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 Material Information
Title: Caribbean Review
Physical Description: Serial
Language: English
Creator: Latin American and Caribbean Center, Florida International University
Publisher: Latin American and Caribbean Center, Florida International University
Place of Publication: Miami, FL
Publication Date: 1980
Copyright Date: 1980
 Subjects
Genre: serial   ( sobekcm )
 Record Information
Source Institution: Florida International University ( SOBEK page | external link )
Holding Location: Florida International University ( SOBEK page | external link )
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 1553369
System ID: UF00095576:00017

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 1
    Front Matter
        Page 2
    Main
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
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        Page 13
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        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
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    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text






CAIIBBCAN
S Winter 1980
Vol. IX, No. 1
Two Dollars


Cuba and Jamaica, Grenada, Trinidad and Tobago,
the Eastern Caribbean, Nicaragua, Panama,
the Third World and the United States








Certificate

In Latin

American-

Caribbean

Studies


* Over 55 Latin American and
Caribbean related courses in
the University.
* Certificate requirements include:
successful completion of five Latin
American and/or Caribbean
related courses and one
independent study/research
project, from at least three
departments; demonstration of
related language proficiency in
Spanish, Portuguese, or French.
* Certificate program is open to
both degree and non-degree
seeking students.
* Expanded University support as a
Title VI Undergraduate Language
and Area Center.
* Expanded Library holdings in
Latin American-Caribbean
materials.
* Special seminar series offered by
distinguished visiting scholars in
Latin American and Caribbean
Studies.


Latin American-Caribbean Studies
Faculty
Ricardo Arias, Philosophy and
Religion
Ken I. Boodhoo, International
Relations
John Corbett, Public Administration
Robert Culbertson, Public
Administration
Judson M. DeCew, Political Science
Grenville Draper, Physical Sciences
Luis Escovar, Psychology
Robert Farrell, Education
Gordon Finley, Psychology
Robert Grosse, International
Business
John Jensen, Modem Languages
Charles Lacombe, Anthropology
Barry B. Levine, Sociology
Anthony P Maingot, Sociology
James A. Mau, Sociology
Floretin Maurrasse, Physical
Sciences
Ramon Mendoza, Modern
Languages
Raul Moncarz, Economics
Pedro J. Montiel, Economics
Mark B. Rosenberg, Political Science
Reinaldo Sanchez, Modem
Languages
Jorge Salazar, Economics
Mark D. Szuchman, History
Maida Watson Breslin, Modem
Languages

For further information, contact:
Latin American-Caribbean Center
Florida International University
Tamiami Trail
Miami, Florida 33199


Miami Speaker's
Bureau
On Latin America
and the Caribbean
The Latin American and Caribbean
Center of Florida International
University will be hosting a Speaker's
Bureau for scholars traveling
through Miami. The Bureau will
serve as a means for area specialists
to share their experiences and
research during colloquia sponsored
by FIU, The University of Miami and
Miami-Dade Community College
New World Center. A modest
honorarium and per diem expenses
will be provided.

Scholars anticipating travel through
Miami and interested in
participating in the colloquia should
contact Mark B. Rosenberg, Director,
Latin American and Caribbean
Center, FIU, Miami, FL 33199 at least
30 days prior to the anticipated
departure from their home cities.









CABBCEAN




WINTER 1980 Vol. IX, No. 1 Two Dollars

Editor
Barry B. Levine


Associate Editor
Pedro J. Montiel

Contributing Editors
Carlos M. Alvarez
Ricardo Arias
Ken 1. Boodhoo
Jerry Brown
Judson M. DeCew
Robert E. Grosse
Herbert L. Hiller
Antonio Jorge
Gordon K. Lewis
Anthony P Maingot
James A. Mau
Florentin Maurrasse
Raul Moncarz
Mark B. Rosenberg
Luis R Salas
Mark D. Szuchman
William T Vickers
Gregory B. Wolfe

Bibliographer
Marian Goslinga


Art Director
Juan Urquiola

Contributing Artists
Eleanor Porter Bonner
Danine Carey
Assistant to the Editor
Lucy Gonzalez
Managing Editor
Lourdes A. Chediak
Editorial Managers
Juan Cayon
Beatriz Parga de Bayon
Yvon St. Albin
Advertising Manager
Walter Winch
Sales and Marketing
Walter H. Hill
Publishing Consultants
Andrew R. Banks
Eileen Marcus


Caribbean Review, a quarterly journal dedicated to the
Caribbean, Latin America, and their emigrant groups,
is published by Caribbean Review, Inc., a corporation
not for profit organized under the laws of the State of
Florida. Caribbean Review receives supporting funds
from the Office of Academic Affairs of Florida Interna-
tional University and the State of Florida. This public
document was promulgated at a quarterly cost of
$5,098 or $1.27 per copy to promote international
education with a primary emphasis on creating
greater mutual understanding among the Americas,
by articulating the culture and ideals of the Caribbean
and Latin America, and emigrating groups originating
therefrom.
Mailing address: Caribbean Review, Florida Interna-
tional University, Tamiami Trail, Miami, Florida 33199.
Telephone (305) 552-2246. Unsolicited manuscripts
(articles, essays, reprints, excerpts, translations, book
reviews, poetry, etc.) are welcome but should be
accompanied by a self-addressed stamped envelope.
Copyright c 1980 by Caribbean Review, Inc. All rights
reserved.
Subscription rates: 1 year: $8.00; 2 years: $15.00; 3
years: $20.00. 25% less in the Caribbean and Latin
America. Air Mail: add 50% per year. Payment in Cana-
dian currency or with checks drawn from banks out-
side the U.S. add 10%. Invoicing charge: $2.00. Sub-
scription agencies please take 15%.
Syndication: Caribbean Review articles have appeared
in other media in English, Spanish and German.
Editors, please write for details.
Index: Articles appearing in this journal are annotated
and indexed in Historical Abstracts and America:
History and Life. An index to the first six volumes
appeared in Vol. VII, No. 2 of CR.
Back Issues: Vol.1, No. 1, Vol. II, No. 2; Vol. 111, No. 1, No.
3, No. 4; Vol. V, No. 3; Vol. VI, No. 1; Vol VIII No. 2 are out
of print. All other back numbers: $3.00 each. Microfilm
and microfiche copies of Caribbean Review are avail-
able from University Microfilms, A Xerox Company,
300 North Zeeb Road, Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106.
international Standard Serial Number.
ISSN 0008-6525, Library of Congress Number:
AP6, C27, Dewey Decimal Number: 079.7295.


In this issue


page 7


page 30


-c


... - - -


page33
page 33


The New Cuban Presence in the
Caribbean
By Barry B. Levine

Cuba and the Commonwealth
Caribbean
Playing the Cuban Card
By Anthony P Maingot

Cuba and Nicaragua
From the Somozas to the Sandinistas
By William M. LeoGrande

Cuba and Panama
Signaling Left and Going Right?
By Steve C. Ropp

Cuba and the Third World
The Sixth Nonaligned Nations Conference
By H. Michael Erisman

Cuba and the US
On the Possibilities of Rapproachement
By Max Azicri

Dance and Diplomacy
The Cuban National Ballet
By Aaron Segal

On the Limits of the New Cuban
Presence in the Caribbean
By Gordon K. Lewis

Toward a New American Presence in
the Caribbean
By Franklin W. Knight

On the Politics of the Cuban
Revolution
Dominguez's Cuba: Order and Revolution
Reviewed by Pedro J. Montiel

The Traumas of Exile
Contra Viento y Marea
Reviewed by Luis P Salas

Recent Books
An informative listing of books about the
Caribbean, Latin America and their
emigrant groups.
By Marian Goslinga


I









Selected by CHOICE as one of the
"Outstanding Academic Books for 1978"





The Complete Caribbeana 1900-1975
A Bibliographic Guide To
The Scholarly Literature


"The most comprehensive and complete bibliography of the
non-hispanic Caribbean ever published....Comitas offers a
'Guide to the published knowledge of the Caribbean in the
twentieth century.' Essential for research libraries and any
library with Afro-American or Latin American interests. "
-Choice, December 1978


"...highly recommended. "


-Library Journal, October 1978


"This remarkable research instrument will prove to be of
very great value to research scholars of and in the Caribbean
area....Altogether, this is a fundamental contribution to the
integration of an important world area. "
-Revista/Review Interamericana, Summer 1978
"...the most definitive bibliography on the Caribbean....
Comitas' work is destined to become a major and permanent
fixture in all libraries. "
-Cuban Review/Estudios Cubanos, January 1979
The Complete Caribbeana is a four-volume bibliography
containing citations of over 17,000 books, monographs,
journal articles, conference proceedings, masters' and doc-
toral theses, reports, and pamphlets published in the twen-
tieth century. The geographical areas covered include
Surinam, French Guiana, Guyana, Belize, Bermuda, The
Bahamas and the islands of the Antillean archipelago, with
the exception of Haiti and the Spanish-speaking territories.
The organization of the bibliography is topical; titles appear
in more than one subject category when appropriate. In ad-
dition to complete bibliographic information, each entry
contains a geographic designation and a code indicating the
library in which the cited material can be found. Citations of
material in foreign languages include an English translation
of the title. Two indices are provided-an author index and
a geographical index. This bibliography supersedes Pro-
fessor Comitas' one volume Caribbeana 1900-1965: A
Topical Bibliography.


Comitas, Lambros.
The Complete Caribbeana 1900-1975:
Guide to the Scholarly Literature.
4 vols. Millwood, N.Y., 1977.
LC 76-56709
ISBN 0-527-18820-4
Available on 30-day approval


A Bibliographical


clothbound $170.00


Please direct orders and inquiries to:


kg press

A U.S. Division of Kraus-Thomson Organization Ltd.
Route 100, Millwood, New York 10546 (914) 762-2200


NEW FROM KTO PRESS

The Catalogue
of the
West India
Reference Library
Being the
National Library
of Jamaica

A photo-offset reproduction of the more
than 120,000 catalogue cards of the West
India Reference Library. The CATALOGUE
represents one of the most important
bibliographic guides to Caribbeana, past
and present, ever published.


Publication schedule:
Author/title and subject sections (including
serials)
6 vols. cloth $550.00 Available Fall 1979
Prints, photographs, other published maps, and
manuscripts
To be published during 1980.
Price to be announced.

"The West India Reference Library is the most
important collection of Caribbeana.... It is for-
tunate that the publication of the catalogue is
making this information available to libraries
and readers all over the world."
-Jean Blackwell Hutson
Chief, The Schomburg Center for Research in
Black Culture, New York Public Library
"The West India Reference Library contains one
of the best collections of rare books, docu-
ments, maps, newspapers and manuscripts
found in the Caribbean. Here is not only the
history of an island but of a region. The cata-
logue will be of invaluable use to the Carib-
beanist."
-Thomas Mathews
Professor and former Director, Institute of
Caribbean Studies, University of Puerto Rico
"The West India Reference Library is an out-
standing bibliographical resource. Although less
complete on recent titles, its colonial holdings
are almost unrivalled in the Caribbean. Pub-
lishing the listings of the library will be a great
aid to scholars."
-Robert I. Rotberg
Professor of Political Science and History,
Massachusetts Institute of Technology


kt, press
A U.S. Division of Kraus-Thomson Organization Limited
Route 100, Millwood, N.Y. 10546 (914) 762-2200


2/CAItBBEAN rPVIEW











International

Conflict in

an

American City

Boston's Irish, Italians,
and Jews, 1935-1944

by John F Stack, Jr.

Ethnic pressure, whether it is Jewish support for the state of
Israel, Irish antipathy toward Great Britain, or East Euro-
peans' demands for political change in their homelands, has
long been recognized as a powerful influence on American
foreign policy. But little historical attention has been paid to
the correlation between politicking in the United States and
the events in the country of origin. Conversely, the effects of
international events on ethnic rapport in America have also
been largely ignored. But international politics is a two-way
street. The subtle and complex dynamics of the relationship
between the Old World and the New is the subject of Interna-
tional Conflict in an American City.
This highly original book studies three ethnic groups in
Boston the Irish, Italians, and Jews and their reactions
to the volatile international issues of the 1930s and 1940s;
fascism, Nazism, anti-Semitism, isolationism, and the com-
ing of World War II. John F. Stack, Jr. begins by discussing
the origins of Boston's rich mix of ethnic backgrounds, the
successive immigrations, and goes on to analyze the religious
organizations, foreign-language newspapers, fraternal clubs,
social welfare societies, political affiliations, and employ-
ment patterns that made ethnic groups in the city so cohesive.
He shows how the hardships of the Depression tended to
make the Irish, Italians, and Jews even more insular and
suspicious of "outsiders." He then introduces his main
thesis: that the international conflicts of the 1930s and 1940s,
many of which involved the homelands and relatives of
Boston's ethnic residents, served as a catalyst for ethnic
conflict during this period.
Stack's study takes issue with some traditional notions
about domestic and international politics. He shows America
to be not a melting pot, but a pluralistic amalgam of immi-
grant groups who retain much of their old national identity for
generations after immigration. He also disputes the notion
that the world's politics are created solely by interaction
between sovereign states. Instead, he argues that other politi-
cal actors religious bodies, multi-national corporations, a*
well as ethnic groups can and do influence the course of
the world's affairs.


Greenwood Press, Inc.
51 Riverside Avenue, Westport, Connecticut 06880

CREDIT CARD ORDERS--call toll free 1-800-257-7850
(in New Jersey call 1-800-322-8650)


CAIBBEAN FeVIEW/3


BENJY


LOPEZ

A Picaresque Tale

of Emigration

and Return

Barry B. Levine


The noted scholar of Caribbean society and cul-
ture, Barry B. Levine, here tells the story of
Benjy Lopez: a Puerto Rican man who came to
the United States, who survived the privations
of poverty, and who emerged from them with
wisdom, skills, and ambition. Benjy then re-
turned to Puerto Rico with a new sense of him-
self and of the possibilities of prosperity.
Told with empathy, literary grace, and scien-
tific dispassion, this lively tale reveals the
harsh exactions American life imposes on the
disadvantaged. But it also shows just how these
exactions may be turned by brave and de-
termined people into new and expanded
possibilities.

"Barry Levine has that increasingly rare gift,
the sociological ear. In this book we have the
result of his listening patiently, sensitively,
with a fine feeling for nuance to what I'm sure
must be one of the most colorful characters to
make an appearance in sociological literature.
Lopez is a man between worlds, at the same
time a man of many worlds, who succeeded in
fashioning a world of his own. No amount of
sociological detachment can disguise the fact
that Levine came to have warm affection for
Lopez. Most readers will feel the same way; I
did." PETER BERGER
$12.95


At bookstores, or direct from the publishers

BASIC BOOKS, INC
10 East 53rd Street, New York 10022















a
IS
t*kQ L S#


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The New


Cuban Presence


in the Caribbean
By Barry B. Levine
Editor
Caribbean Review


It will take future historians years of re-
search to unravel the full extent of the
Cuban nation's enormous influence on
the development and direction of the
Caribbean the influence of both Cubas
on the Caribbean!
North Cuba, the Cuba of the exile, con-
centrated in Miami but not limited there,
has spread out to all the shores of the
Caribbean, with the establishment of
intra-Cuban, inter-Caribbean communi-
cation links and economic patterns, a vir-
tual web of business connections. They
generate inter-nation trade rather than
offer cross-boundary gifts of aid. Jan
Luytjes has recently been cited in The Wall
Street Journal labelling these ventures
"the Phoenicians of the Caribbean."
South Cuba, the Cuba of ideological
plentifullness and economic meagerness,
has also spread out across the Caribbean
and beyond. Its forays have been diplo-
matic and military rather than economic
- they offer gifts of aid rather than
sources of trade. If we may continue
drawing parallels from the Mediterranean,
these ventures have become the Spar-
tans of the Caribbean. It is they who are of
specific interest in this special issue of
Caribbean Review.
We are dedicating all our editorial space
here in an attempt to understand this new
Cuban presence, this extraordinary pres-
ence generated by Havana's increased


international activity in the region. It is
highly unusual for us to do so.
Editors, perhaps even more so than
sociologists, are well aware of the
sociological truth that social reality is
subject to constant redefinition from the
vantage point of hindsight. To make a
journal such as Caribbean Review topical,
to have it try at least to some extent -
to deal with issues of current import is
thus a risky option.
Until this current issue, we have never
dedicated a whole number to a single
concern much less a vibrant, contem-
porary, still-unfolding one. The circum-
stances that have dictated our dedication
of all of Vol. IX, No. 1 to the new Cuban
presence in the Caribbean have been
compelling, though certainly not un-
changing!
The idea to do so began formulating
itself this past July while I was attending
Carifesta, the bi-annual Caribbean arts
and cultural festival. Previously held in
Guyana and Jamaica, and to be held in
Barbados in 1981, this year it was in
Havana. Many images, not all consistent,
have remained from that trip.
One image is of the distrust with which
the US has been viewed by Third World
intellectuals. To the extent that any debate
was visible in Havana at all it was whether
the Third World was to accept Cuban
ideology or resist it. Put more sharply, it













became clear that Third World intellectu-
als are reluctant to think of the United
States as a society worth trying to emulate.
Havana's arguments, moreover, are
made at a Caribbean-nation to Carib-
bean-nation level. And Havana's aid,
made at this regional level has some un-
anticipated benefits: Third World coun-
tries, for example, who send their students
to study medicine in Cuba are less likely to
have the brain-drain casualties that occur
when such students train for medicine in
the First World.
I believed CR had a responsibility to
articulate these and other similar ques-
tions for our readers.
Carifesta was held amidst a
phenomenon that has come to be taken
as quite normal: the return of some
100,000 exile Cubans to visit family and
friends. Exiles, no longer referred to as
gusanos, were now members of la com-
unidad. This mass interaction between
the two halves of the Cuban nation
seemed to approach the capstone of an
impending rapproachement between the
US and Cuba: Castro talking amiably of
Carter, the permitted exit of dual citizens,
the release and flight of political prisoners,
agreements on hijacking and fishing
rights; all this suggested that some diplo-
matic changes were in the making not-
withstanding the Cuban military involve-
ment in Africa.
The holding in Havana during Septem-
ber of the Sixth Nonaligned Nations Con-
ference and Fidel's appearance before the
United Nations in October further dem-
onstrated the diplomatic advances being
made by Cuba. Most Caribbean nations
do not have an articulate foreign policy,
much less such diplomatic flair. And the
US reaction to all this expressed as con-
cern over the presence of a Soviet brigade
on Cuban soil made clear that something
was worrying the Americans. But the
Soviet brigade issue never seemed to hold
water. Clearly what was worrying the
Americans was the new Cuban presence
in the Caribbean.
The Cuban political activity, however,
began to demonstrate vulnerability quite
unexpectedly. In December, Panama ad-
mitted the former Shah of Iran as a favor


to the United States. In January, the Soviet
Union invaded dirt-poor Afghanistan; the
new ruler while still in Moscow pub-
licly thanked the Russians for their efforts
and said that if needed, he would ask the
Cubans to also come and help! And the
Cuban government, rather than vofe
against the Russians, or even abstain,
voted with them against United Nations
condemnation of the invasion. Cuba was
pointedly made to feel the squeeze be-
tween its loyalty to the Soviet Union and its
loyalty to any principles of non-alignment.
The Third World took notice and Cuba lost
the UN Security Council seat that it had
tried so diligently to win.
The reasons for the special issue of
Caribbean Review had changed, but the
need for it became even more apparent.
Fortunately, the contributors to this
issue are superior craftsmen. Even given
the incredible turn of events, their articles,
written and revised during the changing
happenings, demonstrate singular under-
standing of the nature of Caribbean poli-
tics. They reveal a political card game of
extraordinary deftness involving master
players of great skill. And these political
players are shown to have known even
more so than editors that social reality
is subject to constant redefinition from the
vantage point of hindsight. What looks like
ideological superiority one day, becomes
an ideological hindrance the next. For,
unlike in a card game, what looks like a
good deal in one hand, may not be in
another where the rules of the game sud-
denly have changed.
The Caribbean drama thus continues
to unfold....



On the cover: a 20" x 1512" watercolor by
Mario Carreho entitled, "Antillanas nOmero
uno." The painting is on display at the Forma
Gallery in Miami. Born in Havana, Cuba in
1913 Mario Carreho has lived and worked in
Spain, France, Mexico, Italy, the United
States, and Chile. Since 1957 Carrefo has
resided in Santiago, Chile and is presently
Professor of Art at the Universidad Cat6lica.
His work has been extensively exhibited
throughout Latin America, Europe, and the
United States.


r










Cuba and the



Commonwealth



Caribbean

Playing the Cuban Card
By Anthony P. Maingot


In the kind of footnote
which in a different con-
text would have been in
the text, K.S. Karol in his MM
Guerrillas in Power: The
Course of the Cuban Revo-
lution (1970) relates some-
what humorously his at-
tempts to reach Cuba from
Jamaica during the Bay of
Pigs invasion. "Our futile
maritime adventures," he re-
calls, "...taught me some-
thing about the unholy fear
Cuban ideas inspired in the
Caribbean." In the course of
preparing for the trip he had
dealings with both the Cuban
Consul and the American
Consul General. The former,
Alfonso Herrera, occupied a
room on the second floor of
a "dusty old house" and
performed single-handedly
all the tasks of the Consulate.
Karol had the clear impres-
sion that the times and
the Cuban's lack of re-
sources-were such that his
influence in Jamaica was
extremely small.
The American Consul
General, on the other hand,
enjoyed luxurious accom-
modations both in the office
and at home. This Consul
General had previously been
in the Belgian Congo where,
to hear his wife tell it, the Bel-
gians had done a splendid
job. Jamaica he felt was different and he
appeared deeply concerned about the is-
land's social unrest; it was, he claimed,
reaching alarming proportions. "According
to the Consul," Karol recalls, "the blame
was entirely Alfonso Herrera's; it was only
since the arrival of 'that revolutionary
agitator' that the normal peaceful tenor of
Jamaican life had become explosive."
Karol, who had seen the poverty in the is-
land, remembers having difficulty contain-
ing his laughter.


Eighteen years later, the unholy fears of
Cuban ideas are not only more intense but
also more widespread. Today Karol might
hesitate to laugh at stories of Cuban in-
volvement. Rather than a dusty second-
floor room, the Cuban mission in Kingston
is an impressive complex-complete with
radio transmitting antennas similar to their
American and British counterparts. The
Cuban Ambassador-not infrequently the
center of political controversy-presides
over an ever-increasing network of Cuban


activities in health, educa-
tion, construction, agricul-
ture, tourism, sports and,
some would maintain, poli-
tics. And so it is in much of
the rest of the Caribbean.
In Guyana, where the
Cuban mission takes up
nearly half a city block,
Cuba's multiple involve-
ments are the talk of
Georgetown.
Across the sea in tiny Gre-
nada, Cuba is represented at
the highest level: it has the
only resident-ambassador
on the island, an island
where there was virtually no
trade with Cuba, no Cuban
citizens to represent or any of
the other traditional reasons
for such high diplomatic rep-
resentation. That Ambassa-
dor presides over a growing
Cuban presence. The now
everywhere present Cuban
doctors have arrived, some
15 of them; as has the fishing
trawler and instructors. On
November 18, 1979, Prime
Minister Maurice Bishop told
a rally that he expected 250
Cubans to start building a
new international airport.
Local surprise was under-
Sstandable since he had only
just been in Canada seeking
funds for a feasibility study
for that same project. Grena-
dians will tell you that if it
were only the 14 bulldozers, six scrapers, 20
trucks, thousands of tons of cement and
steel that were arriving it would be all right.
What they seem very concerned about are
three truck loads of Cuban arms they allege
are hidden somewhere on the island, the
new "military zones" which are off-limits
and the presence of numerous military ad-
visors who are quite visibly on site. They
laugh at the "Chilean connection" of Eric
Gairy: three homesick Grenadian police-
men training in Chile and two crates of guns
CAr BBEAN EV 71 /7










which apparently were never opened and
which certainly have never been seen pub-
licly before or after the coup d'etat.
This network of Cuban diplomats and
involvements come under the aegis of the
Caribbean section of the Cuban Ministry of
Foreign Affairs. As distinct from so many of
the American diplomats sent to the area,
these Cubans are professionals to be reck-
oned with. In Barbados (which has refused
to allow a resident Cuban mission despite
having diplomatic relations since 1972)
high government officials have a healthy
respect for Cuban intelligence. They will
note, for instance, that the man who heads
the Caribbean desk in Havana was formerly
posted in Guyana and before that was an
important Directorio General de Inteligen-
cia (DGI) agent; that the present Cuban
Ambassador to Jamaica is also a high level
DGI officer, well-briefed in Jamaican and
Caribbean affairs. In the Netherlands An-
tilles one hears that the Cuban Caribbean
section had correctly predicted the out-
come of mid-1979 elections in Curacao,
when even antillano pundits were at a loss
to do the same.
One is not surprised therefore to hear
moderate Caribbean leaders such as An-
tigua's Vere Bird warn the Venezuelans that
Cuban "intervention" is spreading
everywhere in the area, aiding and abetting
new radical groups in each island. Such
warnings fall on eager ears as Venezuela's
relations with Cuba deteriorate and its inter-
ests in the Caribbean increase. Clearly there
is at least a surface unity among the area's
new Marxist-Leninist groups. This could be
seen, for instance, at the public launching
of Jamaica's communist party, Trevor Mun-
roe's The Workers Party of Jamaica (WPJ),
formerly the Worker's Liberation League. In
attendance were delegates from the com-
munist parties of the USSR, Britain,
Canada, the US and Cuba; in attendance
from the English-speaking Caribbean were:
The Peoples Progressive Party and the
Working People Alliance, the Barbados
Movement for National Liberation, Gre-
nada's New Jewel Movement, St. Vincent's
Liberation Movement, St. Lucia's Worker's
Revolutionary Movement.
To see Cuban machinations behind this
unity, however, is to ignore the long-
standing ties between Caribbean radical
groups ties which predate the Cuban
Revolution.
Be that as it may, it would be a mistake to
underrate the significance of the political
and ideological role defined by the Cubans
and the capacity of their intelligence and
diplomatic corps. Art, science, sports,
music and everything else are parts of this
political thrust. Astutely, albeit sincerely,
understanding the crucial importance of
race in the Caribbean, for instance, the
Cubans have taken full advantage of
the points built up by their popular and
8/CAIBBEAN FeVeW


commendable anti-South African policies
and actions.
Less sincere yet still effective is the quite
explicit use of black Cubans as diplomats in
the Caribbean. An island where less than
25% are black and where few of these have
achieved important positions in the Revo-
lutionary Government, Cuba manages to
be represented nearly exclusively by blacks
in the Caribbean. It is not surprising to note
therefore the number of West Indians who
today believe Cuba is a black Caribbean
state. Unlike the Americans who have also
played the racial diplomatic game, the Cu-




It would be a mistake to
underrate the significance
of the political and
ideological role defined by
the Cubans and the
capacity of their
intelligence and diplomatic
corps.



bans have the advantage of both playing
this racial angle while also emphasizing
class and class conflict as the basic units of
struggle. Such a strategy allows a funda-
mentally pragmatic approach to the area's
complex politics where issues of race and
class interact in a bewildering fashion.
The Cubans then are clearly on the move
in the Caribbean. Yet, despite this phe-
nomenal expansion of the Cuban presence
since Karol's Jamaican experience, it would
be a mistake to conclude that the Cubans
have it all their own way in the Caribbean. In
part this is due to American power in the
area. But not exclusively. There are other
factors limiting Cuban policy and action. An
important one is that the Cuban involve-
ment is being played as a "Cuban card,"
quite skillfully manipulated by some Carib-
bean politicians towards less than
ideologically-pure ends. The Cuban card is
used as political leverage in some in-
stances, as a protective shield in others, and
in more and more cases as a straw man.
In the cases discussed here the Cuban
role is to provide a mantle of revolutionary
legitimacy to regimes which have both
achieved and retained power through
less-than-revolutionary means. And since
every card has two sides, (the other side is
the actual or potential use of this same
Cuban presence as a straw man), it is
amazing how frequently some Caribbean
politicians use both sides of this card and, at
least so far, successfully. The down-to-earth


savvy of many West Indian politicians is not
to be minimized; they first tasted power
during colonial days and still have a hearty
appetite for it. It can be argued in fact that
few areas of the world have more enduring
practitioners of what Rexford Tugwell
called "the art of politics" than does the
Caribbean.
Whether it is the old, traditional politician
who stays in power by playing on the
primordial attachments of race or religious
fundamentalism, or the young "revolution-
ary" seeking socialist modernization
through extra-constitutional means, they all
face one dilemma: how to retain power in
societies which are politically complex,
restless and eager for better days, yet hardly
revolutionary. The fact is that the masses in
the English-speaking Caribbean tend to be
politically radical but sociologically conser-
vative. Call it "false consciousness," "fear of
freedom" or whatever, they are a difficult lot
to satisfy. Obviously the first task of those
who would govern, whether they be conser-
vatives or radicals, is to stay in power and
the Cuban card, played on both its sides, is
proving to be of considerable value.

