The insightful BBC correspondent in Cuba is right. Cuba’s protection of many of the Millennium Goals (education, health care, the role of women, access to food, and protection of culture among others) is exceptionally good. During Fidel Castro’s many years as president, these social human rights developed faster than in any developing nation. (This can be seen in data for a variety of aspects of health and education, points that are developed later). But Fidel has now left the political scene, and his brother is in charge of an economy that is still extremely inefficient and where many of the reforms introduced have resulted in significant inequality for those unable to adapt to the rigors and fast pace of change in the new Cuba. One of the key questions to be asked in any analysis of contemporary Cuba is therefore whether the scope of the changes in the social fabric is sufficient to maintain the revolutionary process itself. This section seeks to provide a variety of elements to assist in that investigation.

The starting point for this section is our finding that there have been remarkable changes in Cuba since Raúl Castro assumed the presidency—many of which would have been inconceivable just a few years ago. In the first edition of A Contemporary Cuba Reader, we examined the significant evolution during the early years of the “Special Period”—especially in the early years after the implosion of the Soviet Union—and the enormous impact of these reforms on the society. We concluded that Cuba had changed more in those first four years of the Special Period than it had in the previous quarter of a century.

The impact of many of those reforms diminished as the Special Period continued through the late 1990s and into the first decade of the new millennium as the economy gradually improved. Self-employment decreased noticeably as many Cubans returned to work in state-controlled industries (in particular, the increasingly important tourist sector). Yet largely as a result of the new government policies, social differences increased, in part because the social (and racial) polarization continued to increase with an ever-wider gap in incomes. At the same time, the government continued to demand greater efficiency from those employed in state-run industries, even when the salaries were barely able to keep pace with the cost of living—and often they did not. It was clear that a fresh approach was needed since the blend of outdated socialist measures (in particular, massive subsidies to unproductive industries) and an incipient private sector (both being often connected with ties of petty corruption) badly needed to be overhauled. The impact of this complex, disturbing situation on social institutions and personal relationships was clearly becoming both untenable and embarrassing—and the government of Raúl Castro therefore embarked on a series of far-reaching measures designed to provide equality of opportunities to Cubans—without ensuring basic equality. Analyzing those dramatic changes in Cuban society, this section provides a set of totally new chapters and insights into some of the principal societal changes and challenges that have resulted.

Raúl Castro has certainly introduced a fresh approach. Gone are the earlier massive public demonstrations in favor of the “Cuban Five,” the sweeping condemnations of U.S. policy, and frequent use of state-controlled media to emphasize government campaigns. Instead, a low-key business-like approach has been steadily implemented. The same emphasis on efficiency and saving, with demands for harder work from state employees, and at the same time the same appeal for popular support for the Revolution are still found. But the basic strategy has changed dramatically, as have the fundamental policies in many other areas, as this book attests.

In many ways, the social changes that have resulted in Cuba since Raúl Castro assumed the presidency have significantly reduced the unique aspects of the revolutionary approach to social development. Efficiency, massive layoffs of workers, and a decrease in subsidies for many former unproductive factories are now the new order of the day, and, as Raúl Castro often says, this is a process “without haste, but without pause.” Some of the most notable programs remain with generous subsidies, and Cuban medical care undoubtedly remains the best in the developing world. Indeed, in many ways, Cuba offers better health care than countries in the developed world—infant mortality rates are lower in Cuba than in the United States, for instance. The same can be said for many aspects of education. That said, the price paid for the (badly needed) reforms has often been high, and tears in the Cuban social fabric can be seen.

A warning note was sounded in April 2011 at the Sixth Congress of the Communist Party when a series of guidelines were introduced. The document of guidelines that resulted was introduced by a quotation from Fidel Castro: “The term ‘revolutionary’ reflects the sense of the historical moment; it means changing everything that should be changed” (emphasis added). Armed with that general philosophy, the document provides 313 guidelines, a common theme of which is the need for the Cuban population to be more efficient and productive, in essence, to do more with less—even in the traditionally protected areas of health care and education. Article 143, for example, emphasizes the need to “continue improving our services in education, healthcare, culture and sports. In order to accomplish this it is absolutely necessary to reduce or eliminate excessive costs in social matters, as well as generate new sources of income” (http://www.granma.cubaweb.cu/secciones/6to-congreso-pcc/Folleto%20Lineami
entos%20VI%20Cong.pdf). From the government perspective, it is clearly a time for belt tightening and, in some cases, a reduction of services. Social policy in Cuba is thus being amended drastically to fit in with Cuba’s economic reality.

As a result, Cuban society has changed in many ways for better and worse. For example, the food covered by the ration book has been reduced significantly, the free lunches offered at the workplace have all but gone, and huge layoffs in the state employment sector have resulted. Subsidized water and power rates have also been reduced. Cubans can now stay at hotels previously reserved for tourists and have cell phones and computers, all of which are sensible changes. The age for retirement has been increased (to sixty for women and sixty-five for men). Bank credits have been provided to Cubans in order to increase food production, repair homes, and support self-employment. In recent times, sturdy Ladas and Moskavich cars, the mainstay of family transportation, are still on the streets of Havana, but increasingly Audis, BMWs, and Mercedes (bearing the conspicuous yellow license plates identifying private ownership) are seen (perhaps that is one of the reasons why a proposal has been introduced to standardize all license plates for cars). Beauty salons and (private) health clubs have now appeared, another novelty, as is Cuba’s answer to Craig’s List—Revolico.com.

Many of the changes are more dramatic, however, and respond to demands that Cubans have been making for years. For the first time in fully five decades, Cubans can now buy and sell houses and cars—a major breakthrough and one that is long overdue. While to people not familiar with Cuba this might appear remarkably normal, what needs to be remembered is that since 1959, Cuba has resolutely pursued a revolutionary socialist model designed to ensure a level playing field for all Cubans regardless of income, color, or geographical location. Prior to the Special Period, for example, Cuban law stipulated that the differential between the highest and lowest salaries in the country should be no more than five to one. That has long since disappeared, with social polarization now resulting from the reforms introduced first in the early 1990s and then strengthened under Raúl Castro. (An illustration of this is the salary of doctors—who earn approximately $30 monthly—compared with chefs in the burgeoning paladar industry who can now earn well over $1,000.) Despite government efforts to reverse the inverted social pyramid, this remains a major challenge. There is also an insidious racial element to the “new” Cuba since remesas, or family remittances (now an estimated $2 billion annually), come largely from white Cubans living abroad and go to their (mainly white) relatives, thus exacerbating socioeconomic differences based largely on race.

In many ways, we now encounter the “Latin Americanization” of Cuba. By that, we mean that Cuba is losing many of its unique characteristics as it assumes aspects of society typically found in all of Latin America. Signs of this are everywhere, from the vendors of pirated CDs and DVDs to the pregoneros who hawk their wares (from food and flowers to brushes and cleaning supplies) with gusto as they stroll down the streets. The large pre-1959 almendrones, private taxis steaming down the principal arteries packed with passengers, seem to have mushroomed overnight and for many are the principal form of transportation. Small mom-and-pop stores have sprung up all over the cities, as have the tiny snack bars (usually found in the doorways to homes). As Sinan Koont shows, there has been a major attempt to revive food production in Cuba (which still imports approximately 70–80 percent of food consumed), with land (up to sixty-seven hectares) being distributed in usufruct to 12,000 would-be small farmers by March 2013. So far, the results are mixed, but the government has clearly indicated that this is an economic priority.

Cuentapropistas, self-employed workers (almost 500,000 strong) who have started their small businesses in recent years, have their signs in front of their workshops and homes advertising their trades. By April 2013, the government had rented more than 2,000 small businesses (such as hairdressers, manicurists, and shoe and clock repair operations) to their employees, who have now started up their own operations. An amazing number of private restaurants, or paladares, have now been established, many of which are in exceptionally luxurious facilities offering high-quality meals. They have multiplied in the past two years, and an estimated 20 percent of self-employed are working in the food industry. Significantly, whereas they were initially limited to a maximum of twelve clients, it is now common to find larger ones catering to several dozen people. An infusion of capital from visiting Cuban American “refugees” (some 500,000 of whom returned in 2012) to family members has understandably fueled this expansion. In February 2013, I had supper at a paladar in the Vedado district of Havana—and was the only foreigner among over fifty clients, a telling illustration of how Cuba has changed in recent years. Likewise, in the spring of 2013, I was struck by the large number of Cuban Americans and their island-based relatives staying at five-star tourist hotels. This was inconceivable just five years ago.

Cuba under Raúl Castro is indeed changing rapidly and mainly (but not completely) for the better as the government seeks to revamp the system, injecting a greater efficiency and vitality. This process is not without major challenges, however. Prostitution, which had largely died down in recent years, has returned, largely as the result of tourism (3 million tourists are expected in 2014) and, to a lesser extent, higher salaries for some in Cuba. Fortunately, there is a limited narcotics problem. Another major challenge is represented by the aspirations of Cuban youth, many of whom were raised during the worst of the Special Period and see only a bleak future with limited prospects. María Isabel Domínguez provides some insightful research into this complex situation. Having seen their parents scrape by during this achingly difficult period, they want something better—and the new migration policy makes leaving an enticing prospect.

More serious is the potential challenge posed by racism, exacerbated by the fact that most of the capital being invested in Cuba comes from (mainly white) exiles, thereby increasing income disparities between white and black Cubans. While 37 percent of the members of the National Assembly in 2013 are black or mulatto, there is the clear need for greater transparency in an analysis of the socioeconomic reality lived by many black and mulatto Cubans, as Esteban Morales argues convincingly. And, of course, the polarization on the basis of income constitutes a major challenge to the revolutionary ethos. In the late nineteenth century, the great Cuban writer and revolutionary José Martí spoke of what he termed the “metalificación del hombre” (literally, the “metalification of people” and the weakening of spiritual values) during his stay in the United States. This referred to the fact that many American citizens cared little for their fellow human beings, instead focusing on the accumulation of wealth. It is a challenge that now needs to be faced in revolutionary Cuba, particularly among the nouveaux riches and also among younger Cubans brought up during the worst of the Special Period—since they know only the grind of the struggle to survive in those exceptionally difficult years. As Domínguez notes in her chapter, the government seeks to encourage Cuban youth to become involved in the process and not to lose themselves in technology and the search for the CUC (the hard currency employed in Cuba).

Access to technology remains a major challenge for the government and, in particular, the underwater cable that Venezuela has provided as a means of improving the connectivity of the island—which has been traditionally hindered by the need to use satellites for Internet access. The cable from Venezuela arrived in 2011, in theory allowing Cuba to overcome its status as the country in Latin America and the Caribbean with the lowest access to the Internet. It is still not being employed fully, with government officials claiming that in keeping with the goals of the Revolution, its priority should be for “social usage” (i.e., schools, hospitals, and so on). So, while access to cell phones has increased dramatically (1.8 million were in use by late 2012), Internet connectivity remains heavily limited. (Meanwhile, opponents of the government, with free access at the U.S. Interests Section and with support from foreign diplomats, have little difficulty blogging.)

In many ways, Cuba under the raúlista influence is taking a major risk, trusting that the population will maintain its support for the revolutionary process as a series of liberal reforms (many of which go directly against traditional government policy) is introduced. These reforms are significant, as this section illustrates, and in many ways represent a potential opening of Pandora’s box—in essence, allowing a minority of Cubans to become extremely wealthy while maintaining the goals of the Revolution writ large and official discourse about equality of opportunity. Perhaps the most important of these changes is the new immigration law allowing Cubans to come and go as they please, leaving the country for up to two years, a policy that has been decades in the making (and that is fraught with risks). This now means that Cubans have greater liberty to travel to the United States than most U.S. citizens do to travel in the opposite direction.

The key term to describe the “new” Cuba is pragmatism, the hallmark of Raúl Castro’s management style for decades in the armed forces, whose role in many areas of Cuba’s economic development—ranging from tourism to agricultural production and marketing to electronics to department stores—has been extremely important, particularly since the onset of the Special Period. It is this approach that has been well channeled into Cuban development since 2006. In addition to the reduction of free or heavily subsidized government services, taxes have also been introduced for the first time since the start of the Revolution. Cubans now pay 15 percent on income of more than 10,000 pesos annually (approximately $400), and this goes as high as 50 percent on incomes of over 50,000 pesos.

This overlying pragmatism is seen in the government’s approach to education and health care, the two jewels in the crown of social reforms in Cuba since 1959. But now there are new challenges facing both social programs, and radically new approaches are being used to make them more relevant to Cuba’s current needs and more efficient. The postsecondary education system is being revamped to encourage the development of graduates better able to contribute to Cuba’s economic development. A significantly reduced number of graduates in the humanities, social sciences, and law has resulted, while far greater attention is now being paid to the training of teachers, agronomists, and tradespeople, as Denise Blum illustrates. Teachers are in particularly short supply, with an estimated need of an additional 1,600. In spite of shortages, Cuba does extremely well in terms of the delivery of its education system. According to UNESCO’s “Índice de Desarrollo de la Educación,” it is the highest-ranking country in Latin America and the Caribbean (ranking nineteen positions above the United States). It also has the highest literacy rate in Latin America and the Caribbean and spends the highest proportion of its gross domestic product on education (13 percent). Yet Cuba is facing a major challenge as the inverted pyramid of income means that it has trouble retaining its teachers—and badly needs to train more.

