setting the parameters or summing up, or ending the debate by decidingon the outcome. Equally, however, we should not lose sight of the moments when he lost arguments: one such came in the early 1990s when he was successfully and publicly challenged by then UNEAC president Abel Prieto over his opposition to a controversial film that he had not yet seen, and, more crucially, in 1991–93 when the reform programme agreed and enacted was one with which he did not agree in principle.

Yet, overall, his legacy is likely to lie less in such decisions (many of which were unavoidable) than in the widespread loyalty that he commanded, a loyalty which, on the one hand, and as already observed, created a tendency for many Cubans to personify 'the Revolution' in him, and, on the other, generated an enduring faith in his ability to find solutions. Indeed, that faith will be precisely the crucial factor lacking over the coming years. The other side of this coin, however, is the contrary tendency for many, especially young, Cubans to blame him for everything, seeing him as the single obstacle to change, the father figure against whom to rebel, and an increasingly grey (and perhaps fragile, but still too influential) éminence grise.

This, of course, brings us to his most telling decision: to retire temporarily in 2006 and permanently in 2008. It was telling because US policy-making had long been based on the assumption that his thirst for power and mistrust of others would keep him in office until death (the so-called 'biological solution'). However, this overlooked another feature of Fidel's personality: his overwhelming sense of history. In 1953, his first public appeal was a rallying call to Cuba's historical destiny, and an awareness of the Revolution's historical importance was always central to his speeches, writings and beliefs. Hence, although he may initially have intended to retire temporarily in 2006, he was ultimately well aware that a power vacuum could seriously damage political stability and endanger the historical project to which he had dedicated his life. Therefore, by 2007, it became clear that this sense of history (and his astute reading of the political runes) was driving him to accept the inevitable and step down, rather than risk seeing that project unravel.

There was, however, a characteristically interesting final twist: not only did he not oppose his Santiago constituents' nomination of him for the National Assembly elections of February 2008, but only in the last days before the election did he confirm that he would not be standing, leaving the door open for his brother. Equally, in 2011, it remained unclear until very late what his intentions were about his post of general secretary of the party after the Sixth Congress, until he confirmed that his 2008 resignation had in fact included that post. Hence, on both occasions there remained some doubt about his intentions, suggesting the scenario of a reluctant Fidel being pressured to resign finally.

Che Guevara

The problem with seriously assessing Guevara's role within the Revolution is separating fact from myth, for few political leaders have been subject to so much contrary mythification as 'Che', even before the moment and manner of his death in 1967. Moreover, apart from reasonably objective biographies (Anderson 1997) or analytical studies of his ideas (Sinclair 1979) and of his active role in government (Borrego 2001; Tablada Pérez 1987; Yaffe 2009), most interest in him has tended to focus on only a few aspects.

Firstly, there is the romanticising focus on his youth, and especially on the period of his 'iconic' journeys through Latin America in the early 1950s and their effect on his commitment. Secondly, there is Che the guerrilla: his participation in the Sierra rebellion until 1958 and then his activism outside Cuba after 1965, culminating in his death. Indeed, two recent successful feature films on Che focused, separately, on precisely those two periods. Thirdly, while there is some limited interest in his experience in government, that tends to be less significant than eye-catching moments: his United Nations (UN) speeches, his role in fomenting guerrilla warfare in Latin America, his famous signing of banknotes during his brief stint as president of the National Bank, and, of course, the whole decision to abandon his government work and leave Cuba, generating all manner of speculation about splits with Fidel. Finally, there has been serious interest among Marxists in his contribution to Marxist theory, assessing his theories on revolution, value, subjective conditions and consciousness (Lowy 1973). Yet, overall, the significance of what Guevara actually did in government in 1959–65 has largely been missed (Kapcia 1994).

Separating myth from fact is therefore not easy, especially as Guevara's whole trajectory, his probable culpability (for example in the executions of proven batistianos at his La Cabaña headquarters in January 1959: Castañeda 1998: 143) and his effectiveness have all become clouded in the familiar, highly partisan reporting. What we do know is that, while immediately striking up a rapport with Fidel in Mexico, he was initially simply the rebel expedition's doctor and thus an ordinary 'foot soldier' on the Granma; it was only as the guerrilla group survived into 1957 that his military skills and commitment became evident, winning respect and eventually (in July 1957) leadership of one of the three guerrilla columns (Fidel and Raúl leading the other two).

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Excerpted from Leadership in the Cuban Revolution by Antoni Kapcia. Copyright © 2014 Antoni Kapcia. Excerpted by permission of Zed Books Ltd.
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