Jamaica and Cuba
The English-speaking Caribbean is now
divided into three distinct camps: Those
openly pro-Cuba (Jamaica, Guyana, Gre-
nada); those retaining diplomatic relations
with Cuba but privately critical of its role
(Trinidad and Barbados), and those openly
hostile to Cuba and the "leftist trend" of
which St. Vincent's Milton Cato and An-
tigua's Vere Bird are the most outspoken.
As good as any a player of both sides of
the Cuban card is Jamaica's Michael Man-
ley, an adept political practitioner on both
the national and international arenas. The
multiple transformations of this erstwhile
conservative young son of Norman Manley
is in the best tradition of political artistry.
Brought back from England in the early
1950s to do battle with the leftwing with the
PNP (the so-called "4-H"s), Manley suc-
cessfully cleaned out the radical elements
from both the Party and its labor branch. As
his father faded from the national picture,
Michael began to transform the conserva-
tive and partisan union leader image into a
more flamboyant charismatic figure of na-
tional dimensions. He became the bearer of
two religious traditions: "Joshua" to the
bible-reading Christians while to the large
number of Rastafarians he became the
man with the "rod of correction," a refer-
ence to the Imperial walking staff given to
him by Haile Selassie and which made its
appearance at political rallies.
Neither the biblical references ("com-
rade" has replaced Joshua) nor the rod of
correction are any longer relevant to Man-
ley's new politics, the politics of "principle."
In fact the noun "principle" is the most
common word in Manley's political vocab-










ulary today. But Manley understands what is
today axiomatic in political sociology, that
expediency interests are more constant
than principled interests and that in a con-
flict between the two you always place your
bet on expediency. So that, we hear Manley
say that his relations with Cuba are based
on "principled relations;" his support for
Cuba's right to have soviet troops on its soil
is based on "a simple matter of fundamen-
tal principle,"-that being that the Cuban
people want them. Yet, his support for inde-
pendence for Puerto Rico is based on
Non-aligned Movement's "principles"-
even if the people do not want it. He is of
course in favor of the US Navy moving out
of the islands of Vieques and Culebra, not
because the majority of Puerto Ricans want
it but because it is a logical extension of
his "principled" stance on Puerto Rican
independence. It is clear that Manley
understands that absolute and inflexible
adherence to principle is the policy of
political fools or fanatics and he is
manifestly neither.
Manley knows that outright Communist
movements have not fared well in Jamaica.
This was seen in the defeat of the Marxists
within the PNP in the early 1950s as well as


the fiasco of Chris Lawrence's Community
Party of Jamaica of the 1960s.This is not
surprising: both Jamaican parties emerged
from trade union movements and both
have been traditionally polyclass in compo-
sition and-as tends to be the case in two-
party systems-both have been geared to-
wards control of the state machinery. Both
understood the circular operation of state
patronage: power is dependant on patron-
age, continued patronage on continued
power; patronage increases as the widening
and deepening of power increases. In a
political system such as this, third parties
are for the disaffected or alienated or the



The Cubans are clearly on
the move in the Caribbean.
Yet, it would be a mistake
to conclude that the
Cubans have it all their own
way in the Caribbean.


ideologically "pure," all of whom, in the final
analysis, are equally irrelevant in the distri-
bution of power.
Aside from this element of raw politics,
there has been and still is the additional fact
that there is a deep rooted fear of Com-
munism among both the urban and rural
masses, as repeated surveys by Carl Stone
indicate. As a consequence, both parties
traditionally cast their programs in populist
tones, the approach historically favored by
those who cater to popular grievances but
who fear to be trapped by excessive
ideological dogma. The recent leaning of
the PNP to the left is more demonstrable in
terms of rhetoric than in actual programs or
policies. It responds to a series of complex
changes which run the gamut from urban
growth and unemployment to a new gener-
ational struggle within the PNP
Within the party the leftward thrust comes
from a group of young PNP politicians
clearly led by Dr. D.K. Duncan, widely rec-
ognized as the Party's best urban strategist.
While the young radicals within the PNP
seem to be committed to socialist princi-
ples, they are nevertheless more interested
in power. Otherwise they would have a logi-
cal place in Dr. Trevor Munroe's Worker's


Prime Ministers Michael Manley (Jamaica) and Maurice Bishop (Grenada) with United Nations Secretary General Kurt Waldheim and Cuban President
Fidel Castro at the eve of the Sixth Nonaligned Summit Meetings in Havana this past September. Wide World Photos

CAIBBCAN PVIEW/9










Party of Jamaica. Ex-Rhodes Scholar Mun-
roe is a tireless organizer who, while having
no particular mass or labor union base,
consistently preaches many of the "princi-
ples" Manley has to play politics with and as
such often capitalizes on rhetorical support
from the PNP's left. This support cannot be
too overt given the anti-communism of the
masses of the PNP and of Party front-
benchers such as Finance Minister Eric Bell
who-not too long ago made it clear in the
Jamaican House of Representatives that, "if
any member of the People's National Party
is a communist and avowed to be a com-
munist then they are entitled to be expelled"
(The Weekly Gleaner, 4/10/78).
The Cuban card comes into play in the
following fashion: it allows Munroe to stick
to Marxist ideological principle both in
speech and in practice, Manley's intraparty
opponents to emphasize these principles in
speech while calling for the Party to assert
them in action; and Manley himself to assert
the principle rhetorically. In other words, by
providing legitimacy to all who assert radi-
cal "principles" the Cubans have blurred
the distinction between theory and practice,
an abandonment of the Marxian emphasis
on praxis but one which nevertheless serves
all involved well.
The point of course is that it serves Man-
ley even better since at any time he can play
the other side of the card which asserts that
Communists do not belong in the party and
should therefore be either expelled or si-
lenced. It is quite evident that this is what
happened to the Youth Wing of the Party
three years ago. This ability to play both
sides of the Cuban card is especially con-
venient since the Cubans do not seem to be
put off by it (at least not publicly). So that the


PNP-and by implication the system within
which it functions-continues to enjoy the
support of the Cubans regardless of which
way it plays the card. This stems from
Cuba's policy of supporting friendly re-
gimes no matter how these are opposed by
Marxist forces internally. Jamaica is no dif-
ferent from Spain, Peru or Mexico in this
regard. In exchange for this support, the
Cubans benefit from Jamaica's (and Man-
ley's) very real prestige in Third World circles
and not a few developed countries. The
Cubans thus have learned that it pays to
support friendly non-communist regimes



One factor limiting Cuban
policy and action is that
the Cuban involvement is
being played as a "Cuban
card" quite skillfully
manipulated by some
Caribbean politicians
towards less than
ideologically pure ends.



rather than putting all their bets on small
communist parties with little chance of
coming to power.
It is an arrangement which suits both
parties and.which, by the way, need not
affect North American multinational inter-
ests too adversely. The continued profits of


the bauxite and tourism industry stand as
witness to that, even while the Jamaican
economy as a whole has been in a down-
ward spiral of low productivity, unemploy-
ment, inflation and a disastrous brain drain.
(The Jamaican National Planning Agency
called it a haemorrhagee of high-level man
power.") My interviews with Jamaican
"exiles" in Miami (there are now some
15,000 of them) indicate that they were not
fleeing from socialism but rather from un-
checked crime, shortages of all kinds and a
general sense that no one was managing
the economy. They see it as a case of
rhetorical radicalism gone berserk.
They point with incredulity to the fact that
Jamaica now imports milk from a country,
Cuba, where milk is rationed and which
receives grants of milk from the FAO-milk
produced originally in the US. They note
that the dozen odd general practitioners
sent by Cuba hardly substitutes for the
mass exodus of Jamaican specialists. The
New York Times (9/30/79) calculates that
there were only 13 dentists with specialized
training left on the island, including one
periodontist and one orthodontist. The Uni-
versity of the West Indies Medical School is
now largely staffed with Indian medical
professors, the Jamaicans and other West
Indians have left in droves. And all this in a
society where no socialist-type measures
have been taken against the medical pro-
fession.
It is not only that the Jamaican economy
has shown a Real Growth rate of minus 13%
for 1974-77 (compared to plus 20% for
1969-73) for in some ways this can be at-
tributed to external causes such as the in-
crease in oil prices. More worrysome be-
Continued on page 44


Central Committee of Trinidad's United Labour Front just before radical-moderate split. Left to right: Lennox Pierre, Winston Dan, Teddy Belgrave, Errol
McLeod, unknown, Allan Alexander, Joe Young, Clive Nuriez, Raffique Shah, George Weekes, Lloyd Doolan, Basdeo Panday, John Humphrey.
10/CAIBBEAN VIEW










Cuba



and Nicaragua

From the Somozas to the Sandinistas
By William M. LeoGrande


hese are difficult times
for US policy towards
Central America and
the Caribbean. The normali-
zation of relations with Cuba,
well underway at the outset
of the Carter administration,
has floundered on the rocks
of multiple crises, both real
and perceived. The militance
of Cuban foreign policy in
the 1970s, exhibited first in
Angola and again in
Ethiopia, has left the United
States frustrated and angry,
all the more so for lack of any
adequate policy response.
The result has been the
pseudo-crises of Shaba
II (1978) and the Soviet
"combat brigade"-oppor-
tune symbolic issues with
which the Administration
could pillory the Cubans
rhetorically.
Coincident with this
exacerbation of a two decade
old paranoia about the
Cuban revolution has come
yet another revolution, also
in America's backyard. The
collapse of the Somoza
dynasty in Nicaragua has
resurrected old fears by
demonstrating that even the
best trained, best equipped
armies cannot guarantee the
survival of oligarchic military
dictatorships when the whole
populace turns against
them. The conventional wisdom of
counter-insurgency has proven flawed,
and US policymakers now face the dilem-
ma of deciding whether reform or
repression constitutes the best antidote
to revolution.
It was probably inevitable that some
analysts would see a casual link between
the Cuban ogre and Nicaragua's neophyte
revolution. The Somozas, after all, having
blamed resistance to their rule on Cuban
communists ever since 1959. To this day,


Su
2p"


Anastasio Somoza Debayle maintains that
his demise was directly due to arms from
Cuba-the modern day equivalent of gold
from Moscow. The fact, of course, is that
one need not have looked beyond the bor-
ders of Nicaragua itself to find ample cause
for insurrection.
Now that the revolution in Nicaragua has
triumphed, it would be equally mistaken to
think that the future course in Nicaragua
will be solely charted by the new govern-
ment's relations with Cuba.


The Somoza
Dynasty and the
Cuban Revolution

Vehement in their anticom-
munism, the Somozas cast
Nicaragua in the role of
regional gendarme long
before the victory of the
Cuban revolution. When the
United States undertook the
subversion of the Arbenz
government in Guatemala in
1954, Anastasio Somoza
Garcia opened training facil-
ities for Castillo Armas' exile
army, acted as intermediary
for arms transfers from the
United States, and provided
an air base for the exiles'
bombers. Later in the dec-
ade, when the United States
suspended military aid to
Batista, Luis Somoza step-
ped in to sell him arms for
use against Cuba's revolu-
tionaries. Somoza was
among the earliest and most
vocal opponents of the rev-
olutionary government that
came to power in Cuba on
January 2, 1959.
With the victory of the rev-
olution, Cuba became a
haven for Latin American


political exiles, many of
whom proceeded to foment
plots against their native
governments. Some had the
backing of the new Cuban government;
some did not. Expeditions were launched
against Panama and the Dominican Re-
public; others were planned against
Guatemala and Nicaragua, but never came
to fruition. Somoza accused Cuba of
mounting an abortive exile attack from
Costa Rica in June 1959 and the OAS con-
curred, though the Cubans have consis-
tently denied involvement. Faced with an
internal uprising in November, Somoza
again held Cuba responsible and requested
CAI?BBEAN PEVIEW/11










US aid to fend off an anticipated expedition
from the island. The Eisenhower adminis-
tration dispatched a naval task force to pa-
trol Nicaragua's coastal waters to prevent a
"communist led" invasion of Central
America, but no such invasion ever mate-
rialized. Whatever the extent of Cuba's early
support for the opposition to the Somoza
dynasty, the animosity between the two
regimes was never in doubt.
As the Cuban revolution moved to the
left, US hostility towards it grew to be as
intense as Somoza's. When the US endeav-
ored to re-enact the "Guatemalan solution"
at the Bay of Pigs, Luis Somoza once again
volunteered Nicaragua as a forward base of
operations. The CIA's exile brigade em-
barked for Cuba from Puerto Cabezas on
Nicaragua's Caribbean coast, and the
brigades' bombers flew sorties from a
Nicaraguan air field.
The Bay of Pigs debacle did not dampen
the Somozas' dedication to the Cuban
exiles' cause. Both Luis and Anastasio
(Tachito) repeatedly offered Nicaragua's
cooperation in a new invasion attempt,
urging the United States to mount one long
after US enthusiasm for such an endeavor
had waned. From 1962 to 1975, Cuban
exile leader Manuel Artime was allowed to
maintain training camps in Nicaragua, and
even after the camps were closed, Nicara-
guan aid to the exiles continued, albeit
more discretely. Indeed, the Somoza
dynasty's ties to the Cuban exiles tran-
scended politics as a number of exile busi-
nessmen developed economic ties with the
Somozas' business empire.
While Nicaragua trained and armed
Cuban exiles, Cuba trained and armed
Nicaraguan exiles. The Frente Sandinista
de Liberaci6n Nacional (FSLN) was
founded in 1962 in Havana by a group of
Nicaraguans long active in the revolution-
ary opposition to the Somoza dynasty.
Throughout the 1960s, FSLN members
received both arms and training in
Cuba. The amount of Cuban aid was
circumscribed, however, by the FSLN's
small size-it numbered fewer than 50-
and its inability to establish a guerrilla foco
against the well-trained and well-equipped
National Guard.
During the late 1960s when Cuban
foreign policy was in its Tricontinental
phase, Cuba provided substantial material
support to virtually every guerrilla move-
ment in Latin America, no matter how weak
or minuscule that movement happened to
be. By 1968, however, the repeated failures
of Latin American guerrillas-particularly
the death of Che Guevara in Bolivia-
prompted a change in Cuban policy. Based
upon a new assessment that conditions
were not ripe for revolution in Latin
America, Cuba reduced its material aid to
guerrillas. Instead of attempting to end its
hemispheric isolation by promoting revolu-
12/CARBBAN VIEW


tion, Cuba began to pursue a diplomatic
strategy of normalizing relations with
those governments willing to ignore the
existing OAS sanctions. This strategy was
such a success that in 1975, the sanctions
were relaxed.
For Cuba to continue providing any sig-
nificant material aid to Latin American rev-
olutionaries would obviously have under-
mined the new diplomatic strategy. Thus,
during the 1970s, guerrillas received only
minimal support from Cuba. The FSLN,
still with fewer than 100 members in 1977,
was no exception to this new policy. Arms




The conventional wisdom
of counter-insurgency has
proven flawed, and US
policymakers now face the
dilemma of deciding
whether reform or
repression constitutes the
best antidote to revolution.



aid was apparently halted and the training
of FSLN cadres was greatly reduced.
Diminishing material aid did not, however,
signify diminishing solidarity. Cuba re-
mained a refuge for Nicaraguan exiles and
for Sandinistas freed as a result of various
FSLN military actions. In 1970, when four
Sandinistas (including the Frente's founder
Carlos Fonseca Amador) were released
from prison in Costa Rica in exchange for a
hijacked airliner, they were given refuge in
Cuba. Again in 1974, when fourteen San-
dinistas were freed in Nicaragua as a result
of the FSLN's famous Christmas party raid,
they sought asylum in Cuba before making
their way back to Nicaragua.
Cuba's sympathy for the Sandinistas and
hatred of the Somoza dynasty was never in
doubt, but it was not until the insurrection
against Somoza was far advanced that
Cuba again began providing FSLN with
more than moral support.


The Nicaraguan Insurrection
and Cuban Solidarity
Cuba's aid to the anti-Somoza opposition
during the last twelve months of the
Somoza dynasty was so modest that it
would be a serious distortion not to place it
within the wider context of international
involvement in the Nicaraguan revolution.
Cuban aid was real enough, but Cuba was
not the principal external actor on either
side of the conflict.


As opposition to Somoza intensified in
1977 and 1978, the Cuban policy formu-
lated at the turn of the decade remained
unchanged. Except for providing state-
ments of support and a refuge for exiles,
Cuban assistance to the FSLN was virtually
nil. Even the political strife following the
assassination of La Prensa editor Pedro
Joaquin Chamorro did not prompt an in-
crease in Cuban involvement. Judging by
Cuban press accounts at the time, until
September 1978, Cuban officials did not
believe a revolutionary situation existed in
Nicaragua. Most of the FSLN's material
support during this period came from
Costa Rica, which allowed the FSLN to
maintain camps and seek sanctuary across
the Nicaraguan border. The great bulk of
the FSLN's armaments were bought in the
international arms market.
The September 1978 insurrection in five
Nicaraguan cities, which the National
Guard suppressed by unleashing its full
firepower against its own citizenry,
prompted a new flurry of international inter-
est and involvement. The insurrection
demonstrated the depth of anti-Somoza
sentiment in Nicaragua, and'the fragility of
the dynasty's hold on power. As the dimen-
sions of the political crisis became clear, the
cast of external actors grew rapidly. The
United States, the most influential actor in
Nicaragua for almost half a century, initi-
ated the ill-fated mediation in search of a
moderate political solution.
For Somoza's opponents, both domestic
and foreign, the lesson drawn from the
September insurrection was that the Na-
tional Guard could only be defeated militar-
ily if the FSLN were better armed and orga-
nized. In the months between September
1978 and July 1979, Costa Rica, Venezuela,
Panama, and Cuba initiated partially coor-
dinated policies of increased material as-
sistance to the FSLN. Bolivia, Ecuador,
Peru, and Mexico added their diplomatic
support for the insurgents. On the other
side of the battlements, Israel, Argentina,
Spain, Brazil, Honduras, Guatemala, and
El Salvador came to Somoza's aid to
replenish the depleted military stocks
of the National Guard.
The Cuban role in all this was relatively
small. After September 1978, Cuba in-
creased its training of FSLN combatants,
provided a few arms shipments to the San-
dinistas, and helped them establish con-
tact with other international arms sources.
The Cubans also encouraged other Central
American Communist Parties to provide
whatever assistance they could for the
Nicaraguan revolutionaries. Perhaps the
most significant Cuban contribution was to
help mediate the differences between the
FSLN's three factions. As a result of this
effort, the FSLN was able to conclude a
unity pact in March 1979 which provided
for the reunification of the movement










under a new National Directorate, and set
the stage for the "final offensive" which de-
posed the dynasty.
Yet, of the four Latin American nations
providing direct assistance to the FSLN,
SCuba contributed the least. This limited
involvement was based on several consid-
erations. First and foremost, Cuba wished
to provide no pretext for direct US interven-
tion. On three separate occasions in 1979,
FSLN representatives asked the Cubans for
greater assistance. Each time,Cuba refused,
Castro explaining, "The best help we could
give you is not to help you at all." Nor did the
Cubans want to rekindle fears of Cuban
intervention among other Latin American
governments, many of whom supported
the anti-Somoza opposition, but were ner-
vous about the radicalism of the FSLN.
Venezuelan President Carlos Andres Perez,
for example, travelled to Cuba in June of
1979 seeking assurances that Cuba would
not intervene massively in Nicaragua. Ulti-
mately, the Cubans reasoned that since
Venezuela, Panama and Costa Rica were
already providing substantial assistance to
the FSLN, there was no need for any large
scale Cuban effort. Thus Cuba maintained


a "low key approach."
Though Cuba's contribution to the
Nicaraguan revolutionaries was by no
means the largest, nevertheless it was Cuba
that US Secretary of State Vance singled out
for criticism at the June OAS meeting on
Nicaragua. This emphasis on Cuba's in-
volvement was a product of bureaucratic
politics in the United States. As Somoza's
position deteriorated in early June, the
White House's Standing Consultative
Committee (the National Security Council's
crisis management group) took up the



While Nicaragua trained
and armed Cuban exiles,
Cuba trained and armed
Nicaraguan exiles.


issue of Nicaragua. There was general
agreement that the United States ought to
actively seek, under OAS auspices, a col-
lective inter-American solution to the


Nicaraguan crisis; there was no agreement
on how to go about it. National Security
Advisor Zbigniew Brzezinski advocated
emphasizing the Cuban involvement which
could then, in turn, be used as justification
for an inter-American peacekeeping force.
Secretary of State Vance and the Depart-
ment's Latin American experts strenuously
opposed such a strategy as guaranteed to
enflame Latin American sensitivities about
gunboat diplomacy, but when the issue was
presented to the President, Brzezinski's view
prevailed.
The proposal for a peacekeeping force
proved to be a diplomatic blunder of un-
precedented proportions. Not only was it
severely criticized and soundly rejected by
the OAS, it nearly scuttled US attempts to
elicit OAS authorization for further media-
tion efforts. The charges of major Cuban
involvement were not taken seriously by
most Latin American governments, who
knew full well that Panama, Venezuela, and
Costa Rica (at a minimum) were more
deeply involved than was Cuba. The most
serious charge leveled against Cuba at the
OAS meeting was that Cuban military ad-
visors were training FSLN guerrillas on the


Nicaraguan Minister of the Interior, Tomas Borge standing before tour members of the Governmental Junta: Daniel I. Ortega, Sergio Ramirez, Violeta
Chamorro and Alfonso Rovelo. Wide World Photos

CAl?BBcAN eVIEW/13


I _









Costa Rican border, but when several days
of searching turned up no confirmation of
the reports, the White House was forced to
admit that it had "no direct evidence" of
Cuban advisors.

Cuba and the New Nicaragua
On July 17, 1979, the Somoza dynasty
came to an end, the victim not of external
intervention but of its own greed, corrup-
tion, and brutality. The legacy of
Somocismo was a nation bankrupt and an
economy in ruins.
Cuba greeted the victory of the FSLN and
installation of the Government of National
Reconstruction with great fanfare, and im-
mediately pledged to help in the massive
task of rebuilding Nicaragua's shattered
economy. On July 25, a Cuban plane ar-
rived in Managua with 90 tons of food and a
Cuban medical team of 60 people. It de-
parted for Cuba with a high level Nicara-
guan delegation including two members of
the ruling Junta (Moises Hassan and Al-
fonso Robelo) and twenty-six FSLN com-
manders. The Nicaraguans were the guests
of honor at Cuba's national celebration on
July 26 where Castro called upon all nations
to aid Nicaragua in its time of need and
promised that Cuba would send food, edu-
cational and medical personnel.
These were the areas in which the
Nicaraguans requested assistance be-
cause, as Robelo explained, "that is where
the Cuban revolution has shown the
greatest gains." Cuban medical personnel
continue to arrive in Nicaragua (nearly 100
thus far), and are being dispatched to out-
lying cities to establish emergency clinics.
Two decades of the dynasty's anti-Cuban


propaganda have made real live Cubans
something of a public curiosity.
In late August, Cuba and Nicaragua
signed an educational exchange agree-
ment providing for a variety of Cuban con-
tributions to Nicaraguan education. Cuba
will provide up to 1000 elementary school
teachers and 40 university professors to
help staff the educational system, and will
grant nearly 700 scholarships to Nicara-
guan students for study in Cuba.
As of yet, there is no evidence that
Nicaragua has requested or received any
military aid from Cuba. Both nations, of
course, realize that such aid would an-
tagonize the United States and jeopardize
US economic assistance to Nicaragua. But
if US-Nicaraguan relations should deteri-
orate, the Government of National Recon-
struction might feel sufficiently imperiled to
request military aid from Cuba and, under
such circumstances, Cuba would almost
certainly respond.
The willingness of the US to raise the
specter of Cuba in its attempt to prevent the
FSLN from coming to power in Nicaragua
does not bode well for the future US-
Nicaraguan relations. The future of Central
America and the Caribbean is increasingly
uncertain, with new governments in
Nicaragua, Grenada, and El Salvador.
Taken together with the intensification of
US-Cuban hostilities, that may lead some
US policy-makers to conclude that unex-
pected or unhappy developments in the
region are somehow the work of Cuban
machinations.
Already, the US has undertaken a series
of policies, spelled out in Presidential Direc-
tive 52, aimed at containing Cuban influ-


ence. But US efforts to isolate Cuba diplo-
matically have been notoriously ineffectual
in the last decade, not only in this hemis-
phere, but globally as well. They are not
likely to fare better in the years to come.
It would be a great tragedy if Nicaragua's
good relations with Cuba, or its receipt of
Cuban economic assistance, should be the
catalyst for a deterioration of US-
Nicaraguan relations. Nicaragua needs US
aid if its economy, demolished in the strug-
gle against Somoza, is to begin any real
recovery over the next few years. The US,
long the chief pillar of support for the
Somoza dynasty, has a moral obligation to
provide such assistance, but it should also
do so for reasons of self-interest. The small
amount of aid which Cuba can provide to
Nicaragua will have no real impact on the
future course of Nicaragua's domestic poli-
tics. But aid on the scale which the US could
provide might have such an impact.
Moreover, the absence of such aid almost
certainly will. Without substantial foreign
financing, the Nicaraguan economy-
especially the private sector-cannot re-
build. The longer recovery is delayed, the
faster political pressures for a more radical
solution to the problems of recovery will
mount. If the US forsakes Nicaragua be-
cause of its efforts to isolate Cuba, it will very
likely have two Cubas to contend with.



William M. LeoGrande teaches Government at
The American University, Washington. His
essay, "The Revolution in Nicaragua: Another
Cuba?," recently appeared in Foreign Affairs
Quarterly.


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14/CAI?BBEAN rEVIEW


g


is











Cuba



and Panama

Signaling Left and Going Right?

By Steve C. Ropp


ver since Lieutenant
Colonel Omar Torrijos
and his fellow officers
in the Guardia Nacional
overthrew the civilian gov-
ernment of Arnulfo Arias in
1968, there has been a great
deal of revolutionary sym-
bolism in Panamanian poli-
tics. The political process
since 1968 has been referred
to as a "revolution" and the
leader of the revolution -
except when signing treaties
- wears battle fatigues. By
the early 1970s, it was clear
that Omar Torrijos was not
just another cigar-chomping
Latin American dictator. This
dictator smoked fine
Havanas with his name
prominently displayed on the
band.
In Panamanian politics, it
has never been easy to sepa-
rate the rhetoric of revolution
from the reality. An old
Panamanian joke illustrates
the point: Omar Torrijos was
traveling in an automobile
with Leonid Brezhnev and
Richard Nixon. When the
three leaders came to a fork
in the road, Brezhnev rec-
ommended that they pro-
ceed to the left while Nixon
suggested that they go to the
right. Torrijos winked slyly
and said, "Signal a left turn
and then go right."

Early Impact
Panama was one of the first nations to feel
the impact of Fidel Castro's triumph when
an invasionary force consisting of some
eighty Cubans, trained on the island and led
by Major Cesar Vega, landed atNombre de
Dios on the Atlantic coast in May of 1959.
Backing for the expedition came from
Roberto Arias and the effort was an attempt
by the Arias family (led by Arnulfo) to regain
the central political position that it had lost


in the early 1950s. Castro asserted that he
had nothing to do with the invasion and that
the Arias clan was using the Cuban Revolu-
tion to its own ends. He further indicated
that the Panamanian regime was not a dic-
tatorship such as existed in Nicaragua.
After the aborted invasion of May, 1959,
relations between the two countries rapidly
deteriorated. The Cuban consul in Panama
was accused of attempting to subvert the
government through a propaganda cam-
paign. Diplomatic relations were severed in


December, 1961 after Castro
delivered a speech in which
he referred to Panama as a
"government of traitors and
accomplices of the im-
perialist Yankees." Through-
out the early 1960s, the break
between the two nations was
complete. Panama asserted
at the 1962 OAS conference
Sat Punta del Este that she
would leave the organization
if Cuba was allowed to retain
membership. The Panama-
nian Government did not
object when Cuban exiles
were trained for the Bay of
Pigs invasion at Fort Sher-
man in the Canal Zone. And,
in 1964, when the OAS
adopted economic sanc-
tions against Cuba, Panama
was fully supportive of the
measure
Panama broke relations
with Cuba in 1961 and did
not re-establish them until
1974. The renewal of rela-
tions came as the result of a
I number of complementary
interests that had developed
by the early 1970s. Panama
needed support in its negoti-
ations with the United States
over a new canal treaty. Cuba
was increasingly concerned
with ending its diplomatic
S and economic isolation
within the Western Hemis-
phere. When the United Na-
tions Security Council met in Panama in
April, 1973, Cuban Foreign Minister Raul
Roa backed the Panamanian position on
the treaties and Panamanian diplomats ar-
gued for an end to Cuba's pariah status.
Panama contributed more than rhetoric
toward the mitigation of Cuban economic
isolation. While direct trade between the
two countries is not substantial, Cuba has
used the Col6n Free Trade Zone to pur-
chase merchandise that would probably
not have been directly available. In 1975,
CAI?BBEAN rNeIEW/15


Je










Cuba obtained $7 million worth of insec-
ticides, fungicides, and animal disinfectants
through the Zone. Business became so
brisk that a branch office of the National
Bank of Cuba was established in Panama to
handle the transactions.
By 1976, relations between the two gov-
ernments had improved to such an extent
that General Torrijos was invited to visit
Cuba. There, he received the Jose Marti
National Order, the highest award given by
the Cuban Government. Castro not only
praised Torrijos for encouraging removal of
the US blockade but went on to suggest
that Cuba and Panama were ineluctably
tied by their common historical experience
with US imperialism: "We are brothers in
our history, filled with acts of aggression,
aggression on the part of the imperialists.
The imperialists did the same things in
Panama as they did here. They wanted to
take over Cuba ever since the last century,
and they have wanted to take over Panama
ever since then too. They forced the Platt
Amendment and a base on us, and they
forced a treaty on Panama at about the
same time, on us in 1902 and on Panama in
1903." General Torrijos seemed to share
this perspective, saying upon departure:
"Flying over Cuba on the way back to my
country to take up the struggle and daily
intercourse with the people and to lead a
nation that loves you (Castro) very much, I
leave impressed with my trip because it
gave me the opportunity to see for myself
that a new Cuban man is in the making ...
I'm proud of the fact that our two peoples
are on the same revolutionary wavelength."
Are Panama and Cuba currently opera-
ting on the same "revolutionary wave-
length" as General Torrijos suggests? Cer-
tainly, the Panamanian Government has
taken on many of the structural and
ideological trappings of the Cuban Revolu-
tion. For example, an organization that
plays an important role in Panamanian
politics is the Direccidn General de De-
sarollo de Comunidad (DIGEDECOM).
DIGEDECOM works throughjuntas com-
unales andjuntas locales in each of the
505 corregimientos in mobilization activ-
ities quite similar to those found in Cuba.
However, more important than internal
considerations for purposes of this analysis
is the extent to which Panama and Cuba
operate on the same ideological
wavelength with regard to their current
foreign policies. To initially discuss the de-
gree of convergence, we can examine the
behavior of these two governments in rela-
tion to the overthrow of General Anastasio
Somoza Debayle and his subsequent re-
placement by a Sandinista junta in July,
1979. Two questions can be posed. First,
what were the historical reasons for the
hostility exhibited toward Somoza by both
Omar Torrijos and Fidel Castro? Second, to
what extent did the motivations of these two
16/CAl?BBEAN rKTIEW


leaders converge or diverge?

Playing the Nicaraguan Card
Certainly, there can be little doubt as to why
Fidel Castro was hostile toward the Somoza
regime, and vice versa. When Castro came
to power in 1959, he made no secret of his
dislike for President Luis Somoza, and the
existence of a new revolutionary govern-
ment in the Caribbean created consider-
able internal problems for the dynasty.
Nicaragua's participation in preparations
for the Bay of Pigs invasion was extensive,
and both troop movements and air strikes



In Panamanian politics, it
has never been easy to
separate the rhetoric of
revolution from the
reality.


were coordinated from Nicaraguan bases.
Luis Somoza made a special point of visit-
ing Puerto Cabezas on the Nicaraguan
coast to say good-by to the departing
brigade of Cuban exiles. As the ships left the
dock, he called to the exiles, "Bring me a
couple of hairs from Castro's beard."
It would appear that the increasing hos-
tility of both Castro and Torrijos toward the
Somoza regime during the 1970s was the
product of perceptions that the Nicaraguan
dictator was nurturing close relationships
with a network of powerful groups in the
United States that viewed both leaders as
threats. The most important element in this
network was the Nixon Administration itself.
Under the guise of implementing a tough
policy on international drugs, Nixon and the
White House Plumbers apparently con-
templated the assassination of Torrijos. (On
this, see Jonathan Marshall's article, "The
White House Death Squad" in the March 5,
1979 issue of Inquiry.) A key individual in
these discussions was E. Howard Hunt who
served as a link between the Plumbers and
anti-Castro Cubans in Miami. Certain
Cuban exiles viewed the Panamanian dic-
tator as a particularly dangerous ally of
Castro.
A second major group in this anti-
Torrijos/Castro axis was Somoza's ac-
quaintances in Congress. The central figure
in this regard was Congressman John Mur-
phy of the House Panama Canal Subcom-
mittee. Murphy was a long-time friend of
Somoza's and had supported him in his
effort throughout the early 1960s and 1970s
to contain radical tendencies in the Carib-
bean. These containment policies had
been extended to include the Torrijos re-
gime by the early 1970s.