Likewise in health care, while Cuba has not reduced the number of students of medicine, increasingly they are being encouraged to work abroad (thus bringing in significant funding to the government’s coffers, arguably the largest single source of hard currency). In addition, medical tourism continues to grow apace, and the company Servicios Médicos Cubanos S.A. has been tasked with generating income in Cuba and abroad by selling medical services in a way that has not been considered before. As Conner Gorry and William Keck indicate, this restructuring of the public health care system represents a major change for the body politic of Cuba. It is worth pointing out, however, that despite this process of rationalization, Cuba still enjoys an admirable health profile, exemplified by its infant mortality rate, exceptionally low rates of communicable diseases that are common in many other Latin American countries, and life expectancy that rivals those of the most advanced industrialized countries. The same approach in terms of using the export of professional services to help the national economy can be said, to a lesser degree, of the exportation of Cuban athletic services and indeed Cuban expertise and know-how in general.

One area in which surprising (and very positive) changes have taken place in recent years and one where Cuba stands out as a positive example among its Latin American and Caribbean counterparts is in the area of LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) rights. The role of Mariela Castro, daughter of Raúl Castro and the late Vilma Espín, president for many years of the Federation of Cuban Women, has been crucially important in this campaign, as is indicated by Emily Kirk in her chapter on the contribution of CENESEX (Cuba’s National Center for Sex Education). In addition to Kirk’s chapter, the interview with Mariela Castro provides a useful insight into the goals of this important center as it seeks to turn back the tides of decades of homophobia. These changes and the proposal to change the Family Code (legislation in place since 1975 that outlines a series of progressive laws and responsibilities governing gender relations and issues such as marriage, divorce, and recognition of children) would have been unthinkable even five years ago and illustrate just how much Cuba has changed and is changing.

The status of women in Cuba also continues to develop, and, while the traditional “glass ceiling” preventing women from reaching the upper echelons of power still exists, it has slowly been chipped away at. As a result, it is worth noting that, in terms of political influence, 48 percent of the members of Cuba’s National Assembly are women, and twelve of the thirty-one members of the influential Council of State (including two of the vice presidents) are women. Perhaps most significant of all, fully ten of the fifteen leaders of provincial assemblies are women. Women also make up 65 percent of the professional and technical workforce and represent 72 percent of the workforce in education, 69 percent in health, and 53 percent in science and technology.

The promotion of a new generation of political leaders, the commitment of the president to step down as of 2018, and the appointment of Miguel Díaz-Canel as first vice president clearly illustrate the major changing of the revolutionary guard, as is commented on in the politics section of this volume. But political change among the leadership is irrelevant if the population is not buying in to the larger social project. This section provides some insights into the kind of changes that are being introduced, allowing the reader to appreciate the fast pace of change—for which, in some cases, people have been waiting a long time. These changes are needed since Cuba’s population is slowly shrinking—while its population is gradually aging (18 percent are over age sixty), and there is very little immigration.

In sum, some things in Cuba remain the same. There is the same emphasis on social networks and on access at a remarkably low cost to cultural and sports activities and at no cost to education and health care. High quality in those basic social services—fundamental human rights—remains. In its 2012 report Nutrition in the First 1,000 Days: State of the World’s Mothers, Save the Children placed Cuba in first place among eighty developing countries as the best place to be a mother (and a child). The analysis took into consideration a number of variables, including percentage of births attended by skilled health personnel, risk of maternal death, access to modern contraception, female life expectancy, formal female schooling, percentage of women in national government, under-five mortality rate, percentage of underweight children, and school enrollment. The 2013 report on the State of Mothers in the World placed Cuba thirty-third (of 176) countries—the highest in Latin America and the Caribbean.

There are many criticisms that can be leveled at Cuban society—housing needs are enormous, problems of racism are not being dealt with quickly enough, and machismo is still deeply rooted. Yet what is undoubtedly true is that Cuba is still the country throughout the region where inequality is lower than any other, where more social programs are accessible, where women have the most significant role, where children enjoy the widest range of programs to assist their development, and where greater equality of opportunity can be found. Sadly, this necessary comparative analysis is often lacking when criticisms of Cuba are leveled.

When we prepared the first edition of this book almost a decade ago, we did so because of the significant changes that had occurred, especially in the early 1990s. Now Cuban society has changed radically again, as this section tries to illustrate. As a result, we decided that much of the material found in the earlier edition needed to be updated—so fast has been the transformation since Raúl Castro took over. And, while political leaders in the United States commonly refer to the lack of significant developments in Cuba since that time, they are badly mistaken. It is still unclear where Cuba as a country is going as Raúl Castro seeks a major overhaul—of society, economic structure, and polity. What is absolutely obvious, however, is that change has come and will continue to do so—slowly for many and rapidly for others. The genie is indeed out of the lamp.

Note

Cuban Youth

When we speak of the youth of Cuba, we refer to a segment of the population between fourteen and thirty years of age, according to the definition of the prevailing legislation, although within that definition we can distinguish three groups:

In spite of the considerable reduction of youth resulting from the demographic transition that is taking place in Cuba and of the aging of the population, they still represent 20.4 percent of the total population (as of the end of 2011, that meant 2,297,428 young people) (Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas e Información, or Office of National Statistics and Information [ONEI] 2012, 3.3). This situation is the result of increased life expectancy to 77.97 years (ONEI 2012); the sustained low birthrate over past decades, which has not changed since the end of the 1970s (the average number of live births per woman is 1.55 [ONEI 2009a, 67]); and a net negative emigration rate, which has remained between −3 and −3.5 in recent years) (ONEI 2012a, 3.21).

As is the case of the general population, youth are concentrated in urban areas but with a slightly lower ratio (74 percent for youth and 75.3 percent for the total population). In terms of gender, the ratio is 51.5 percent men and 48.5 percent women (ONEI 2012a, 3.3). These figures are important and not only in quantitative terms because of their significance for the present and the future of the nation.

This chapter seeks to analyze some of the main influences on Cuban youth as a result of the economic and social changes in recent years. The youth of today have been born or at least have been socialized during the 1990s in three basic periods, to be examined here:

The Special Period and Youth

Two major factors had a major impact on the life of Cuban youth. One was the intense economic and social transformation experienced by Cuban society in the last decade of the twentieth century as a result of the collapse of the socialist bloc. The other was the strengthening of the U.S. blockade against a society that had initiated a process of rectification of errors in economic management that had lasted over a decade. The economic crisis and recovery had a major impact on society as a whole. Yet these experiences had an even more intense influence on young Cubans at this important formative stage of their lives, especially given the impact it would have on their future development. The crisis itself and the socioeconomic policies designed to overcome it constituted a double-edged sword for the socialization and social integration for this generation of youth in the 1990s.

It is essential to emphasize that, despite the acute economic crisis and the need to rapidly implement measures to ensure an economic and social restructuring in multiple dimensions, even in the most difficult moments there remained a clear commitment to ensure significant social programs, particularly in public health and education. Primary schooling was provided for 99.7 percent of children between six and eleven years of age, while schooling was assured for 92.3 percent of middle school students between eleven and fourteen years of age (92.3 percent) (Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas, or National Office of Statistics [ONE] 1996, 305). Opportunities for free higher education for youth were also protected. That said, there was a decrease in the quality of education among some segments of youth. This was the result of several factors but mainly the devaluation of the national currency. Salaries did not satisfy material needs, making it less attractive for young people to continue their studies, when at the same time other ways of obtaining higher incomes and enjoying a better standard of living emerged. Money was suddenly available through work in the tourist sector, as a self-employed worker, or simply through remittances from relatives abroad.

That combination of factors reduced the proportion of youth studying at middle or higher levels, and this decrease in enrollment strengthened the overrepresentation of women students. For example, in the period 1990–1995, 57 percent of all university students in the country were women, including programs linked to technology (different engineering fields), agricultural sciences, and other specialties, such as physics and computer science. In the 1996–1997 school year, they made up 60.2 percent of students (ONE 1996, 298). The result of this process at the education level was reflected in the increasing feminization of professionals in the labor market. By 1996, women constituted 60 percent of the total number of technicians in the country (ONE 1996, 116).

High levels of vocational training for women also had implications for the family because, among other factors, this professionalization of women has resulted in higher demands in seeking a partner and in the sharing of family responsibilities. As a result, marriage is often postponed, and the number of single women has increased, with a corresponding decrease in the number of children born. All these processes produced changes in Cuban youth in terms of both their role in society and their personal interpretation of that role.

The New Social Programs

The gradual economic recovery of the country and a clear understanding of the causes of this intense crisis for both society and Cuban youth resulted in a new stage of social development from 2000 on. The objective was to increase opportunities for human potential, and as a result, strategic objectives, as well as social policies, designed to improve the quality of life for the Cuban population were implemented (Domínguez 2010). This gave rise to the New Social Programs, an important part of which sought to achieve the integrated general formation of new generations. They combined the acquisition of knowledge with a range of ethical, cultural, and political values, all of which depended on a revamped educational program.

The importance of this can be seen in the fact that education constituted the largest category of expenditures within the state budget (in 2005, it reached 25.7 percent of total expenditures) (ONE 2006, V.4), and in just five years (2001–2006), it grew by 2.5 times (ONE 2007, VI.4, 160). The main programs implemented in the education field include the following:

In addition to institutionalized education, other educational possibilities aimed at children and youth were strengthened, such as the following:

In general, this new stage meant the gradual recovery of the value of education and its centrality (understood as the degree of importance attached to it in a person’s life) for most Cuban youth. This was accompanied by the recognition of access to education as a great opportunity provided by society, and in terms of the aspirations of Cuban youth, it once again grew in importance.

As a result of the educational programs, the number of youth alienated from social activity was significantly reduced, and many rejoined the workforce. At the same time, massive access to higher education, along with its undeniable significance as an expansion of opportunities for different social sectors, also generated contradictions regarding the quality of education with certain inequalities between traditional educational spaces in regular courses and new areas of academic interest. In addition, course offerings at the municipal level were concentrated in the humanities and social sciences, with the highest enrollment in areas such as law, social communication, sociocultural studies, sociology, and psychology. The large number of young graduates in these disciplines did not find sufficient employment, so it has subsequently been necessary for them to specialize further.

The Updating of the Economic and Social Development Model

Since 2010, Cuba has seen the modernization of the economic and social model, which has as its objectives “to guarantee the continuity and irreversibility of socialism, the economic development of the country and the improvement of the quality of life of the population, combined with the necessary development of ethical and political values of our citizens” (Partido Comunista de Cuba [Communist Party of Cuba] 2011, 10). The economic and social guidelines approved at the beginning of 2011 impact the life of society as a whole but have a particular impact on youth and without doubt will provide a challenge to society.

One of the most significant elements of the current process is the expansion of forms of nonstate management of the economy. In the 1990s, for example, the state sector dominated the employment scene. By contrast, in 2010, before the updating of the economic model began, the percentage of workers in the nonstate sector was over 16 percent of the national workforce but just a year later was over 22 percent. In less than a year, the number of self-employed workers grew by 2.7 times, while for women the rate was greater, increasing by 3.3 times (ONEI 2012, 7.2). This growth, which is expected to continue, implies a substantial modification of the occupational and social structure of the Cuban population, although this is not the same throughout the country. For example, 65 percent of self-employed workers are grouped in six of the fifteen provinces of the country—those with the largest cities, such as Havana, Matanzas, Villa Clara, Camagüey, Holguín, and Santiago de Cuba (Trabajadores 2012).

Another challenge for Cuban youth is that the available self-employment work opportunities often do not satisfy their professional expectations because they do not match their qualifications—and they are often overqualified. The recent economic changes introduced by the government thus imply the need for changes in the education system (particularly in terms of technical/professional training) and in particular with the need to restructure university enrollment in order to adapt it to the productive needs of the country. This implies the need for a reduction in enrollment in the humanities and social sciences and an increase in technical and agricultural sciences. For Cuban youth, the combination of these changes in educational opportunities, together with general changes in social dynamics and in economic reforms, may well mean that they will not pursue further education at the university level but instead will train for positions as skilled workers. It will be necessary to watch this process carefully since otherwise it could result in a situation similar to that of the 1990s, when there were divisions based on class and race.

Another important factor that is having a great impact on Cuban youth is the increasing role of socializing processes that occur outside the family and school environment. Among these, there is an important role played by mass media and new technologies of information communication, all of which are reference points for people to develop their concepts of the world. In Cuban society, the mass media belong to the state and are governed by a common communication policy. This makes clearly explicit all regulations over information provided to the people, according to the interests of society. As a result, they have clear guidelines for cultural and educational functions, supporting the set of values that they seek to support. For their part, these new technologies of information communication have entered Cuban social life rather late compared with other parts of the world, and their access has been designed mostly for collective, social uses. Recent studies show that while across Cuba people are in favor of access to these technologies through the technology available in work and educational centers, as well as through the Joven Club de Computación (to provide access to the majority who have no private access), there is a great difference in accessibility to this technology. There is also a digital gap between the capital and other areas of the country in young people being able to access equipment such as DVDs, personal computers, and cell phones.