Issues that brought Somoza and Torrijos
into direct conflict included Somoza's ap-
parent effort to convince US financiers such
as Howard Hughes and Daniel Ludwig to
bankroll construction of a new sea-level
canal through Nicaragua. After the ex-
tremely thorough US Government study of
alternative routes for a new canal was re-
leased in 1970, there was little real hope that
a Nicaraguan route would be selected.
However, the mere possibility of a Nicara-
guan route was used by conservatives in
Congress to argue against a new Panama
Canal treaty. Until the treaties were ratified in
1978, conservatives maintained that the
political safety of a Nicaraguan route stood
in sharp contrast to US political vulnerability
in Panama while Torrijos remained in
power. Congressman Murphy proved to be
particularly adept at linking the treaty
negotiations to the issue of alternate and
presumably safer routes for a new canal.
Thus, a network of anti-Castro Cuban
exiles, US businessmen with ties to the
Nixon Administration, and Somoza sup-
porters in Congress worked to undermine
the Torrijos regime. It is little wonder that
Torrijos viewed Somoza with alarm and
Castro (a potential ally in this regard) with
some degree of favor. For Torrijos, the at-
tacks against his government and against
the treaty negotiations were attacks coming
indirectly from Somoza.
These then are some of the historical
reasons for the support given by both Tor-
rijos and Castro to the Sandinista guerril-
las. There is considerable evidence to in-
dicate that Cuban-Panamanian coopera-
tion was quite close in this regard. A CIA
report which was leaked to The Chicago
Tribune in September, 1978 indicated that
eight crates of arms had been flown from
Cuba to Panama by the Panamanian Air
Force. The following month, a similar
shipment was apparently made which
passed through Costa Rica on its way to the
Sandinistas.
Cooperation between Panama and Cuba
intensified in January, 1979 when the two
countries agreed that FSLN guerrillas who
sought exile in Panama would be
transported to Cuba for additional training
before returning to Nicaragua. Some of the
arms captured at the border in March by the
Nicaraguan National Guard allegedly came
from Cuba by way of a Panamanian Fire-
stone Rubber truck. Arms found hidden in
the truck included Belgian FAL 7.62 rifles
which Nicaragua claimed had been sold
only to Cuba. There were also reports in
May that a Cuban llyushin 62 landed at a
Panamanian military airport and two
hundred men disembarked.
However, to put Panamanian-Cuban
cooperation against the Somoza dynasty in
perspective, it should be noted that Panama
was also cooperating extensively with sev-
eral other Latin American countries to the


_~_____










same end. In January, 1979, Torrijos flew to
Caracas where he arranged for a joint mili-
tary exercise with Venezuela. Under the
terms of his agreement with Carlos Andres
Perez, one thousand Venezuelan soldiers
were to conduct maneuvers in Panama.
Clearly designed to pressure Somoza, the
joint exercise was never held.
Many of Panama's anti-Somoza activities
were conducted independent of any other
government. For example, Panama at-
tempted in March to smuggle a number of
.30 caliber M-1 carbines into Nicaragua.
The carbines had been purchased by the
Panamanian consul in Miami (a former
military intelligence officer) from US
firearms manufacturers. The arms were
then flown from Miami by commercial air-
craft to the Panamanian Hunting and Fish-
ing Club. The principal stockholder in the
Hunting and Fishing Club was Colonel
Manuel Noriega, head of Military Intelli-
gence. No activity reveals Panama's inde-
pendent role in Nicaragua more clearly
than formation of the Victoriano Lorenzo
Brigade. On September 27, 1978, 320
Panamanians met at the Don Bosco
church in Panama City. There, they ex-
pressed their revolutionary solidarity with
the Sandinistas, commended their future
guerrilla efforts to God, and said good-byto
their families.
The commander of the "brigade" was a
former Vice-Minister of Health and medical
doctor by the name of Hugo Spadafora.
Immediately after the brigade was formed,
he left for Nicaragua with eight other
Panamanians to contact the guerrilla forces
of Eden Pastora. Meanwhile, other mem-
bers of the brigade were transported by bus
to Veraguas Province. From there, they
moved to the island of Coiba (a govern-
ment penal colony) where guerrilla training
began.
From the moment of departure from
Panama City, the ranks began to thin. Ap-
proximately 120 of the original faithful
found that their revolutionary ardor did not
extend beyond the bounds of the city itself.
After several weeks of strenuous training on
Coiba, only 75 brigade members remained.
Best estimates are that 40-45 Panamanians
finally reached Nicaragua. They were as-
signed to fight with all four sectors of the
FSLN and five were killed in combat
While the ideology of members of the
Victoriano Lorenzo Brigade is not well
known, the name itself suggests an indi-
genous Panamanian nationalism. Lorenzo
was an Indian "general" and Liberal who
was put to death by the Colombian garrison
commander in 1902. The Torrijos govern-
ment and its successor civilian regime have
used Lorenzo as a symbol both of revolu-
tionary nationalism and anti-aristocratic
sentiment. The following account of dis-
cussions among Brigade members while
on Coiba may or may not be indicative of


the views which guided their action: "We
talked about who Sandino was, about the
significance of the Sandinista struggle. We
talked about a united Latin America, the
dream of Bolivar, and about the Panama
Batallion commanded by Tomas Herrera.
Also, we talked about social and economic
differences in Latin America."
Thus, there would appear to be a number
of reasons why Panama gave such exten-
sive support to the Sandinistas that have
little to do with Cuban influence. Many
Panamanians had a strong historical sense
of the role General Augusto Sandino played



Diplomatic relations were
severed in December, 1961
after Castro delivered a
speech in which he referred
to Panama as a
"government of traitors
and accomplices of the
imperialist Yankees."


in the Central American struggle against US
domination. It is said that, upon learning of
a new victory by Sandino, some used to
sing:
Ya llegd Sandino
Con su batalldn
Matando marines
Sin compasidn
While many Panamanians had long-
standing reasons for opposing the Somoza
dynasty, it is also important to examine the
domestic political considerations which led
General Torrijos to take such a dramatic
forward position with regard to Nicaragua.
The evidence suggests that the Panama-
nian Government played a direct role in the
formation of the Victoriano Lorenzo
Brigade. Its leader was a former govern-
ment official, and guerrilla training on the
island of Coiba could not have taken place
without full support of the regime. In addi-
tion, the Government gave whole-hearted
backing to the Panamanian Committee for
Solidarity with Nicaragua. This committee
probably had access to state funds for its
activities in support of the Sandinistas.
It could be argued that Torrijos' "radical"
foreign policy with regard to Nicaragua was
partially premised on the belief that a sub-
stitute issue had to be found for the struggle
to gain control over the Panama Canal


Omar Torrijos, welcomed to Havana by Fidel Castro as a special guest for the Sixth Nonaligned
Summit Meetings. Wide World Photos
CAIBBEAN PEVIEW/17









Zone. In 1974, the economy had begun to
experience serious problems which made it
increasingly difficult for the state to sub-
sidize the more progressive aspects of
domestic policy. With growing public unrest
and with groups on the Left no longer ap-
peased by the effort to recover the Zone,


playing the Nicaraguan card may have ap-
peared to be an attractive option, particu-
larly after the Senate vote on the treaties.
There would appear to be some merit in
this line of argument although support for
the Sandinista cause certainly preceded
signing of the new canal treaties. It seems


Caribbean Studies

Association
V Annual Meeting
Curacao, Netherlands Antilles
May 7-10,1980



Conference Theme:
"Foundations of Sovereignty and National Identity in the
Caribbean"
Panels on:
Literature, Plantation Economies, Caribbean -E.E.C. Relations,
International Relations in the Caribbean, Finance and National
Development, Banking and Development, Energy and
Development, Ideology and University Life, Tourism and
Development, Role of the Mass Media, Psychological Dimensions
of Migration, Return Migration, International Labor Migration,
Historiography, Crime and Social Change, Puerto Rican Political
Options, Virgin Island Political Options, Architecture and
Development, Comparative Law, Alternate Sources of Energy,
Comparative Political Systems, Religion and Cultural Identity.
Plenary Guest Speaker:
Dr. Aristides Calvani, ex-Canciller of Venezuela and presently
Secretary General of O.D.C.A.
Presidential Address:
Dr. Wendell Bell (Professor of Sociology, Yale University).
Special Panel on the Role of the Opposition in the Caribbean:
Errol Barrow (Barbados), Edward Seaga (Jamaica), Basdeo
Panday (Trinidad), David Morales Bellow (Venezuela), others to be
announced. Commentary by Selwyn Ryan (U.W.I., Trinidad) and
Gordon K. Lewis (U.RR., Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico). Folkloric
Evening with the Pacheco Domacass6 Group (Curacao, N.A.); art
exhibits and other social activities.
Site:
Curacao Plaza Hotel (double: $34.00, triple: $42.50) For further
information write the Program Chairman:


Dr. Anthony P Maingot
Department of Sociology/Anthropology
Florida International University
Tamiami Trail
Miami, Florida 33199


likely that government leaders felt that both
the pre- and post-treaty domestic political
situations required a foreign policy issue
that could rally support of the non-official
Left. While the government controlled a
stable of house "communists," there was
considerable dissatisfaction on the Left
which was difficult to contain. Strong gov-
ernment support for the Sandinistas would
mute the voice of the non-official Left in the
internal debate over the new treaties and
the economy.
Indeed, support for the Sandinistas was
probably the only issue on which all seg-
ments of the Panamanian Left agreed.
Even the Communist Party, which was
much out of favor with other leftist elements
because of its strict adherence to the gov-
ernment line, took a parallel position on this
issue. Furthermore, Torrijos could brand his
political enemies as dangerous Somocis-
tas during the delicate process of removing
the National Guard from politics and re-
placing the military with a new "civilian"
regime. During 1978 and 1979, the
Panamanian Government "discovered" a
number of plots linking the supporters of
Arnulfo Arias to Somoza. Given the ties
between Somoza and the anti-Torrijos
forces, the charges of conspiracy cannot be
taken too lightly.
In sum, there are a number of reasons for
Panamanian participation in the overthrow
of Somoza that have little to do with the
Cuban connection. There was a strong
pro-Sandino historical legacy in Panama
and personal emnity between the two lead-
ers, particularly with regard to Somoza's
efforts to undermine Torrijos on the canal
issue. These factors, coupled with domestic
political necessities, led the government to
take a strong forward position in support of
the Sandinistas.

Global Policies

Given these considerations, it should not be
surprising to find that Panama's overall
global policies converge with Cuba's on
certain issues but diverge on others. At the
global level, the most obvious difference is
the position Panama takes with regard to
the nonaligned movement. Speaking at the
recent gathering of nonaligned nations in
Havana, President Aristides Royo argued
that the principles of the first meeting in
Belgrade should be upheld and that
movement members should be discour-
aged from aligning themselves with any
great power. "Let us then consider the
nonaligned movement as a collective effort
of the three Third World regions, with the
cooperation of its European members, to
solve their social and economic problems
and coordinate their political action in order
to establish an international relations sys-
tem that will favor positive solutions to the


18/CAITBBEAN eVIe










challenges of today's world. From this point
of view, my government believes that the
nonaligned policy emphatically rejects the
policy of blocs, military alliances and any
system tending to divide the world in
spheres of domination or influence."
Presently, Panama does not have diplo-
matic relations with either the Soviet Union
or the People's Republic of China. In East-
ern Europe, Panama recognizes Czecho-
slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Poland and
Albania but not East Germany and Bul-
garia. During the past five years, there has
been movement toward establishing formal
and informal relations with a wide range of
groups in the Third World. President Royo
met with Yasir Arafat while in Havana, al-
though Panama does not recognize the
Palestinian Liberation Organization.
One of the major reasons for Panama's
recent effort to improve relations with a
variety of Third World countries is to en-
courage signing of the Protocol of Neu-
trality attached to the new canal treaties.
The Panamanian Government feels that if a
large number of countries can be encour-
aged to sign, arbitrary and/or unilateral
interpretation of the Protocol by the United
States will be less likely. Panama appears to
offer specific policy concessions to Third
World countries in exchange for adherence
to the Protocol. For example, when Viet-
namese Premier Pham Van Dong (whose
government was the first to sign the Pro-
tocol) visited Panama in September, 1979,
President Royo announced that the
People's Republic of Kampuchea should be
recognized as the legitimate government of
Cambodia.
In the post-Somoza period, the limits of
Cuban-Panamanian cooperation with re-
gards to Nicaragua have become increas-
ingly clear. Panama's ties since 1978 have
been to the Tercerista faction of the
Sandinistas led by Eden Pastora, which
indicates support for moderate elements
in the government. The most significant
Panamanian role in the reconstruction ef-
fort was training of the Sandinista police
force. Many of the initial group of instruc-
tions of the Augosto Sandino Academy
were members of Torrijos' National Guard.
Panamanian instructors were present when
the first class of 100 cadets graduated in
September, 1979.
However in December, 1979 Panama-
nian personnel were withdrawn as a result
of disagreements concerning whether the
Cubans or Panamanians should play the
central role in police and military training.
There was some suspicion that General
Torrijos was 'ugando dos cartas al mismo
tiempo." While attempting to appear radical
the Panamanians were training the Nicara-
guan police in the use of US weapons and
relying on US techniques. From such a
perspective, it is important to note that
Panama opposed the effort made at the


nonaligned conference to eliminate the
Central American Defense Council (CON-
DECA) and the Inter-American Reciprocal
Assistance Treaty (TIAR).
Panamanian and Cuban foreign policies
frequently converge in their anti-imperialist
instincts and sometimes in their actions.
However, it would be a mistake to view
Panamanian foreign policy as merely the
reflection of a Cuban grand design for
Central America. Differences in perspective
appear at both the strategic global level and
tactically with regard to Nicaragua.
There are good reasons why the
Panamanian Government often signals left
and turns right or, more accurately, at-
tempts to turn left and right at the same
time. Panama in effect has two foreign
policies. The one most compatible with that
of Cuba reflects the populist nature of the
Panamanian civil-military regime and the
attempt since 1978 to institutionalize a
civilian component of this regime. On the
other hand, the Panamanian economy re-
mains closely tied to the United States, both
through the presence of the canal and
rapidly expanding US business interests. Of
particular importance in this regard is the
growing number of US banks that service
the transactions of multinationals and gov-
ernments throughout Latin America.
In recent years, the leftist/populist foreign
policy of the regime has been most clearly


expressed through support for the San-
dinistas and through attempts to establish
relations with a large number of left-leaning
Third World governments. The most con-
servative economic dimension is less visi-
ble but nonetheless quite real. It is reflected,
for example, in President Royo's recent trip
to Western Europe to seek financing for
various state and private investment ven-
tures. Perhaps the best current example of
this conservative economic tendency in
Panamanian foreign policy was the deci-
sion to admit the former Shah of Iran. A
major factor in this decision was probably
the government's need for private invest-
ment. US banks such as Chase Manhattan
have historically maintained close ties with
both the Panamanian banking community
and the Shah. Thus, these banks could
serve as intermediaries in the rather deli-
cate process of finding a safe haven for the
exiled Iranian leader and his private fortune.
Although somewhat offensive to
academic sensibilities, there does not ap-
pear to be any inherent incompatibility be-
tween these two tendencies in Panamanian
foreign policy. The leftist tendency, de-
signed partially to serve internal political
needs, lends support to the rightist tend-
ency designed to keep the state and na-
tional economy solvent under conditions of
global economic dislocation. Past practices
and present realities seem to indicate that


CAIBBEAN PuEVIW/19


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Panamanian foreign policy will continue to
respond primarily to internal logic rather
than to the demands of external powers
such as Cuba.
However, whether or not a Panama-Cuba
"axis" exists, the issue of future Panama-
nian participation in the Central American
crisis remains. Is Panama likely to become
deeply involved in El Salvador or
Guatemala as it was in Nicaragua?
Panama's perception of its world and
regional role have changed significantly
over the past decade. The activist thrust in
Nicaragua was partly the product of a new
Panamanian tendency to see themselves as
capable of playing an independent leader-
ship role in the Third World. With ratification
of the canal treaties in April, 1978, Panama
felt that it had gained an important victory in
its struggle with one of the world's super-
powers. The status of international neu-
trality implicit in the new treaties meant that
Panama could stand apart from the two
great world blocs.


But this is not a sufficient condition for
continued Panamanian participation in fu-
ture Central American developments.
While the military resources available to the
regime have increased during the past ten
years, there would be much more difficult
logistic problems involved in para-military
involvement in El Salvador or Guatemala
than was the case in Nicaragua. Further-
more, Panama's current economic prob-
lems will make it increasingly difficult
(though increasingly attractive politically) to
exercise influence in the region.
There were some very specific reasons
for Panamanian opposition to the Somoza
regime which do not appear to be dupli-
cated in either the Salvadorean or
Guatemalan case. In the past, Torrijos has
shown a willingness to deal with repressive
military dictatorships as long as there is a
compatibility of basic interests. Friendly
relations with Guatemala have been re-
stored after a rocky period due to differ-
ences over Belize. This is not to say that


Panama can be expected to withdraw from
participation in the Central American crisis
during the 1980s. In addition to changes in
national perceptions of Panama's role in the
world, there may be an increased tendency
to use expanded foreign policy activity as a
bargaining instrument within the context of
continued dependence on the United
States. In the same manner that Cuba has
expanded its worldwide foreign policy
scope to accommodate the interests of its
great power ally, Panama may expand its
activity regionally to bargain for various
forms of US support.


Steve C. Ropp teaches Government at The
New Mexico State University, Las Cruces,
New Mexico. His essay, "Ratification of the
Panama Canal Treaties; The Muted Debate,"
recently appeared in World Affairs.


20/CAI?BBEAN REVIEW


THE




CAIBBCAN




NIEw AWARD

We are pleased to announce the establishment of The
Caribbean Review Award, an annual award to honor an indi-
vidual who has contributed to the advancement of Caribbean
intellectual life.
The award recognizes individual effort irrespective of field,
ideology, national origin, or place of residence.
The Award Committee consists of: Lambros Comitas (Chair-
man), Columbia University; Orlando Albornoz, Universidad
Central, Venezuela; Frank Manning, University of Western
Ontario, Canada; Locksley Edmondson, University of the West
Indies, Jamaica; Anthony P Maingot, Florida International
University, Florida.
Nominations are to be sent to the Editor, Caribbean Review,
Florida International University, Miami, Florida 33199. Nomi-
nations must be received by March 31, 1980.
The First Annual Award will be announced at the Fifth Annual
Meeting of the Caribbean Studies Association, May 7-10,
1980, Curacao.










Cuba



and the



Third World

The Sixth Nonaligned Nations Conference
By H. Michael Erisman


N onaligned summit
conferences, like
most international
gatherings, are usually bor-
ing affairs. Not so the recent
Havana meeting (September
3-8, 1979) which even before
it began was generating sen-
sationalistic news, one
example being Time maga-
zine's observation that dele-
gates "were preparing for a
fierce showdown over the ...
very soul of the Third World"
and that the 6th summit
"promised to be the most
critical ideological tug-of-
war in the quarter-century-
old identity crisis of the
emerging Third World." The
summit lived up to this ad-
vance billing as a political
slugfest between Yugoslav
and Cuban-led factions not
only for control of the organi-
zation, but also for overall
leadership of the Third World
bloc.
A first round had already
been fought at the July, 1978
Nonaligned Ministerial
Conference in Belgrade.
Egypt and Somalia unsuc-
cessfully tried to block Fidel
Castro's appointment to the
Movement's top post. Having
lost at Belgrade, Castro's op-
ponents coalesced behind
Tito and attempted to derail
Havana's momentum at the
6th Summit so that Fidel's three-year term
would be titular rather than substantive.
Both sides lobbied furiously when the Cu-
bans did not heed calls to tone down the
draft declaration which as hosts, they were
responsible for preparing.
The core issue was whether the
Nonaligned Movement was to dedicate it-
self to concerted political action to achieve
specific goals on the international scene or
is to remain an ideologically heterogeneous
organization serving as a forum for voicing


Third World concerns and trying to gener-
ate consensus on often vague general prin-
ciples. Cuba represents the activist school;
it seeks to transform the movement from its
present status as a diffused, cumbersome
body with little capability to influence world
events, into a streamlined vehicle operating
as a unified radical force committed to sol-
idarity with the Soviet-led socialist bloc.
Havana's willingness to tilt toward the East
and its contention that Moscow is the natu-
ral ally of the nonaligned nations are


__


anathema to Tito and others
who believe that Russia is an
expansionistic power which
must be countered rather
than courted.
Thus the stage was set for
the Cuban/Yugoslavian
struggle while behind the
scenes both the United
States and China, even
though not members of the
Movement, worked hard to
prevent a Fidelista victory
which they feared could lead
to a shift in the global power
balance in favor of the USSR.
The Major Summit
Controversies
Kampuchean Representa-
tion: In January, 1979 the
pro-Cinese Pol Pot regime in
Kampuchea (Cambodia)
was driven from power by a
force composed of insur-
gents led by Heng Samrin
and regular Vietnamese
combat units. Hanoi's in-
volvement allowed Pol Pot to
argue that his ouster resulted
from Vietnamese aggression
and as such his repre-
sentatives remained entitled
to their seats in international
organizations. For months
Sthe Nonaligned Movement
grappled unsuccessfully with
this credentials dispute. The
solution adopted at a pre-
summit meeting of its Coor-
dinating Bureau in Sri Lanka (June, 1979)
was at best inconclusive; Pol Pot's delega-
tion was seated, but was not allowed to
participate in the proceedings and was in-
formed that the final choice between the
claimants would be left up to the Havana
conferees.
Prior to the summit, Cuba, which had
made no effort to conceal its pro-Heng
Samrin sympathies, announced that pur-
suant to its duties as host state to chair the
conference and given the uncertainty as to
CAl?BBEAN I J1E/21









whom represented the country, it was re-
fusing to accredit either Kampuchean
delegation. Both parties were allowed to
come to Havana, but when Pol Pot's dele-
gates tried to attend an official meeting, the
Cubans would not let them in. These ac-
tions enraged the anti-Castro elements,
who maintained that the Sri Lanka proce-
dure was still operative and thus Fidel was
using his leadership position to impose his
ideological preferences on the Movement.
The Kampuchean question was not in
itself important; basically it was a pro-
cedural issue whose resolution would not
have any long-term effect on the
Nonaligned Movement. It became crucial at
the 6th Summit because it quickly devel-
oped into a test of strength between the
Cuban and Yugoslavian factions, whose
outcome would indicate which way the
political tide was flowing
Despite a massive campaign to reinstate
the Sri Lanka arrangement until a final de-
termination could be made, Havana's view-
point prevailed and it was decided that the
Kampuchean seat would remain empty
until a committee made a recommenda-
tion to the foreign ministers of member
states at their next meeting in 1981.
Havana seems to have won this en-
counter not only substantively, but also
strategically, since it's opponents were
forced to spend immense amounts of time
and energy defending a regime which,
given its flagrant human rights violations,
was repugnant to many. Castro's victory
came back to haunt him because his tough
tactics he is reported to have grossly
insulted his adversaries by labelling them
imperialistic stooges and as presiding of-
ficer to have simply declared that a consen-
sus exited for the Cuban position when in
fact none did pushed some into a ven-
detta to destroy his leadership.
Membership Qualifications/Eqypt's
Expulsion: The basic problem here is how
nonalignment the fundamental criterion
for Movement membership is to be de-
fined. So far the organization has operated
on the premise, strongly supported by the
Yugoslavian faction, that any country which
does not belong to multilateral military al-
liances concluded in the context of great
power conflicts would be deemed
nonaligned. The Cubans, however, have
long ridiculed the idea that simply to stand
aloof from superpower alliances is
synonymous with nonalignment, insisting
instead that certain political factors must be
entered into the equation. They want the
Movement to state unequivocally its basic
objectives (i.e., eradication of Western im-
perialism and neocolonialism), to formu-
late an action program to achieve them (i.e.,
cooperation with the Soviet bloc), and to
regard as nonaligned only those nations
which subscribe to these policies.
Ironically Cuba itself was threatened with
22/CAI?BBEAN PEVIEW


a review of its nonaligned status as the
conference opened, the catalyst being
Washington's charge that a Soviet combat
brigade of 2,000-3,000 men was gar-
risoned on the island and had been there
for many years. This allegation reinforced
the opinion of some members that Havana,
even though not a formal signatory to the
Warsaw Pact, rather than a nonaligned gov-
ernment, is, for all practical purposes, an
ally of the USSR. At the 1978 Belgrade
conference the anti-Castro leaders focused
on Cuba's troops in Africa to prove their
point. Now they had new ammunition. Even



Should the nonaligned
nations consider the
Soviet-led socialist bloc
their natural ally in their
campaign against US
imperialism?



Tito, who had not participated extensively in
this attack at Belgrade, is reported to have
told Castro that such a Russian presence
clearly violated established principles of
nonalignment. Havana quickly went on the
offensive with assurances that it was purely
a training brigade and accusations that the
entire "crisis" had been engineered by the
US to destroy the summit by slandering its
host. This counterattack defused the situa-
tion and the troop issue faded from the
scene as quickly as it had appeared.
The delegates were, however, forced to
consider a more politicized conception of
nonalignment by the Arab states' demand
that Egypt be banished from the Movement
for its separate peace with Israel. The Arabs
pointed out that the organization had re-
peatedly condemned Zionism as a form of
racism and Israel as an imperialist power,
calling upon its members to support the
Arabs' struggle to achieve a comprehensive
Middle East settlement. Sadat, they com-
plained, broke ranks by concluding a treaty
with the Begin government based on the
Camp David accords. This was, they con-
tended, grounds for explosion.
The Yugoslav-led traditionalists rejected
the Arab rationale because given their view
of nonalignment as non-participation in
great power alliances, Egypt qualifies for
membership no matter what its posture
toward Israel. Conversely one would have
expected strong Cuban backing for the
Arabs. After all, their ideas on defining
nonalignment were practically identical and
very bad blood had characterized
Havana/Cairo relations ever since the 1978
Belgrade meeting. But such was not the


case. The farthest Cuba was willing to go
was to call for censuring the Sadat regime
and to promote sanctions short of ouster.
This moderation was rooted in prag-
matism; Havana knew that the votes for
expulsion were not there because most
black African states (whose total bloc en-
compasses 46 of the Movement's 95
members) were strongly opposed in this
case. Rather than alienate them in a hope-
less crusade, the Cubans avoided an all-out
confrontation. Consequently, Egypt es-
caped suspension, although the Camp
David accords were officially condemned
and Cairo was placed on probation for 18
months during which its foreign policy -
especially its relations with Israel will be
monitored by a special committee and any
recommendations for further punitive ac-
tion will be submitted to the 1981 foreign
ministers' meeting.
While this decision represented a step
toward more stringent membership criteria
(by establishing the precedent that the
Movement expects its participants to sup-
port its position on specific, important
matters and might apply sanctions, con-
ceivably including expulsion, to those who
do not comply), it certainly was not an
unequivocal endorsement of Cuba's
politicized definition of nonalignment. In
fact, the conference's Final Declaration,
which will serve as the organization's guid-
ing document until the 1982 summit, reaf-
firms the conventional, Yugoslav-backed
viewpoint, stating that a country qualifies for
admission if it has adopted or is tending
toward an independent foreign policy
based on coexistence of states with differ-
ent political and social systems, consis-
tently supports national independence
movements, and does not have military
relationships concluded in the context of
great-Power conflicts.
This ideological open door is incompati-
ble with Havana's desire for increased
political homogeneity within the Move-
ment. Castro has inherited an organization
still committed to heterogeneity whose
polyglot nature has always forced its head
to operate as a conciliatory broker between
highly diverse factions, seeking primarily to
avoid internal clashes by shepherding the
flock to the safe middle ground where
rhetoric replaces action. Such a role does
not suit Fidel's temperament, style, or inter-
national leadership aspirations. Perhaps by
astute maneuvering and the sheer force of
his charisma he can break out of that mold,
but the effort will test to the limit his skills at
bureaucratic in-fighting.
Bloc Relations: Unquestionably, bloc
relations was the summit's centerpiece
controversy; it permeated the battle over
the content and wording of the Final Decla-
ration and was at the core of every dis-
agreement between the pro- and anti-
Cuban factions. The dispute revolved









around two interrelated questions: Are the
great powers that pursue imperialistic
policies threatening Third World states?
And what type of relations should the
Nonaligned Movement, representing the
developing countries, establish with the
world's major political groupings? In the
media and among the conferees them-
selves the issue was stated more bluntly -
should the nonaligned nations consider the
Soviet-led socialist bloc their natural ally in
their campaign against US imperialism?
The Yugoslavs feel that both Moscow and
Washington pose a danger to Third World
countries. At first, they point out, the Move-
ment concentrated on exposing and com-
batting Western imperialism when most
members were Afro-Asian states who had
long suffered under and only recently es-
caped from European colonialism. But one
must, they say, recognize that the USSR is
also expansionistic, currently attempting to
enlarge its sphere of influence by engaging
in a systematic global policy of politi-
cal/military interventionism. Thus the or-
ganization must supplement its traditional
anti-Americanism with concern for
"hegemonism," the code word used to refer
to Russian imperialism. In short, tilt a bit to
the West to put the Eastern bloc in its proper
perspective. Tito, seeing such a realign-
ment as imperative to maintaining the
Movement's integrity, pushed hard to have
the Final Declaration condemn bloc poli-
tics in any form and commit members to
opposing Soviet hegemonism as well as US
imperialism. This would also, he hoped,
convince Castro that it would be futile, given
the majority's expressed preference for an
even-handed posture, to try to use his
leadership prerogatives to nudge the
nonaligned closer to Moscow.
Cuba's position is predicated on making
a sharp distinction between anti-blocism
(i.e., opposition to the existence of great
power alliance systems) and anti-
superpowerism (i.e., regarding those who
head these alliances to be ipso facto your
adversary). They consider anti-blocism a
sound idea, supporting fully the demand for
an end to the division of the world into hos-
tile armed camps. However, they insist that
the Nonaligned Movement's attitude con-
cerning the great powers must be based on
their actual behavior toward the developing
nations. Such an evaluation will show with
whom its interests coincide and it can then
proceed accordingly. And as far as Havana
is concerned, the conclusion is obvious -
the Western states have a long history of
imperialistic buccaneering while Moscow
has always stood behind national liberation
movements the movement should,
therefore, recognize the Soviet-led socialist
bloc as its natural ally in its struggle against
the United States and its capitalist cohorts.
Accepting and acting upon this idea does
not, contends Cuba, make one aligned with


or a puppet of Russia. Rather, it means one
is realistic, understanding that nonalign-
ment is not and was never intended to be
synonymous with neutrality.
The focus of the clash between these
contending perspectives was the 6th
Summit's Final Declaration. The Cubans
had written a draft strongly ratifying their
line on bloc relations. It included the con-
troversial "natural ally" concept and, said its
detractors, analyzed all key politi-
cal/economic questions from a blatantly
Soviet rather than an impartial viewpoint.
The Tito faction was determined to rework it
so that the version finally accepted as the


Movement's official policy, which Castro will
be required to respect and implement,
would clearly reflect their ideas.
Initially the Final Declaration's political
section reads like a Yugoslavian treatise. In
its first 20 paragraphs dealing mostly with
general principles, hegemonism and bloc-
ism are routinely included in its litany of
evils. For example, paragraph 11 states that
the organization's essential objectives in-
clude: "... elimination of imperialistic and
hegemonistic policies and all other forms
of expansionism and foreign domination
..." and then goes on to say that: "... the
Sixth Conference reaffirmed that the quin-


Yugoslavia's President Josip Tito speaks to the Sixth Nonaligned Summit Meeting in Havana.
Cuba's President Fidel Castro listens attentively. Wide World Photos

CAl?BBEAN tFIVIeW/23









tessence of nonalignment, in accordance
with its original principles and essential
character, involves the struggle against im-
perialism, colonialism, neo-colonialism,
apartheid, racism including zionism and all
other forms of foreign aggression, occu-
pation, domination, interference, or
hegemony, as well as against great-Power
and bloc policies." Havana's opponents
succeeded further in preventing the term
"natural ally" from entering the Movement's
official vocabulary; nowhere in the entire
Declaration is that particular phrase used or
even strongly alluded to.
The tone does, however, clearly change
as one moves into the latter 265 para-
graphs, becoming overwhelmingly anti-
Western and anti-American. The United
States is repeatedly singled out, sometimes
by the use of code words such as "im-
perialist" or "neocolonialist" and often by
name, for criticism on specific issues.
Washington is, among other things, de-
nounced for: supporting the Pretoria re-
gime, thereby incurring responsibility for
the maintenance of racist oppression and
the criminal policy of apartheid (paragraph
74); playing a major role in preventing a just
and comprehensive Mideast peace settle-
ment (paragraph 100); becoming through
its military aid programs a party to Israel's
attacks on southern Lebanon, which are
labelled tantamount to genocide of the
Lebanese and Palestinian peoples (para-
graph 117); perpetuating Puerto Rico's co-
lonial status (paragraph 152); and unjustly
blockading and otherwise acting hostilely
toward Cuba (paragraph 155).
The Soviet Union, on the other hand, is
never condemned by name, although it is
sometimes implicitly chided, but always in a
manner encouraging it to refrain from pur-
suing a certain course in the future rather
than castigating it for its past or present
behavior. And occasionally the Eastern bloc
is actually praised, as when, during a dis-
cussion of the need for solidarity with Afri-
can liberation movements, the Declaration
applauds the role that "... the socialist
countries ... play in supporting this strug-
gle, especially in terms of the aid given to
the peoples of Zimbabwe, Namibia, and
South Africa" (paragraph 36).
Even more intriguing is the admittedly
vague comment in paragraph 20 that: "The
Conference acknowledges the cooperation
received by nonaligned countries from
other peace-, freedom-, and justice-loving,
democratic and progressive states and
forces in the achievement of their goals and
objectives, and expresses its willingness to
continue to co-operate with them on the
basis of equality." Given the document's
anti-Westernism and the fact that pro-
Moscow Marxists commonly use the term
"peace-loving, democratic, progressive
states" to refer to the Soviet bloc, one could
construe this statement to mean that the
24/CAl?BBEAN rEVIEW


Movement is not ruling out the possibility of
close collaboration with Russia.
In any case, anyone reading the Final
Declaration cannot help but conclude that
as a whole it is much harder on Washington
than it is on the Kremlin, as did New York
Times reporter Alan Riding, who wrote that
"The wide-ranging declaration... was more
stridently anti-Western than the statements
from previous conferences," and Karen
DeYoung of the Washington Post, whose
final dispatch from the summit observed
that "... what has emerged from this six-day



The Cubans had written a
draft strongly ratifying their
line on bloc relations. It
included the controversial
"natural ally" concept and,

said its detractors,
analyzed all key
political/economic
questions from a blatantly
Soviet rather than an
impartial viewpoint.



meeting is a policy against the United
States on every world issue ..."
Basically, then, the Cubans got what they
wanted an affirmation of their contention
that the capitalist West in general and the
US in particular still constitute the enemy
against whom the developing nations must
concentrate all their anti-imperialist ener-
gies. Havana emerged triumphant in the
overall substantive war with the Yugoslavian
faction by preventing any serious anti-
Sovietism from creeping into the
Movement's official policy statement and by
preserving, if not intensifying, the
nonaligned's traditional anti-Western
stance.