A final point that is needed in order to have a general overview of Cuban youth today is an analysis of their participation in social activities. It is important to take into account that they are socialized individuals who live within a highly politicized society in which there is a strong network of social and political organizations and associations all of which have huge numbers involved. In other words, they live in a cultural matrix where the sociopolitical component has had a great impact on their worldview and on the way in which they interact within society. Currently, sociopolitical concerns continue to support organizations, preserve their role in terms of public authority and social regulation, and have high rates of participation, but younger generations have been losing interest in them. For example, in studies conducted early in the present century, youth groups identified a set of social opportunities in their lives in Cuba. Among these, sociopolitical participation was listed among the major opportunities offered by the model of society to youth but was not seen as being particularly important in both Havana and the country as a whole.

Youth Perceptions about Opportunities Provided by Society
Cuba	Havana
1. Study 2. Work 3. Health 4. Tranquillity 5. Fun, participation in activities 6. Development of spiritual values 7. Sociopolitical participation 8. Lack of discrimination	1. Study 2. Work 3. Tranquillity 4. Health access 5. Social justice 6. Sociopolitical participation 7. Recreation

Source: Domínguez and Castilla (2011).

In Cuba, young people are seen not only as the adults of tomorrow but also as important members of today’s society with their own characteristics: citizens of the present who have influence on others and in a natural, cultural context in which they develop. Therefore, their participation is promoted in and from their own scenarios of social inclusion, especially at school and in the community since it is felt that youth participation is an educational and development tool that will result in benefits not only for themselves but also for the broader context in which they participate. Through this participation, social networks, youth-society relations, and processes of inclusion are developed. This in turn strengthens the possibilities for social connection that participatory practices can create and that also acts as a space for the formulation of youth demands and the promotion of social change.

Youth participation goes beyond the individual level and is organized against the background of a collective society, as part of a whole in which they have roles and functions and a certain degree of commitment. It takes the form of a network of organizations in which social and political activity is carried on within the framework of daily living. The shared objectives are to contribute to an integrated development, a love of country and nature, and to promote participation in cultural movements, sports, recreation, the environment, social work, research, and vocational training and to contribute to economic and social development.

The main school organizations in which young people participate are the Federación de Estudiantes de la Enseñanza Media and the Federación Estudiantil Universitaria. The first includes high school students (grades 10 through 12) who apply to join as well as students in polytechnics and trade schools, so it covers a range of ages between about fifteen years and seventeen to eighteen years. The second includes young people in the university who usually enter at seventeen to eighteen years of age and during the course of their studies participate in activities with other youth with greater experience. This encourages a broad participatory process not only in student tasks but also in broader social and political tasks. In addition to participating in student organizations, from the age of fourteen years, young people participate in various organizations, along with adults, as is the case with the Comités de Defensa de la Revolución (CDR) and the Federación de Mujeres Cubanas (FMC) for females. The latter has played an important role both in educational tasks to support the involvement of adolescents and young people and in encouraging their participation in gender-related activities within the community.

For example, the FMC supported the creation of the Grupo de Educación Sexual (Sex Education Group), which in 1977 joined the Comisión Permanente para la Atención a la Infancia, la Juventud, and Igualdad de Derechos de la Mujer (Permanent Commission for Infancy, Youth, and Equal Rights for Women) of the National Assembly, which in 1989 became the Centro Nacional de Educación Sexual (National Center for Sex Education). They have been involved in matters of sex education, sexual health, and reproduction among Cuban youth (Trujillo 2010, 63) and in recent years have performed extensive work to promote respect for sexual diversity and to combat sexism and homophobia. In 1987, the FMC also supported the formation of the Comisión de Prevención y Atención Social (Commission to Ensure Attention to Social Problems) to provide specialized support for adolescents and young people living in poor social and family conditions as well as those responsible for antisocial behavior (Trujillo 2010, 64).

The experience of youth participation at the local level both in educational tasks and in significant tasks in their neighborhoods and communities has over the years proved to be a contribution to the social integration of their communities. Whereas interaction in student or youth organizations is limited to people of their own age, working in these other organizations encourages intergenerational relationships that extend opportunities for socializing or developing young people’s ways of thinking. In addition to participating in student and community organizations, Cuban youth also participate in a political organization, the Unión de Jóvenes Comunistas (Union of Young Communists [UJC]). Youth can join from the age of fifteen and participate until they are thirty-two. Membership is voluntary and selective. The projection of the work of the UJC goes beyond the interests of its members and focuses on the interests of all young people. Its main objective is the integral and multifaceted formation of the younger generations (Somos Jóvenes 2011) and the promotion of training for political participation.

In addition to student and youth organizations that all young people can join, there are others with more specialized interests. Such is the case of cultural organizations such as the Asociación “Hermanos Saiz,” which is for young people with interests in cultural matters, and the Brigadas Técnicas Juveniles (Young Technical Brigades), which young technicians join in order to develop their creative and innovative capacities and promote their work. In a study conducted in 2009 (Domínguez and Castilla 2010) in four of the fifteen municipalities in Havana (Centro Habana, Plaza, Marianao, and Guanabacoa), all with different socioeconomic and sociocultural levels, 55 percent of those who were studying at various levels belonged to student organizations, and 27.2 percent overall belonged to the UJC. In addition, while most young people spent their time mainly in student and labor centers, most (64.6 percent) also participated in various activities in their communities. These activities are shown in figure 37.1.

Principal Activities in Communities. Source: Domínguez and Castilla (2010).

Community activities mentioned included voluntary work to clean up the neighborhood and to participate in the meetings of neighborhood organizations (CDR and FMC), where topics of interest to residents are discussed. Cultural activities included a wide range of activities linked to music, festivals, dancing, street theater, folk music, and so on. Political activities included participation in marches, elections, commemorative events, discussions of current affairs, and other activities, mainly games and sporting events, carried out in the communities. The majority of young people identified the existence of opportunities for cultural and political participation in their communities, such as their own social and political organizations and the Casas de Cultura (cultural centers), which include places for amateur musicians to practice and workshops for artistic and literary creation and for improving the neighborhood in general (known in Spanish as talleres de transformación integral del barrio).

In summary, in the Cuban context, there is a dense network of formal organizations that encourage the participation of youth and favor their inclusion and contribution to social and political goals. However, the sociodemographic characteristics of the population and, in particular, the aging of society constitute one of the major challenges in terms of intergenerational relationships and continuity of the sociopolitical project. In addition, the economic changes that are taking place and the growth in communities of self-employed workers create a new scenario for youth participation at the local level and require changes in the organizations that operate there.

Concluding Thoughts: Challenges for Cuban Society

One of the major challenges facing Cuban society today—and one of the elements that should guide the design model for the future—is the need to continue to evaluate the impact of the recent changes on Cuban society. In particular, we need to analyze the repercussions of these changes on young people in key areas, such as education, the workplace, access to the new technologies, and participation in social and political matters. We also need to study the way in which this impacts them as individuals and as a generation both to understand the values they share and to guarantee the continuity of this commitment of young people with the construction of a better present and future for the country—including the necessary rupture with the past in order to adapt to the new circumstances.

References

Domínguez, María Isabel. 2010. “Juventud cubana: Procesos educativos e integración social.” In Cuadernos del CIPS 2009: Experiencias de investigación social en Cuba, edited by Claudia Castilla, Carmen L. Rodríguez, and Yuliet Cruz, 110–27. Havana: Editorial Acuario.

Domínguez, M. I., and Claudia Castilla. 2011. “Prácticas participativas en grupos juveniles de Ciudad de la Habana.” In Revista Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales, Niñez y Juventud 1, no. 9. Centro de Estudios Avanzados en Niñez y Juventud (CINDE), Universidad de Manizales, Colombia.

Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas. 1996. Anuario Estadístico de Cuba. Havana: Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas.

———. 2006. Anuario Estadístico de Cuba. Havana: Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas.

———. 2007. Anuario Estadístico de Cuba. Havana: Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas.

Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas e Información. 2009a. Proyecciones de la Población Cubana 2010–2030. http://www.onei.cu.

———. 2009b. Informe de la Encuesta Nacional de Fecundidad. http://www.onei.cu.

———. 2012a. Anuario Demográfico de Cuba. http://www.onei.cu.

———. 2012b. Anuario Estadístico de Cuba. http://www.onei.cu.

Partido Comunista de Cuba. 2011. Lineamientos de la política económica y social del Partido y la Revolución. Havana: Partido Comunista de Cuba.

Somos Jóvenes. 2011. “Unión de Jóvenes Comunistas (UJC). Semana 28 julio al 4 de agosto.” July 29. http://www.somosjovenes.cu.

Trabajadores. 2012. “Ejercen trabajo por cuenta propia más de 387 mil 200 cubanos.” June 28.

Trujillo, Ligia. 2010. Vilma Espín: La flor más universal de la Revolución Cubana. Coyoacán, Mexico: Ocean Sur.

Chapter 38

Notes on the Race Question in Cuba Today

Esteban Morales

In Cuba today, people often think about the question of race. Unfortunately, it is a fact of life. The two issues—both reflecting about race and the very reality of the situation—feed on each other. As a result, it is absolutely necessary to work on these two levels—to understand them and then eliminate racism. Eliminating the physical reality of racism will of course always be easier than uprooting it from people’s thoughts.

This is complicated by the fact that since 1959 the reality we have lived has not contributed to the development of racial stereotypes, discrimination, and racism. The predominant social climate was one in which our society exhibited the characteristics of a society with a new form of production and, along with this new model, different ways of social cooperation. The social project, together with a profound sense of justice, contributed to the development of a national identity that we had recovered, as well as a revitalized cultural identity, strengthened and inclusive. This brought educational and cultural attainments to levels that we had never thought possible. And it succeeded in making us believe that the sins of the past would disappear.

The social impact of the crisis [following the implosion of the Soviet Union] helped us to realize that we are like any other country. Social differences were accentuated, prostitution reappeared, some drugs also appeared, corruption and delinquency grew, the standard of living dropped—and in that context black and mulatto [note that the Spanish original used the term “mestizos”] Cubans began to realize that, even though they had made significant progress, they had not managed to build a society that was sustainable and balanced. Racism reemerged. It had never fully disappeared, nor was it disappearing at the rate that we thought it was. Rather, it had gone into hiding, waiting for the right circumstances to reappear—just like other challenges that occurred with the economic crisis.

In terms of the race question, Cuba had been developing into a model for the world. No other country in the hemisphere had changed as much as Cuba had since the Revolution. In no other place like Cuba had such a policy of social justice developed, nor had racism been dealt with so harshly as was the case in revolutionary Cuba. And yet it now became abundantly clear that it had not been sufficient.

Today all Cubans are equal before the law, but in terms of race we continue to live in conditions that are not equal, unable to take advantage of the opportunities that social policy puts at our disposal. Blacks and mulattoes live in worse conditions, receive the least in terms of remittances from abroad, are the most represented in prison, and have the least opportunities in the new economy and, until recently, were least represented in the political structures of the country.

Some ideas to improve this situation, especially affecting young Cubans, are the following:

Racism and racial discrimination are the result of the limited attention paid to these problems for many years. It was only in the mid-1980s that our leadership realized that we had to make significant changes to the social policies that we had followed until then. It was now important to consider the color of one’s skin and to see it for what it was—a key social variable.
It is necessary to strengthen the cultural and racial identity of the Cuban people, within our national identity.
It is necessary to make changes in our education system at all levels and to strengthen the teaching of history. Education has to be all-encompassing and not just limited to school. In addition, it has to permeate all our media, the family, and indeed all forms of cultural expression.
The study of racial issues should be taught at all levels in our schools. We also need to strengthen the teaching of ethnoracial studies at our universities. In this way we will be able to deal critically with the negative aspects, which continue to encourage racism, as well as racial stereotyping, the “whitening” tendency in our society, and the existing racial discrimination in our country. It is not just a case of providing our students with cultural training; instead, we need to give them cultural training that combats discrimination and racism.
Our system of gathering statistics should be considerably improved so that the color of one’s skin can be taken into account in the socioeconomic data collected. It is not sufficient for us to merely count our population. We also need to register all aspects about their role since one’s color is a significant social variable in a country like Cuba. If we do not take into account this variable, we ignore an important series of indicators that are necessary to provide a true portrait of socioeconomic conditions of Cuba.

Taking into account the color of the respondents’ skin, we need to gather data on matters such as the level of unemployment, the type of employment, income levels, salary, condition of housing, level of marginality, history of family violence, remittance income, access to higher education, internal and external migration, life expectancy, infant and maternal mortality, as well as general mortality rates, retirement rates, access to recreation facilities, domestic facilities, and so on.

Not all Cubans enjoy to the same degree the advantages that are available through the social policy of our system. This can be seen with great clarity in terms of education since it is not the same to come from a family of university graduates as it is from a family of workers or peasants who have no experience with intellectual pursuits. Unfortunately, it is not the same to live in [the pleasant suburbs of] Nuevo Vedado as it is Párraga or Pogolotti [suburbs of Havana with large Afro-Cuban populations].

The idea that “we are all equal” was a slogan used by republican politicians. No, all of us Cubans are not equal. We need to recognize that even though we are all—white, mulatto, black—equal before the law and with the same opportunities in an extraordinarily humanitarian system, we all come from very different historical contexts. These are passed along from generation to generation since in many ways we still are influenced by a colonial and neocolonial history of 500 years. As a result, the only way of eradicating this complex reality is to base our social and political reality on an acknowledgment of the lack of equality that still is found here. As a result, we need to characterize, locate, and provide quantitative data for these inequalities. In this way we will be able to attack them at their very roots.

Cuba is not Sweden or Holland. We are a nation of the Caribbean and with a very particular history. This analysis is not based on a simple desire. Rather, the point to be remembered is that, when we do not faithfully analyze the question of color and racial identity, we are throwing into the wastepaper basket centuries of history. In this way we are in effect ignoring the (ongoing) heritage of colonialism, the effect of which all of us still suffer from.

(Taken from the blog entry by Esteban Morales of September 18, 2011, “Notas sobre el tema racial en la realidad cubana de hoy,” http://www.estebanmoralesdominguez.blogspot.ca/search?updated-min=2011-01-01T00:0... [accessed November 7, 2012].)

In a blog entry found the same month, “Cuba: Raza después de 1959,” Esteban Morales noted, “The principal challenge is to eliminate the ignorance that still exists about racism in Cuba: it is necessary to include more black leaders in our history books, to emphasize the role of key black figures, and to study in depth the history of Africa, Asia and the Middle East. . . . We need to deepen the racial awareness, which is still badly lacking in Cuban society, to stimulate the self-respect of black Cubans, and to ensure that the topic of race occupies the place it rightfully deserves in all levels of Cuban education” (http://www.estebanmoralesdominguez.blogspot.ca [accessed November 7, 2012]).

Note

Previously published in TEMAS 56 (2008). Reprinted by permission of the author.

Chapter 39

Memorable Characters of Cuba

Tracey Eaton

When Agusto González didn’t have money to buy a television antenna, he improvised, making one out of sticks, a tree branch, a rubber tube, aluminum, and wire. “It may not look like much, but it works,” said González, forty-eight, a coffee grower in Santo Domingo, a village at the foot of the Sierra Maestra, Cuba’s largest mountain range.

Fidel Castro hid out in the Sierra Maestra in the 1950s while planning his revolt against then dictator Fulgencio Batista. I hiked through the same rugged hills to reach La Plata, Castro’s once-secret command post, hidden in the forest. I met González along the way.

His ranch was filled with Robinson Crusoe–style devices. One contraption—made with a bicycle rim, a pulley, nylon string, and a bucket—fetched water from the river, down an embankment about twenty yards away.

“You need something, you invent it,” González said. “That’s how we do things.”

I lived in Cuba from 2000 to early 2005 while working as a correspondent for the Dallas Morning News. And when I think back to those years, it’s the remarkable people I remember the most, not the politics or anything else.

González and his neighbors lived off the land. They cooked over open fires. They farmed their land with oxen because they didn’t have fuel for tractors. They used sticks and branches to make pigpens. They turned old coffee bags into curtains.

Stories of González and other characters endure even as Cuba evolves and changes, moving into the post-Castro era. Some of the people I met while covering Cuba are described below.

The Poultry King

Sergio García Macías runs one of Cuba’s most popular eateries, featuring roast chicken that has drawn the likes of Hollywood star Jack Nicholson and former president Jimmy Carter.

In the capitalist world, García would probably be a millionaire, maybe even chicken czar of the Caribbean. But he shrugs at the thought and says he isn’t bitter that the socialist government nationalized his family business decades ago.

“My biggest satisfaction isn’t money. It’s seeing that a customer is satisfied,” he said from his restaurant, El Aljibe, in Havana’s Miramar neighborhood. El Aljibe is among the many Cuban institutions that faded away soon after the Revolution, only to be rescued years later to help prop up the ailing economy. A chicken meal when I met García fetched $12, then the monthly wage for the average Cuban.

García, seventy-three, said he never dreamed his roast chicken would become such a smash. He and his older brother, Pepe, eighty-two, opened their first restaurant, El Aljibe’s predecessor, in 1947. Located in the countryside west of Havana, it was called Rancho Luna.

Their late mother, Toña Macías, came up with the chicken recipe, still secret after all these years. García revealed just two of the ingredients: garlic and bitter orange, which softens the meat. “We started with nothing and did no advertising,” he said. “I was just seventeen. We were very poor. But clients came and the business grew and grew.” Customers soon included Hollywood stars Errol Flynn and Ava Gardner, undefeated boxer Rocky Marciano, and baseball great Stan Musial.

The original Rancho Luna closed in 1961. The elder García went from job to job in the government, handling administrative duties for state-run restaurants. In 1993, a government restaurant chain asked if he would help revive Rancho Luna. He agreed, and it opened as El Aljibe. Word of the famed roast chicken spread, and soon El Aljibe was again drawing crowds, including everyone from director Steven Spielberg to actor Danny Glover. Said García, “This restaurant is my life.”

The Outfielder

Baseball is played in 104 countries on six continents, but Cuba is probably the most baseball-crazed nation on the planet. More than a national sport, baseball—or pelota, as it is called—is a religion on the island, and just about everyone is a believer.

To better understand the phenomenon, I went to Havana’s Latinoamericano Stadium.

One of the first people I noticed was a thin, twenty-something woman wearing jeans.

Mileisi Esquijarosa was on the edge of her seat. Then suddenly she stood, and it happened.

She started crowing like a rooster.

“Kikiri ki! Kikiri ki!” she cried as her favorite baseball team, the Sancti Spíritus Roosters, scored against the home team, the Industriales. Esquijarosa wasn’t just a fan. She was a baseball fanatic who took voice lessons to master her ear-piercing call.

I realized it was going to take some time to understand this religion known as baseball. The people at Cuba’s National Institute of Sport, Physical Education, and Recreation hadn’t been much help. Baseball was a delicate topic. Dozens of players had defected to the United States, among them a top-ranked pitching ace, lured by the promise of lucrative contracts. Cuban baseball was slipping into decline, some fans complained. Players endured grueling schedules, crushing economic deprivation, and isolation from the rest of the baseball-playing world.

“The lack of international competition has caused our players’ development to stall,” said Ismael Sené, seventy-three, a former Cuban diplomat and one of the island’s top baseball authorities.

I worried I wouldn’t be able to find players willing to talk to me. Then I found Carlos Tabares, a gregarious, five-foot-seven outfielder. He was captain of the Industriales. He introduced me to other players and invited me to their homes, where I met their mothers, wives, and girlfriends. Tabares told me that players who defected were the exception, not the rule. “We play because we love the sport. We have nothing to do with ‘rented baseball,’ playing just for money. Besides, the government gives us everything we need—a salary, bats, gloves, lodging while we’re on the road, meals. A full buffet.”

The Spy

Rodolfo Frómeta, head of a militant anti-Castro group in Miami, boasted that would-be assassins shot a former Cuban spy during a 2:00 a.m. gun battle.

I tracked down the ex-spy in Havana to find out if it was true. Juan Pablo Roque showed no signs of injury when I talked to him outside his home in 2003. I asked if he’d been attacked.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Can’t you see?”

That made me suspect the assassination attempt never occurred. But there certainly were people who wanted to do harm to Roque. He had been a spy in Miami and was a key figure in the Cuban military’s shoot-down of two civilian aircraft in 1996. Roque declined to talk about any of that in 2003. He said he didn’t want to somehow hurt the case of five Cuban spies who had been jailed in the United States on espionage-related charges.

I caught up with Roque again in 2012. This time he agreed to an interview.

Roque, a former fighter pilot with Hollywood good looks, didn’t appear desperate but conceded he needed money. He said he was selling his house and a prized possession, a GMT Master II Rolex he bought with money the Federal Bureau of Investigation gave him while he was an informant in Florida.

Roque had staged his defection from Cuba in 1992, swimming to the U.S. naval base at Guantánamo Bay and declaring opposition to Fidel Castro. He became a pilot for Brothers to the Rescue, a group dedicated to searching for rafters in the Florida Straits. But then he stunned everyone in 1996, slipping back into Cuba the day before Cuban MiGs shot down two civilian aircraft flown by members of the exile group.

Now fifty-seven and living with his girlfriend in a cramped Havana apartment, Roque said he was sorry four people were killed in the February 24, 1996, incident. “If I could travel in a time machine,” he said, “I’d get those boys off the planes that were shot down.” The four dead were Carlos Costa, Mario de la Peña, Pablo Morales, and Armando Alejandre Jr.

Alejandre’s sister, Maggie Khuly, said justice was never done. “Speaking for the families, my family in particular, we’re looking forward to the day when Roque faces U.S. courts on his outstanding indictment,” said Khuly, a Miami architect.

A federal indictment charged Roque with failing to register as a foreign agent and conspiring to defraud the United States in May 1999.

Asked about the charges, Roque sighed. He said he believes that the Cuban government was justified in defending its airspace but that he should not be held responsible for the deaths. “I am not to blame. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t order anyone killed. The decision to shoot down the planes was a decision of the sovereign Cuban government. The decision to shoot down the planes was taken because of the constant air incursions, violating airspace.”

Asked if he had any regrets, Roque said he wishes he had done more to stop the shoot-down. “Perhaps now . . . I’d try to play a much stronger role in the things that happened. I’d try to play a better role. If I played it bad or good, let the people decide. Let those who want to judge me, judge me.”

The Homemaker

Ana del Rosario Pérez was suddenly in trouble. Her friends had asked her to feed an entire beach party, but she had little more than two eggs and some puffed wheat. So she got creative. “I stirred up the eggs and added salt. I put oil in a pan and started to cook the eggs. Then I started tossing in the puffed wheat. When that was all done . . . I added garlic, peppers, onion, and tomato paste.”

Result: Enough scrambled eggs for eighteen people. And no one knew that wheat was the key to stretching the two eggs, the forty-year-old homemaker said.

Across the island, Cubans routinely whip up culinary concoctions to ward off hunger and make ends meet. They turn potatoes into mayonnaise, peas into desserts, and green plantains into casseroles. “We don’t eat meat every day in Cuba, but no one goes to bed without something to eat,” said Juan José León, a spokesman for Cuba’s Ministry of Agriculture.

The food situation has been critical in Cuba since the fall of the island’s chief sponsor, the former Soviet Union. But many Cubans can’t afford to shop in the stores, where a box of cereal fetches as much as $9.65 and a can of Pringle’s potato chips goes for $3.50. So they work their magic in the kitchen, inventing recipes and turning leftovers into meals.

Variety is the key, said Cristina Ortega, a fifty-two-year-old retiree. “I can’t stand eating the same thing every day.” Among her favorite inventions: cupcake-size casseroles made from plantains. “You peel a green plantain and slice it. Then you fry it, mash it with a glass, and mold it into a little cup with your hands.” She said she fills the cups with whatever she has—ground meat or canned ham, if possible—and tops them with grated cheese. Then she heats them for five minutes, and presto—they’re done.

The Divorcée

When Yanet Vázquez finally decided to end her marriage, she and her soon-to-be ex-husband strolled into a notary public’s office, plunked down $4, and were blissfully divorced in twenty minutes. “It was quick and easy,” said Vázquez, thirty-one, a cashier.

Indeed, getting unhitched in Cuba is about as cheap and effortless as it gets. The country’s liberal divorce laws also fuel one of the world’s highest divorce rates. “For every 100 marriages in Cuba, there are almost seventy divorces. It’s alarming,” said María Benítez, a demographics specialist and author of the book The Cuban Family.

The island’s severe housing shortage forces many people to live with their in-laws and other relatives, straining even the best of marriages. Economic conditions also create tension that drives many couples apart, Benítez said. “We have First World health and schooling levels but seventeenth- and eighteenth-century marriage habits,” she said. Some Cubans change spouses every few years. “I’ve split up three times already,” said José Rivero, forty, a musician. “I spent seven years with the first woman, five with the second, and eight with the third.”

Cuba legalized divorce in 1869 and introduced divorces by notary public in 1994. “No other country in the world has this kind of divorce,” said Ayiadna María Verrier, a notary public in Old Havana. Many divorces are not only quick but remarkably civilized. Maricel Acebo, thirty-nine, and her ex-husband, Wilfrido, continued living under the same roof despite their divorce less than a year earlier. “I’m not going to tell him, ‘I want you living out on the street,’” she said. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

The Wordsmith

One day I decided to write a story about Cuban names. The idea occurred to me while having lunch with Cuban writer Senel Paz and a few other friends. Paz wrote the screenplay for the acclaimed movie Fresa y Chocolate (Strawberry and Chocolate). Over rice, shrimp, and salad, we somehow got onto the topic of names. Paz said his own name is an invention of sorts. His mother named him Senel but probably meant Senen, an established name. But like a lot of Cubans who automatically replace the letter “n” with “l” in their rapid-fire Caribbean speech, she made it Senel. “I don’t know of any other Senels except some of my relatives—and they’re named after me,” Paz said.

“We invent names because we’re looking for originality. I think some Cubans started inventing names to imitate the sound of Russian. People are drawn to exotic sounds.” Indeed, I found Cubans named everything from Yusimi and Yanko to Yusmeli and Yasnara. One Cuban mother named her boy Yesdasi—Yes-da-si—yes in English, Russian, and Spanish. Another came up with Yotuiel. That translates roughly from Spanish as “me, you, and him.”