The Post Summit Future
Lost in all the rhetoric and headlines sur-
rounding the 6th Summit's three major
disputes were several other issues which
also deserve some attention since they too
could have a significant impact on Havana's
long-term ability to provide the Third World
with strong, radical leadership. Probably the
two most important are the decision to ex-
pand the Coordinating Bureau and the New
International Economic Order.
The Coordinating Bureau has functioned
as a loose steering committee between
summits. Along with the Movement's
chairman, it is responsible for seeing that


the Final Declaration's resolutions are im-
plemented and for formulating the organi-
zation's stands on new issues which arise.
Both Cuba and Yugoslavia agreed that the
Bureau needed to be strengthened. The
conference expanded it from 25 to 36
members (with 17 seats going to Africa, 12
to Asia, 5 to Latin America, 1 to Europe, and
1 being split with an African and a European
country each holding it for 11/2 years). The
question, of course, is what effect this move
might have on Havana's leadership
capabilities. Afriendly Bureau would bolster
Fidel's position, making it easier for him to
take the nonaligned in the direction he
wants them to go while conversely a hostile
group could, as the Yugoslavians would
prefer, transform him into a mere fig-
urehead by playing an obstructionist role.
As of early November 1979, 31 openings
on the enlarged Bureau had been filled.
Based on the positions which the occu-
pants took in the summit's main battles, 6
seats seem to be strongly pro-Cuban, 7
moderately pro-Cuban, 5 moderately
anti-Cuban, and 4 strongly anti-Cuban with
5 uncertain and 3 which cannot be labelled
because they are shared by countries with
various proclivities. When Havana's 13-9
edge is combined with the fact that the
Yugoslavians were unsuccessful in trying to
restrict the group's flexibility by tightening
up its procedural rules, it seems likely that
Fidel will not be faced with an intractable
Coordinating Bureau.
The demand for a New International
Economic Order (NIEO) is one of the few
matters on which practically all Third World
nations not only agree, but also are willing
to take a hard line because, as even a cur-
sory reading of the Final Declaration's eco-
nomic section makes clear, they are in-
creasingly frustrated over the lack of
progress toward this goal. In paragraph
after paragraph, there are angry references
to the West's intransigence, to the persisting
structural maladjustments in present inter-
national relations, to the stalemates in
negotiations, and to the necessity to bar-
gain for their economic emancipation from
a position of strength. The NIEO is, there-
fore, a potentially powerful tool for unifying
and mobilizing the Movement behind
strong leadership. And no one knows this
better than Havana.
Since 1973 it has, except for a brief hiatus
during which it concentrated on political
developments in Africa and its heavy mili-
tary involvement there, been at the forefront
of efforts to rally the developing countries in
a crusade for drastic changes in North-
South economic relations. In any case,
Castro insists that if necessary the Third
World must be willing to take to the bar-
ricades. This sentiment was evident in his
October 12, 1979 speech to the United Na-
tions where he said:
"I speak on behalf of the world's children










who do not even have a piece of bread; I
speak on behalf of the sick who have no
medicine; I speak on behalf of those who
have been denied the right to life and
human dignity.
"Enough of words! We need deeds.
Enough of abstractions! We need concrete
action. Enough of speaking about a spec-
ulative new international economic order
which nobody understands! We must
speak about a real, objective order which
everybody understands.
"I have not come here as a prophet of
revolution; nor have I come here to ask or
wish that the world be violently convulsed. 1
have come to speak of peace and coopera-
tion among the peoples, and I have come to
warn that, if we do not eliminate our present
injustices and inequities peacefully and
wisely, the future will be apocalyptic."
What deeds, what concrete actions are
contemplated? At a November 1979 con-
ference in New York a Cuban government
official indicated that Havana would,
among other things, encourage the devel-
oping countries to undertake extensive na-
tionalizations of multinational corporations
and form raw materials cartels to redistri-
bute global wealth through increased prices
a la OPEC. Furthermore it would like to
enlist the oil producers as allies, having


them use the petroleum weapon to wring
concessions from the Western industri-
alized nations. In short, the Cubans intend
to play hardball on the NIEO, with their
major push being likely to come at the 6th
UNCTAD (UN Conference on Trade and
Development) conference tentatively
scheduled for Havana. They hope to use it
as a forum to mobilize the Nonaligned
Movement behind a radical NIEO position
and perhaps by so doing, generate some
spillover support for their stance on such
other issues as bloc relations and member-
ship qualifications.
Although the 6th Summit must be
judged a partial success for Havana's
foreign policy and its Third World leader-
ship aspirations, the Cubans did not win
every encounter nor achieve maximum
satisfaction on all issues, but generally they
created momentum toward their position
on the crucial questions and seemed to
have laid a solid foundation within the
Movement on which to build their influence.
Yet only four months later (January 1980)
all these efforts were seriously jeopardized
by Russia's intervention in Afghanistan and
Havana's failure to condemn it. Cuba, as
opposed to most non-aligned countries,
voted against a UN General Assembly res-
olution deploring Moscow's actions (the


final tally was 104 in favor, 18 against, 18
abstaining, 12 absent or not voting). Al-
though it sided with the Soviets, Havana
insisted it was doing so not because it con-
doned their Afghanistan escapade, but be-
cause the whole UN exercise was thought
to be a self-serving attempt by the US to
revitalize its imperialism by resurrecting the
Cold War. However, since an abstention
would have been more consistent with this
argument, its negative vote gave credence
in many eyes to the charge that its primary
loyalty is to the Socialist Bloc. All this has
hurt the Cubans. It cost them the seat on the
UN Security Council for which they fought
so hard. It has reduced their support within
the Non-Aligned Movement, although it is
too early to say whether the erosion has
been so severe as to have effectively de-
stroyed their leadership capabilities en toto.
What can definitely be said is that Havana's
future in Third World affairs is much more
clouded today than it was in mid-
September 1979.

H. Michael Erisman teaches Political Science
at Mercyhurst College, Pennsylvania. This
article is a follow-up to his essay, "Cuba's
Struggle for Third World Leadership," which
appeared in the Summer 1979 issue of Carib-
bean Review


NO MAN'S
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Combat and Identity
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ERIC J. LEED




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I _










Cuba



and the US

On the Possibilities of Rapproachement

By Max Azicri


A after twenty-one years
of revolutionary gov-
ernment in Cuba it is
still necessary to raise the
question of rapprochement
between it and the United
States. That the reestablish-
ment of diplomatic relations
and the lifting of the Ameri-
can economic embargo
against Cuba have not al-
ready taken place is in-
triguing; particularly so when
both countries exist within 90
miles of each other. Is it be-
cause the Cuban revolution
is socialist and the regime
has aligned itself with other
socialist countries, particu-
larly the Soviet Union? Or is it
because of the capitalistic
character and interests of the
American democratic sys-
tem, which have pitted these
countries against each other
in what seems so far to be
politically irreconcilable
terms?
The inimical character, to
United States and Western
interests, of Cuban actions in
Africa, Central America, the
Caribbean, and other
theatres of international poli-
tics, is the argument fre-
quently given to explain the
non-diplomatic, non-rec-
ognition arrangement. More
recently, American leaders
offered a public display of
deep concern for the Brigade of Russian
troops stationed in Cuba, once its presence
was "discovered" and officially recognized.
Over and over again Cuba is charged with
playing the role of Soviet surrogate, sending
troops overseas in what has been described
as "international adventurism." Meanwhile,
the Cubans justify their actions as com-
mensurate to their commitment to proleta-
rian internationalism, meaning their coun-
try's historical duty to support wars of na-
tional liberation and anti-imperialist strug-
26/CABBEAN P IEW


gles, to the point of officially recognizing it
as a national foreign policy goal in the 1976
socialist constitution (Article 12).
For the United States, the very existence
of socialist Cuba may serve as a catalyst
bringing to the fore America's lack of flexi-
bility in foreign policy, particularly in the
Western Hemisphere. Even though mod-
ernization and development are officially
recognized goals for Latin America (e.g.,
the Alliance for Progress and a myriad of
other American sponsored programs), they


are so as long as those de-
velopmental schemes are
conceived and implemented
within a private enterprise
paradigm. Given the nature
of things, Cuba's Marxist-
Leninist model for state- and
nation-building is anathema
for US decision-makers. The
fear of "another Cuba" in
Latin America has been
haunting the US for the last
two decades.
For Cuba, however, its
7 early revolutionary years
seemed to be not only the
founding years, but a strug-
gle for survival to overcome
American diplomatic, mili-
tary and economic sanc-
tions. At face value, this
period suggested the notion
that once the revolution was
secured, the enmity and
confrontation with the United
States would subside, if only
gradually, as far as Cuba was
concerned. The real nature
of the conflict proved to be
deeper and more complex
than that. For one, the revo-
lutionary ethos informing
Cuban domestic political life
and foreign policy initiatives
are substantively more per-
.' vasive in their opposition to
the United States, its inter-
ests and policies, than a
S temporary situation might
indicate.
Once Cuba became the kind of actor in
international politics that she has become
in the 1970s, the intrinsically unavoidable
nature of this conflict contributed to per-
petuate itself. The United States is more
likely to come to terms with the existence of
a socialist Cuba if Cuba can be "im-
mobilized" in international affairs a
highly unlikely proposition. On the other
hand, from a Cuban standpoint, rap-
prochement with its powerful neighbor im-
plies that the latter has finally learned to live










with the practical consequences of the is-
land's commitment to proletarian interna-
tionalism another highly unlikely propo-
sition indeed. In sum, an American about-
face on this matter is not promissory in the
near future and, moreover, is worsening at
this very moment with events in Iran, Af-
ghanistan, and the Middle East polarizing
the world in general.


Cuban Foreign Policy
The 1960s were difficult years for Cuba,
internally and externally. In the face of
American containment policies, the major
priority for the Cuban leaders in the 1960s
was the survival of the revolution itself. The
regime's survival and the country's devel-
opment economically, socially, and
politically became intertwined, hard-to-
distinguish goals which the government
had to pursue within limitations dictated by
the country's scarce human and natural
resources.
Thus, one could wonder how much
Cuban-Soviet policy from the outset has
been determined by its own survival and
developmental needs, or by the imperatives
of its Marxist-Leninist ideology and
priorities required by a socialist polity? By
the same token, it seems pertinent to ask
how much American antagonistic policies
toward the revolution entrenched and
pushed Cuba further into the socialist
camp?
At the time of the missile crisis (October
14-28, 1962) after actually refusing any
verification of the agreement reached be-
tween President Kennedy and Prime
Minister Kruschev regarding the disman-
tling of the Soviet offensive weaponry on
Cuban soil and its shipment back to the
Soviet Union -, Castro put forth Cuba's
position for negotiation with the United
States. Havana's contended that Washing-
ton should be willing to: 1) end the eco-
nomic embargo and all other forms of
commercial pressure; 2) end all subversive
activities (this included, stopping organiz-
ing mercenary invasions, infiltrating spies
and saboteurs, and the dropping and land-
ing of arms by air and sea); 3) end pirate
attacks against Cuba from US bases in
Florida or elsewhere in the Caribbean; 4)
end all violations of air and naval space by
military aircraft and ships (United States
surveillance of Cuba actually increased as a
consequence of the missile crisis); and 5)
return Guantanamo to the Cuban govern-
ment which continued to claim that the
United States naval base was illegal.
Until the summer of 1968 when the
Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia by
Warsaw Pact countries took place Cuba
and the USSR had different, rather conflic-
tive policies in Latin America. With initia-
tives such as the Tricontinental Conference
(1966), and the foundation of the Organiza-


tion of Latin America Solidarity, OLAS
(1967), Havana was exercising a leading
role supporting leftist guerrilla and revolu-
tionary groups in the region which
brought a share of conflicts, accusations,
and counteraccusations between some of
these groups, their leaders and Cuba.
Meanwhile, Moscow was actively seeking
an accommodation with some of the very
same regimes that were at odds with Cuba,
guaranteeing the survival and even the le-
gality of local communist parties. After seri-
ous economic shortcomings, which
brought an increase in Soviet leverage in



The US is more likely to
come to terms with the
existence of a socialist
Cuba if Cuba can be
immobilized in international
affairs a highly unlikely
proposition.



Cuba, and the debacle and death of Che
Guevara in Bolivia in 1967, Havana's milit-
ant support for guerrilla movements in
Latin America decreased noticeably, even-
tually faltering almost to a stop.
A new policy towards Latin America was
in the making. After the Castro, Guevara,
and Regis Debray revolutionary-romantic
period, Havana sought pragmatic relations
with other Latin American countries, ac-
cepting first the "progressive military" gov-
ernments, secondly the "democratic
socialist" ones, and thirdly, the "conven-
tional military regimes and representative
democracies." Later, the common de-
nominator for all Cuban preconditions to
improve relations with its neighbors was
that the country "behave independently
from the United States." This policy paid off
handsomely; in mid-1972 Cuba had rela-
tions with only two Latin American coun-
tries Mexico and Chile -, three years
later it had increased to eleven although
Chile broke relations with Cuba after Al-
lende was overthrown in 1973. Such coun-
tries as Peru, Barbados, Jamaica,
Trinidad-Tobago, Guyana, Argentina,
Panama, the Bahamas, Colombia, and
Venezuela reestablished relations, while
others indicated their willingness to estab-
lish an element of rapport with Cuba. At that
time Chile, Paraguay, Brazil, and Nicaragua
were hostile.
The increasing acceptability of Cuba by
its neighbors led to the July, 1975 OAS
resolution reversing the embargo imposed
on Cuba under United States auspices. In


recognition to the new hemispheric trends,
Washington announced that it was granting
trading licenses to foreign subsidiaries of
United States firms selling goods to Cuba
whenever this was in agreement with local
law; however, the United States embargo of
Cuba continued.
Notwithstanding the importance of these
political changes among Latin American
countries, Cuba's opposition to even con-
sider returning to the OAS went unabated,
claiming that the United States's "im-
perialists and their puppets" would have to
leave first. Havana's position on this matter
is well known, it has spoken frequently of
forming a new hemispheric organization
without the United States, such as the Or-
ganization of Revolutionary States of Latin
America or the Union of Peoples of Latin
America.
During official visits to Chile (1971) and
Bulgaria (1972), Castro outlined a set of
conditions for a rapprochment with Wash-
ington: 1) an end to the aggressive war
which the United States was waging in Viet
Nam; 2) an end to United States interven-
tion in Latin America; 3) lifting the eco-
nomic embargo; and 4) getting the naval
base out of Guantanamo.

The Cuban Policy of
Nixon and Ford
During his administration, Nixon carried
the same old policy and prejudices toward
Cuba that characterized Washington's
stand throughout the 1960s, his most im-
portant initiative being the anti-hijacking
agreement. Whatever changes took place
during those years toward Havana, they
came from sources other than the White
House. Despite having personal friends
closely associated with conservative ele-
ments from the Cuban community in the
United States, and the fact that Cuban
exiles' terrorism increased during Nixon's
administration, there were Congressional
initiates seeking ways for a reconciliation
with Havana. In 1971, during the hearings
held by the Senate on the airplane hijacking
agreement, Senators J. William Fulbright
(D., Arkansas), Frank Church (D., Idaho),
and Edward Kennedy (D., Massachusetts)
requested that steps should be taken to
"review US policy toward Cuba with the
objective of beginning a process which
would lead to the reestablishment of nor-
mal relations between the United States
and Cuba." In September 1971 a Congres-
sional hearing was held on "United States
Policy Toward Cuba."
Contrary to the conciliatory implications
of such Congressional initiatives, in 1972
Nixon reiterated again his uncompromising
position: "There will be no change, no
change whatever in our policy toward Cuba
unless and until and I do not anticipate
this will happen Castro changes his pol-
icy toward Latin America and the US."
CAIBBEAN lVIW/27










Nevertheless, the seriousness of re-
peated air piracy cases moved both coun-
tries to sign in February, 1973 a "Memoran-
dum of Understanding" on the hijacking of
aircraft and vessels. This agreement was
called off by Castro after sabotage against a
Cubana Airlines plane on 6 October 1976
which exploded in mid-air off the coast of
Barbados, killing 73 persons. In spite of
what Cuba considered CIA complicity with
Cuban terrorist groups and, therefore,
United States's violation of the agreement,
the position taken by Havana was that they
would behave "as if the agreement was still
in force."
There had been some minor conciliatory
steps even before the hijacking agreement.
In 1971 there were exchange visits an
American volleyball team to Cuba and a
Cuban baseball team to Puerto Rico. In
1972 an American delegation participated
in an international oceanographic confer-
ence held in Havana. Much more significant
was the visit to Cuba (July 8 to 26,1974) of
Pat M. Holt, chief of staff of the Senate
Foreign Relations Committee, and his en-
couraging report regarding opportunities
for rapprochement.
The Watergate political scandal consti-
tuted a deep crisis for the United States.
With a non-elected new President, Vice-
President Gerald Ford, in the White House.
He possessed limited, if any, knowledge of
international politics. The towering figure
for this period was, without any question,
Secretary of State Henry Kissinger.
Nonetheless, there was considerable
political action regarding Cuba during the
beginning of the Ford administration. This
was exemplified by such indicators as, the
number of times the issue of normalization
of relations reappeared in the legislative
agenda and the number of Congressmen
and senators who visited the island.
After a trip by a study mission of United
States Congressmen, New York Repre-
sentative Jonathan Bingham, expressing
what appeared to be a growing feeling
among legislators visiting Cuba, stated that
"support is strong for the government and
cooperation with government programs is
widespread." In October 1974 the Com-
mission on United States-Latin American
Relations, under the chairmanship of Am-
bassador Sol M. Linowitz, published a re-
port urging the Ford administration to end
the trade embargo and the ban on travel
and cultural exchange, without even ex-
pecting a quid pro quo from Cuba in return.
A second report published in 1976 ex-
pressed similar conclusions.
In addition to domestic political pressure
supporting normalization, there was inter-
national pressure as well. Canada and some
Latin American countries expressed their
dissatisfaction with having to request
special permission to conduct business
with Cuba every time that a US subsidiary in
28/CAI?BBEAN FPVIEW


those countries wanted to have a transac-
tion with the island.
This was a period in which Kissinger also
sounded conciliatory: "we see no virtue in
perpetual antagonism between the United
States and Cuba." A decision on resump-
tion of relations, according to him, would be
"heavily influenced by the external policies
of the Cuban government," particularly in
relation to its "military relationship with
other countries outside the hemisphere."
Three important initiatives were under-
taken by President Ford which moved the
normalization of relations issue from dead



For Somalia, the Cuban
troops were not
internationalist fighters but
mercenaries. For the
United States, the Cubans
were Soviet surrogates,
this time fighting openly
with their Soviet partners.


center: 1) a series of private, informal
meetings with Cuban government officials
in late 1974 (a sounding board of mutual
perceptions and aspirations, without any
official commitment); 2) as of July 1975,
removing the United States opposition to
lifting the OAS embargo against Cuba; and
3) in a substantive policy shift, granting
licenses to US subsidiaries in foreign coun-
tries for trade with Cuba.
Castro was in the forefront welcoming
these initiatives as steps in the right direc-
tion while, at the same time, stressing the
point that the embargo had to be lifted in its
entirety. President Ford, however, was an-
noyed by Cuba's diplomatic maneuvering
at the United Nations in support of the
independence of Puerto Rico. In an inter-
view with Pierre Salinger for L'Express
(Paris) in June 1975, Ford underrated the
prospects for normalization stating that
"there is no sign yet that the Cuban gov-
ernment has made any significant gesture
as far as the United States is concerned."
This time Castro's response was in kind.
He declared that "solidarity with the people
of Puerto Rico" was a basic principle of his
government. "Let it be known," he added,
"that... there can never be an improvement
of relations with Cuba if such an improve-
ment presupposes the renunciation of our
basic principles." Thus from one kind of
rhetoric to another, from conciliatory to
adversarial actions, the pendulum repre-
senting normalization of relations was
readily swinging back to the hostility end of
the spectrum after a brief residence in the


conciliatory zone.
Caught in the middle of these acrimonial
exchanges, in August 1975, the United
States Senator from Alabama and Chair-
man of the Senate Foreign Relations
Committee, John Sparkman, was rein-
forcing the positive side of Cuban-
American relations. Sparkman acknowl-
edged the fact that Cuba had returned to
the United States two million dollars in ran-
som money obtained from two hijackers of
a Southern Airways plane in 1972 after it
had landed in Havana. According to him,
this action constituted "very solid evidence
that the Cuban government is genuinely
interested in pursuing a policy of improved
relations with the United States."
This was not enough for Washington,
however. Besides supporting a permanent
observer status position for the Puerto
Rican independence movement at the
United Nations in a decolonization com-
mittee, Cuba was also sponsoring an Inter-
national Conference in Solidarity with the
Independence of Puerto Rico, which was
held in Havana. These actions were of seri-
ous concern to the United States govern-
ment, evidence once again of Cuba's
meddling in American domestic affairs.
The real confrontation did not come to a
head until October-November 1975. At that
time, after a period of limited military in-
volvement with advisers and training per-
sonnel, Cuba started to send troops to An-
gola in support of Agostinho Neto's Popular
Movement for the Liberation of Angola
(MPLA). Faced with a rapidly deteriorating
military situation, Cuba responded to
Neto's desperate request for help to stop
the advancing forces of the rival National
Front for the Liberation of Angola (FNLA)
led by US-supported Holden Roberto. The
military situation was complicated even
further by the presence of another rival
group, Jona Savimbi's National Union for
the Total Independence of Angola (UNITA)
which operated mostly in the Western part
of the country with support from Zambia.
Cuban troops kept arriving in the ensuing
months. From a reported first contingent of
82 men who left Cuba for Angola on
November 7th, the numbers increased
rapidly to 4000, with 5000 to 7000 addi-
tional troops flown in from Havana thereaf-
ter using Soviet transport. The final victory
of Neto's MPLA became Cuba's most deci-
sive achievement in its new role of Third
World champion. Its advocacy of proleta-
rian internationalism was now recognized
the world over as a commitment producing
tangible results.
These Cuban pluses did not square well
with Washington. Under increasing pres-
sure from conservative presidential candi-
date Ronald Reagan, Ford responded call-
ing Cuba a "regime of aggression," and
referred more specifically to Fidel Castro as
"an international outlaw." Kissinger went










even further, refusing in a statement given
in Dallas to "rule out a US invasion of Cuba
...," adding that, "the Ford administration is
serious in its warning against further Cuban
intervention in Africa." Underscoring his
complete estrangement from any con-
ciliatory thought toward Cuba at the time,
Ford significantly decided during a cam-
paign visit to Miami on February 1976 to
give a final blow to a possible rapproche-
ment under his administration: "Let me say
this categorically," he said, "the United
States will have nothing to do with Castro's
Cuba." For President Ford, this culminated
a series of events which he could neither
master nor even comprehend in its entirety.
For Kissinger, this was the inevitable out-
come whenever a "revolutionary" state be-
haved "ideologically" at a time when
pragmatism and international order were
needed, here was Cuba again spreading the
"ideological virus" of proletarian interna-
tionalism. From the standpoint of a nor-
malization of Cuban-American relations,
Angola was a no-win situation.
Even though Cuban actions in Angola
brought to a standstill whatever policies
were in the making toward normalization,
they had a positive impact in terms of
causing improvement in American policy
vis-a-vis Africa. Washington had to recog-
nize that the presence of Cuban troops in
Africa demanded a change in its African
policy. A reevaluation of the traditional
American posture led to a final recognition
of truly African nationalist aspirations.
Experience has taught Havana that living
up to the tenets of proletarian internation-
alism is a costly proposition. It is not only a
question of the investment of human and
other resources in the war effort and/or in
the Cuban African policy at large, but in
terms of foregoing any possible rap-
prochement with the United States, at least
for the time being.
The Carter Administration
and Cuba
President Carter brought to his administra-
tion three men entrusted with major re-
sponsibilities in foreign policy-making:
Cyrus R. Vance, Secretary of State, well-
known for his professionalism and sensitive
approach to the conduct of foreign policy;
Zbigniev Brzezinski, presidential Assistant
for National Security Affairs, whose abra-
sive anti-Soviet biases, and low regard for
Cuba's socialist regime, were common
knowledge among fellow political scientists
and other political analysts; and Andrew
Young, Ambassador to the United Nations,
an uncompromising and uncompromised
former civil rights activist who seemed
ready to stand for Carter's promise of a new
openness, and a new outlook in American
foreign policy.
The openness and candor of Young
proved to be an embarrassment for Carter


on a number of occasions involving sensi-
tive political matters e.g., "the Cubans
constitute a 'stabilizing influence' in Africa."
Carter originally came to his rescue on a
number of occasions, but by the second
half of Carter's third year in office, Young
was out as Ambassador to the United Na-
tions, and Brzezinski overshadowed even
Vance in delicate foreign policy areas.
The first year of the Carter administration
was the most creative for normalizing rela-
tions than any other period since 1959,
including for that matter Carter's ensuing
years. After a presidential order suspending



The Caribbean is certainly
not a Cuban lake, but it
looks less and less like the
American lake of the past.



reconnaissance flights over Cuba (a sensi-
tive step toward detente) Vance indicated
that there will be "no preconditions for


ence of Cuban troops in Angola, a set of
conditions for normalization was put forth
by the White House (February 12 and 16): 1)
ensuring human rights, i.e., improving the
conditions of political prisoners; 2) remov-
ing troops from Angola; and 3) ceasing
participation in any kind of violence in the
Western Hemisphere. He later stressed
(February 23) the necessity of concrete
evidence of Cuban compliance. In an inter-
view with the Washington bPst, Castro reit-
erated, saying that the United States should
lift the blockade without expecting anything
in return, or setting any preconditions. Ten
days later, Carter clarified the American
position by distinguishing between full
normalization of relations (which implied
satisfying the three conditions as stated)
and an earlier stage, with no preconditions,
with an agenda including fishing rights, an
antihijacking agreement, and visitation
rights. On March 18-26 Carter lifted the ban
on travel to Cuba by American citizens and
the prohibition of spending American dol-
lars and travel checks while in the country.
This allowed American travel agencies to
contract with Cuban tourist offices and to
receive a commission from them, estab-
lishing direct flights between the United


> ,








SJ
1~L~r I


negotiations with Cuba" apparently, the
implication was that a pullout of troops
from Angola was not a prerequisite for
normalization as it was expected under
Ford and Kissinger. In a CBS-TV interview
(February 9th), Castro praised Carter as a
man of moral standards who could be
helpful in bringing to an end so many years
of hostility.
Just a few days later, however, as part of
Carter's unfolding international campaign
for human rights, and demonstrating a
permanent American concern for the pres-


States and Cuba through chartered aircraft
and vessels. Past practices of across-the-
board refusals of US visas to Cubans wish-
ing to visit the United States were stopped.
Almost immediately Cubans (athletes, art-
ists, academicians, scientists, and different
performing groups: the Cuban National
Ballet and its director Alicia Alonso, musical
groups like Grupo Moncada, Los Papines,
and Irakere) began to appear in sports
competitions, theaters, campuses, and
conferences across the country. Moreover,
Continued on page.50
CAI?BBEAN IEVIEW/29









Dance



and



Diplomacy

The Cuban National Ballet
By Aaron Segal


he Cuban National Ballet is Cuba's
single most outstanding export. Re-
nowned in the major cities of Eastern
and Western Europe, Latin America, and
the Soviet Union, the Cuban Ballet recently
completed its second triumphal tour of the
United States. It is the only Caribbean cul-
tural group to win global acclaim. It is also
one of the most effective vehicles of Cuban
cultural diplomacy.
The success of the Cuban ballet is in
pronounced contrast to the mediocrity and
drabness that characterizes much of con-
temporary Cuban culture. Although there
are individual talents and outstanding per-
formances in films, art, music, and litera-
ture, and a refreshing distance from the
aesthetic canons of socialist realism which
prevail elsewhere, Cuba's overall cultural
record since 1960 emphasizes quantity
rather than quality. Censorship and political
pressures have taken their toll of writers,
playwrights, and poets film-makers have
been hobbled by official insistence on "rev-
olutionary" subjects, and the visual arts and
architecture have not flourished. It is only in
the unlikely medium of classical ballet,
whose roots in pre-1960 Cuban society
were most fragile that a genuinely national
and exportable art form has developed.
One obvious explanation for the success
of the ballet in contrast to the other arts is
the drive and magnetic personality of Alicia
Alonso, the 58 year old prima ballerina,
choreographer, director, producer, and
founder of the company. If Fidel Castro Ruiz
is a unique Cuban revolutionary caudillo
then Alicia Alonso is his female counterpart
for the ballet. Born and bred in Havana, she
left for New York and a career in classical
ballet and Broadway musicals during the
1940s. Already an international star she
labored with limited support and response
to plant the seeds of ballet in Cuban soil
from 1946-1960. Constantly struggling to
combine teaching, performing, and touring
Alicia Alonso single-handedly kept a semi-
professional company alive during those
hard-pressed years. Lacking salaries, a reg-
ular theater, an audience, and even local
male dancers in a society which equated
ballet and male homosexuality, Alicia
Alonso's sacrifice of her own international
career was based on her determination to
30/CAiBBEAN reVIE


ILLUSTRATION BY ELEANOR P BONNER
establish a truly national, classical ballet
company. Broadway or the chorus line of
Havana's tourist-trap nightclubs were not
for her. Alicia committed her talent to
bringing ballet to Cuba; an objective that
seemed unreachable to many of her most
stalwart admirers.
The historic meeting in 1960 between
Alicia Alonso and Fidel Castro has become
legend. They captivated one another; two
charismatic personalities locked into a na-
tionalistic embrace. Fidel promised a
theater, subsidy, regular salaries, cheap
tickets for working-class audiences, a


proper training school, ballet and dance in
the schools, recruitment of young dancers
on a systematic national basis, and much,
much more although not all on the first
encounter. Alicia Alonso's struggling,
fragile troupe became the Ballet Nacional
de Cuba, the first and only such group in
the Caribbean.
Assured of funds, facilities and dancers,
Alicia Alonso was free for the first time to
concentrate on substance; making the
company Cuban and classical. During the
early '60s Soviet ballet masters helped with
training and danced lead roles in classics
like Swan Lake, but from the beginning the
Cuban Ballet was able to avoid the ponder-
ous, rigid Soviet styles. Sets reflected
Cuban tropical colors as did costumes.
Competitions were initiated to produce na-
tional themes and music, and choreog-
raphers, led by Miss Alonso herself, worked
enthusiastically with local artists and com-
posers.
Alicia Alonso had from the first a vision of
a national company that would in its ballets
and style integrate the three strands of
Cuban history and society: the interna-
tional, the hispanic, and the Afro-Cuban.
Here were the roots of Cuba and Cubans
and only a truly white, brown, and black
company in pigment and spirit could re-
flect them. A glance at the company's cur-
rent repertory indicates the continued pre-
dominance of the classical ballets, the
strength and vigor of the hispanic works,
and the experimental, tentative quality of
the few ballets of Afro-Cuban inspiration.
Ballet and dance do not lend themselves
as art forms to propaganda. The sad spec-
tacle of the Peking Red Ballet's clumsy and
turgid anti-imperialist works and even
some of the Bolshoi efforts are reminders of
what can happen. The Cuban Ballet in its
entire repertory shows a gratifying freedom
of expression. There is not a single ballet
dealing explicitly with the Cuban revolution,
no tampering with the "artistocratic"
themes of the classical repertory, and a wide
searching for subject matter and music in
the Afro-Cuban and hispanic ballets. The
sets utilize cubist, surrealist, abstract, and
other staging and, like the choreography,
are much closer to modern Western modes
than to Soviet practice. Unlike Cuban films
























and other art forms which are popular at
home but hard to export because of their
often heavyhanded political character, the
ballet enjoys the freedom to please Cuban
and foreign audiences.
As a classical ballet company the Cubans
are good but not outstanding; comparable,
say, to the Canadians, but a notch below
Sadler Wells or the Danes. Miss Alonso,
after a series of eye operations to restore
limited vision, continues to dance amaz-
ingly well 20 or more years past her prime.
She relies now more and more on adroit-
ness and finesse to come close to what
once was achieved through physical
strength and grace. The secondary dancers
are competent, but no heir apparent or even
a good second prima ballerina has yet ap-
peared. Jorge Esquivel is a stirring and virile
male lead but he needs an opportunity to
dance with other major talents besides Miss
Alonso in order to mature his skills. The
Corps de Ballet is extremely well-trained
and altogether charming but is somewhat
lacking in drive and verve. One has the
impression that the classical works like
Grand Pas De Quatre, Les Sylphides, and
Sleeping Beauty will remain the bread and
butter but not the jam of the company.
Sets, costumes, music, and dance come
most to life in the exciting hispanic works in
the repertory; The House of Bemardo Alba,
and Blood Wedding adapted from the plays
of Federico Garcia Lorca, Bizet's Carmen
with a torrid Alicia Alonso in the lead, and
the explicitly, romatically Cuban ballets, La
Rumba, and Tarde En La Siesta. Lyrical
Cuban folk melodies, quick-step cadences,
slashing, vivid colors and a sensual languor
make these works utterly captivating, even
if sometimes slight. At times not as polished
as the classical pieces like Coppelia or
Swan Lake, the hispanic works like Don
Quixote and La Bella Cubana show more
vitality and represent the high points of the
company.
The Afro-Cuban element is the newest
and most fragile part of the repertory. Here
in original ballets such as Ritmicas, Genesis
and Canto Vital, choreographers and dan-
cers seek a primeval experience bred out of
drum and abstract movement All the ele-
ments are not yet integrated and there is a
distinctive but not disagreeable experi-


The Afro-Cuban element is
the newest and most
fragile part of the repertory.
Here in original ballets
such as Ritmicas,
Genesis and Canto Vital,
choreographers and
dancers seek a primeval
experience bred out of
drum and abstract
movement.


mental quality about these works. It is
perhaps potentially the richest future vein to
mine but at present it is only a minor part of
the repertory, leaning more towards ballet
than modern dance.