Cubans sometimes pick names simply because they like the look of them. Scores of children living near Guantánamo, an American military base on the eastern tip of Cuba, are named Usnavy, taken from U.S. Navy. Others are Usmail, from U.S. Mail.

One woman named her son William Guillermo over the protests of her relatives. In English, that’s William William.

Given such combinations, the Cuban government sometimes refuses to allow certain names. But meddling can have unintended consequences, as it did in the case of the mother who wanted to call her daughter María José. María is fine, Cuban officials said, but not José because that’s a boy’s name. Okay, said the mother, who finally opted for Esoj Airam—María José spelled backward. Officials accepted that.

Taking ordinary names and spelling them backward isn’t uncommon in Cuba. Examples include Odraude, from Eduardo; Orgen, from Negro; Leinad, from Daniel; and Susej, from Jesus. One mother toyed with calling her daughter Vivian, but that had no pizazz, no imagination. So she settled on her own creation: Naiviv. “It’s Vivian in reverse,” said Naiviv Trasancos, a travel agent. “I like it. It’s different, distinctive.”

Some parents choose names with a revolutionary flair. “I was named in honor of Fidel,” said Ana Fidelia Quirot, a Cuban track star and Olympic athlete. “I’m very proud of it.” Other Cubans name their children after esoteric military institutions. One couple named their son Dampar, which stands for Defensa Anti-Aerea de las Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias (Anti-Air Defense of the Revolutionary Armed Forces). Evidently caught up in revolutionary fervor, the same couple named their daughter Sempi, for Sociedad de Educación Patriótico-Militar (Society of Patrotic Military Education).

Other Cubans have such names as Inra, for the Instituto Nacional de la Reforma Agraria (National Institute of Agrarian Reform); Init, for the Instituto Nacional de la Industria Turística (National Institute of the Tourist Industry); and Pursia, for the Partido Unido de la Revolución Socialista (United Party of the Socialist Revolution).

Devout Catholics sometimes name their children after saints. A calendar showing the saint of the day helps them pick. But things don’t always go right. Some Cuban children, with humble parents still trying to figure out which side of the paper holds the saint’s name, have actually been named Santoral al Dorso: “Saint on Reverse.”

Félix Savón, Cuba’s two-time Olympic heavyweight boxing champion, ultimately went with something safe: He named four of his five children after himself. His two sets of twins are named Félix Mario and María Félix and Félix Félix and Félix Ignacio.

Still other Cubans insist on the unusual. Take the case of Cuban actor Jorge Perugorría and his wife, Elsa. He had always wanted a daughter but got three sons instead. He persuaded her to try one last time, and she had yet another son. Thankful that childbearing was over, she named him Amén.

Chapter 40

Cuba’s Recent Embrace of Agroecology

Sinan Koont

Urban and Suburban Agriculture

One of the most interesting and important developments in Cuba in the past two decades has occurred in its food production and distribution systems. The results of this development include one of the world’s shortest producer-to-consumer chains in fresh produce and the general introduction of agroecological production technologies throughout the island. (Among other characteristics, agroecological practices attempt to minimize the use of fossil fuels, including petroleum, and their derivatives, such as chemical pesticides and fertilizers, in production and transportation.)

Before discussing the reasons for this remarkable and far-reaching transformation and its evolution and consequences, it makes sense to place it in its historical and geographical context. Cuba is an island (albeit the largest) in the Caribbean region and was colonized by the Spanish Empire beginning in the early sixteenth century. After 1958, the new revolutionary government of Cuba, with the help of two Agrarian Reform Laws of 1959 and 1963, nationalized most of the cultivable land in Cuba, until then mainly in the hands of large landowners, both Cuban and foreign. Cuba eventually established an industrial agricultural system based on extremely large state farms active, among other lines, in cattle raising, sugarcane, rice, and citric crops production. The export crop production model was modified but not abandoned.

The state farms were generally unproductive, however. The monoculture cultivation in these large state farms led (as in the Soviet Union) to reduced efficiency and productivity, resulting in smaller outputs and lessened returns on agricultural investment. It was also causing increasing damage to the soil as well as to the environment in general. In addition, industrial agriculture in Cuba was completely dependent on the importation of petroleum (and machinery) from the Soviet Union and socialist Eastern Europe. And since the 1960s, the island had been caught in the cross fire of the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union. Cuba’s national defense and security organizations could not ignore the possibility of the complete cutoff of the imports of petroleum, machinery, and petroleum derivatives, such as chemical fertilizers and pesticides, making industrial agriculture impossible.

Thus, it is not surprising that in the late 1980s a new agroecological focus started making its presence felt in Cuban agriculture. This is the foundation of the model now widely used in the twenty-first century in Cuba. Agroecology is a field of study that came into being as a counterpoint to industrial agriculture. It attempts to apply ecological theory to plant-animal communities managed by humans to produce food, fuel, and fiber. The approach is holistic and pays full attention to environmental concerns and to the human participants in their political, economic, social, and cultural settings. The management techniques it advances include the elimination of the use of agrochemicals to reduce toxicity, the enhancement of biodiversity leading to increased natural pest resistance, the practice of intercropping and crop rotation, and improvements in the quality of soils by increasing organic materials and biological activity in the soils being cultivated. The stress is on making agroecosystems more productive with fewer external inputs—ideally in a self-sustaining manner—and fewer damaging environmental and social outcomes.

With support from the government and as early as 1987, the Asociación Cubana de Técnicos Forestales y Agrícolas (Cuban Association of Forestry and Agricultural Technicians) was officially registered as a Cuban nongovernmental organization with an agroecological orientation. It consists of dues-paying members, by 2010 numbering over 20,000, who are active promoters of and proselytizers for agroecological practices in Cuba. Also in the late 1980s, Raúl Castro started to take an active interest in sustainable agriculture. The national security concern of weaning the provisioning of foodstuffs for the Cuban armed forces away from dependence on industrial agriculture and imported oil was also addressed. During a visit to the Armed Forces Horticultural Enterprise on December 27, 1987, then Defense Minister Castro told of an encounter with an agricultural engineer named Ana Luisa Pérez, who had carried out some successful experiments growing vegetables without using petrochemicals in plantain pregerminators. Castro suggested the desirability of generalizing this method of cultivation, a comment that led to the introduction of the organopónico technology later widely employed in urban agriculture. As a result, from December 1987, armed forces facilities began installing organopónicos (raised cultivation beds containing a mixture of soil and organic material, such as compost) to grow vegetables to meet their needs.

Although these incipient moves toward agroecology began in the 1980s, it was not until the early 1990s that Cuba faced a forced turn toward embracing agroecology in its food production system. The implosion in 1991 of the Soviet Union and its socialist allies in Eastern Europe abruptly and severely reduced Cuba’s external trade. The industrial agricultural system Cuba had built up over the previous thirty years simply ceased to function due to the lack of required inputs of petroleum, pesticides, chemical fertilizers, agricultural machinery, fuel and trucks used in transportation, and spare parts. The severe reduction in the capacity to grow or import foodstuffs had by 1993 led to a situation where Cubans on average were consuming only 1,863 calories per person per day, an amount well below subsistence needs.

Almost overnight, Cuba had to adopt technologies in the production and distribution of foodstuffs that minimized the use of imported inputs. An alternative that almost naturally suggested itself was urban agriculture, the production of foodstuffs in and near cities. In urban agriculture, the proximity of large population concentrations precluded the general use of toxic pesticides and polluting fertilizers—even if they had been available—to avoid harming these populations. Moreover, the existing demand by local consumers minimized the need for fuel and trucks to transport the food to distant customers. In its forced turn to agroecology, Cuba faced various formidable challenges. These included finding appropriate spaces in and near cities to be used for food production; learning about, generating, and disseminating new agroecological technologies; and recruiting, training, and retaining (once employed) urban agricultural workers from city populations who are, for the most part, agricultural novices. In addition, all of this had to be done in the midst of the worst economic crisis in the history of the Cuban Revolution, precipitated by the collapse of the Soviet Union.

In this effort, Cuba could count on a strong central government capable of making society-wide decisions to implement new policies and create new institutions. There were also some historical legacies of thirty years of revolutionary development that would stand Cuba in good stead in confronting the challenges it faced:

The universally and well-educated population, very capable of further learning and innovation
A strong and coherent gender- ,work-, and territorially based social organization comprising labor unions, the Federation of Cuban Women, student organizations, neighborhood committees, and small farmers’ associations

These two factors certainly facilitated the large-scale changes in food production technologies and institutions by making rapid policy innovation and implementation possible.

The real enablers, however, of the large-scale introduction of urban agriculture in Cuba’s cities were similarly massive efforts in the following:

Organization of guidance and administration through the Ministry of Agriculture
Scientific research and technological development in agroecology at universities and specialized governmental research centers
Creating incentives, both material and moral, to attract and retain a workforce
Constructing support networks for generating and disseminating agroecological technologies
Building supply networks for needed inputs for agroecological production, such as compost and worm humus, seeds, and biological pest control materials
Education in agroecology in primary schools, in agricultural technical schools at the secondary school level, and in universities
On-the-job training programs in the production units

In 1991, the first civilian organopónico was installed in the Miramar district of the city of Havana. By the end of 1993, both the Ministry of Agriculture and the provincial government of the City of Havana were strongly supporting extension efforts to spread the new technology throughout the city. The first organizational push at the national level came in May 1994 at the First National Plenary of Organopónicos in Santa Clara. At this meeting, initial steps were taken that would eventually lead in 1997 to the formal organization of the Grupo Nacional de Agricultura Urbana (GNAU). The GNAU was constituted as a leadership body consisting of some three dozen members to provide guidance to a burgeoning urban agriculture campaign. It was headquartered at NIFAT, a major national agricultural research center located near Havana. Its membership included PhD-level agricultural scientists, specialists from various participating ministries, and prominent leaders from agronomy research institutions.

Once in place as “supervisor” of all urban agriculture efforts in Cuba, GNAU found itself facing a complex panorama of new and old economic participants active in this area using different production modalities and organized into various land tenancy structures. The old industrial state farms had been broken up into smaller units, even when they retained their status as state enterprises. In 1993, as part of the process of dismantling the huge and now dysfunctional state farms, a law was adopted creating a new institution in land tenancy: the Unidad Básica de Producción Cooperativa (Basic Unit of Cooperative Production). These were new cooperative structures in which groups of former state workers were brought together in voluntary associations to work the land. They received the land from the state in usufruct. That is, the land did not become their private property, but all the crops they produced did belong to the co-op members, as did all the implements of production utilized. Individuals were also eligible to apply for usufruct plots on which they could produce food for their families and also for the market. Individual usufruct tenants were encouraged to seek membership in already existing or newly created cooperative structures called Cooperativas de Créditos y Servicios (Credit and Services Cooperatives) uniting usufruct tenants with individual plots and owners of (previously existing) private small farms and plots. The cooperatives had been organized as early as the 1970s to facilitate marketing and contracting on the output side and the provision of credit and other services, inputs such as seeds and fertilizers, training, and extension on the input side.

Joining these mostly new economic actors were over a million Cuban households, who had traditionally raised vegetables and planted fruit trees in the backyards of their homes. They now turned to backyard (patio) production much more seriously. In a manner reminiscent of the “victory gardens” in the United States and Britain during the two world wars of the twentieth century, the urban populations of Cuba sought sustenance through production in their home gardens.

Thus, from 1993 on, the urban agricultural landscape in Cuba contained four different modalities in the production of vegetables in and near cities: organopónicos, huertas intensivas (essentially organopónicos whose raised beds are not walled), parcelas, and plots and patios. Although, as we shall see, vegetable production has achieved most success in urban agriculture, the scope of the latter is much broader. GNAU has organized urban agriculture into twenty-eight subprograms, of which the vegetables and fresh condiments subprogram is but one. There are twelve subprograms in crop cultivation (ranging from medicinal plants and dried herbs to fruit trees to semiprotected organopónico production), seven in animal raising (ranging from rabbit raising to fish farming to sheep/goat raising), and nine in support areas (ranging from organic fertilizers to agroecological integration to irrigation and drainage).

These programs are not limited to a few big cities but are spread rather uniformly throughout the fifteen provinces and 169 municipios (municipalities) into which Cuba is divided administratively. GNAU’s role is to provide guidance, information, and supervision. It acts as a tireless promoter, inspector, and evaluator of urban agriculture and is in overall control of all urban agricultural activity. The inspections and evaluations take place during tours organized by GNAU on a quarterly basis. During these inspection visits, GNAU experts give presentations on technical aspects of agroecological production, essentially providing extension services. The team also evaluates local production units, classifying them following guidelines established for each subprogram. Outstanding units are singled out for special recognition and become centers of dissemination of successful practices, often receiving visits from other units eager to learn from them.

The Ministry of Agriculture has organized a parallel track to these activities of GNAU, providing logistical support to practitioners of urban agriculture. Beginning in 1995, so-called granjas urbanas were established to provide operational, administrative, and executive coverage for the urban agriculture movement. These are institutions, at least one in each district, that are affiliated with the leading state agricultural enterprise in the municipality. Among other tasks and responsibilities, they buy produce from the production units (if these do not market directly to the population from their own stands); they organize marketing through municipally approved points of sale; they sell inputs, such as seeds, compost, worm humus, and biological pest control materials through a network of agricultural supply and extension stores called Consultorio/Tienda del Agricultor; and they contribute to production by directly operating their own production units. In short, they see to it that the GNAU guidelines for each of the twenty-eight subprograms are carried out on the ground. They are meant to be profit-making businesses, and in 2006, 135 out of 196 granjas were. In their efforts, the granjas urbanas are accompanied in each local district by an urban agricultural representative of the Ministry of Agriculture.

The twin chains of central state oversight—first, the supervisory, evaluative, and guiding chain of GNAU and its extensions at the local level, and, second, the administration, supply, and distribution chain from the Ministry of Agriculture to the business (or empresa) and then to the granja urbana and finally to the urban agriculture representative of the Ministry of Agriculture—constitute a unique organizational structure. This structure is well suited to the task of overseeing an urban food production system that has as its guiding principle the need to decentralize food production without losing control and to centralize only to a degree that does not kill local initiative.

Cuba proved itself to be quite capable of taking advantage of these formidable historical legacies and organizational innovations enabling a strong performance in urban agriculture. The first fifteen years of the “Special Period” saw outstanding results in significant aspects of urban agriculture. Among these, the increase in food production and distribution addressed the most pressing concern that led to urban agriculture in Cuba in the first place: the lack of food. The subprogram in vegetables and fresh condiments stands out as the most successful food-producing subprogram. In this subprogram, production volume went up 1,000-fold between 1994 and 2004, increasing from 4,000 tons to over 4 million tons of output, reaching a plateau that has been maintained since then (with minor fluctuations). These increases reflected improvements in yields as well as expansion in the areas cultivated.

Yields increased rapidly, especially in the early years of the Special Period with the introduction of new technologies. The new organopónico technology yielded about three times more output per square meter each year than the typical backyard garden or patio. The area under cultivation also expanded with large increases in the number of patios and plots incorporated into urban agriculture after 2001. These yielded less per square meter than the organopónicos but needed much less investment (in irrigation systems, walled beds, and so on) and thus could be expanded at a much lower cost. As a result of this performance in this subprogram, Cuba is now (in 2012) basically self-sufficient in fresh produce, with production levels well above the guidelines of the UN Food and Agriculture Organization for per capita consumption.

Although Havana played a major role in the early stages of the development of urban agriculture, the program is currently quite evenly distributed not only across major urban areas but also throughout the island’s fifteen provinces. In fact, whereas the population ratio (in 2006) of the largest to the smallest province was five to four, the corresponding ratio between the maximum and minimum provincial production levels in the subprogram of vegetables and fresh condiments was only two to two. In addition, there is more modest progress in all nineteen crop- and animal-raising subprograms of urban agriculture. Thus, it can be asserted that urban agriculture has played a crucial role in restoring (by 2006) per capita food consumption to more-than-adequate levels, with significant contributions in healthy fresh foods in the daily diet of Cubans. It has eliminated the import dependence in fresh produce and reduced it, more or less significantly, in some other areas. That said, Cuba still remains heavily dependent on imports, especially in proteins (meat, dairy, and beans), fats, and grains (rice and wheat).

Besides its role in foodstuff production, urban agriculture has three other positive consequences for Cuban society. First, it has created urban employment to make up for the losses of the Special Period, when fossil fuel–using urban activities (such as industry and transportation) simply ground to a halt. By 2012, nearly 400,000 urban workers (more than 7 percent of the civilian Cuban workforce) had found relatively well paying employment in urban agriculture. Thus, by the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century, the high urban unemployment of the Special Period had been largely eliminated, thanks in no small part to the new urban agricultural paradigm. Second, there are significant environmental consequences. Urban agriculture has shifted food production away from reliance on fossil fuels and petrochemicals. Conventional industrial agriculture emits large quantities of carbon dioxide (associated with global warming). It also degrades soil and water resources and has toxic effects on human beings, all harmful consequences avoided by urban agriculture. In addition, urban agriculture is part of urban reforestation efforts, creating carbon dioxide–consuming and oxygen-producing “islands” throughout the cities.

Not to be ignored are secondary environmental benefits, such as urban beautification, as well as the physical and psychological well-being of the population, the reduction of urban stress, and increased privacy for households. Other positive consequences include the screening (or, better, the replacing of urban eyesores), the enhancement of biodiversity, and a reduction in air and noise pollution through the filtering action of plants. And finally, urban agriculture has strengthened local communities. The shift to urban agriculture in Cuba has both necessitated and enabled community building and organization. The small-scale, local, labor-intensive techniques employed in urban agriculture involved the community members not only as consumers but also as producers. Dietary changes to include more vegetables, some previously barely known in Cuba, contributed to community health but also required community education in nutrition.

When vacant lots that have turned into garbage dumps are reconstituted as green spaces full of trees, flowers, and vegetables, the results are not just aesthetic. These spaces become focal points for community involvement where people get together to buy vegetables and interact with their neighbors. The difference such a change makes in the sense of community well-being is bound to be substantial. However, after more than a decade of development and despite all of these positive accomplishments, there was still a glaring difficulty faced by the urban agriculture program—much of the land available was not being cultivated. In 2006, for example, of the officially designated 1.2 million hectares of urban agricultural land in and near cities, only about 50,000 hectares, or less than 5 percent, were being cultivated in the highly touted vegetables and fresh condiments subprogram. Altogether, more than 75 percent of the available land, lying in the periurban areas, had remained unutilized. These lands, mostly abandoned by state enterprises, were in large part infested with marabou, a highly invasive, hard-to-eradicate “weed” bush that had been brought to Cuba at the end of the nineteenth century as an ornamental plant and had become a nightmare for the Cuban countryside in the Special Period. These areas, although in the ambit of urban agriculture, were proving difficult to bring into agroecological production under the existing conditions and programs of urban agriculture. The reasons for this were twofold: the lack of a local workforce and the absence of customers within walking distance of production units.

In July 2008, to address the first problem, the State Council of Cuba passed Decree Law 259 on Turning over Possession in Usufruct of Idle Lands, which authorized the awarding in usufruct of up to thirteen hectares of land to individuals (or cooperatives) soliciting land from the state for the purpose of rational and sustainable use of these lands for food production. Already existing farms with proven track records could expand their holdings up to forty hectares. To organize and facilitate the operation of these new, or expanded, farms (fincas), a new program of Suburban Agriculture (related to but different from Urban Agriculture) was established and announced by President Raúl Castro on August 1, 2009, in an address to the National Assembly. Castro noted that a pilot program had been in process since 2008 in the municipality of Camaguey and stressed the continuing commitment to agroecological technologies in the new program: “In this new program, let us forget about using tractors and fuel, even if we had them in sufficient quantities. The idea is to carry out this program essentially with oxen—these are small farms—as a growing number of producers are already doing with excellent results. I have visited a few and can attest that they have converted their lands into true gardens where every inch of land is utilized” (author’s translation; speech published in Granma, August 1, 2009). In the same speech, the mandate of the GNAU (now rechristened GNAUS with the addition of “y Suburbana” to its name) was extended to include the new program. And the program was soon under way in eighteen pilot municipalities, at least one in each province, which were judged to be the most ready to start implementing the Suburban Agriculture program immediately.

The program of Suburban Agriculture was set up with unprecedented and lofty goals. Each municipality’s agricultural leaders had to draw up plans by first assessing the potential of the region to feed itself. Then, taking stock of the local resource base (land, water, climate, and so on) and the size of the population that had to be fed, they were to come up with a long-term project to achieve eventual local self-sufficiency (if possible). The larger farm size and the suburban setting freed from urban constraints would mean the possibility of introducing activities favoring a transition to self-sufficiency: raising livestock as well as developing pastures and animal feed crops, fruit orchards, a commercial forestry, and so on.

A municipality’s participation in the new program was not automatic. The municipal project, once formulated, had to be presented before a panel of experts at the GNAUS headquarters for acceptance or rejection, with the Ministry of Agriculture having the final say in approving the participation of the municipality in the Suburban Agriculture program. Besides establishing general guidelines for the organization and development of Suburban Agriculture, the Ministry of Agriculture and GNAUS had to find practical solutions for problems that they had not encountered in the Urban Agriculture program. First, a family farm of forty acres with just a few adult workers could not be managed and maintained using only human labor. The Cuban agroecological solution to this problem has been the reintroduction of animal traction in the form of teams of oxen, which replace fossil fuel–using, soil-compacting tractors found in industrial agriculture. Second, the problem of distribution is much more complex than in urban agriculture, where much of the produce can be harvested and then carried in baskets to stands at the curbside next to the fields for direct sale to consumers who live across the street. The usufruct farmers of suburban agriculture do not have motorized vehicles to transport their production to distant locations. The solution being implemented by the Ministry of Agriculture is the establishment in each municipality of networks of points of purchase and points of sale: the former at locations convenient to the producers and the latter at locations convenient to consumers. The points of purchase buy the produce from the farmer. They are located throughout the municipality so that no farm is more than a few kilometers from a point of purchase. The farmers have to deliver their output to one of these points or to a point of sale, if more convenient, using nonmotorized means of transportation: oxcarts, bicycles, wheelbarrows, and so on. A municipal enterprise with a fleet of trucks then immediately distributes the produce to points of sale in the municipality for direct sale to the consumers. Admittedly, this requires some fossil fuel use, although this use is minimal, as there is no long-distance transport, refrigeration, or warehousing of produce, even overnight. The shortness of the producer-consumer chain is maintained albeit in a somewhat less spectacular fashion than in urban agriculture.

The Suburban Agriculture program is still very young, and its eventual success cannot yet be evaluated; however, it is developing rapidly. Camagüey, the initial pilot municipality, started in 2008 with seventy-five farms and is scheduled to establish over 1,400 farms by 2015 (including 750 in cattle raising and 450 in diversified crops). In the meantime, after reaching thirty-nine participating municipalities in 2010, the program now includes all 156 eligible for consideration. (Eight of the 168 cannot participate because they lack suitable suburban lands.) By the end of 2012, over 1.5 million hectares had been distributed in usufruct to nearly 175,000 beneficiaries, and 100,000 farms had been started. Of these, 21,000 have been approved in terms of fulfilling all eight criteria for starting production, ranging from being free of marabou to having a municipally approved plan of production to having a responsible person in charge. The hard work of clearing the land of marabou had been completed on 167,000 hectares.

Despite these advances following the adoption of Decree Law 259, sizable amounts of land remain to be distributed and made productive. In order to speed up the usufruct distribution of idle lands, a new law (Decree Law 300) was passed in October 2012. Its main provisions include an increase in the farm size upper limit (now sixty-seven hectares), enhanced tenure security for the family of the lease owner, permission to build structures (including houses) on the farm with the assurance that any value added will be retained in case of termination, and some additional measures that provide increased flexibility in the process of acquiring land.

As can be seen, the experiment by Cuba of producing locally food in an agroecological fashion and for local use is a compelling and exemplary one. It is also occurring in a world where the practice of industrial agriculture is beginning to generate opposition. This opposition is based on two principal factors: the unsustainability of fossil fuel–based production technologies and the undesirable environmental consequences of industrial agriculture, ranging from global warming to toxic pollution. Cuba may be uniquely positioned as a trailblazer in agroecological practice. For an increasing number of people in the world, including small farmers, peasants, and consumers, agroecological production of foodstuffs is already a desirable goal. The real-life experience of Cuba provides an example of a viable alternative to industrial agriculture and a new paradigm of labor-intensive, agroecological production of foodstuffs. The advances that Cuba makes and the challenges that it faces in this context (and the creative responses it makes to them) will undoubtedly continue generating new lessons and objects of study for the rest of the world.

Note

This chapter is based on the author’s book Sustainable Urban Agriculture in Cuba (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2011) and a paper, “Urban Agriculture in Cuba: Advances and Challenges” (also by the author), presented at the LASA International Congress of 2010 held in Toronto.

Chapter 41

The Cuban Health System

Conner Gorry and C. William Keck

In Search of Quality, Efficiency, and Sustainability

Provision of universal health care does not result from happenstance or circumstance but rather occurs when governing authorities exercise the political will to implement policies not only recognizing but also mandating health care as a human right. The provenance and trajectory of Cuba’s universal system guaranteeing free, accessible care—set out in article 50 of the Cuban Constitution (1976), which states that all people “have the right to medical attention and health protection. The state is the guarantor of this right”—illustrate this commitment. Since 1959, the Cuban health system has undergone a series of radical transformations that have resulted in health outcomes on par with or surpassing those of developed countries. Despite periodic economic crises and over half a century of a crippling U.S. embargo, Cuba’s experience illustrates how policy and practice can work together to improve the population’s health. But Cuba is changing. Unprecedented economic reforms are continuing apace, and the health system is currently being reorganized to improve quality, efficiency, and sustainability. This chapter examines how Cuba has been able to achieve such enviable outcomes despite scarce resources and discusses the current challenges to maintaining quality health services in the country’s changing landscape.