Ballet and Mobility
Three factors account for the success and
continuing vitality of the Cuban Ballet The
first and most important is the company's
integral relationship to Cuban social mobil-
ity and island-wide recruitment of talent.
Cuba has become one massive ballet tryout
camp with thousands of talent scouts. Re-
gional dance companies have been estab-
lished in Camagiey and elsewhere. Ballet is
taught at all levels of the educational system
and the National Ballet School in Havana
accepts youngsters at primary school ages
for full-time preparation. As in sports, every
effort is made to identify talent at the earliest
possible ages and to channel dancers into
the formal system.
Ballet has thus become a major vehicle
for prestige and social mobility. A prime
example is male lead Jorge Esquivel, a
forlorn orphan at age 7 who was spotted
and nurtured by Miss Alonso herself. An
international and Cuban superstar, he is
readily identified and like Cuba's Olympic
champions is sought out as a folk hero.


Once disdained as redolent of male
homosexuality, ballet has become an art
and athletic form to which male Cubans
can openly and avidly aspire. The Cuban
Ballet is able to continually refresh its ranks
from a national pool of dancers whose for-
mal training began in their early years and
whose ranks number in the thousands. The
system is capable of producing a continu-
ous flow of highly ambitious, well trained,
talented dancers with no need to recruit
outside Cuba.
Social mobility and broad recruitment is
clearly reflected in the multiracial and
heterogeneous composition of the com-
pany Whereas prior to 1960, ballet teaching
was restricted mostly to white upper
middle-class Havanaites, Miss Alonso has
deliberately recruited from orphanages,
rural boarding schools, and working-class
areas. Next to winning a place in the Cuban
national baseball league, there are few
prizes more highly sought or competitive
than a tryout for the National Ballet Training
School.
Assurance of adequate facilities and re-
sources has also been a vital factor in the
success of the Ballet. The Cuban govern-
ment provides a generous annual subsidy
which includes part of the costs of touring
abroad, a theatre, rehearsal halls, and
training school in Havana, support for
commissioned music and choreography
as well as sets and costumes, ample expo-
sure on national television, and low-cost
tickets to encourage mass attendance. The
result is that hundreds of thousands of Cu-
bans, especially schoolchildren, see live
ballet, and millions view it on TV. Ballet has
gone, in two generations, from an esoteric
and isolated import to an important com-
ponent of national culture.
Although no cost figures are available, it
is probable that the subsidy element in the
Cuban Ballet is considerably greater than
that received by other Western companies.
It is not, however, anywhere near the sub-
sidy enjoyed by the Bolshoi or other Soviet
companies. And the Cuban Ballet has ben-
efitted from only limited technical assist-
ance from visiting Soviet choreographers
and dancers and long-standing American
and European ballet friends of Alicia Alonso
who occasionally visit Havana. Rather than
CAI?BBEAN leVIEW/31










the extent of assistance and subsidy, what
has been critical has been its certainty,
which has enabled the company to plan
ahead for new productions, gradually move
new talent up from the corps de ballet, and
undertake the extensive involvement with
Cuban schools.
The third and distinctive factor making
for success is the ideology of the Cuban
Ballet. It is a unique mixture of egalitar-
ianism, freedom of artistic expression, and
commitment to Cuban culture and nation-
alism. It is an ideology of which there are
echoes in other Cuban art forms but which
has not been able to establish itself
elsewhere.


One reason is that their opportunities to
dance and to dance innovative works com-
pare favorably with their peers anywhere in
the world.
Freedom of artistic expression is dis-
played in the choice of music, sets, cos-
tumes, themes, and dances. Although not
an explicitly experimental dance company
like the American Paul Taylor or Pilobolus
groups, the Cubans are seemingly free to
try what they wish. Their repertory set next
to that of the Bolshoi or the Kirov is strik-
ingly avant-garde. Compared to the New
York City Ballet or the American Ballet
Theatre they are still moderately experi-
mental if not in the front-ranks. One clue to


Cuban National Ballet Stars, Alicia Alonso and Jorge Esquivel. Wide World Photos


The Cuban Ballet operates as an ex-
tended family. There are no super-stars
except Miss Alonso and no defections when
traveling abroad, unlike the Bolshoi.
Salaries are modest, amenities and
privileges are limited, and there is nothing
comparable to the country homes, western
appliances, and other perquisites of leading
Soviet artists. The company is overwhelm-
ingly young and lacking in rigid hierarchies.
There are many opportunities to dance
secondary roles. Only Jorge Esquivel has
emerged as a clear male star and his prin-
cipal material reward has been a shiny new
motorcycle. Cuban dancers are well aware
of the gap in salaries between their com-
pany and major western groups but they
exhibit little collective or individual envy.
32/CAIBBEAN IIEW


this artistic position is that Miss Alonso's
roots lie in Western classical ballet and
modern dance. Familiar for years with the
works of Martha Graham, Alvin Ailey, and
other major choreographers Miss Alonso
has arranged any number of visits, festivals,
and other events to bring modern dance
and dancers to Cuba. Perhaps not quite in
the mainstream, the Cuban Ballet is very
definitely part of modern Western dance
and music. In spite of Soviet technical as-
sistance in the form of occasional choreog-
raphers and dancers it is difficult to see any
Soviet influence on the company except for
Swan Lake and other Russian classics.
The commitment to Cuban culture and
nationalism is perhaps what makes possi-
ble the artistic freedom. Unlike the recently


formed Ballet de Caracas, the Cubans are
not a cosmopolitan company of dancers
from around the world who happen to be
based in Havana. Their music, costumes,
sets, dances, and bodies are as authenti-
cally Cuban as Cuban can be. Most impor-
tantly the Cuban and hispanic element of
their repertory is rapidly evolving rather
than being stuck in a tiresome mold. Unlike
the Soviets, the Cubans scrap or cold stor-
age a ballet which has become old hat.
The commitment to Cuban culture takes
the form of music, nuances, and styles
rather than revolutionary harangues. The
propagandistic "before" and "after," the
revolution quality of the work of the Peking
Ballet is totally missing. The Cuban Ballet
foreswears indoctrination and its success in
Latin America does not stem from spread-
ing the revolution or a revolutionary mes-
sage but in offering quality entertainment
which reflects Cuban culture and values.
Indeed it is the egalitarianism, youthful
spirit, and sense of innovation of the com-
pany that constitutes its "message" aboard,
rather than the content of its works. It is no
accident that the Ballet has had far greater
non-ideological success abroad, in Latin
America and among Cubans residing in the
US, than have Cuban films or literature.
The Cuban Ballet is very much the prod-
uct of the Cuban Revolution. Its very exis-
tence, resources, and triumphs undeniably
stem from the revolution. Like the Olympic
champions, the Ballet is proof positive that
the revolution does certain things extremely
well, and immeasurably better than before
1960. Yet the Ballet does not constitute
proof of the cultural greatness or generosity
of the revolution; only of its beneficial ef-
fects. Certain Cuban writers, poets, and
film-makers might want to offer differing
opinions if allowed.
Ironically, the fundamental problem of
the Ballet is also that of Cuba: the succes-
sion of a seemingly irreplaceable leader.
Alicia Alonso is 58 and has lost consider-
able vision: there is no other prima ballerina
coming up. Her daughter, already retired
from dancing, is now a costumer. Fidel too
will eventually need a successor. But in
Cuban Ballet as in Cuban politics there are
no procedures or institutions to handle the
succession problem. Seldom publically
discussed, its resolution is most uncertain.
Products of the revolution, most of the dan-
cers lack the international contacts and
experience of Miss Alonso. No one will be
able to take her place. Someone will have to
come forward to provide the ideas, energy,
spirit, and drive that have made the Cuban
Ballet so great. Can the same be said for
Cuba itself?

Aaron Segal is with the National Science
Foundation. He is the author of three books on
the Caribbean and one on Africa, and a former
editor of Africa Report.










On the


Limits of


the New



Cuban


Presence


.- -- I .
wA





Ll 0
IF A


I -'^ - -.-
r ,uri;=,.,O^


in the Caribbean
By Gordon K. Lewis


ust as the Russian Revolution reshaped world politics after
1917 so the Cuban Revolution of 1959 has reshaped Carib-
bean politics. There is the new ideology of Cuban social
justice, based on the socialist principle of organized production for
community consumption. There is the new fidelista principle that
the United States and Cuba are two separate cultural entities
destined to eternal conflict, not unlike the oldarielist vision of a
Catholic Latin society pitted against a Protestant North American
society. There is the new Cuban doctrine of "revolution for export,"
not unlike the Trotskyite doctrine of "world revolution" of fifty years
ago. There is the regional appeal of the Cuban message -just as
the pilgrimage to Moscow was the done thing with the Old Left of the
1919-1939 period, so, today, the pilgrimage to Havana has become
a necessary tour for the New Left of the modern period.
No one can underestimate the massive appeal of the Cuban
event for the rest of the Caribbean. It is as much a cataclysm as the
Haitian war of national liberation in the period between 1791 and
1804. As the St. Domingue slave rebellion shattered the myth of
white supremacy, so the Cuban Revolution has shattered the myth
of American supremacy.
For historical reasons, the Cuban revolution was bom in violence;
its authoritarian structure the 1976 constitution closely follows
the Soviet constitution of 1936 follows the Soviet model of rigid
one-party state directions; and as in Russia, there is a law of power
which dictates that the dictatorship of the proletariat becomes the
dictatorship of the Communist Party, and the dictatorship of the
Party becomes the personal dictatorship of the party's Secretary-
General.
I do not say this in morally critical terms, for all those elements are
rooted in a Cuban past where the democratic and constitutional
tradition was notoriously weak. But I also note that in much of the
Caribbean that tradition, by contrast, has always been strong, and
deeply rooted on native grounds. It means the multi-party system;
freedom of thought and speech; a free press; and the rule of law.
It is argued, by much of the Caribbean Left, that all this belongs to
what is called, in the English-speaking Caribbean, the imported
"Westminster model." The argument seeks to persuade us that it
should be abandoned. It is a specious argument. Freedom of
thought, for example, cannot be dismissed as merely a bourgeois
invention. Historically, it predates modern bourgeois society by two


thousand years. Maybe the idea of polite parliamentary debate is
English; but its larger meaning summed up in Whitehead's
phrase that civilization means the replacement of force with persua-
sion goes beyond that single institutional form. To dismiss
everything as the hated "Westminster model" is to throw out the
baby with the bathwater. Acceptance of Cuban aid, uncritically, can
only mean the road to the totalitarian society.
I argue thus because much of the Caribbean Left is set within the
mold of hard-line Stalinism: they claim Soviet Russia and Cuba are
the only socialist societies; multi-party competition is simply a
bourgeois delusion; the Americans are Fascists, so that the leader of
the Puerto Rican Socialist Party can advance even the absurd claim
that American rule in Puerto Rico is as repressive as Nazi-German
rule in wartime occupied France.
Nor is this a criticism made only by democratic socialists like
myself. There are many voices in the Caribbean today that argue
forcefully for a marriage of socialism with democracy. Some are
social liberals, like Carl Stone in Jamaica and Selwyn Ryan in
Trinidad. Others are Marxists, like Clive Thomas in Guyana, or like
the Trinidadian Tapia group, social reformers anxious to reconstruct
the neo-colonial economy along decentralizing lines.
This line of argument is based on what H.G. Wells once aptly
termed the "theory of the suppressed alternative." The American
and the Cuban ways are not the only ways. There was a third force of
democratic socialism existing in the Caribbean long before 1959.
"Marxist theory," writes Thomas, "has always been explicitly based
on the creative interaction of socialism and political democracy. No
serious understanding of history can ever show that the advance of
political democracy and the obtaining of individual and collective
freedoms have been the product of bourgeois generosity. The
workers have won through struggle every limited democratic right
they have ever had ... Political democracy and freedom therefore
cannot be put to stand counterpoised to socialism." ("Bread and
Justice," Caribbean Contact, April 1976)
David de Caires points out further that the Soviet authoritarian
model, arising out of special historical conditions alien to the
historic Western experience, and certainly to the Caribbean experi-
ence, has been uncritically accepted as the official custodian of the
Marxist tradition, with fatal consequences. "Because of this," he
adds, "any political party in the Caribbean which describes itself as
CArlBBEAN eVIEW/33















The American and the Cuban ways are not the only ways. There was a third force of
democratic socialism existing in the Caribbean long before 1959.


Marxist-Leninist inevitably raises certain anxieties about its demo-
cratic intentions. How can the theory of the vanguard party fit in with
the system of multi-party democracy that still survives in most of the
Caribbean Commonwealth?" ("Marxism and Human Rights,"
Caribbean Contact, November 1979)

The Cuban Connection

If this line of analysis is correct, it means certain things with refer-
ence to the Caribbean and the Cuban connection: (1) The Cuban
Revolution has been, and remains, the most powerful force against
what Juan Bosch has aptly termed US penagonismo. As such it
deserves support of every Caribbean radical. (2) Cuban help,
therefore, is to be welcomed. But as Cuban advisers arrive in
Jamaica and Guyana and Grenada and probably other territories
where the seeds of a Grenada-style coup d'etat are present they
must be made to understand that they come on our terms and not
on theirs. (3) Those terms relate to the rich variety of ideology
existing in the Caribbean. Marxist ideology has to be married to
Nationalist ideology.
Indeed, it is curious that so many Caribbean groups accept the
Cuban-Soviet model at a time when that very model is under severe
scrutiny throughout the socialist world itself. That is the meaning of
the debate on Euro-Communism. It is the meaning, to use a Carib-
bean example, of Aime Cesaire's famous letter of 1956 chastizing
the French Communist Party for overlooking the special conditions
of French Antillean colonial society and assuming that French party
commissars can dictate tactics and strategy to colonial comrades
who are seen, even by the French Communist mind, as "backward"
children to be educated by the metropolitan sauants. There is, in
sum, no immaculate conception of socialism.
All this has important consequences for the foreign policy of the
emerging Caribbean states. Historically, the Caribbean has been a
helpless pawn in the dangerous game of big-power rivalry. In the
16th century it was Spain against its Protestant rivals. In the 20th
century there is a clear and present danger that it will be the United
States against the Soviet Union. Independence will become mean-
ingless if the region becomes once again the spoils in the Cold War
between Moscow and Washington. That danger is enhanced if Cuba
becomes a surrogate of Soviet policy in the Americas; and every
indication is that it has so become. That is a frightful gamble, on any
showing.
What would happen if the Havana regime decides at some point
to reach accommodation with Washington? There are precedents:
the infamous Soviet-Nazi pact of 1939 and the present-day rap-
prochement between China and the United States. The men who
run the Kremlin are no more sentimental than the men who run the
Pentagon. If they decide, at some moment, that it is necessary to
appease Washington, and if Havana follows suit, what would happen
to all those groups and regimes in the Caribbean that have accepted
the party line that the US is the eternal enemy? Quite brutally, they
would be left out in the cold.
Or, again, what happens if Havana decides to back one Marxist
34/CAIBBEAN PTIVEW


group in Guyana against the other, thus creating a sort of Ethiopia-
Eritrea situation? In such a situation, only the Guyanese people
would stand to suffer. Or if, yet again, a Cuban-supported regime in,
say, Grenada were one day to decide that the Cuban yoke was too
unbearable, would Havana move to crush the nationalist spirit as
Russia crushed Hungary in 1956 and-Czechoslovakia in 1968, or as
the British crushed Guyanese Marxism in 1952, as the Americans
crushed the popular movement in Santo Domingo in 1965? Merely
to mention the possibilities is to apprehend the awful risk that is
involved in allowing other people, however well-intentioned they
may be, to make your foreign policy for you.
What the Caribbean badly needs is a sort of "Monroe Doctrine"
that would declare, unequivocally, the neutrality of the region. That,
of course, was the prime issue in the recent Havana-centered
meeting of the Organization of Non-Aligned States. If we follow Dr.
Castro we run the risk of converting ourselves into Soviet surro-
gates. If we follow Marshal Tito we at least make certain that, in crude
terms of realpolitik, we can balance one great power against the
other. And, in idealistic terms, we guarantee that we retain intact our
own creole, indigenous conscience. A stance of neutrality will
enable the different Caribbean countries to maximize their choices
in the international patron-client game.
No one, admittedly, should underestimate the vast difficulties
involved in such a choice. As Frank Moya-Pons has pointed out, the
Caribbean lacks a common Caribbean consciousness. In the
absence of a rational world economic order, the Caribbean
economies still rely upon their respective metropolitan markets for
the sale of their raw tropical products and as receiving societies for
their continuing emigration patterns. There is political and racial
fragmentation. Linguistic divisiveness continues so that to take
an odd example only even those English-speaking Caribbean
intelligentsia who support Cuba rarely bother to learn Spanish.
Cultural dependency continues: as in higher education the Puerto
Rican graduate student goes to the States just as the French
Antillean student goes to France. All in all, the picture of heroic
Caribbean masses rising up in revolt against colonialism and
imperialism is, sadly, a myth rather than a reality. As Moya-Pons
concludes, there is not a single holistic Caribbean community, with
common interests and aspirations; there is a series of separate
Caribbean societies often fatally hostile to each other.("ls there a
Caribbean consciousness?," Amnricas, August 1979)
Yet, paradoxically, there is a strength in this weakness. The very
diversity of the region makes it difficult for any one power to take it
over. US policymakers see it, simplistically, as a "trouble spot." Yet it
would take decades of Americanization to overwhelm Barbadian
anglophilism or Martiniquean francophilism, as even after 80 years,
Borinquen society remains intractably Spanish-speaking and in
many areas solidly hispanic. In Trinidad, where the penetration of
American culture is widespread, Trinidadians are not over-awed by
it, and you would find it difficult to discover any Trinidadian who
would concede that his great bacchanal event of Carnival had
anything to lose by comparison with that of Rio or New Orleans. In
Santo Domingo and Haiti, suspicion of the American "way of life"















If we follow Dr. Castro, we run the risk of converting ourselves into Soviet surrogates. If
we follow Marshal Tito we at least make certain that, in crude terms of realpolitik,
we can balance one great power against the other.


still survives, going back to the US occupation of those republics in
the 1920s and '30s.
Correspondingly the Cuban revolutionary appeal is limited.
Cuban short-term aid to its Caribbean neighbors is obvious. It can
provide tractors, heavy equipment, medical teams, language
teachers, agronomists, forestry experts, military advisers. There is
even intellectual cooperation: there is an English-language section
in the annual literary prizes presented by the Casa de las Americas.
All this is admirable, if only because Cuba, by historical experience
and geographical location and unlike the United States is a
bona fide member of the Caribbean family.
But the long-term aid is a different matter. For Cuba, as much as
any other Third World economy, remains trapped within a trade-
dependency and debt-dependency situation. There is little that its
influence can do to alter drastically a world system in which the less
developed economies become increasingly obligated to an inter-


national loan-banking and world trading regime dominated by the
more developed economies. Havana possesses precious little
leverage to facilitate major reforms such as fairer terms of debt
amortization and more equitable exchange terms in world com-
merce. Indeed, it is oil-rich Trinidad, rather than Cuba, that plays the
new role of Caribbean banker; and recent complaints from the
small-island finance ministers demonstrate that the Trinidad gov-
ernment is as much prepared to insist on hard Yankee trades in
return for its loan aid as the former imperialist masters. All, in all, the
future historian of the Cuban revolution and its Caribbean signifi-
cance may have to conclude that its influence, for good.or ill, has
been ideological rather than practical.
Gordon K. Lewis teaches Social Science at the University of Puerto Rico.
A prolific writer on the Caribbean, his most recent book, Slavery,
Imperialism, and Freedom, was published by Monthly Review Press.
Map Courtesy of Rubini Antique Maps, Miami, Florida.

The Institute of International Relations
University of the West Indies
St. Augustine, Trinidad, W.I.

Contemporary
International Relations
of the Caribbean
editedby BasilA. Ince
This timely volume treats topics of increasing importance
in the region. All sixteen articles have been written by
nationals of the region, thus presenting an unofficial but
authoritative view of the thoughts of Caribbean scholars
on international issues. Some of the issues treated are:
Nationalization of multinationals; the Economic
Development of the Region; Non-alignment; The Racial
Factor in Caribbean Foreign Policy; The Caribbean and
Latin America and the Caribbean and the Third World.
These topics fall into the four parts of the book, namely,
The Caribbean and the Third World; Political Processes
and Foreign Policy; Metropolitan Ties and Influences; and
Economic Development and Integration.
Contributors to this volume include Vaughan Lewis,
Loxley Edmonson, Maurice Odle, Clive Thomas,
Courtenay Blackman and Jean Crusol.
Order from: Institute of International Relations
University of the West Indies
St. Augustine
Trinidad, W.I.
Price (prepaid) US$17.00 plus US$2.50 for postage.


CAiBBeAN rEvIeW/35


(Q


DGNofi


from RI's International Affairs Center

* At the December commencement the
University conferred an honorary doctorate on
Rafael Caldera, former President of
Venezuela and noted jurist.
* The School of Education is offering an
in-service course in curriculum development
to the faculty of the Uruguayan American
School in Montevideo. It continues its
in-service training activities for the American
School in Lima, Peru.
* The University renewed its cooperative
agreement with the University of Haiti in the
field of earth sciences.
* The College of Arts & Sciences concluded an
agreement with the Board of Extra Mural
Studies of Cambridge University to begin an
annual summer study program at Cambridge.
The first such program will take place in
Summer 1980.

International Affairs Center/
Forida International University
Tamlaml Trail, Miami, Florida 33199,
ph: (305) 552-2848


MN YW














Toward


a New M -



American


Presence E OrE



in the Caribbean
By Franklin W. Knight


he United States and the Caribbean States are not having one
of their best seasons. Looking back through the history of
their relationship, it is, in fact, hard to find a good season: a
season of mutual respect and co-operation. Since the 19th century,
the US has asserted an unopposed hegemony, too facilely taken for
granted.
Times have changed. To the popular purveyors of information -
and to an entire body of the semi-informed the Caribbean is on
the verge of a political and social explosion. But it has been argued
- by none other than Bryan Edwards, the planter-historian from
Jamaica in the last decade of the eighteenth century that the
region was even then undergoing revolutionary change. Like the
past summer's furor over the so-called Russian troops in Cuba, it is
hard to see what the excitement is all about. Political restlessness is
nothing new.
Similarly, the message is an old one, echoeing the shallow
arguments made about Southeast Asia in general and Viet Nam in
particular for decades: the Americans are losing touch; American
power is being challenged; society is in jeopardy. But Americans
tend to have a double standard. When the Canadian government fell
after just six months in office, Time Magazine reported that a
"well-informed" official of the government of the United States said
that there was nothing to worry about. And when the United States
changed three presidents in eight years, there seemed to be nothing
to worry about even though one of those changes was done
without the privilege of an election.
But this type of sensibility is never meted out to states in Latin
America and the Caribbean. When the thirty year old dictatorship of
the Dominican Republic terminated, the United States marines
were sent in to "protect American lives and property." When the
Cubans replaced a corrupt government with an apparently honest
one, there was a massive attempt to overthrow it. When the people
of Grenada replaced the Gairy government, there was a frantic
response and alarm that the small eastern Caribbean state was
"going communist." The minor revolt of Rastafarians in St. Vincent
got more press coverage than the achievement of independence. It
thus seems that every time a Caribbean state does something, it is
scrutinized with an emphasis on the negative.
Why is the United States so worried about change? Why, in the
relatively short span of two hundred years, has the country gone
36/CAfBBEAN VIEW


from the trendsetter in socio-political change, to the unilateral
opponent of such change? Having fired "the shot heard around the
world," and thereby initiating the idea of political revolution, it is
strange to find the United States the foremost opponent of revolu-
tion today.
The US's relations with the rest of the hemisphere manifest the
profound shortcoming of a program without a policy, without a
thoughtful, flexible, long-term policy toward Latin America and the
Caribbean. From an historian's point of view, the United States often
acts contrary to the interests of the Caribbean States, and might very
well be contrary to the long-term interests of the United States itself.
This was true when the United States tried to play big brother in
Cuba, Haiti and the Dominican Republic. It is true when the United
States tries to play sage uncle today.
A former United States Ambassador to the Dominican Republic,
John Bartlow Martin, expressed a similar idea when he wrote in his
well-researched book, U.S. Policy in the Caribbean, that, regarding
the Caribbean, the United States has "a policy without content."
Martin thought, with a great measure of justification, that if the
United States "cannot move more effectively and helpfully in the
Caribbean, we can hardly expect to do better in Asia or Africa."
Effective and helpful actions, however, depend on a sophisticated
and consistent policy. How can this type of policy be initiated, how
can things be turned around?
A New Policy
Any new American policy requires three interrelated processes: a
complete change in the prevailing mental attitude toward states and
peoples in Latin America and the Caribbean; political actions which
respect the autonomy, sovereignty and independence of each state,
regardless of size; and, a set of economic actions which attempt to
help not only the governments of the region, but also the people of
the separate states.
The notion that the Caribbean is a danger zone on the point of
explosion must be discarded. The region is no closer to political
explosion than is the United States. The region is undergoing
considerable social changes, but to classify these changes .as
negative, nihilistic, portentiously disastrous occurrences is patently
absurd. At its worst such classifications are misguided attempts at







































malicious wish-fulfillment, and the poorest bases for action-
planning.
But even with the present preoccupation with the political direct-
ion of change in the Caribbean, the point ought not to be lost that
the nation states of the region are small. This fact constrains their
actions and affects them in ways which a great power such as the
United States needs, with whatever measure of difficulty, to under-
stand.
The Caribbean states deserve special handling. Apart from being
small and that is a major problem over which they have no
control the Caribbean states possess few natural resources.
Trinidad, the most fortunate of the island states, has petroleum.
Jamaica and Haiti have bauxite, but not enough local energy to
convert the ore to the finished product. The Bahamas has extensive
deposits of aragonite, not the hottest-selling item of international
commerce these days. What they have in abundance are fine
beaches, breath-taking land and seascapes, dynamic populations,
and the overwhelming urge to join the modern world's expanding
horizon of expectations.
As individual mini-states, the Caribbean region does not wield any
major political clout. Only Cuba has the equivalent of a global
foreign policy. The Bahamas is not even a member of the Organiza-
tion of American States, and many of the others find the economic
and human resources for a viable international policy a major strain.
In the past, the principal rationale for special concern arose
because the Caribbean region was seen as being of tremendous
strategic importance for the military defense of the United States. In
our age of rockets and potential nuclear war, this justification cannot
be made as persuasively. The strategic importance is diminishing.
But the reality that the islands and states no longer serve as potential
bastions of military defense should not be construed as meaning
that they are no longer important to the United States.
Taken individually, the Caribbean states appear like so manySan
Jose de Gracias, the marvellous little town immaculately portrayed
by Luis Gonzalez in Pueblo en vilo which, in the author's view, was
significant because of its insignificance. They are, however, the
stages for real people, confronting real problems, and they must be
helped to help themselves. From the US point of view, they are
neighbors profoundly affected by any action or inaction of the
US in the realization of its global pursuits. The relations of a mighty


world power like the US with these mini-states provides an impor-
tant indicator of its relations with the wider world. If the United States
can move from the past legacy of domination and conflict to a new
era of peaceful co-existence and co-operation, it will have demon-
strated that not only can it do great things, but it can also do little
things and that it can do both equally well.
The proliferation of mini-states in the Caribbean is a painful
reality, which must be accepted. The implications of this develop-
ment must also be accepted. Greater numbers of states participa-
ting in, and voting in, international organizations and agencies,
presents a new arena in which the old power politics do not always
work well. Countries like Grenada, St. Vincent, Dominica, St. Lucia
and Jamaica, cannot and do not have the same interests as
Venezuela, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, or Chile. They do not fit
comfortably in a general policy articulated either for Latin America,
or for the Third World, or for the Lesser Developed states, however
many qualities they may share with those included within these
larger, more inclusive denominations.
In confronting this new reality of an expanding number of new,
small states, the United States must be aware that this increased
number increases the possibilities of dissension and differences.
Each Caribbean unit has a slightly different focus, a slightly different
set of priorities, which cannot be expected to be consistently
congruent with those of the United States. These governments
must be expected to act in what they perceive as their best interests.
From the North American point of view, they may not seem to be
democratic in the choice of their governments, or capitalist in the
orientation of their economies. But the choice is theirs. They must
make it on their own. And they and we must live with it. Anything
short of that is an infringement of their hard-earned sovereignty and
an unwarranted interference in their domestic affairs.
The new political leaders of these new Caribbean states do not
share the old phobia of communism which seems such an impor-
tant dimension of the foreign policy of the United States. They do
not feel that the inevitable choice is between either of the two major
world powers of today. To them, it is possible to be equally friendly
with Cuba, the Soviet Union, The People's Republic of China, The
United States, or any other member of the United Nations. They find
it illogical and incomprehensible that the United States should not
only refrain from having diplomatic relations with Cuba, but should
CArBBEAN IrVIEW/37
















The appeal of Cuba is less in its espousal of socialism,
than in its successful resolution of long
standing problems which are common to all the
Caribbean states, and indeed much of the world.


restrain them from free and open intercourse with their fellow
Caribbean neighbor. Had the United States at the same time not
been on such openly friendly terms with China and the Soviet Union,
it would not have seemed so inconsistent. On what basis should
Cuban communism be considered more unacceptable than Soviet
or Chinese communism? If a President of the United States can
journey to Moscow and Peking, why can he not also go to Havana?
From the internal Caribbean point of view, the ideology is not the
foremost political concern. All political leaders in the Caribbean are,
to a very great extent, political pragmatists. They must be, in order to
survive as well as in order to make any headway against the growing
internal problems which their limited assets allow. The appeal of
Cuba is less in its espousal of socialism, than in its successful
resolution of long-standing problems which are common to all the
Caribbean states, and indeed much of the world.
But there is another point. It is a serious mistake to believe that
inviduous support of certain factions in the Caribbean will produce a
different political scenario or one more in harmony with the
interests of the United States. The formal political opposition in the
Caribbean where there is a formal opposition is not radically
different from the government in power. The accession to power of
an Errol Barrow in Barbados, or of a Basdeo Panday in Trinidad, or
of an Edward Seaga in Jamaica, or of a Cheddi Jagan in Guyana will
not dramatically alter the present direction of political and economic
change.
By the same reasoning, selling arms to the governments, and
helping them to defend themselves better against their citizens will
not guarantee either political stability, or successful governments.
The inescapable facts seem to indicate that where governments
exist without a popular base, and where governments exist whose
interests are inconsistent with those of the majority (or of a deter-
mined minority) they will be replaced by the ballot box if possible, or
by bullets and bloodshed, if necessary. Support of the status quo on
a promise that they will either observe human rights, or be friendly to
the United States is neither thoughtful, nor efficacious.
The political choice of the people of Cuba, or Puerto Rico, or the
Dominican Republic, or Jamaica, or Barbados, will not, of itself,
change the destiny of the world. The separate political choices, too,
will not necessarily affect one another. Grenada with its population
of one hundred thousand is hardly likely to have any effect on
Trinidad with its population of one million, or Jamaica with twice that
number. A policy which begins with the analogy of a falling domino
structure is neither imaginative, nor intelligent. A policy which
accepts the inherent variety of peoples and politics will, in the long
run, respond effectively and with reciprocal benefits to all the parties
involved. Such a policy is not only feasible, it is also necessary.

A Policy of Cooperation

In order to establish a new policy of cooperation, the United States
must demonstrate that its primary concern in the Caribbean is not
with the security of "friendly governments," but the welfare of the
majority of people in the region. A policy which seeks to help the
38/CATBBEAN REVIEW


people of the Caribbean will formulate programs which do three
vital things: diversify aid so that the trickle-down effect is greater and
more manifest than at present; help relieve the massive unemploy-
ment and underemployment; and, encourage a return to the ag-
ricultural base which is the best hope of the small islands to control
their manifold problems. All three goals are intimately connected.
Foreign aid is one of the biggest problems in the Caribbean.
However it occurs, it presents some degree of conflict between
donor and recipient. In the Caribbean, foreign aid provides a major
source of hard currency exchange, and assists in the provision of
vital services, food and the general material indices of development.
Without foreign assistance, both public and private, most coun-
tries of the world could not undertake vital areas of development in
health, education, welfare, and the creation of the institutional
infrastructures which enable a government to function efficiently to
assist the governed. The conflict often arises because the donors
feel that they have given too much, or as much as they can, and that
the results have not been satisfactory. The recipients feel that the aid
is not enough, and that the conditions either political "strings," or
private interest rates, are too onerous or complex. Both sides have
been right.
In the public mind, the scale of aid and its potential for achieving
or effecting social change are grossly exaggerated. Between 1963
and 1973, the amount of public and private support money from the
seventeen countries which are rich and non-socialist Australia,
Austria, Belgium, Canada, Denmark, France, Germany, Japan, Italy,
the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Portugal, Sweden, Switzer-
land, the United Kingdom and the United States increased from
8.57 billion dollars to $24.43 billion. On the surface this certainly
looks like a lot of money. But divided among the poor of the world, it
amounts, in 1973, to just over $13 per head hardly the type of
annual expenditure increase that is going to make a tremendous
change in the lives of the poor. And when this assistance is chan-
neled through a government bureaucracy, the effect on the material
conditions of the poor is even more negligible.
The countries of the Caribbean need aid, but they need aid which
is targeted less to specific single goals (with political purposes in
mind), than a cluster of programs designed to achieve a number of
integrated goals: reducing population, increasing food production,
providing roads, jobs, transportation, housing, health care, and all
the essential services which the community and the people require.
This type of cluster program can only be based on a combination of
bi-lateral aid, multi-lateral aid, private banking organizations, and in
some cases, capitalist and socialist co-operation.
Unemployment and underemployment are major problems
which have virtually defied resolution in the Caribbean. The estab-
lishment of a gastarbeiter or regulated foreign worker program
such as is practiced by some European countries would be a
dramatic step in assisting the Caribbean states. It has a number of
advantages for both the states involved in the Caribbean and the
host country. The US could divert some of its increasing expend-
itures in the pursuit and prosecution of illegal aliens, to more worthy
causes. Controlled labor would be more dignified and more pro-















What are the goals?
Reducing population, increasing food production,
providing roads, jobs, transportation, housing, health care,
and all the essential services which the community and the people require.


ductive. The overall impact on US unemployment, wage structure,
or social services would be minimal. Remission to the home coun-
tries would provide a valuable source of foreign exchange, as well as
increase the material welfare of the remaining population there.
Assuming that permits would be given only to those with secure
employment, it is difficult to envisage how this scheme could lead to
exploitation of the workers a criticism which currently prevails
about the employed illegal aliens. The wage rates would, in most
probability, be lower than currently paid, but would be probably
higher than available in the home country, and would reduce
population pressures as well as unemployment pressures in the
home countries. Remission by Spaniards employed elsewhere in
Europe during the 1960s was a considerable economic asset for the
Spanish government. A similar program could have a similar effect
on the Caribbean states.
A gastarbeiter program will no more hurt the United States than it
did Germany, Switzerland, France or Sweden. It will not inundate the
United States with Hispanics and Afro-Caribbean people nor upset
the racial and color sensitivities of those who feel that there is, and
should be, no place here for people who are not white. In more noble
times, the United States beckoned to the poor, oppressed and
unfree of the earth: it did not discriminate on the basis of race and
color. In today's world, it should not. But a gastarbeiter program is
not an open invitation to a new wave of immigration. It is a labor
recruitment program, no more and no less.
The third way in which the United States could stretch out its
hands to help its Caribbean neighbors, is in liberalizing the terms of
trade to facilitate the entry into the US markets of Caribbean
agricultural products.
The Caribbean region is, and will forever be, a producer of
agricultural commodities. By opening up the US markets, notjustto
sugar and coffee, but to vegetables, ground provisions, mangoes,
breadfruits, nuts, and the wide variety of locally grown fruits and
plants, the local governments would achieve at least two important
goals. The first would be to work against the internal migration from
the rural areas to the cities, and help to reverse the growing disaffec-
tion for the land and agricultural labor. This would modify the
alarming figures for the unemployed and partially employed, the
greater number of whom are in the cities. The second would be to
increase production and productivity, since with a larger market,
small farmers would find it more rewarding to grow more than they
need for their own subsistence. Keeping small farmers on the land
would not only help to alleviate the problems of employment, it
would help to alleviate the shortages of food and the need of
governments to spend its scarce foreign exchange purchasing what
its own people could produce.
Importing agricultural products from the Caribbean should not
seriously upset the farmers of California, Texas, or Florida. In the first
place, the scale of these imports is not likely to be great enough to
make an appreciable difference in the supply. It is unlikely that the
volume of agricultural imports would increase the supply by more
than 2-3 percent, nationally. In the second place, the effect of this
increase would be less noticeable because it would at least


initially be targeted to the Caribbean ethnic enclaves in the cities
of the eastern United States. This is part of the exotic market, which
is presently undersupplied.
The prime growing season of tropical Caribbean products does
not conform with that of most of the United States, so the market
confrontation for those crops which do overlap would probably be
less dramatic than expected.
Trade should be considered an indispensable arm of foreign aid.
Without integrating the two, either will have far less satisfactory
results than expected. If people are to be helped despite their
governments then the United States can do no less. If the United
States cares about its future relations with these small states, then it
is incumbent on it to do far more than it is now doing. And above all,
it ought to do it because it is morally right.
Franklin W Knight teaches History at The Johns Hopkins University,
Maryland. He recently authored The Caribbean: The Genesis of a
Fragmented Nationalism, published by Oxford University Press.
Map Courtesy of Rubini Antique Maps, Miami, Florida.





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CARiBBEAN ElVIEW/39











On the Politics of the



Cuban Revolution

Dominguez's Cuba: Order and Revolution

By Pedro J. Montiel


Cuba: Order and Revolution.
Jorge Dominguez. Harvard
University Press, 1978. 683 pp.

In his comments appearing on the
book's cover, Edward Gonzalez writes
that "Cuba: Order and Revolution will
be the definitive study on twentieth century
Cuba." It is not. In fairness to its author,
Jorge Dominguez, explicitly disavows any
intent to create such a work. Perhaps it is
the book's distinguished authorship and its
simple yet grandiose title that leads the
reader to expect a tour de force. Instead
Dominguez cites academic division of
labor as a justification for concentrating,
sometimes too narrowly, on the political
sphere. Within this specialized focus, he
approaches the subject in a spirit of "schol-
arly discipline" and, in his words, attempts
"to resist the temptation to go beyond the
conclusions merited by the evidence in my
descriptions and explorations of events." In
Cuba, therefore, we have the work of a
careful academic "foot soldier" who has
undertaken the tedious yet indispensable
task of amassing, sorting and interpreting
data to demistify and demythologize the
subject of his inquiry in this case the
structure and function of the political in-
stitutions established by the Cuban Revolu-
tion.
Dominguez is at his best in his meticul-
ous and well-researched description of the
Revolutionary political order and his as-
sessment of the accomplishments and fail-
ures of the Revolution as a political system.
He depicts a government that is simultane-
ously popular and undemocratic, acquiring
its legitimacy through charisma, political
deliverance, distributional performance,
and nationalism. The Revolution is per-
ceived as legitimate by the conduct of its
rulers, not by elections. The latter serve to
broaden the bases of rule and broaden
popular participation. Dominguez finds that
the regime has performed favorably con-
cerning unemployment, but his findings
are mixed with respect to education (basic
literacy has been achieved, but school re-
tention rates are inadequate) and public
health, and unfavorable in the field of
40/CAfBBAN I VeEW


housing. He finds race relations somewhat
improved, but points out that initial condi-
tions were somewhat different from those
prevailing in the United States, and that
progress has been moderate.
On the whole, Dominguez supports the
popular conception that the Revolution has
been much more successful in addressing
redistribution than in promoting growth.
However, he supports this view with an im-
pressive array of evidence culled from di-
verse sources. The reader receives the im-
pression that all the evidence available to a
scholar residing outside of Cuba having
access only to published material has been
brought to bear on the question at issue.
The work is a veritable mine of information
and careful analysis undertaken with tire-
less diligence.
Unfortunately, the last eight chapters,
which comprise this section, are little more
than discrete topics each handled in
skillful fashion but with little sense of unity
and no obvious thematic structure. It is
evident that much of the material originally
appeared independently. One particularly
feels the lack of a concluding chapter which
might have unified the central themes of
the work and synthesized the disparate ob-
servations made over the previous five
hundred pages.
I would suggest that a comprehensive
work on the Cuban Revolution will have to
address the following set of concerns: 1)
Why did the Cuban Revolution happen?
What were the laws of motion of pre-
revolutionary Cuban society that led to the
events of the fifties? 2) What determined the
direction the Revolution took once in
power? Specifically, what was the relation-
ship between distributive justice, internal
repression, and conflict with the Ameri-
cans? 3) What has the Revolution accom-
plished for its people? What has it been like
to be a Cuban during the past two decades?
4) Where is the Revolution going? How
close is it to its objectives? Is there a reward
in sight for the sacrifices the Revolution has
called upon the present generation of Cu-
bans to make? 5) What are the lessons of
the Cuban Revolution for both advanced
and developing nations? Is there a unique
"Cuban model" of social evolution? If so,


what costs does it exact for what benefits
under what circumstances?
Several of these issues are in fact investi-
gated by Dominguez in the book's first four
chapters. What was the critical flaw in the
ancien regime that led to its downfall?
Dominguez divides Cuba's history into
three periods with three different political
systems, beginning with Cuba's indepen-
dence to 1933, from 1933 to 1959, and the
present revolutionary period. The first two
systems shared the fundamental flaw that
political parties did not reflect social forces,
creating Huntington-type problems of sta-
bility. But why did this situation arise? Al-
though Dominguez seems to blame
American hegemony, his exposition never
really makes clear whether the basic prob-
lem is a failure of the internal political sys-
tem complicated by the American pres-
ence or whether the decisive factor was the
sheer power of American imperialism, a
power which could not have been over-
come by any conceivable domestic political
response during the first half of this century.
Why did the regime collapse when it did?
Dominguez provides us with an autono-
mous political explanation: the rise of cor-
ruption as a political issue in the 1940s,
combined with Batista's coup destroyed
the legitimacy of the system and the nature
of the Batista dictatorship ensured its vio-
lent downfall. Socioeconomic conditions
and American action had only a very short-
run effect on timing, assuring that the event
took place at the end of 1958 rather than a
few years before or after. But why did cor-
ruption only become an issue in the forties,
and what determined the nature of the
Batista regime? The entire sequence of
events appears random in timing and the
structure of the analysis, with political
events in the role of underlying causes and
socioeconomic events and US actions as
immediate precipitating factors, is open to
question.
Finally, what determined the nature of the
relationship between Cuba and the United
States after the Revolution? Dominguez
maintains that a small group of Cuban
leaders "autonomously" decided that a so-
cial transformation in Cuba was impossible
without a major confrontation with the US

































































and he agrees with them in this judgment.
But why had no other Cuban government
made this choice and successfully carried it
out?
This part of the book, in short, suffers
from too extensive a preoccupation with
political phenomena. It is the explicit intent
of the author to focus on "the mechanisms
of government and other organizations
acting in politics," that is, on "who governs,
what for, and in what way." I might have
preferred "who governs, what for, in what
way, and why." Omission of the last con-
sideration imparts a misleading degree of
autonomy to the political process and
clouds the author's analysis of the causal
forces operating during critical turning
points in Cuba's history. The chapters on


the antecedents to the Revolution, there-
fore, are of more descriptive than analytical
value.
This is but a small part of the book, how-
ever. It is clear that the study of the nature of
post-revolutionary political institutions is a
different, narrower, sort of inquiry which is
more amenable to the specialized ap-
proach taken by Dominguez. Here the res-
ervations cited in the preceding paragraph
clearly do not apply.
If the book is not the definitive study its
title and authorship might lead one to ex-
pect, Cuba is still an invaluable contribution
to our understanding of the Cuban Revolu-
tion as a phenomenon in social history.
The more modest tasks the author set for
himself- the description of the revolution-


ary political order and the nature of its social
achievements and failures are accom-
plished with such yeoman thoroughness
and scholarly skill as to make the work al-
ready a classic in this field of scholarship.
Cuba will undoubtedly become a standard
reference in this area and will take its place
as one of the indispensable works in the yet
unfinished task of rendering the Cuban
Revolution comprehensible and in extract-
ing its meaning and significance within the
context of Cuban history.



Pedro J. Montiel, Associate Editor of Carib-
bean Review, teaches economics at Florida
International University.

CArBBEAN ErvIEW/41











The Traumas of Exile

Contra Viento y Marea

By Luis P. Salas


Contra Viento Y Marea. Grupo
Areito (Roman de la Campa, et.
als.) Casa de las Americas, 1978.
268 pp.

ew books have dealt with the di-
lemma of a Cuban emigration which
brought one million native Cubans to
foreign shores. The several attempts at de-
scribing this flight have largely been either
justifications for these actions, or praise for
Cuban efforts in exile. Too often these works
describe a Cuban worker lifting himself by
his bootstraps, emerging as a modern
Horatio Algier. Such accounts are but dis-
tortions of the harshness and trauma of
exile in a foreign land. A unique addition to
this body of literature is Contra Viento y
Marea edited by the Grupo Areito. It is an
engrossing, if selective, tale of the radicali-
zation, in favor of the Cuban Revolution, of a
young group of exiles.
Most young Cubans who have read the
work identify with its first section. The initial
attraction to the bearded rebels riding
through Havana with rosaries dangling
from their necks was an experience we
all shared. I particularly remember the rev-
olutionaries' fascination in howthe doors of
the Havana Hilton opened miraculously
upon a well placed step. The images of
those early days caught in Contra Viento y
Marea of the love affair with the rebels accu-
rately reflects those images indelibly
marked in our own minds. Slowly, however,
came parental dissatisfaction with specific
policies of the revolution, dissatisfaction
that was buttressed with religious opposi-
tion to the new regime. How well I re-
member the moment my mother first
started speaking of them as "Communists,"
a word which carried much weight on the
mind of a 12 year old. I remember being
asked by the priests to distribute anticom-
munist magazines door to door.
The most vivid recollection of those days
was the departure itself. The following de-
scription from the book is characteristic of
many of our feelings: "The airport was full
and confusion reigned all around us. The
most horrible thing was to go into the
fishbowl. There we said our goodbyes to
42/CAl?BBEAN fEVIeW


our crying father and my sister bade
farewell to her sweetheart. An old man saw
me crying and said some comforting
words. Once inside the fishbowl we could
not leave. The persons who stayed outside
pressed the glass so closely that I thought it
would break and fall on top of the people
inside. Little by little I lost all notion of time
..." That moment, followed by entry into the
United States, changed all of our lives.
In the second section, Contra Viento
deals with the respondents' experiences in
the United States. It divides their experi-
ences into four stages: 1) conflict with as-
similation; 2) disillusionment with Ameri-
can society; 3) personal discrimination; and
4) rejection of the exile community and its
values. It is in this part of the book that
disagreement by exiles begin, for the ex-
periences after entry into the US were so
personal and so emotional that little com-
mon ground may be found. What hap-
pened to the respondents discussed in
Contra Viento did not happen to everybody.
One of the more significant contributions
of the book is its mention of the unaccom-
panied children's program and its after ef-
fects. By 1960, many Cuban parents sent
their children to the United States with dis-
tant relations or even alone, in many
instances without any contacts here. Even-
tually, more than 14,000 children came
to the US.
What caused such a large number of
Cuban families to ship their offspring to an
unknown fate in a faraway land? Part of the
answer lies in the fear and confusion
spreading in Cuba in 1961. Rumors
abounded that all children would be
shipped to Russia for training and parents
would lose all legal rights to their offspring.
While this may seem an absurd specula-
tion, it became a real fear to many. The
connection of the CIA and the Catholic
Church to these rumors can only be spec-
ulated on, yet evidence points to some
connection. These events more than any
other, point out the trauma of exile and the
strange power game in which individual
Cubans became unconsciously involved.
Children and adults were resettled in
shelter skelter fashion, depending on spon-
sors willing to receive them. Many of us


remember the humiliation of being ref-
ugees; having to appear grateful to our
hosts. I remember vivid reports in the parish
paper of this new group of children whose
future had been assured by the selfless
charity of parishioners. One was reminded
of this status daily. The refugee experience
generated so many bitter memories that
most are repressed never to surface again. I
remember thinking "How could my mother
put me through this?" Luckily I have been
able to find an answer and live with it; for
many others, however, it still remains a
nagging thought.
The process of assimilation was different
for each one of us. For me it meant de-
tachment from the Cuba that I knew. In turn,
I became culture-lost. For many of those
interviewed, assimilation meant a denial of
the exile community in which they now lived
and a resultant generational clash with their
elders. Eventually a peace of sorts devel-
oped in exile, with politics becoming
a taboo subject in many households.
We tolerated our parents, yet failed to
appreciate the degree to which exile had
traumatized them.
For those who were to radicalize their
views, events in the United States were
strikingly important: the impact of their
university experience; the struggle for civil
rights; the struggle for Puerto Rican inde-
pendence; and the Vietnam war. All of these
events, singly and compoundly, had a
strong influence on all who lived in the US,
but for the Cuban who favored "liberal"
causes it was even more critical. I re-
member talking to an American friend who
wanted to join the Venceremos Brigade.
"How could one espouse these causes and
be so conservative as to Cuba?" he argued.
The answer lay in the fact that all the other
issues were impersonal, while the Cuban
event was one loaded with emotion and
memories best left hidden away.
Slowly, however, many of the subjects of
this book began to inquire into this
phenomenon and change came about. A
number of groups began to arise in the
Cuban exile community, questioning the
Revolution and their ties to it. Instrumental
were Nueva Generaci6n, La Cosa, In-
stituto de Estudios Cubanos andArei to. A






































































ILLUSTRATION BY JUAN C. URQUIOLA
brief sketch of this progression is given in
the introduction to Contra Viento, but a
longer and more precise history would have
given a better view of these events.
Another section of the book addresses
the respondents' present feelings about the
Cuban Revolution. They perceived im-
proved hospital care, an end to discrimina-
tion, and new educational opportunities.
The problem is that these are perceptions
of Americans, not Cubans, and it is perhaps


here that the book is weakest. A persistent
reference to feminist achievements likewise
addresses the issue from an American left-
ist position, not from a Cuban perspective.
The book presents criticisms about the
Cuban regime, but does so in a sketchy and
Americanized way. Is it relevant, for exam-
ple, to deal with gay rights in the Cuban
context? It may be for Americans but I sus-
pect not for Cubans. Freedom of speech,
locomotion and religion are not mentioned!


Material problems, lack of consumer goods
and bureaucratic domination are dealt
with at length, while more fundamental
problems, such as the emergence of
Soviet-style communism over Maoism
are ignored.
It is with the chapter on the Cuban exile
community that I take strongest issue. It
appears to be an elitist view of what the
exiles are. One of the authors refers to the
exile world as surrealistic and numerous
references are made to the Versailles res-
taurant, domino playing and "fifteen" par-
ties. While all of these may be humorous to
the typical American they are reality to the
typical Cuban exile. In many ways they are
bonds that tie us together. We are, after all, a
surrealistic people. A similar tour through
Havana would find parties going on in
buses, a Tropicana restaurant surviving in
socialism or a mad beggar wandering
through the streets (the Caballero de Paris).
I remember seeing a man in Varadero,
whose only job was to kill mosquitoes in a
hotel elevator, doing so with a French copy
of Granma! Could anything be so surrealis-
tic or subject to ridicule?
The book ends with the thoughts of those
interviewed as to their future. Many saw
themselves as part of the Cuban process,
something which we have all dreamed
about but which we readily forget after vis-
iting Cuba. Because of historical events we
are condemned to be a lost generation,
uprooted at its prime and forever searching
for an identity, tied by an umbilical cord to a
land which can never be ours and forced to
live in another in which we don't belong.
The story told by this book is an engros-
sing tale, essential to understanding the
Cuban exile community. Two factors are
needed to place it in perspective, however. It
was written for readers in Cuba, having won
a Casa de las Americas prize, and it is rep-
resentative of a minority view point in a
fragmented and tortured exile community.



Luis P. Salas teaches Criminal Justice at
Florida International University. His book, De-
viance and Social Control in Cuba, was re-
cently published by Praeger.

CAIBBEAN IeVIEW/43











Cuba and the Commonwealth

aribbean Continued from page 10


cause they reflect purely internal causes,
are drops in productivity, notably in the ag-
ricultural sector. According to FAO figures,
dry beans, corn, rice, all show substantial
drops in output per acre during 1975-77 (as
compared to 1969-75).
Far from being a socialist society
Jamaica is rather what economists call a
"transfer society:" resources are drawn from
the few productive sectors and used up in
an effort to acquire existing resources for
others. In other words, more valuable re-
sources are used to produce less valuable
resources. While the political advantages
are obvious, these are necessarily short-
term since, economically, transfer policies
result in a negative sum game for the soci-
ety as a whole. The Cuban connection
facilitates the rationalization that all this is a
consequence of a "revolutionary process."
This process preempts any "ordinary"
criteria of performance measurement or
comparison with "non-revolutionary"
societies (such as Barbados) which, with
less resources, have managed a respect-
able pace of growth and development.
Again, the Cuban connection operates as a
sort of smokescreen covering up defici-
ences and incompetence of all kinds. It
is a significant element in the ability of the
middle class leadership of the PNP to
stay in power.

Grenada and Cuba
This coincidence between Cuban interests
and the interests of radicalized middle class
groups bent on holding on to state power is
clearly evident in Grenada. Grenada ranks
with Haiti among the poorest of Caribbean
societies. This poverty has been only mildly
ameliorated by the proximity of the neigh-
boring island of Trinidad which has
traditionally provided an outlet for excess
population as well as a source of remit-
tances, an important part of Grenada's
economy. Not surprisingly, relations with
Trinidad have always been an important
issue in Grenada's politics. All that changed
when some 45 men (apparently using arms
smuggled in from the United States) car-
ried out the first coup d'etat in West Indian
history. The victors, all members of the New
Jewel Movement, promised a socialist rev-
olution and even began talking as if they
were in fact leading a social revolution. They
were confusing middle class relief at getting
rid of Eric Gairy with support for socialist-
type changes.
In fact the situation facing the Revolu-
tionary Government of Grenada might be
described as follows: significant sectors of
the peasantry continue loyal to Gairy (or at
least "gairyism"-black peasant populism),
44/CAIBBEAN REVIEW


the coalition of urban forces which formed
the backbone of the anti-Gairy movement
(churches, Chamber of Commerce, Rotary,
Lions, labor unions-the so-called "Com-
mittee of 22") are not much given to revolu-
tions, the Civil Service is interested in their
pay checks and security, the traditional
political parties are eager for elections and
suspicious of the young radicals in the New



The fact is that the masses
in the English-speaking
Caribbean tend to be
politically radical but
sociologically conservative.



Jewel Movement who had tried their hands
at electoral politics before without much
success. On the other hand, the new gov-
ernment enjoys the support of the largely
unemployed urban youth, clearly a sector
to contend with.
Who are these revolutionary leaders?
One begins with one fact: the group which
toppled Eric Gairy is fundamentally middle
class in origin. Prime Minister Maurice
Bishop was about five years old in 1950
when Eric Gairy returned from the oil fields
of Aruba to begin the anti-colonial drive.
Bishop is a graduate of Presentation Col-
lege in Grenada and read for the law in
London. He is clearly a member of the is-
land's small but stable middle class. So is
Bernard Coard, Ken Radix and others in the
regime. Richard Jacobs, Grenada's new
Ambassador to Cuba, although a citizen of
Trinidad and Tobago, belongs to a promi-
nent middle class family that spreads the
whole Eastern Caribbean. Grenada's mid-
dle class never accepted Gairy and he re-
turned the favor.
Bishop recently told an interviewer how
he remembered Gairy's identifying and
then rejecting him when he was nominated
in the early 1960s to a commission of in-
quiry by the students of Grenada Boy's
Secondary School. This incident probably
had more social than political overtones,
reflecting the strained relations between
Gairy and his middle class antagonists. Not
surprisingly, Bishop's middle class values
are already apparent in his positions. Note,
for instance, how he concludes that, while
freedom of the press is appropriate for the
British, who can sit and weigh and see the
points-of-view and choose one, it is not so


for Grenadians. His interviewer relates his
reasoning: "He said that in the situation of
Grenada with backwardness, illiteracy,
superstition, rumor mongering, certainly
functional illiteracy, most people could
hardly even fully appreciate the one state-
ment in front of them. 'How are they going
to sift up three and four?' he asked." (Inter-
viewed by Alister Hughes and John
Redman, Caribbean Life and Times,
December 1979.)
It should come as no surprise that Gre-
nada has now banned the Grenadian Ras-
tafarian movement, closed down the only
independent newspaper, Torchlight, and
one can expect other forms of working
class "superstitions' to be proscribed in due
course. Surely high on the list will be Obeah
and Rosicrucianism, both staples in Gairy's
political skeleton closet and both anathema
to these men who share that secular ration-
alism proper of the educated middle class.
Note for instance Deputy Prime Minister
Bernard Coard's answer to a question on
elections: "We don't want to have only a
'representative democracy'-which means
that once every five years for five seconds
you go to the polls and mark your X having
been given enough rum and corned beef at
the local rum shop...we call this 'five sec-
ond democracy'." (The Miami Herald,
11/27/79). Interestingly enough it was
against such very attitudes that Gairy origi-
nally led his anti-colonial movement back
in the 1950s.
If we are to accept Bishop's and Coard's
description of the Grenadian people we
would have to agree not only with Marx's
portrayal of the "idiocy of rural life" but also
conclude that in such a population no
socialist revolution is possible. What is
possible, of course, is an authoritarian
state capitalism, not by the people but
for the people.
That this suits the nature of the radical
middle class leadership well was the theme
of a book which not too long ago was
heralded as the most significant analysis of
Caribbean politics in general and Grena-
dian politics specifically, Archie Singham's
The Hero and the Crowd (Yale University
Press, 1968). Singham identified two kinds
of West Indian political heroes: the "middle
class hero, and the hero who comes from
humble origins." Singham's sympathies
were clearly with the latter and Eric Matthew
Gairy was the prototype. But Singham had
enough sociological perspicacity to note
that, "In spite of the differences in their class
origins and their leadership style, however,
these two types share certain similarities:
they tend to develop personal organizations
which are essentially authoritarian." Sing-
ham's was perceptive in his call for more
studies on the "anxiety-ridden" middle
class heroes: "His ideology is usually
populist; for him the rhetoric if not the con-
tent of Marxism or radical socialism fulfills a











very useful role by enabling him to sustain
the vicissitudes of politics in the light of the
sacrifices he has to make."
As leaders of a political revolution the
new Grenadian rulers have less time to de-
liver the goods than leaders of social revo-
lutions. The latter preside over populations
mobilized for change and prepared to sac-
rifice for that change. The former have to
first secure their political positions all the
while engaging in redistributionist policies,
policies designed to placate or even redress
a sense of injustice rather than restructur-
ing a system of injustice. The problem is
that there is not much to redistribute
in Grenada; previous governments led
a hand-to-mouth existence and Gairy's
past corruption and mis-management
virtually guarantees the same for the
New Jewel regime.
Here is where the Cuban card comes into
play: immediate and efficient short-term
aid. Enough in fact to secure two require-
ments: shore up the regime politically
through military and security (including
intelligence) assistance, shore it up eco-
nomically where it counts by providing jobs,
health services and technical advice. As we
noted above, so rapid are the Cuban moves
that soon after Prime Minister Bishop visi-
ted Canada seeking funds for a viability
study for a new airport, he announced that
some 250 men, a great deal of machinery,
cement and steel will arrive from Cuba to
begin work on a new international airport.
As other infrastructure projects are begun
by the Cubans, the regime is freed to use its
limited resources for what West Indians call
"make work," public work employment on
a piece-meal basis.
The Cuban connection also serves to
provide a mantle of revolutionary urgency
to acts which are manifestly political: the
closing down of The Torchlight newspaper,
the banning of one branch of the Rastafa-
rian movement, the suspension of students
who led a protest, the arrest of opponents
who are then held without formal charges,
the sealing off of major areas for military
reasons and finally, the ridicule of par-
liamentary politics as "five second democ-
racy." The Cuban card allows Grenada's
Minister of Security, Hudson Austin, to do all
this and then explain: "There are still some
people in the country who do not realize
there is a revolution in the country." (The
Miami Herald, 10/16/79). Surely even the
Minister will recognize that his words con-
tain both an empirical truth as well as a
political rationalization.