Blueprint for Health

The seeds of Cuba’s universal health system were sown by Dr. Ernesto “Che” Guevara and his colleagues as they attended patients in their mountain encampment from where the Cuban Revolution was fought. What Che and the troops lived and learned in the mountains is that too many Cubans were dying of preventable diseases and that the principal social determinants of health included decrepit housing, unsafe drinking water, poor diet, and lack of education. Understanding health strategies in contemporary Cuba necessitates an appreciation of such historic antecedents given how formative early experiences proved in shaping the development of the country’s philosophy of and political will toward “health for all” (Declaration of Alma-Ata 1978; World Health Organization [WHO] 2011b). Forged in the rebels’ mountain stronghold, the pillars of Cuba’s health system include the following:

Emphasizing a preventive, integrated approach
Prioritizing vulnerable populations, including the elderly, children, expectant mothers, and rural communities
Providing and maintaining equitable access to services
Improving social determinants affecting health, including housing, diet, and education
Stimulating intersectoral action among media, housing, sports, education, and other authorities to improve social determinants
Encouraging rational use of scarce resources

Global organizations, including UNICEF (2004), the World Bank (2001), and the WHO (2011a), have long recognized the above-mentioned factors as essential to improving population health. Indeed, mechanisms such as the UN Millennium Development Goals were developed to set targets and measure countries’ progress toward better health, education, and well-being; as of 2010, Cuba ranked among the top twenty countries in achieving those goals (Overseas Development Institute 2010). This is the result of the Cuban state’s recognition of its responsibility for protecting and improving the nation’s health (i.e., political will) and the capacity to change and evolve those policies as the health picture evolves. It has not always been easy or successful: outside forces, including massive post-Revolution emigration of doctors, the U.S. embargo, emerging diseases like HIV, and economic crises—including the current one—have combined with a changing health picture to impel periodic shifts in the Cuban approach.

The basis of the Cuban system is the primary care system provided by the team of family doctor and nurse, which attends to up to 1,500 people in the community. This team is supported by local polyclinics offering comprehensive specialized and personalized services, including pediatrics; obstetrics; medical genetics screening, diagnoses, and counseling; advanced laboratory testing; diagnostic procedures; rehabilitation services; and dentistry. Each polyclinic serves between 15,000 and 60,000 people and is tailored to offer the services most needed by the community where it is located as determined by ongoing health analysis tools known as the Neighborhood Health Diagnosis and Continuous Assessment and Risk Evaluation. Together, these tools provide a “health picture” of individual communities by documenting disease, risk factors, and environmental influences on the health of the catchment area and classifying residents by disease and risk factors. Other primary care–level services, such as the national network of maternity homes for at-risk pregnant women, senior day care centers, old-age homes, and other facilities designed for vulnerable groups, support the doctor-and-nurse team and the local polyclinic. The next level of the health system, where surgical procedures and more complex conditions are treated, is composed of municipal hospitals, followed by specialty hospitals in provincial capitals and thirteen national research institutes, many of which provide clinical care in their given field. All of these services are provided free of charge to patients.

The pillars (i.e., policy) of the Cuban health system discussed above, combined with how that system attends to the population (i.e., practice), have rendered Cubans as healthy—and in some cases more so—as citizens of developed countries (see tables 41.1 to 41.3), including the United States. These indicators have been achieved despite periodic economic crises—some profound—and strengthening of the embargo against the island nation. What is perhaps most surprising about Cuba’s enviable health outcomes is that the country has been able to maintain and, in some cases, improve on past work in the face of extreme resource scarcity. For instance, Cuba has the lowest incidence of HIV/AIDS in the Caribbean. Such success testifies to the sound nature of Cuba’s integrated strategy and the capacity to implement change when problems and challenges emerge.

Major Health Indicators, Select Countries
Country	Life Expectancy	Infant Mortality (per 1,000 live births)	Under-Five Mortality (per 1,000 births)	Maternal Mortality (per 100,000 live births)	Low Birth Weight (%)
Australia	82	4	5	—	—
Brazil	73	17	19	75	8
Canada	81	5	6	—	8
China	73	16	18	32	3
Cuba	78	5	6	41	5
Ireland	80	3	4	—	—
Japan	83	2	3	—	—
Mexico	77	14	17	54	7
United Kingdom	80	5	5	—	—
United States	78	7	8	13	8

Data for all countries from 2007, from Anuario de Estadísticas de Salud (2011) and Ministerio de Salud Pública (2012).

Major Health Indicators in Cuba
Indicator	Value
Life expectancy	77.9
Infant mortality per 1,000 live births	4.6
Survival to five years (%)	99.4
Maternal mortality (per 100,000 live births)	22.5
Low birth weight (%)*	5.4
In-hospital births (%)*	99.9
Vaccination of children under one year (%)*	99.6
Five leading causes of death (account for 72 percent of all deaths)*	Heart disease; malignant tumors; cerebrovascular disease; influenza and pneumonia; and accidents
HIV prevalence, ages fifteen to forty-nine	0.1
Infectious disease mortality (per 100,000 inhabitants)*	58.1
Organ/tissue donation rate (per 1 million inhabitants)	11.4

Unless indicated, all data are through October 12, 2012, from Morales (2012).

* Data through December 31, 2011, from Anuario de Estadísticas de Salud (2011) and Ministerio de Salud Pública (2012).

Cuban Public Health System: Infrastructure and Human Resources
Health Facilities
Type	Number
Family doctor and nurse offices	11,492
Dentist offices	1,215, with a total of 5,995 dental chairs
Community polyclinics	452
Maternity homes	142, with a total of 4,305 beds
Senior day care centers	228
Old-age homes	126, with a total of 9,475 beds
Hospitals	152, with a total of 38,642 beds
Research institutes	13
Human Resources for Health
Type	Number
Physicians*	76,506
Nurses (including auxiliary)*	103,014
Dentists*	12,144
Patient-to-doctor ratio	143 to 1
Patient-to-nurse ratio	117 to 1
Patient-to-dentist ratio	878 to 1
Medical school enrollment	48,951 (includes Cubans and foreigners)

Unless indicated, all data are through October 12, 2012, from Morales (2012).

* Data through December 31, 2011, from Anuario de Estadísticas de Salud (2011) and Ministerio de Salud Pública (2012).

Surviving the “Special Period”

The first real test of the integrated, community-based approach came in the early 1990s when Cuba abruptly lost its trading partners and foreign aid with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the Eastern bloc. Between 1989 and 1993, the U.S. embargo, combined with the loss of trade resulted in a 70 percent reduction in hard-currency reserves for medicines, equipment, and supplies; a drop of 33 and 39 percent in the average daily caloric and protein intake of the average Cuban, respectively; a 50 percent decline in food imports; and a 35 percent drop in Cuban gross domestic product. The devastation that this prolonged economic crisis, known as the “Special Period in a Time of Peace,” wrought is hard to overstate. Among the most dramatic effects on health was a neuropathy epidemic affecting more than 50,000 people. Therapeutic protocols focusing on vitamin therapy, combined with comprehensive follow-up by family doctors, resulted in the illness being controlled in 86 percent of patients. New cases were controlled by distributing vitamin supplements door-to-door so that by the end of 1993 the epidemic had been virtually eliminated.

With an economic crisis severe enough to cause a nutritional-related epidemic, it stands to reason that other indicators and the overall health picture of the nation should have been adversely affected during the Special Period. On the whole, however, that was not the case due to the policies and practices that were in place at the time the Cuban economy crashed and the proactive measures that were enacted once health problems arose. First, the health of every Cuban remained a top priority for the government. By increasing the health care budget throughout the Special Period (which went from 7.4 percent of the national budget in 1990 to 13.1 percent in 1998) and carrying out weekly assessments of available medicines and equipment throughout the system to determine what was needed and which resources could be relocated or acquired—always prioritizing vulnerable groups and lifesaving therapies—health outcomes largely held the line.

Second, the preventive approach and general health of the population established over the previous three decades proved fundamental in maintaining the population in relatively good health. By the mid-1990s, more than 95 percent of the Cuban population was attended by teams of family doctors and nurses (Reed 2008). Having a dedicated, community-based network of health professionals proactively screening for diseases and monitoring vulnerable populations allowed for early warning, diagnosis, and action: for instance, a 23 percent rise in low-birth-weight infants (from 7.3 to 9 percent) between 1989 and 1993 sounded the alarm and spurred the implementation of supplemental, high-nutrition food rations for pregnant women; the trend began to decline by 1994 as a result. Likewise, access to potable water supplies fell from 98 percent in 1998 to 26 percent in 1994, leading to more than a twofold increase in diarrheal disease mortality rates, from 2.7 per 100,000 people in 1989 to 6.8 in 1993. In response, the government sought out chlorine donations and imports for municipal water supplies; by 1995, 87 percent of municipal water supplies were purified. Finally, the general educational level of the population—99.8 percent of Cubans are literate, 90 percent of Cuban youth are enrolled in high school, and all education in Cuba, including postgraduate, is free—worked in favor of health promotion, education, and hygiene measures.

The Special Period, therefore, reinforced lessons that helped build Cuba’s universal health system, including the importance of prevention, the prioritization of vulnerable populations, and the effects of social determinants on health. It also taught new lessons, such as the critical importance of active epidemiological surveillance, the significance of mental health and well-being, and the utility of natural and traditional medicines. All these lessons, both old and new, are currently in play as the Cuban health system undergoes the arduous and not always smooth process of reorganization—again, in the thick of a major economic crisis and the ever-tightening U.S. embargo.

New Challenges, New Strategies

Today, the ability of Cuba’s universal health system to provide comprehensive, integrative care to the country’s 11 million inhabitants remains one of the unequivocal achievements of the revolutionary government. By design rather than accident, one of the fundamental strengths shown by the health professionals and authorities planning and providing that care is the capacity to develop methodologies and systems to respond to emerging health problems, continued financial restraints, and paradigm shifts. Currently, a confluence of factors, both external and internal, is providing impetus for a reconfiguration of health service provision in Cuba. These factors are also presenting challenges to a woefully resource-scarce system that is showing strain fifty years after its inception.

The health picture in Cuba has changed substantially since the seminal efforts of the Rural Medical Service in 1960, the advent of the community polyclinic in 1974, and the establishment of the network of family doctor and nurse in 1986. Whereas malnourishment, communicable diseases, and diarrhea-related mortality used to be the most pressing health problems, Cuba’s current health status is similar to more developed nations, characterized by crippling chronic disease—90 percent of all deaths in Cuba are caused by chronic disease and a rapidly aging population. Chronic diseases, the majority of which can be prevented and controlled by changes in lifestyle, argue for more effective intersectoral coordination and underscore the importance of patient responsibility for individual health. Meanwhile, across the country, people are living longer—life expectancy in Cuba today is 77.9 (up from age seventy forty years ago)—and by 2025 over a quarter of the population will be older than sixty, according to projections by the Center for Population and Development Studies (Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas 2008). This makes Cuba the “grayest” country in the region. Caring for elder Cubans places greater demands on the health system for geriatric, rehabilitative, and chronic disease care. Complicating matters are episodic outbreaks of emerging and reemerging diseases, including dengue and cholera.

Even the best-financed, best-administered, and best-equipped health systems struggle with preventing and treating chronic disease, ensuring healthy aging for a graying population, and detecting and controlling infectious disease. In Cuba’s case, the global economic crisis, combined with the U.S. embargo, further limits the country’s capacity to address health problems. Indeed, Amnesty International (2009) concluded that “the export of medicines and medical equipment [from the United States to Cuba] continues to be severely limited and has a detrimental impact on the progressive realization of the right to the highest attainable standard of health” (15). The UN High Commissioner for Human Rights went further still, calling the embargo “disastrous” for the economic, social, and cultural rights of the Cuban people (UN Human Rights Council 2007). According to Cuban authorities, the U.S. embargo has cost the health system over U.S.$21.6 billion since it was enacted in 1961 (Morales 2012).

The convergence of these economic and health factors over the past decade has led Cuban health authorities to mandate a renovation of the provision of health services to reinforce prevention (with an emphasis on curbing chronic and emerging diseases) and to identify efficient, effective practices to help control costs and provide sustainability for the health system—without sacrificing the strides made in population health. This amounts to the most dramatic change in the Cuban health approach since the advent of the program of family doctor and nurse; the changes detailing the reorganization of the health system were outlined in two documents released in 2010. Necessary Transformations in the Public Health System called for “reorganizing, downsizing, and regionalizing health services by maximizing the efficient, rational use of scarce resources, while guaranteeing quality access and providing sustainability to the health system.” The complementary Public Health Work Objectives and Indicators 2011 serves as the road map for how to achieve those goals in an equitable, systematic way. The changes are being implemented in a graduated process that focuses on cutting spending, increasing revenue, and taking steps to improve quality of care.

Spending cuts are being realized by closing or consolidating underutilized facilities; analyzing which specialty services are imperative to the specific health picture of an area and reorganizing delivery of those services to provide them more effectively; fortifying epidemiological surveillance and reporting; stepping up health promotion to lower the disease burden, thereby decreasing doctor and hospital visits; prioritizing clinical and diagnostic methodologies with a concomitant emphasis on the use of natural and traditional medicine; addressing patient satisfaction and complaints in a practical way; and strengthening intersectoral collaboration to promote health and well-being.