Trinidad and Cuba
All this is of deep concern to the govern-
ments of Trinidad and Tobago and Bar-
bados. In the recently signed "Memoran-
dum of Understanding of Matters of Coop-
eration Between the Government of Bar-
bados and the Government of the Republic


of Trinidad and Tobago" (April 30, 1979),
Prime Ministers Eric Williams and Tom
Adams took note of the "growing complex-
ity of the security problems of the Carib-
bean region and agreed to consult from
time to time thereon." Among the issues
they identified as of particular concern to
their countries were "terrorism, piracy, the
use of mercenaries...and the introduction
into the region of techniques of subver-
sion..." Not unimportant was the publica-
tion at the same time of the Trinidad Gov-
ernment's "White Paper on Caricom,
1973-1978" (April 1979), a pessimistic as-



By providing legitimacy to
all who assert radical
"principles" the Cubans
have blurred the distinction
between theory and
practice.



sessment, especially of Jamaica's and
Guyana's roles in the common market ar-
rangements. The two documents tend to
indicate that oil rich Trinidad is gearing to
shift its regional policies, to favor its friends
and shun its enemies. Manley, Burnham
and the other Caribbean leftists are in the
latter category. Barbados' Adams in the
former. Eric Williams is playing the negative
side of the Cuban card: Cuban subversion
and interference as straw man. As such the
Trinidad case is further illustration of the
West Indian art of politics, for few Caribbean
politicians have been more astute at play-
ing the Cuban card than Trinidad's Eric
Williams; he remains the master political
artist of the area.
In a real sense Eric Williams's legitimacy
as a politician was from the beginning
based on his reputation for personal inde-
pendence, even rebelliousness-first from
the Great Power-dominated Caribbean
Commission for which he worked, then as
Premier of autonomous Trinidad. During
the years of the West Indies Federation,
Williams led the battle for "unit participa-
tion" in foreign policy, refusing to surrender
any powers in this area to the Federal gov-
ernment. His background included the
writing of a classic in Marxian historiog-
raphy, Capitalism and Slavery (1974) and
a consistent battle to regain major parts of
the US military base at Chaguaramas. Wil-
liams took good advantage of his reputa-
tion as a radical: he used it fundamentally to
outflank the Trinidad left represented within
his party (the PNM) by C.L.R. James and
outside it by the various leaders of the Oil
Field Trade Union (OWTU). When it was


convenient, he played on the anti-colonial
angle.
In 1963, Williams warned a high level
Venezuelan delegation that unless a Ven-
ezuelan 30% surtax on goods from Trinidad
was removed, he intended to initiate dis-
cussions in the United Nations on remain-
ing colonialism in the Caribbean, "and he
wished to indicate that included the 30%
Antillean surtax, the importance of which
should not be minimized." William's at-
titude towards Latin America in general and
Venezuela in particular was always ambigu-
ous. His hope had always been to integrate
the Caribbean archipelago. "Our stand on
this," he wrote in 1968, "has always been
crystal clear from as far back as January,
1962... It was to work towards the formation
of a Caribbean Economic Community, be-
ginning with, but not limited to, the Carib-
bean Commonwealth countries." Such an
alignment, he argued, was warranted by a
common history, geographical proximity,
similarity of economic structure and limited
national markets.
In the early 1960s, however, Williams was
not eager to push this idea far enough to
include Cuba. In fact, it was the Cuban Rev-
olution of 1959 which forced him to seek an
understanding with Venezuela. Good rela-
tions with that nation which is separated by
only seven miles on the Gulf of Paria made
good ideological and national security
sense. With Cuba's Castro and Venezuela's
Betancourt locked in a battle with
Hemisphere-wide ramifications, Williams
placed Trinidad on the side of Venezuela
and anti-Communism, in a clear anti-
Castro stance. Faced with increasing oppo-
sition from left forces who had become
disappointed in his middle-of-the-road
policies, Williams had his eyes on events at
home and on the guerrilla movement just
across the Gulf of Paria. The appearance in
1963 in Trinidad of a newspaper (The Cir-
cle) which carried news of Venezuela's
guerrilla movement (including a verbatim
reprint of a FALN Statement Lcf. Vol. I, No. 11,
November 1963]) tends to indicate some
degree of transnational contact and coop-
eration between radical circles. Williams
wasted no time.
That same year 1963, the first anniver-
sary of Trinidad's independence, Williams
chose the Monde Diplomatique of Paris to
take his first public stance on the Cuban
issue. He portrayed the significance of
Trinidad and Tobago as an independent
country in the modern world as represent-
ing a confrontation in the Caribbean of the
dominant points of view that face the world
today: (1) active partnership between gov-
ernment and investors in Trinidad and To-
bago as against the state direction of the
economy of Cuba; (2) a direct democracy
superimposed upon a parliamentary tradi-
tion in Trinidad and Tobago as against
Cuba's one party state dominated by its
CArBBEAN IeVIEW/45










caudillo; (3) the vision in Trinidad and To-
bago of a Caribbean Economic Commu-
nity with some sort of independent exis-
tence as against the submerging of the
Cuban personality behind the Iron Curtain.
By 1967 the anti-Cuban line in Trinidad's
foreign policy had reached a high pitch.
On September 24,1967, the Trinidad and
Tobago position vis-a-vis Cuba was put
emphatically to the Final Session of the
Twelfth Meeting of Consultation of Foreign
Ministers of the OAS: "We have extended
assurances to the government of Venezuela
that we will not permit the soil of Trinidad
and Tobago to be used for purposes of sub-
version against the democratic regime of
the Republic of Venezuela... We propose to
take all necessary action within our com-
munity to avoid the danger of communist
infiltration;... Finally, in the dispute between
the Government of Venezuela and the to-
talitarian state of Cuba, and in all the cir-
cumstances demonstrated at this Meeting
of Foreign Ministers, we wish to state em-
phatically and unequivocably for public
opinion in the Hemisphere and elsewhere in
the world. We stand by Venezuela."
Again only a few days later, on the occa-
sion of Trinidad and Tobago's presentation
on September 27, 1967 to the Twenty-
Second General Assembly of the United
Nations, the Trinidad and Tobago position
on Cuba was made clear by its then Minister
of External Affairs, A.N.R. Robinson: "I can-
not end this brief review of areas of tension
over which my delegation is particularly
concerned without reference to those states
which indiscriminately seek by force to im-
pose a pattern of government and of soci-
ety on peoples outside of their borders. I
refer particularly to the activities of the gov-
ernment of Cuba in the Western Hemis-
phere. I say to the representative of the gov-
ernment of Cuba: 'Unwarranted interven-
tion in the affairs of other states cannot but
justify intervention in your own. Exporting
revolution, be it remembered, is a two-
edged sword.'"
In the year 1967 Trinidad imported
TT$283,675,700 from Venezuela (primarily
crude for refining and re-export);
TT$298,137,900 was exported to the US.
While total imports from Cuba was TT$100
and there were no exports to that island.
These figures tell a story of Cuban isolation
which was ideological and economic. For
Williams, keeping Cuba at a distance was
good politics. It helped mend fences with
Venezuela, a major supplier of crude for the
island's refineries while at the same time
made his political moves against the left
opposition in Trinidad easier.
By the end of the 1960s, however, Wil-
liams was preparing to use the other side of
the Cuban card, the "positive" one. The shift
began in 1969 with some ambiguous
statements and positions. That year the
Trinidad government recommended that
46/CAfBBEAN REVIEW


"the door should be left open for the inclu-
sion of Cuba into CARIFTA." There was no
explanation of whether this meant with, or,
perhaps, after Castro. In his From Colum-
bus to Castro, published in 1969, Williams
noted for instance that "Castro's pro-
gramme is pure nationalist, comprehensi-
ble and acceptable by any other Caribbean
nationalist." And in the field of race relations
he saw Cuba as "the only bright spot" in the
area. But Williams' old reservations were
still there: "...Cuba has illustrated the basic
weakness of West Indian countries-the
tendency to look for external props. But the



The Cuban connection
operates as a sort of
smokescreen covering up
deficiencies and
incompetence of all kinds.



real tragedy of Cuba is that she has resorted
to a totalitarian framework within which
to profoundly transform her economy
and society. This is the real point about
the essentials of the political system
in Cuba today."
The "Cuban Model," as he called it, was
not recommended for the Caribbean. Yet,
by 1970, Williams used the occasion of his
Chairmanship of the Economic and Social
Council of the OAS Meeting in Caracas to
call for reabsorptionn" of Cuba into the
OAS. Whether this was to counterbalance
his call for the admission of Guyana (then
locked in a border dispute wth Venezuela),
or an outright statement of conviction, is
difficult to tell. Two years later, Trinidad
joined its CARIFTA partners in extending
diplomatic recognition to Cuba.
It was not until June, 1975, however, that
Williams would make Cuba a central part of
his foreign policy through a state visit to that
island. "In this mighty effort to achieve
greater Caribbean solidarity," he told the
students of the University of Havana, "Cuba
has a great role to play." The search, Wil-
liams stressed, was for the Caribbean's
"fundamental unity and distinctive identity."
Williams was now prepared to admit the
island of Cuba into his conception of the
Caribbean archipelago. Naturally this had
to be justified somehow and Williams was
effusive in his reasoning. "Cuba's progress,"
he wrote Fidel Castro, "is something that
has to be seen to be believed."
What explains this dramatic shift in Eric
Williams' foreign policy? Part of the answer
lies in the changed context of the Carib-
bean. The "subversive" threat seemed de-
feated both on the island as well as in Ven-


ezuela. To Williams, a new threat was posed
by what he regarded as Venezuela's im-
proper designs on the Caribbean area
generally and Trinidad and Tobago specif-
ically. Two speeches made in 1975 give
a picture of Williams' concern with
Venezuelan moves.
In the first speech (May 1975) Williams
attacked the notion that Venezuela was a
Caribbean country. ("1 expect next to hear
that Tierra del Fuego is.") and pointed to
"Venezuela's relations, territorial ambitions
in respect of our area." The second speech
was delivered to his Party's Convention on
June 15, just two days before his trip to
Cuba (and to the USSR, Rumania and the
US where he met with Henry Kissinger). In
what amounts to one of the most scathing
attacks by one country on another in the
Caribbean area during peacetime, Williams
warned of Venezuela's "penetration" of the
Caribbean, berated that country's "belated
recognition of its Caribbean identity"
and chastized his CARICOM partners for
falling for the new Venezuelan definition
of the Caribbean (the "Caribbean Basin")
and leading a "Caribbean Pilgrimage
to Caracas."
The sources of Williams' irritation with
Venezuela were many and some certainly
legitimate. For instance, contrary to the
provisions of the CARICOM charter which
calls for multilateral trade with non-
members, Venezuela was encouraging
bilateral deals. This was especially the case
in bauxite and oil deals, both of which Wil-
liams had long wanted to dominate. But
there were also differences regarding the
law of the sea, objections to certain Ven-
ezuelan claims to islets in the Caribbean;
Venezuelan loans, tourism initiatives and
cultural "penetration" through schol-
arships. Williams expressed the fear that
Caribbean and Latin American primary
products were "jumping from the European
and American frying pan into the South
American fire," and that the net result would
be the recognition of Venezuela as "a new
'financial centre' of the world."
Despite the weightiness of any one of
these issues, however, Williams' most de-
tailed analysis was reserved for an inventory
of his attempts to get a fishing accord with
Venezuela, a long standing controversy
which by 1975, Williams wanted to put to
rest, stating that "one man can only take so
much, and I have had enough.": "As far as I
am concerned, I have had my fill of this fishy
business, and as Prime Minister I wash my
hands of it... If we can't agree on fish, how
can we agree on oil."
The truth was that the fishing dispute had
spilled over onto Trinidad's domestic politi-
cal arena. It had become part of the racial
political strife as the largely Indian opposi-
tion party, the United Labour Force, began
to agitate for the rights of the predominantly
Indian fisherman caught in the dispute with










Venezuela. Williams felt that the Venezuelan
government was siding with the Indians and
as such interfering in internal Trinidad poli-
tics. He feared that this was but a harbinger
of what would follow once the question of
oil in the ill-defined Gulf of Paria came up as
it no doubt would. It was time to play the
positive side of the Cuban card on the inter-
national scene.
Williams gladly traded open praise for
Cuba in exchange for Cuban neutrality in
the struggle within Trinidad politics, espe-
cially within the opposition party (the ULF)
where a battle was unfolding between
moderates and radicals. A radical victory
could very well mean an end to the racial
politics which is the best gaurantee of con-
tinued power for Williams' black-based
PNM. It paid off: in 1976 the ULF split with
the radical faction remaining a clear minor-
ity, isolated in every way. Once again, a radi-
cal group, not enjoying any mass base, was
outflanked by the traditional politician
playing on the theme of friendship with
Cuba, with Venezuela adequately sub-
stituting as the straw man. In politics
it is useful to have external enemies as
well as friends; Williams knew how to
manipulate both.

The Eastern Caribbean
Events in the Eastern Caribbean, however,
tend to indicate a new shift in the policies of
both Trinidad and Venezuela, shifts which
will most probably bring them into some-
thing of an anti-Cuban alliance similar to
what existed in the early and mid-1960s.
By 1979 the islands of the Eastern Carib-
bean had clearly joined the ideological fray.
The recently concluded (May 1979)
"Memorandum on Economic Cooperation
between Trinidad and Barbados" clearly
illustrates the trends in the Eastern Carib-


bean: close cooperation between oil-rich
Trinidad and fast growing Barbados, all the
way from cooperation in Defense and se-
curity matters, to support for the University
of the West Indies, to energy. This was an
obvious move to counter the activities of
the "radicals" in the Eastern Caribbean.
And they in turn responded.
The July 1979 Declaration of St. Georges
(Grenada) signed by the Prime Ministers of
Grenada, Dominica and St. Lucia was sup-
posed to herald a dramatic shift in ideologi-
cal orientation in the Eastern Caribbean.
Bishop of Grenada clearly had the stellar



In the Caribbean we are
witnessing political
revolutions led by
intellectuals with no mass
base, without even
significant labor union
support.



role, followed closely by Deputy Prime
Minister George Odium of St. Lucia, and a
distant third was Oliver Seraphin from
Dominica. Bishop and Odlum had previ-
ously revealed that they had met some ten
years ago on Rat Island, off St. Lucia, to plan
a revolutionary strategy for the Eastern
Caribbean. The Declaration of St. Georges
was from all appearances the culmination
of that process. With independence for St.
Vincent approaching, that island was fully
expected to join the "radical" alliance.
There can be no doubt but that the politi-


cal battle has been joined in the Eastern
Caribbean. On the "radical" side the young
intellectuals of the area's middle classes,
and on the other the aging veterans of the
anti-colonial movements, the labor-union
based politicians. Subsequent events in St.
Vincent give us some early indications of
the way the battle is going. The recent elec-
tion was originallyjudged a toss up between
the traditional forces who remained divided
(Milton Cato's St. Vincent Labour Party,
"Son" Mitchell's New Democratic Party, and
Ebenezer Joshua's People's Political
Party-all three past Premiers of the island),
and the radical forces recently united under
the banner of the United People's Move-
ment (UPM). This coalition joined one so-
cial democratic party (People's Democratic
Movement) with two professing "Scientific
socialism," ARWEE and YULIMO.
YULIMO is led by a white Vincentian, Dr.
Ralph Gonsalves who teaches at the Uni-
versity of the West Indies campus in Bar-
bados. An intense and attractive public
speaker, Gonsalves is representative of the
new middle class radicals of the region:
impatient with parliamentary structures and
procedures, moved by a profound convic-
tion that they can provide better leadership
than the old guard. The nearly eulogistic
description of the radical UPM's principal
leaders by Caribbean Contact is revealing:
"A roll-call of UPM's principal leaders is like
a who's who of St. Vincent's brighter and
more dedicated sons and daughters. These
include Oscar Allen, Simeon Greene, Dr.
Kenneth John, Carlyle Dougan, E. Dougan,
Y. Francis, Robbie FitsPatrick, Renwick
Rose, Adrian Saunders, Caspar London,
Tysel John, Mike Browne, and Dr. Ralph
Gonsalves" (September 1979). The elec-
tion results, however, tend to indicate that
Vincentians are not yet ready for what Dr.


CARBBEAN PEVIEW/47










Gonsalves called "a broad theoretical pro-
gramme of socialist orientation." Cato's
Labour Party won 11 of 13 seats and ex-
Premier "Son" Mitchell's NDP won the re-
maining two. Cato had run on virtually one
theme: "Stem the leftist tide." It paid off, at
least for now.
The post-elections uprising of Rastafa-
rians on Union island in the St. Vincent's
Grenadines and the quick dispatch of a
Barbadian police contingent to assist the
Cato Government indicates that there
might not be too many more Grenada-like
surprises possible in the Eastern Carib-
bean, certainly not in St. Vincent.
Events in the other islands also show
evidence that the euphoria surrounding the
St. Georges Declaration might already be
on the wane. Dominica's Oliver Seraphin
has moderated his utterances to such a
degree that his most recent speech in
Miami, Florida (November, 1979) received
a standing ovation from some three
hundred American and Caribbean busi-
nessmen. Michael Manley, on the other
hand, received merely polite applause from
the same audience. Program-wise
Seraphin's pitch to the businessmen
was no different from Manley's: they
both made an appeal for foreign capital.
In St. Lucia a real split has developed
between Prime Minister Louisy and Deputy
Prime Minister Odium. On the surface the
split has to do with the Louisy government's
harder line towards the Rastafarians and
other dissident groups. In fact, it is a strug-
gle for power, with Louisy apparently refus-
ing now to turn over the government to the
radical wing as per a secret but widely
known understanding.
Odlum's radical posture on this question
is weakened by his Grenadian allies' ban-
ning of the Rastas on their island. The Ras-
tafarian question is an interesting one since


invariably opposition radical groups have
joined their cause as part of the anti-
establishment crusade. Once in power,
however, these same groups find the Rastas
an obstacle to the kind of secular socialist
modernization these middle class radicals
desire. Certainly there are few Caribbean
groups more alien to the regimented and
clean-shaven Cubans than these grimy and
tattered followers of the Lion of Juda. And
so it is with so many of the other West Indian
lumpen groups and practices-from obeah
to ganja smoking on the job.



In this question of the art
of shifting political signals
and changing rules, Cuba
is dealing with some of the
most skillful practitioners
to be found anywhere
today.



Conclusion
In societies with very few resources and few
opportunities for advancement and promi-
nence, government and its bureaucracy
offer by comparison remarkable rewards.
Status is not only national, it is international:
The United Nations, Third World and Un-
aligned Movements, provide forums for the
articulate of even the smallest of nations.
And if there is one thing that these radical
sons of the islands' middle classes are, it is
articulate. A Michael Manley, a Maurice
Bishop or a Bernard Coard make good im-
pressions and stand in stark contrast to the


ridicule reserved for some of the old leaders
such as Eric Gairy. But while their informal
revolutionary dress-now de rigueur
everywhere in the English-speaking
Caribbean-contrasts dramatically with the
excessive formality of such old-timers such
as Bradshaw, Joshua or Norman Manley,
the clothes cannot hide their middle class
backgrounds or European educations.
While the old timers were organizing
labor unions and political parties, these
radicals were in Europe being educated in
the various issues of the 1960s. Unable
because of class and race to be integral
parts of the Black Power movement, they
nevertheless have deep-rooted and sincere
sympathies with that large group of young
urban unemployed, fundamentally a lum-
penproletariat. It is those lumpen sectors
which Frantz Fanon felt would immerse
themselves in revolutionary violence to
emerge cleansed and liberated, ready to
undertake the task of socialist moderniza-
tion. But Fanon was talking about social
revolutions in societies experiencing brutal
colonization. In the Caribbean we are wit-
nessing political revolutions led by intel-
lectuals with no mass base, without even
significant labor union support. It is the
revolution of youthful hope over street-wise
experience, secular experimentation
against primordial racial and ethnic at-
tachments, abstract ideas of a New Eco-
nomic Order against populist promises of a
chicken and a yam in every pot-all this in
territories which the European colonizers
are only too eager to be rid of.
In this context the Cuban card has ex-
traordinary value to the new elites. It extends
the mantle of revolutionary legitimacy while
at the same time providing the arms, intelli-
gence and training essential for grabbing
power and keeping it. Clearly and predicta-
bly, that mantle of legitimacy will show weak


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spots as it spreads over more and more
Caribbean "revolutions." Because they are
political movements, they respond more to
the unique configurations of each territory
rather than to any universal, class-based
factors. The Cuban mantle has thus to
cover a Burnham, a Manley, and a Bishop
equally. Consequently, if Bishop's counter-
parts in Guyana (with whom he shares
ideological, intellectual, educational and
even class-origins and proclivities), the uni-
versity professors-led Working People's Al-
liance, are oppressed by Burnham, Bishop
can only hold his silence. Not only does he
"owe" Burnham for his very early support of
the revolution, he is also inhibited by Cuba's
support for the Guyana government. Ironi-
cally, the defense of human rights in
Guyana becomes by default a matter for
liberal groups in Trinidad, Barbados and the
US. Similarly, the repression of the Rasta-
farians in Grenada does not bring forth
a protest from Manley's regime, which
has made a big issue of their support of
Rasta culture.


The battle for the English-speaking
Caribbean has now been joined by all par-
ties and it is premature to concede victory to
one side or the other. It is not premature,
however, to note certain structural aspects
of the battle.
Cuba has announced that its growth
target for 1980 will be a mere 3%. This com-
pares to targets of 7.4% for 1978 and 6% for
1979. Clearly its inability to achieve any-
where near those goals in those years has
led to a more realistic figure for 1980. To
hear the very candid recent speeches by
both Fidel and Raul Castro, however, is to
wonder whether that island's sputtering
economy can achieve even that 3% in 1980.
Since at no time does or can Cuba offer a
viable economic alternative to the de-
pendent and complementary economics of
the area, the Cuban card will necessarily
continue to be a political one, not an eco-
nomic or social one.
Being political, not responding to any
mass-based social and economic move-


ments, the Cuba-card


is very much a


double-edged sword in the English-
speaking Caribbean. It can be used in its
positive and its negative sides by elites of all
classes, skin colors or ideological positions.
Power, i.e., state control, is the operative
value, the goal towards which Caribbean
elites, new and old, bend their every effort.
Cuban assistance in this endeavor is appre-
ciated but it involves a marriage of conven-
ience. As occurs in such marriages, the
rules can change at the most unexpected
moment. And in this question of the art of
shifting political signals and changing rules,
Cuba is dealing with some of the most
skillful practitioners to be found anywhere
today.


Anthony P Maingot heads the Department of
Sociology and Anthropology at Florida Inter-
national University. His recent essay, "The
Difficult Path to Socialism in the English-
Speaking Caribbean," appears in Richard
Fagen's Capitalism and the State in United
States-Latin American Relations (Stanford
University Press).


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Cuba and the US
Continued from page 29


Cuba released its American prisoners, in-
cluding Frank Emmich who had been ac-
cused by the Cuban government of being
CIA station chief in 1960-1961 which in
turn, led in 1979 to the presidential pardon
of Lolita Lebr6n and other Puerto Rican
nationalists who had been in American
prisons since the Truman years.
In response to a Cuban proposal seeking
an understanding on fishing rights, and an
American proposal on the opening of inter-
est sections in each other's capital (a lower
level structure of diplomatic communica-
tion and consular services which did not
include establishing full diplomatic rela-
tions and which would function with a dele-
gation of approximately ten diplomats
headed by a "counselor"), agreements
were reached in a matter of months. On
March 24, formal Cuban-American talks on
fishing boundaries began in the United
States, and continued in Havana, on April
25. Four days later a fishing agreement was
reached setting a midpoint boundary in the
overlapping zone, and allowing Cuban ves-
sels to call at American ports for supplies,
equipment, and to undergo repairs while
the United States had the rightto determine
annual fishing quotas for Cuban vessels
operating in the American zone.
Later, on May 30, an agreement was
signed formalizing the exchange of interest
sections: the Cuban section operating in
the Czech Embassy in Washington, and the
American section operating in the Swiss
Embassy in Havana. On September 1st,
both interest sections were established.
Although they were still far from full nor-
malization of relations, this was the first time
since the Eisenhower administration that
Cuba and the United States were repre-
sented with their own diplomats at each
other's capital.
Once the ban on travel to Cuba was lifted
by Carter there were not only American
tourists who wanted to visit the island.
Group after group of businessmen started
to go to Cuba in 1977 exploring market and
trade possibilities for their products, orga-
nized by trade promoters such as Kirby
Jones, president of Alamar Associates, who
has been systematically alerting the Ameri-
can business community on trade potential
in today's Cuba. A partial listing of the com-
panies involved shows more than two-
hundred names, including some of the
leading American corporations and fi-
nancial institutions: American Express,
American National Bank, Burroughs, Coca
Cola, General Electric, General Mills, Hon-
eywell, International Harvester, Pillsbury,
RCA Communications, Xerox, and many
others.
50/CAIBBEAN IFIEW


The United States's opposition to Cuban
foreign policy finally positioned the Carter
administration at odds with the Cuban gov-
ernment. In the early months of 1978
(January-March), Cuban troops fighting
side by side with Soviet and Ethiopian
armed forces became involved in the Oga-
den desert war. The head of the Ethiopian
revolution, Lieutenant Colonel Mengistu


Setting the tone for what
could be Havana's behavior
in the international arena
for at least the next three
years, Castro
acknowledged the restraint
that will characterize his
tenure as leader and
spokesman of the
nonaligned movement.



Haile Mariam asked and received Cuban
support for what was then recognized as a
legitimate cause. The Somali claim for the
region, based on such considerations as
the fact that its population was mostly of
Somali ancestry, was seen as an excuse for
territorial annexation. According to Western
estimates, Cuban troops in Ethiopia in-
creased forty times in five months, from
400 in December 1977 to approximately
16,000 by April 1978. According to Castro,
however, Havana was reluctant to enter this
conflict among other factors, Somalia
was not only a former Cuban and Soviet ally
but also a fellow developing nation com-
mitted to building socialism. On March 15,
1978, just after Cuba had scored a second
military victory in Africa, Castro clarified the
Cuban position: "... we deeply regret the
conflict between Somalia and Ethiopia; we
did all we could to avoid it ... to prevent the
leadership of Somalia, with its territorial
ambitions and aggressive attitude, from
going over to imperialism. We were not able
to prevent it."
For Somalia, the Cuban troops were not
internationalist fighters (enforcing the prin-
ciple of proletarian internationalism) but
mercenaries. For the United States, the
Cubans were Soviet surrogates, this time
fighting openly with their Soviet partners.
Cuban military support for the campaign
against Ethiopia's rebellious northern


province of Eritrea did not help to improve
Havana's image in Washington this ac-
tion was even more difficult to explain by
Havana, as Cuba had previously supported
Eritrean separatist efforts in recognition of
the fact that after being federated in 1952,
Ethiopia had unilaterally annexed Eritrea as
a new province in 1962.
In words reminiscent of President Ford,
Carter expressed his opinion about Cuban
actions in Africa stating that, "Cuban troops
are completely aligned with the Soviets ...
Castro is acting contrary to peaceful set-
tlement of disputes that are inevitable in
Africa, and that is an obstacle to any further
progress between us and Cuba."
In a claim that was never validated, Carter
accused Castro, in a nationally televised
press conference, of being responsible for
the "violence and killing" of whites and
blacks in Zaire, because the Cubans had
helped train and arm the invaders of Zaire's
Shaba Province. Castro denied categori-
cally this accusation, challenging Carter to
prove his charges, and Washington's ac-
cusation of Cuba's responsibility for the
Shaba province invasion went finally un-
heeded.
Recent political developments in the
Caribbean have been a source of worry for
Washington and of satisfaction for Havana.
It seems as if some of the island-states in
the region are looking at Havana not with
fear but as a source of friendly, reliable ad-
vise and if possible, support for their
socioeconomic developmental plans -
e.g., Cuban civilian advisers have been
working for years in Jamaica helping in all
kind of projects in what has been called by
some Castro's Peace Corps. This situation
has not yet evolved into another area of
open confrontation between Havana and
Washington, but it has the potential to do
so. Cuba's militant support for Puerto Rican
independence has always been a source of
irritation for Washington, and the recent
outbreak of violence terrorist attacks
against American servicemen, as in Sabana
Seca where two sailors were killed and ten
wounded, has made things worse. The
Caribbean is certainly not a Cuban lake, but
it looks less and less like the American lake
of the past.
Nonaligned Summitry
in Havana
Preparations had been going on for ap-
proximately three years, intensified during
the last twelve to fifteen months, for what
had been billed the most important of all
international gatherings ever held in
Havana: The Sixth Summit Conference of
Nonaligned Nations (September 3-9,
1979). Representing 92 of the 95 nation-
members were: 3 kings, 31 head of states,
14 prime ministers, 7 vice presidents or
deputy prime ministers, 2 vice chancellors,
9 ambassadors (to the United Nations or to










several countries), and 1 state minister. As
President of the host country, Fidel Castro
became not only the chairman of the con-
ference but also the leader of the
nonaligned movement, until the next
Summit is convened in Irak in 1982. This
provided the most important international
recognition ever given to Cuba by a single
event. Castro's appearance at the United
Nations a month later (October 12) speak-
ing as a world leader on behalf of the
nonaligned movement, only served to un-
derscore the obvious.
Washington's preoccupation with the
conference was twofold. First, it centered
on the prestige factor awarded to Cuba -
Brzezinski giving public statements ques-
tioning the authenticity of Cuban
nonaligned credentials as long as Havana
had such a close association with the Soviet
Union. Secondly, on the Summit Final
Declaration drafted by Cuba. In this docu-
ment Cuba redefined the future course of
action for nonalignment, changing from its
original stance (equidistance between both
superpowers) into a more militant posture.
It advocated that the movement should
gravitate toward the Soviet Union and other
socialist countries which are the "natural
allies" of the Third World nations.
Setting the tone for what could be
Havana's behavior in the international arena
for at least the next three years, Castro ac-
knowledged the restraint that will charac-
terize his tenure as leader and spokesman
of the nonaligned movement. This devel-
opment is probably more important from a
long-range perspective of Cuban-
American relations than anything else that
happened at the Summit itself.
In mid-July, Florida's Democratic
Senator Richard Stone alerted the State
Department that his intelligence-gathering
connections had uncovered reliable evi-
dence that a fully armed Soviet military
brigade was based in Cuba. Later, after an
earlier denial, the Carter administration
confirmed Stone's revelation. According to
the State Department there was indeed an
organized Russian military combat unit on
the island consisting of approximately 2600
troops the date of their arrival was am-
biguously stated as somewhere in the early
1970s. At this juncture a bipartisan
marathon unfolded turning into a demon-
stration of political-elite hysteria. With a
generalized conviction that the "Cubans
and the Russians did it again," the specter
and fears of the 1962 missile crisis were
back, and alive, in Washington. Brzezinski
went on record stating that the "Soviet
combat brigade in Cuba stemmed from a
Soviet 'pattern of disregard' for American
interests," and warning that "the United
States would retaliate if the Russians failed
to cooperate in finding a solution." De-
manding the removal of the Russian troops,
President Carter declared that "this status


quo is unacceptable."
Cuba responded to this crisis reluctantly
(it was ignored during the celebration of the
nonaligned Summit); by referring to it as "a
farse." Castro indicated that the Russian
troops had been in Cuba since 1962 for the
purpose of training Cuban military person-
nel and that this was a well-known fact by
American Presidents, from Kennedy all the
way to Carter. Washington's position, how-
ever, was that the new and objectionable
element was the organizational combat and
deployment capability given to the Russian
brigade, something that was not known by



From one kind of rhetoric
to another, from
conciliatory to adversarial
actions, the pendulum
representing normalization
of relations was readily
swinging back to the
hostility end of the
spectrum after a brief
residence in the
conciliatory zone.


the United States before.
A series of specially called meetings be-
tween Vance and the Soviet Ambassador in
Washington, Anatoly Dobrynin, led
nowhere. The Russians were firm on their
contention that the troops had the right to
be there (it was up to Cuba to decide this).
On October 1st, in a nationally televised
speech Carter announced the steps
planned by his administration in order to
neutralize the presence of Soviet troops in
Cuba: 1) to set up a new Caribbean Joint
Task Force Headquarters in Key West,
Florida (overseeing all Cuban [and Rus-
sian] military moves in the area); 2) to ex-
pand United States naval exercises in the
Caribbean; 3) to send a force of more than
1500 marines to the American base on
Guantanamo Bay to hold exercises (the
"landing" of marines took place on October
17); 4) to step up surveillance of Cuba
through electronic listening posts in
Florida, Puerto Rico, and Guantanamo, and
to conduct air surveillance over Cuba with
such spy planes as the SR-7; and 5) to in-
crease financial aid to poor countries in the
Caribbean, in order to offset the growing
Cuban influence in the region.
At the end of the entire episode, the Car-
ter administration lacked credibility for
pressing charges it could not substantiate,


while its response seemed inadequate to
political friends and foes alike it was
reported that Senate Majority Leader
Robert Byrd had characterized the Soviet
troop issue as a "pseudo crisis." Yet, with
one single exception (the fifth point) all the
steps proposed by Carter were supportive
of a military confrontation stand. No politi-
cal initiatives were announced, no possibil-
ity was contemplated to summon Cuba
officials for normalization talks so a crisis
such as this could be properly defused and
avoided in the future. After a remarkable
first year, moving toward normalization with
Cuba as no other American president has
done since 1959, Carter ended his third year
in office as a bitter Cuban antagonist.

A Tentative Prognosis
In spite of the advances made during the
Ford and Carter administrations, the dys-
functional components of Cuban-
American relations appear to be in a domi-
nant position at the present time. Since the
Nixon years, in which Washington recog-
nized the hemispheric notion of "ideologi-
cal pluralism" (i.e., that the Marxist-Leninist
nature of the Cuban political system cannot
be used as a reason for its rejection from
hemispheric relations), the antagonism
between the United States and Cuba has
been centered on the latter's foreign policy.
This is not to imply that the negative conse-
quences that earlier social changes had
upon American interests in Cuba (i.e., the
nationalization of American investments)
have been properly settled. To the contrary,
it means that the obstacles for negotiation
have not allowed the actual discussion, and
solution, of these and other issues not-
withstanding the agreements and con-
ciliatory initiatives of the 1970s.
There seems to be two major sets of vari-
ables determining the chances for normali-
zation: 1) dominant political forces and
mood in the United States (i.e., who is
president); and 2) the intensity, nature, and
goals of Cuban foreign policy.
Barring unexpected developments, it is
not likely for Cuba to become involved
during 1980 in external actions as it did in
Angola (1975-1976) or in Ethiopia (1978).
Cuba will continue its presence in those
countries as long as it deems necessary.
Current foreign policy initiatives will con-
tinue major foreign policy episodes as
those in Africa are the ones which seem
unlikely to occur during this period.
In 1981, the intermediate-range stage for
normalization, the most important element
will be who will be elected President of the
United States in the 1980 election. If either
Carter or Kennedy is elected (particularly
the latter), there is a likelihood that in the
first months of the year there will be a deci-
sive move toward normalizing relations
(similar to the 1977 experience but with
more definite results). In this sense, a re-
CAIBBEAN FEVIEW/51


I









strained posture by Cuba during 1980-1981
could have a handsome payoff. On the
other hand, if the next president is a conser-
vative Republican (like Connally or Reagan)
then the intermediate-range stage is not a
likely period for normalization. A rap-
prochement, then, would have to be ex-
amined from a long-range perspective.
Nevertheless, after 1982 and beyond,
Cuban foreign policy may find itself moving
into initiatives that may provoke American
anger all over again especially once
Castro's tenure as leader of the nonaligned
movement is finished. There are some
political as well as economic factors, how-
ever, that could pressure both Cuba and the
United States to abandon such negative
behavior and move toward normalization
talks. Hopefully this would override what-
ever obstacles stemming from American
domestic politics and/or Cuban foreign
policy may exist at the time.
America's increasing hemispheric isola-
tion regarding its Cuba policy will continue
in all probability given the present trend by
Latin American countries seeking normal
relations with Havana. It will be very difficult
for Washington to defend an anachronistic
policy which by then would be entering its
third decade. Only a very serious case of
intervention by Cuba in the internal affairs
of another hemispheric country, particu-
larly regarding Puerto Rico or the Caribbean
and Central American nations, as far as the
United States is concerned, would allow for
the continuation of such a policy without
further eroding the American standing on


this issue vis-a-vis Latin American coun-
tries.
For Cuba, 1982 and beyond may repre-
sent a period in which its chances for eco-
nomic development may seriously need
American trade and technology. This situa-
tion, combined with internal political devel-
opments brought about by the in-
stitutionalization of the revolution initiated
in the 1970s, may weigh strongly toward a
more conciliatory, pro-normalization post-
ure (i.e., deemphasizing some or all of its
controversial foreign policy initiatives).
Cuba would be moved into normalization
more by internal factors (the need for


American trade, the demands of its planned
economy for advanced technology, and
internal political developments) than by
external considerations notwithstanding
the Soviet Union which in all likelihood
would favor then, as it does now, normaliza-
tion of relations between Cuba and the
United States.


Max Azicri teaches Political Science at Edin-
boro State College, Pennsylvania. He recently
edited a special issue of the University of
Leiden's Socialist Law Review dedicated to
Cuban Law.


Dept. F.A.
300 North Zeeb Road
Ann Arbor, MI 48106
U.S.A.


Dept. F.A.
18 Bedford Row
London, WC1R 4EJ
England


OPINIONS
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Publicada por ALA, Agencia Latinoamericana,
fundada en 1948.


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Recent Books

An informative listing of books about the Caribbean,
Latin America, and their emigrant groups







by Marian Goslinga


Anthropology and Sociology
ANTOLOGiA PEDAGOGICA DE BOLIVIA.
Mariano Baptista Gumucio. Editorial Los
Amigos del Libro (La Paz, Bolivia), 1979. 277
p. $12.95.

ARQUEOLOGIA DE SUPERFICIE EN SAN
CRISTOBAL ECATEPEC, ESTADO DE
MEXICO. Humberto Dominquez Chavez.
Gobierno del Estado de Mexico, 1979. 233 p.
$13.20.

THE BRACERO EXPERIENCE: ELITELORE
VERSUS FOLKLORE. Maria Herrera-Sobek.
Latin American Center, University of Califor-
nia at Los Angeles, 1979. 142 p. $12.95.

BUENOS AIRES: BUROCRACIAY URBANISMO.
Patricio H. Randle. Oikos (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1979. 141 p. $7.50

CAQUEZA: LIVING RURAL DEVELOPMENT H.
Zandstra, et al. International Development
Research Centre (Ottawa, Canada), 1979.
$15.00. An analysis of the Caqueza Project of
the Instituto Colombiano Agropecuario.

EL CELO DEL ESPANOL Y EL INDIANO IN-
STUIDO. Francisco de Serra Canals. Centro
de Estudios Interdisciplinarios de His-
panomerica (Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1979.
129 p. $10.00. Study of an unpublished man-
uscript (1800) which discusses social condi-
tions in the Rio de la Plata region.

CHICANOS: EL PODER MESTIZO. Ehore Pierri.
Editores Mexicanos Unidos, 1979. 299 p.
$3.65.

LAS CIENCIAS SOCIALES EN AMERICA
LATINA. Guillermo Boils Morales, Antonio
Murga Frassinetti. Facultad de Ciencias
Politicas y Sociales, Universidad Nacional
Aut6noma de Mexico, 1979. 245 p. $4.10.

CRONICAS NOSTALGICAS: ESTAMPAS DE LA
CIUDAD DE MEXICO. Luis Vega y Monroy.
Editorial Jus (Mexico), 1979. 1979. 210 p.
$6.30.

CULTURAL ACTION AND SOCIAL CHANGE:
THE CASE OF JAMAICA. AN ESSAY IN
CARIBBEAN CULTURAL IDENTITY. R.
Nettleford. International Development Re-
search Centre (Ottawa, Canada), 1979.239 p.
$10.00.

DEMOGRAPHIC AND BIOLOGICAL STUDIES
OF THE WARAO INDIANS. Johannes Wil-


bert, Miguel Layrisse, eds. Latin American
Center, University of California at Los
Angeles, 1979. New edition.

LA EDUCATION ARGENTINA. Fernando
Martinez. Paz. Universidad de C6rdoba
(C6rdoba, Argentina), 1979. 245 p. $21.00.

EDUCATION Y ESTADO EN LA HISTORIC DE
COLOMBIA. FernBn Gonzalez G. Centro de
Investigaci6n y Educaci6n Popular (Bogota,
Colombia), 1979. 154 p.

THE EMIGRATION DIALECTIC: PUERTO RICO
AND THE UNITED STATES. Manuel
Maldonado-Denis. International Publications,
1980. $9.50; $3.25 paper.

EXCAVATIONS AT SANTO DOMINGO TOMAL-
TEPEC: EVOLUTION OF A FORMATIVE
COMMUNITY IN THE VALLEY OF OAXACA,
MEXICO. Michael Whalen. Museum of An-
thropology, University of Michigan, 1979.

GREAT SCULPTURES OF ANCIENT MEXICO.
Morrow, 1979. $29.95.

INMIGRANTES Y REFUGIADOS ESPANOLES:
SIGLO XX. Michael Kenny, et al. Institute de
Antropologia e Historia (Mexico), 1979. 369
p. $13.20. A study about Spanish immigrants
in Mexico.

HISPANIC CULTURE IN THE SOUTHWEST Ar-
thur L. Campa. University of Oklahoma Press,
1979. 316 p. $22.50.

THE KAMINALJUYU CHIEFDOM. Joseph W
Michels. Pennsylvania State University Press,
1979. $16.95.

THE LATIN TINGE: THE IMPACT OF LATIN
AMERICAN MUSIC ON THE UNITED
STATES. John S. Roberts. Oxford University
Press, 1979. 246 p. $12.95.

INTERNAL MIGRATION POLICY AND NEW
TOWNS: THE MEXICAN EXPERIENCE. PG.
Bock and Irene E Rothenberg. University of.
Illinois Press, 1979. $10.00.

EL MOVIMIENTO CRISTERO: SOCIEDAD Y
CONFLICT EN LOS ALTOS DE JALISCO.
Jose Diaz, Ram6n Rodriguez. Nueva Imagen
(Mexico), 1979. 242 p. $28.80.

LA MUJER JOVEN EN MEXICO. Alfredo Juan
Alvarez. El Caballito (Mexico), 1979. 188 p.
$5.00.


NOW LISTEN GOOD! A COLLECTION OF AU-
THENTIC WEST INDIAN RECIPES. Estella F
Schulman. North River Press, 1979.

LOS OTOMIES: CULTURAL E HISTORIC PRE-
HISPANICA. Pedro Carrasco Pizana.
Gobierno del Estado de M6xico, 1979. 355 p.
$13.20.

THE PUEBLA DOCUMENT EVANGELIZATION
OF LATIN AMERICA TODAY AND IN THE
FUTURE. Conference of the Latin American
Bishops in Mexico. Oxford University Press,
1979. $12.95; $3.95 paper.

RACE REALTIONS IN COLONIAL TRINIDAD,
1870 TO 1900. Bridget Brereton. Cambridge
University Press, 1980.

REGGAE BLOODLINES: IN SEARCH OF THE
MUSIC AND CULTURE OF JAMAICA.
Stephen Davis and Peter Simon, Heinemann.
1979. 224 p. $12.00.

SANTA GERTRUDIS: TESTIMONIOS DE UNA
LUCHA CAMPESINA. Lorena Paz Paredes,
Julio Moguel. Ediciones Era (Mexico), 1979.
106 p. $3.00. About Mexico.

SANTEROS PUERTORRIQUENOS. Teodoro
Vidal. Ediciones Alba (San Juan, Puerto
Rico), 1979. 78 p. $6.95.

SCARCITY, EXPLOITATION AND POVERTY:
MULTHUS AND MARX IN MEXICO. Luis A.
Serr6n. University of Oklahoma Press, 1979.
$19.95.

SER Y NO SER DE LOS ARGENTINOS:
SOCIOLOGIA PARA NOSOTROS. F. N.
Cuevillas, et al. Macchi (Buenos Aires, Argen-
tina), 1979. 537 p. $45.00.

SETTLEMENT PATTERN EXCAVATIONS AT
KAMINALJUYU, GUATEMALA. Joseph W.
Michels. Pennsylvania State University Press,
1979. $23.50.

SOCIAL CONTROL AND DEVIANCE IN CUBA.
Luis Salas-Calero. Praeger, 1979. $24.95.

TOWN IN THE EMPIRE: GOVERNMENT, POLI-
TICS AND SOCIETY IN SEVENTEENTH
CENTURY POPAYAN. Peter Marzahl. Univer-
sity of Texas Press, 1979. $14.95; $5.95 paper.
TZINTZUNTZAN: MEXICAN PEASANTS IN A
CHANGING WORLD. George M. Foster.
Elsevier North Holland, 1979. 416 p. $7.95.
Revised edition.

CAI?BBEAN PEVIEW/53










VALORES IDEOLOGICOS Y LAS POLITICAL
DE POBLACION EN MEXICO. Luis Lefiero
O. Editorial Edicol (Mexico), 1979. 236 p.
$6.30.

Biography

AMBITO DE MARTi. Guillermo de Z6ndegui. Lib-
reria Continental (Miami, Fla.), 1979.
227 p.

ANASTASIO SOMOZA: FIN DE UNA ESTIRPE
DE LADRONES Y ASESINOS. Juan Col-
indres. Editorial Posada (M6xico), 1979. 154
p. $4.80.

EL CAPITAN DE CORBETA AGUSTIN DE CAS-
TILLO, EXPLORADOR PATAGONICO AU-
STRAL. C. Augusto Terbeck. Yacimientos
Carboniferos Fiscales (Buenos Aires, Argen-
tina), 1979. 117 p. $10.00.

CORTES SEGUN CORTES. Arturo Sotomayor.
Editorial Extempor&neos (M6xico), 1979.189
p. $4.50.

MARTI Y SU CONCEPCION DE LA SOCIEDAD.
Roberto D. Agramonte. Centro de Inves-
tigaciones Sociales, Universidad de Puerto
Rico, 1979. 232 p. $9.95.

PRECURSORES DEL PENSAMIENTO
LATINOAMERICANO CONTEMPORANEO:
ANTOLOGIA. Leopoldo Zea. Editorial Diana
(M6xico), 1979. 260 p. $5.95.

QUIEN Y COMO FUE PANCHO VILLA. Eugenio
Toussant Arag6n. Editorial Universo
(M6xico), 1979. 159 p. $2.35.

ROBERTO NOBLE: UN GRAN ARGENTINO.
Luis A. Sciutto. Fundaci6n Roberto Noble
(Buenos Aires), 1979. 229 p. $12.00. Biog-
raphy of an Argentinian journalist.


Description and Travel

BACKPACKING IN PERU AND BOLIVIA: A
GUIDE TO THE ANCIENT WAYS AND INCA
ROADS. Hilary Bradt and George Bradt 3d.
ed. Bradt Enterprises, 1979. $4.95.

THE CARIBBEAN, BERMUDA AND THE
BAHAMAS, 1980. Stephen Birnbaum.
Houghton Mifflin, 1979. $9.95.

DISCOVERING VENEZUELA: A GUIDEBOOK.
Janice Bauman, et al. Hippocrene Books,
1979. $12.00.

FODOR'S BERMUDA NINETEEN EIGHTY.
McKay, 1979. $8.95; $5.95 paper.

FODOR'S CARIBBEAN & BAHAMAS NINE-
TEEN EIGHTY McKay, 1979. $13.95; $10.95
paper.

MEXICO CITY. John Cottrell. Time-Life Books,
1979. $10.95.

THE TRAVELER'S GUIDE TO YUCATAN AND
GUATEMALA. Loraine Carlson. Upland
Press, 1979.$4.95.

54/CA-?BBEAN PEVIW


Economics

ACUMULACION CAPITALIST DEPENDIENTE
Y SUBORDINADA: EL CASO DE MEXICO,
1940-1978. Carlos Perezabal. Siglo XXI Edi-
tores (Mexico), 1979. 179 p. $4.65.

ARGENTINA Y LA INTEGRACION
LATINOAMERICANA. Julio E. Esquivel. Al-
batros (Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1979. 176
p. $15.00.

CAUSES DEL SUBDESARROLLO. Alonso
Aguilar, et al. Ediciones Universidades Sim6n
Bolivar y Libre de Pereira, (Colombia), 1979.
463 p.


EL DESARROLLO ECONOMIC, LA DEMOC-
RACIA Y LA LUCHA POR EL SOCIALISMO
EN AMERICA LATINA. J. Posadas. Editorial
Costa-Amic (M6xico), 1979. 157 p. $3.25.

CINCUENTA ANOS DE DESARROLLO ECO-
NOMICO COLOMBIANO. Miguel Urrutia. La
Carreta (Bogota, Colombia) 1979. 378 p.

LA DIMENSION DE LA POBREZA EN AMERICA
LATINA. Oscar Altimir. Economic Commis-
sion for Latin America, United Nations, 1979.
99 p. $3.80.

DOING BUSINESS IN BRAZIL. J.M. Pinheiro, ed.
M. Bender & Co., 1979. 1 vol. $135.00.

ECONOMiA COLOMBIANA 1979: LA NUEVA
POLITICAL ECONOMIC. Ernesto Parra E.
Centro de investigaci6n y Educaci6n Popular
(Bogota, Colombia), 1979. 108 p.

LA ESTRUCTURA FISCAL COLOMBIANA.
Sebastian Arango Fonnegra, Jaime Bueno
Miranda, FlorAngela G6mez de Arango, eds.
Facultad de Estudios Interdisciplinarios, Uni-
versidad Javeriana (Bogota, Colombia),
1979. 356 p. $650.00 (pesos).

HUNGER IN A LAND OF PLENTY. George
Schuyler. Schenkman Publishing Co., 1979.
$15.95; $7.95 paper. About Venezuela.

INDUSTRIALIZACION, BURGUESIA Y CLASE
OBRERA EN MEXICO: EL CASO DE MON-


TERREY. Menno Vellinga. Siglo XXI Editores
(M6xico), 1979. 275 p. $9.25.

THE LAND AND PEOPLE OF NORTHEAST
BRAZIL. Manuel C. de Andrade. University of
New Mexico Press, 1979. $19.95.

MITOS Y REALIDADES DEL PETROLEO
MEXICANO. Luis Pazos. Editorial Diana
(M6xico), 1979. 148 p. $5.95.

MODO DE PRODUCTION ASIATICO Y LAS
FORMACIONES ECONOMICO-SOCIALES
INCA Y AZTECA. Alberto G. PlA. El Caballito
(Mexico), 1979. 213 p. $7.30.

LA OTRA CARA DEL PETROLEO. Rafael Ram-
irez Heredia. Editorial Diana (M6xico), 1979.
150 p. $4.30.

PEASANTS POLITICS AND DEVELOPMENT IN
MEXICO. J.W. Barchfield. Transaction Books,
1980. $19.95.

POBLACION Y DESARROLLO EN AMERICA
LATINA. Victor L. Urquido. El Colegio de
Mexico, 1979. 481 p. $15.85.

POR UNA TEORIA DE LA ACUMULACION
CAPITALIST EN AMERICA LATINA. Guil-
lermo Labarca. Editorial Nueva Imagen
(Mexico), 1979. 135 p. $5.70.

PORTUGUESE BRAZIL: THE KING'S PLANTA-
TION. James Lang. Academic Press, 1979.

PROBLEMS ECONOMICS Y SOCIALES DE
AMERICA LATINA. Rail Prebisch, et al.
Ediciones Universidades Sim6n Bolivar y
Libre de Pereira (Colombia), 1979. 358 p.
$250.00 (pesos).

EL PROCESS HISTORIC DE LA PLANIFICA-
CION EN BOLIVIA, 1929-1978. G. Carranza
Fernandez. Centro de Investigaciones
Sociales (La Paz, Bolivia), 1979. 143 p.
$15.00.

EL SECTOR COMERCIO EN COLOMBIA: ES-
TRUCTURA ACTUAL Y PERSPECTIVES.
Yesid Castro, Juan J. Echavarria, Miguel Ur-
rutia. Fundaci6n para la Educaci6n Superior
y el Desarrollo (Bogota, Colombia), 1979.
172 p.

UTOPIA IN URUGUAY: CHAPTERS IN THE
ECONOMIC HISTORY OF URUGUAY Simon
G. Hanson. Porcupine Press, 1979. $17.50.



History and Archaeology

AFRICA, THE ATLANTIC SLAVE TRADE AND
THE WEST INDIES: AFRICAN BACK-
GROUND TO WEST INDIAN HISTORY. VB.
Thompson. NOK Publications, 1979. $12.50;
$4.95 paper.

ARGENTINA: DE BOLIVAR A LA TRILATERAL.
Raul Jassen. Integridad Americana (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1979. 200 p. $7.00.

LOS ARTIFICES DEL CARDENISMO. Luis Gon-
zalez. El Colegio de Mexico, 1979. 271 p.
$6.60.










THE DISCOVERY OF SOUTH AMERICA. John
Horace Parry. Taplinger, 1979. 320 p. $25.00.

ESSAYS ON THE MEXICAN REVOLUTION:
REVISIONIST VIEWS OF THE LEADERS.
George Wolfskill, Douglas Richmond. Uni-
versity of Texas Press, 1979. $9.95.

GENESIS DE BUENOS AIRES. Alberto A. Wild-
ner Fox. Casa Pardo (Buenos Aires, Argen-
tina). 1979. 107 p. $8.00. Historical essays
covering the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries.

A GLIMPSE OF GUATEMALA AND SOME
NOTES ON THE ANCIENT MONUMENTS
OF CENTRAL AMERICA. Anne C. Maudslay,
Alfred P Maudslay. Blaine Ethridge Books,
1979. $47.50. Reprint of the 1899 ed.

EL GUARURA: CONFESIONES DE UN GUAR-
DESPALDAS DE MEXICO 68. Jos6 P6rez
Chowell. Editorial Universo (Mexico), 1979.
151 p. $2.35.

LA HISTORIC ARGENTINA QUE MUCHOS
ARGENTINOS NO CONOCEN. Armando
Alonso Pifieiro. 2d ed. Depalma (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1979. 470 p. $25.00.

HISTORIC DE LA RIOJA. Armando R. Bazan.
Plus Ultra (Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1979.
608 p. $22.00.

LATIN AMERICA: AN INTERPRETIVE HISTORY.
Donald M. Dozer. Center for Latin American
Studies, Arizona State University, 1979. Re-
vised ed.

EL MUNICIPIO DE SAN FELIPE DEL PROG-
RESO A TRAVES DEL TEMPO. Jesus
Ihmoff Cabrera. Gobierno del Estado de
M6xico, 1979. 347 p. $14.95.

NOTAS A LA RECOPILACION DE LEYES DE
INDIAS. Prudencio Antonio de Palacios. Uni-
versidad Aut6noma de Mexico, 1979. 606 p.
$15.85.

PRIMEROS IMPRESORES E IMPRESOS EN
NUEVA ESPANA. Eduardo Araujo. Porrua
(Mexico), 1979. 154 p. $3.30.

THE SELECTED WRITINGS OF LEWIS
HANKE. Lewis Hanke. Center for Latin
American Studies, Arizona State University,
1979.

A SHORT HISTORY OF LATIN AMERICA. Ben-
jamin Keen, Mark Wasserman. Houghton
Mifflin, 1979.

SOBRE HISTORIC Y POLITICAL. Jorge Orlando
Melo. La Carreta (BogotlV6, Colombia), 1979.
274 p. About Colombia.

TAMAYO Y LA REIVINDICACION MARITIMA DE
BOLIVIA. Mariano Baptista Gumucio, ed.
Casa Municipal de la Cultura (La Paz, Bolivia),
1979. 238 p. $6.95.

TREASURES OF ANCIENT AMERICA: COL-
UMBIAN ART FROM MEXICO TO PERU.
Samuel K. Lothrop. Rizzoli International Pub-
lications, 1979. $35.00.


LA VIDA AMOROSA EN EL MEXICO ANTIGUO.
Mariana Hidalgo. Editorial Diana (Mexico),
1979. 117 p. $4.95.

Language and Literature

ANTOLOGiA CRITICA DE LA POESIA
TRADITIONAL CHILENA. In6s Dolz
Blackburn. Institute Panamericano de Geog-
rafia e Historia (Mexico), 1979. 239 p. $9.60.

ANTOLOGIA DE LA POESIA ARGENTINA. Raul
GustavoAguirre, ed. Libreria Fausto (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1979. 3 vols. $65.00.

BLACK WRITERS IN LATIN AMERICA. Richard
L. Jackson. University of New Mexico Press,
1979. $12.50.

DIALECTOLOGIA Y SOCIOLINGUISTICA:
TEMAS PUERTORRIQUENOS. Humberto
L6pez Morales. Playor (Madrid, Spain), 1979.
200 p. $8.95.

HISPANIC FOLK SONGS OF NEW MEXICO:
WITH SELECTED SONGS COLLECTED,
TRANSCRIBED AND ARRANGED FOR
VOICE AND PIANO. John Donald Robb. Uni-
versity of New Mexico Press, 1979. 96 p.
$4.95.

MEXICAN FOLKTALES FROM THE BORDER-
LAND. Riley Aiken. Southern Methodist Uni-
versity Press 1979. $10.00.

TODO EL DESTINO A PIE: ANTOLOGiA DE
POETAS LATINOAMERICANOS CAIDOS
EN LA LUCHA POR LA LIBERATION NA-
CIONAL. Miguel Donoso Pareja. Editorial
Pueblo Nuevo (M6xico), 1979. 139 p. $3.30.



Politics and Government

LA ARGENTINA ANTE EL DESAFIO DEL
TERCER MILENIO. Te6filo Tabanera. El
Ateneo (Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1979. 209
p. $6.00.

LA BARAJA INCOMPLETE Y POR FUERA DE LA
BARAJA. Ramiro de la Espriella, E. Dobry
(Bogota, Colombia), 1979. 180 p. Essays on
Colombian politics.

BONAPARTISMO Y LUCHA CAMPESINA EN LA
COSTA GRANDE DE GUERRERO. Fran-
cisco A. Gomezjara. Editorial Posada
(Mexico), 1979. 321 p. $9.90.

LA CAMPANA DE LA INTEGRIDAD NATIONAL.
Benjamin Victorica. Institute Hist6rico de la
Organizacion Nacional (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1979. 229 p. $9.50. A study of
Argentine politics in the 1860s.

CINCUENTA ANOS DE LUCIA SANDINISTA.
Humberto Ortega Saavedra. Editorial
Di6genes (M6xico), 1979. 138 p. $4.00.

CON LAS BANDERAS DEL MOVIMIENTO
NACIONALISTA REVOLUCIONARIO: EL
SEXENIO 1946-1952. Ral6 Lema Palbez.
Editorial Los Amigos del Libro (La Paz,
Bolivia), 1979. 441 p. $12.50.


CUBA: DICTATORSHIP OR DEMOCRACY?
Marta Harnecker. Lawrence Hill, 1979.
$12.95; $5.95 paper.

DE ACUSADO A ACUSADOR: VIGENCIA DE
UNA POLITICA. Rogelio Frigerio. Plus Ultra
(Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1979. 212 p.
$10.00. About the scandals that rocked the
Argentine petroleum industry in the sixties.

DE KRANT OP SCHOOL. Roger E Snow. Foun-
dation Graphic Media (Curacao), 1979. On
the function of the daily press.

ENTIRE NUIEZ Y URIBE: DOS ESTILOS Y UN
PENSAMIENTO. Carlos Villalba Bustillo.
Ediciones Tercer Mundo (Bogota, Colom-
bia), 1979. 175 p. $200.00 (pesos).

FUERZAS E INSTITUCIONES POLITICAL EN
AMERICA LATINA. Pierre Gilhod6s. Univer-
sidad Libre de Pereira (Colombia), 1979.
252 p.

GUYANA EMERGENT THE POST-INDEPEN-
DENCE STRUGGLE FOR NONDEPEN-
DENT DEVELOPMENT. Robert H. Manley.
G.K. Hall, 1979. 158 p. $14.50.

HACIA UN LIBERALISM SOCIAL. Sim6n
Bossa Lopez, et al. Fondo Editorial Liberal
(Bogot6, Colombia), 1979. 304 p. Essays on
Colombian politics written by members of
the Partido Liberal Colombiano.

ISRAELI-LATIN AMERICAN RELATIONS. Edy
Kaufman, Yoram Shapira, Joel Barromi.
Transaction Books, 1979. 256 p. $19.95.

JAMAICA: AN ISLAND MICROCOSM. Barry
Floyd. St. Martin's Press, 1979. $14.50.

EL LABORATORIO DE LA REVOLUTION: EL
TABASCO GARRIDISTA. Carlos Martinez
Assad. Siglo XXI Editores (M6xico), 1979.309
p. $8.00.

LATIN AMERICA AND THE UNITED STATES: A
VIEW BEHIND THE RHETORIC. Willard L.
Beaulac. Hoover Institution Press, 1979.

NICARAGUA, AIO CERO: LA CAIDA DE LA
DINASTIA SOMOZA. Mayo A. Sanchez. Edi-
torial Diana (M6xico), 1979. 165 p. $5.95.

NICARAGUA: LA DRAMATIC LUCHA DE UN
PUEBLO POR SU LIBERTAD. Luciana Pos-
samay, Ehore Pierri. Editores Mexicanos Un-
idos, 1979. 174 p. $2.65.

OIL AND NATIONALISM IN ARGENTINA: A
HISTORY. Carl E. Solberg. Stanford University
Press, 1979. 245 p. $15.00.

ON THE HILL: A HISTORY OF THE MEXICAN
CONGRESS: Alvin M. Josephy, Jr. Simon &
Schuster, 1979. $11.95.
LA POLITICAL DE MASAS Y EL FUTURE DE LA
IZQUIERDA EN MEXICO. Arnaldo C6rdova.
Ediciones Era (M6xico), 1979. 131 p. $3.30.

THE POLITICS OF CHILE. Cesar Caviedes.
Westview Press, 1979. 357 p. $22.50.

PRENSA, POLITICAL Y PAlS: BOLIVIA Y SUS
PROBLEMS VISTOS DESDE UN FORO.

CARBBEAN 1TeIEW/55








Oscar Terrazas Ayala,, ed. Editorial Univer-
sitaria (Cochabamba, Bolivia), 1979 166 p.
$6.30.
THE PROCESS OF POLITICAL DOMINATION
IN ECUADOR. Agustin Cueva. Transaction
Books, 1979. $14.95.

EL SISTEMA ELECTORAL MEXICANO. Arturo
Martinez Nateras. Universidad Aut6noma de
Sinaloa (M6xico), 1979. 188 p. $4.65.
TRANSITION, SOCIALISMO Y DEMOCRACIA:
LA EXPERIENCIA CHILENA. Sergio Bitar.
Siglo XXI Editores (Mexico), 1979. 380 p.
$11.00.
URUGUAY Y AMERICA LATINA EN LOS ANOS
70. Rodney Arismendi. Ediciones de Cultura
Popular (Mexico), 1979. 291 p. $8.00.

Reference
BIBLIOGRAF4A ANOTADA Y DIRECTORIO DE
ANTROPOLOGOS COLOMBIANOS. Nina
S. de Friedman, Jaime Arocha, eds.
Sociedad Antropologica de Colombia, 1979.
441 p. $600.00 (pesos).

BIBLIOGRAFIA DE CODICES, MAPAS Y LIEN-
ZOS DEL MEXICO PREHISTORICO Y COL-
ONIAL. Virginia Guzman M., Yolanda Mer-
cader M. Institute Nacional de Antropologia e
Historia (Mexico), 1979. 2 vols. $20.00.

BIBLIOGRAFIA DE TEATRO PUERTO-
RRIQUENO: SIGLO XIX Y XX. Hilda Gon-
zBlez. University of Puerto Rico Press, 1979.
223 p. $10.00.

BIBLIOGRAFIA ECONOMIC DE MEXICO,
1977. Subdirecci6n de Investigaci6n Eco-
nomica y Bancaria, Banco de Mexico, 1979.
239 p.
CODICES DEL MEXICO ANTIGUO: UNA
SELECCION. Carmen Aguilera. Institute de
Antropologia e Historia (Mexico), 1979.137 p.
$8.25.
GOBERNANTES DE TABASCO, 1914-1979.
Pepe Bulnes. (M6xico), 1979. 847 p. $20.00.


LATIN AMERICA: A SOCIAL SCIENCES BIBLI-
OGRAPHY, 1967-1978. Robert L. Delorme.
American Bibliographical Center-Clio Press,
1979.

SUPPLEMENT TO A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF
UNITED STATES-LATIN AMERICAN RELA-
TIONS SINCE 1810. Michael C. Meyer, ed.
University of Nebraska Press, 1979. $14.50.


Metas, a new journal
which examines issues in
education and related
fields, as they affect Puerto
Ricans and other Hispanics,
has published its inaugural
issue, dated Fall 1979.
The journal will be pub-
lished three times yearly by
Aspira of America, Inc., a
non-profit agency founded
in 1961, which strives to de-
velop leadership in Puerto
Rican and other Hispanic
communities by means
of education.
The first issue of Metas con-
tains articles on Socializa-
tion and Education, by Dr.
Angel G. Quintero-Alfaro,
former Secretary of Educa-
tion of Puerto Rico, and now


WHO'S WHO IN COSTA RICA. Lubeck & Lubeck
(San Jose, Costa Rica), 1979. 896 p. $55.00.



Marian Goslinga is International, Environ-
mental and Urban Affairs Librarian at Florida
International University.


with Harvard University; on
Suggestions for a National
Information System on the
Education of Puerto Ricans,
by Dr. Jose Herndndez-
Alvarez, University of Wiscon-
sin; and on funding of edu-
cation in schools with large
numbers of Puerto Rican stu-
dents, by Dr. Lois S. Gray
and Alice O. Beamesderfer,
Cornell University
Subscriptions to Metas are
$9 per year for individuals,
$12 yearly for institutions; $17
for two years, individuals,
and $22 for institutions.
Checks should be sent to
Aspira of America, Inc.,
205 Lexington Ave., New
York,N.Y. 10016.


56/CAI?BBEAN REVIEW


METAS

METAS, New Scholarly Journal
Focusing on Hispanics and Education,
Publishes Inaugural Issue


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