The reliance on health promotion to prevent illness and the clinical exam as a means to diagnose conditions once they manifest are key to Cuba’s strategy for maintaining and improving health indicators. To achieve this, while addressing “the population’s dissatisfaction” with the state of health services, the Ministerio de Salud Pública (Ministry of Public Health [MINSAP] 2011) has determined that the program of family doctor and nurse needs to be “revolutionized.” To achieve this, MINSAP has detailed eight specific objectives and scores of actions related to the provision and organization of services at the primary care level, improved record keeping and consultations among medical professionals, goals for research and training, and techniques for involving other sectors in improving health. The time line for achieving these objectives nationally is five years.

The call for a revolution in primary care builds on the lessons that Cuba has developed over the past fifty years, specifically the need to continually evaluate and develop methodologies and systems to remain responsive and relevant in the face of changing epidemiologic, economic, environmental, and social circumstances. Many of the steps outlined by MINSAP for this revolution are not dissimilar from steps taken during the Special Period to help hold the line on population health gains. What is new, however, is the frank recognition of patient dissatisfaction as one of the triggers and the emphasis on the need for health professionals to have more flexibility and autonomy in decision making and implementing mechanisms to make this possible.

The other, perhaps more compelling factor triggering the need for transforming the health system is economic: the global financial crisis and the U.S. embargo, combined with devastating hurricanes in 2008 and 2012 that caused an estimated $12 billion in damages and the mismanagement of health system resources (Fariñas 2012; Grogg 2012; Martínez 2012), have impacted Cuba’s capacity to sustain the quality of its national health system. For example, a program launched in 2004 to modernize fifty-two hospitals and over 400 polyclinics around the country stalled after a robust beginning, purchase of supplies and equipment is lagging, and salaries for health professionals remain untenably low. Such deprivation and shortages have a major impact on policy and performance (Keck and Reed 2012) and adversely affect health personnel and patients alike.

Economic realities have also come home to roost in relation to Cuba’s decades-long commitment to international solidarity and cooperation in health and medicine. Since 1961, Cuba has collaborated with 103 countries in health and medicine, posting over 113,000 medical professionals to help bolster those countries’ health systems; currently, 39,000 Cuban medical workers and support staff work in sixty-five countries (Morales 2012). On the training side, over 12,000 students—all of whom received six-year medical degrees on full scholarships provided by Cuba—have graduated from Havana’s Latin American Medical School (ELAM) since its founding in 1999 (Gorry 2012). While some bilateral agreements for Cuban medical personnel are based on goods-for-services exchange (most notably Venezuela), the majority of the costs of medical internationalism, including ELAM scholarships, are assumed by Cuba. Moreover, posting so many health professionals overseas has had a negative impact on patient satisfaction since Cubans are accustomed to services on demand, and while there is no doctor shortage in Cuba, where the patient-to-doctor ratio is 143 to 1 as compared to 390 to 1 in the United States, waiting times have increased to see family doctors and specialists. ELAM students and graduates doing primary care rotations in family doctors’ offices and polyclinics can also engender patient dissatisfaction because some Cubans prefer to be treated by Cuban personnel.

Tackling these challenges is complex and has compelled authorities to look for ways to raise revenue to promote sustainability. International medical cooperation, for instance, is still provided free of charge to the poorest countries, but fee-for-service agreements are increasingly being negotiated with wealthier nations experiencing shortages of human resources for health, especially in the Middle East. Likewise, tuition-paying international students are a growing segment of Cuba’s medical education program, though maintaining six-year medical scholarships for global South students remains a priority. Medical tourism is another area the country is pursuing to promote sustainability. The greatest revenue gains, however, are coming from Cuba’s biotech and pharmaceutical sector—the country’s second-largest export earner after nickel. Indeed, between 1995 and 2010, Cuba’s pharmaceutical and biotechnology revenues increased fivefold, and in 2011, the sector earned U.S.$711 million; it is estimated that by 2016, these revenues will surpass U.S.$1 billion (Scheye 2011), although this is probably a very conservative estimate.

Cuba began developing its biotechnology capacity in the 1980s in order to produce critical medicines that the U.S. embargo prevented the country from procuring on the international market and to address neglected tropical diseases and other conditions afflicting the global South. Today, there are twenty-four research institutions and fifty-eight manufacturing facilities in Havana’s Scientific Pole, producing generic drugs, vaccines, diagnostic equipment, and innovative therapies unavailable elsewhere. Based on a “closed-loop” research, development, manufacturing, and distribution model whereby all entities involved work together to address pressing health needs, the Scientific Pole provides 66 percent of the 885 essential medications registered for use in the country’s national health system. Importantly, of the thirteen vaccines that every Cuban child receives, eight are manufactured domestically (Morales 2012). Some of these, like the Cuban recombinant hepatitis B vaccine, are manufactured for domestic use as well as export: this particular vaccine has earned the country more than $200 million (Mesa Redonda Informativa 2012).

The Scientific Pole also produces vaccines unique in the world, most notably the only commercially available type-B bacterial meningococcal vaccine and a synthetic antigen vaccine against Haemophilus influenza b, a disease that kills half a million children each year globally. Nimotuzumab, an antitumor treatment, and Heberprot-P, a therapy for diabetic foot, also star in Cuba’s pharmaceutical portfolio and are the only ones of their kind available anywhere. Heberprot-P is proving especially important since 10 to 15 percent of the 171 million diabetics worldwide will develop diabetic foot (10 to 15 percent of these eventually require amputation). Moreover, there is no other specific medication that can sustain the healing process of wounds and complex ulcers on the lower limbs at terminal stages in diabetic patients. Heberprot-P represents significant earning potential for the sector but also saves the Cuban health system precious financial and material resources since it means fewer surgical interventions and hospitalizations, obviates the need for rehabilitation for amputees, and decreases the years of potential life lost. Furthermore, it improves the quality of life for diabetic foot sufferers and helps them remain active members of society. Heberprot-P is registered in fifteen countries worldwide, is undergoing the registration and market approval process in several other countries, and has been applied to more than 80,000 diabetic foot sufferers in Cuba and elsewhere. It is worth noting that this cutting-edge treatment, along with all others developed in Cuba, is not available to patients in the United States due to the embargo.

As with medical education and international cooperation, Cuba’s commitment to provide quality products and services at low cost to poor countries remains steadfast. The experience of TecnoSuma, the commercial arm of the Scientific Pole’s Immunoassay Center, illustrates how Cuba has been able to maintain this commitment while saving money for its own health system and earning revenue at the same time. Launched in 1981, TecnoSuma develops diagnostic equipment and reagents for early detection of a variety of diseases, including congenital hyperthyroidism, HIV, and prostate cancer. It also designs and produces innovative medical technologies, such as a glucose meter designed specifically for tropical climates. The Tecno-
Suma strategy, developed in close collaboration with MINSAP, is to provide effective, cost-efficient, and contextually appropriate diagnostic tools and technologies meeting the highest international quality standards. TecnoSuma is completely self-financed through its international sales—it has commercial offices in Mexico, Colombia, Venezuela, Brazil, Argentina, and China—and it estimates that import substitution for its reagents alone has saved the country U.S.$300 million.

These sales subsidize the price of TecnoSuma technologies to the Cuban health system (and other resource-scarce contexts), helping keep costs low. For instance, digital video colposcopes used to detect cervical anomalies cost over U.S.$10,000 on the international market, but the TecnoSuma product, SUMASCOPE, is provided to the Cuban health system for under U.S.$300. All of TecnoSuma’s two dozen products repeat this pattern. According to Aramís Sánchez, assistant general manager of TecnoSuma, “demand is high and growing: we’re currently working at double capacity and expanding our facilities as a result. One of our best-selling products, the SUMASENSOR blood glucose meter, gets high marks for patient satisfaction, saves money, helps diabetics live more independently, and helps improve care since physicians can more accurately monitor blood sugar levels and adjust treatment accordingly” (quoted in Gorry 2012).

Conclusion

The underlying principle of health as a human right has driven Cuba’s unwavering commitment to provide equitable, quality care to its entire population free of charge. Nevertheless, a principle is only as worthy and effective as the practices put in place to realize the goals it embodies. By focusing on health promotion and prevention, locating services closer to patients in a community-based model, establishing a scientifically rigorous and robust medical education system, and tailoring research and development to address local health problems and neglected diseases, Cuba has proven that better health is possible, even for poor countries. Through good times and bad, the health system and dedicated professionals staffing it have been able to improve and maintain health outcomes so that today Cuba, a poor and blockaded country, has indicators on par with developed nations. It is for these reasons that the Cuban rights-based approach has served as a model for other developing countries, including El Salvador, Venezuela, Angola, and Honduras.

A key component of this approach is to continuously evaluate policies and processes since the health picture and economic, social, and environmental factors change and practices and methodologies need to be adjusted in order to remain relevant and responsive. Cuba’s experience during the Special Period showed that the health system—and the population’s health more generally—can resist and rebound from economic crisis. However, today, the disease burden is more complex and weighty with a chronic disease epidemic that shows no signs of slowing and is complicated by the emergence of tropical and waterborne diseases as well as the rapid aging of the population. All of these factors make the task more difficult. The global economic recession combines with the embargo to strain the health system even further, evidenced by growing patient dissatisfaction, the interruption of sorely needed repairs to health facilities, and shortages in materials.

Cuba is currently undergoing the most dramatic economic reforms since the revolutionary government came to power. This process is introducing complexities to which the health system is not immune; for instance, the explosion of private restaurants necessitates sanitary measures and monitoring for which there are not always the human resources to implement. Moreover, some resellers of agricultural produce use illegal chemical ripeners to get fruits and vegetables to market quicker, a process that has raised questions about food safety and nutritional value (Fariñas and Delgado 2012). Such factors increase the need for comprehensive epidemiological surveillance and response and closer intersectoral collaboration, further challenging the successful transformation of the health system. Fortunately, health authorities and policymakers are constantly evaluating population health and the determinants affecting it to tailor an effective approach. Perhaps most important, the government, supported by popular support, continues to exercise the political will to provide quality health care for all.

References

Amnesty International. 2009. The US Embargo against Cuba: Its Impact on Social and Economic Rights. London: Amnesty International.

Declaration of Alma-Ata. 1978. International Conference on Primary Health Care, Alma-Ata, Soviet Union. September.

Fariñas, Lisandra. 2012. “Economía de salud en la capital: Terapias contra el descontrol.” Granma, June 21.

Fariñas, Lisandra, and Sheyla Delgado. 2012. “¿Comprar Verde por Maduro?” Granma, May 11.

Gorry, Conner. 2012. “Cuba’s Latin American Medical School: Can Socially-Accountable Medical Education Make a Difference?” MEDICC Review 14, no. 3: 5–11.

Grogg, Patricia. 2012. “Community Drills Part of Cuba’s Top-Notch Disaster Response System.” Inter Press Service, May 22.

Keck, C. William, and Gail A. Reed. 2012. “The Curious Case of Cuba.” American Journal of Public Health 102, no. 8: 13–22.

Martínez, Rosa. 2012. “Beautiful Santiago de Cuba after Sandy.” Havana Times, November 3.

Mesa Redonda Informativa. 2012. “La ciencia cubana: Un factor de desarrollo económico.” March 1. http://mesaredonda.cubadebate.cu/mesa-redonda/2012/03/01/ciencia-cubana-un-factor-desarrollo-economico-video/.

Ministerio de Salud Pública. 2011. Programa del Médico y la Enfermera de la Familia. Havana: Ministerio de Salud Pública.

———. 2012. Anuario Estadístico de Salud, 2010. Havana: Ministerio de Salud Pública.

Morales, Roberto. 2012. “Opening Plenary Address: The Cuban Health System.” Cuba Salud 2012 Conference, Havana, December 3.

Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas. 2008. “El estado actual y perspectiva de la población cubana: Un reto para el desarrollo territorial sostenible.” http://www.one.cu/estadoactual.htm.

Overseas Development Institute. 2010. Millennium Development Goals (MDG) Report Card: Measuring Progress across Countries. London: Overseas Development Institute.

Reed, Gail. 2008. “Cuba’s Primary Health Care Revolution: 30 Years On.” Bulletin of the World Health Organization 86, no. 5: 327–29.

———. In press. “Chronic Vascular Diseases in Cuba: Strategies for 2015.” MEDICC Review 10, no. 2: 5–7.

Scheye, Elaine. 2011. “Cuban Healthcare and Biotechnology: Reform, a Bitter Pill to Swallow or Just What the Doctor Ordered?” In Proceedings of the 21st Annual Meeting, Association for the Study of the Cuban Economy (ASCE). http://www.ascecuba.org/publications/proceedings/volume21.

UN Human Rights Council. 2007. Situation of Human Rights in Cuba. Report Submitted by the Personal Representative of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, Christine Chanet (A/HRC/4/12, January).

UNICEF. 2004. State of the World’s Children 2005. New York: UNICEF.

World Bank. 2001. World Development Report 2000/2001. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

World Health Organization. 2011a. “Closing the Gap in a Generation: Health Equity through Action on the Social Determinants of Health.” October. http://www.who.int/entity/social_determinants/thecommission/finalreport/en/index.html.

———. 2011b. Rio Political Declaration on Social Determinants of Health: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 21 October 2011. Geneva: World Health Organization.

Chapter 42

Fifty Years Later

Clotilde Proveyer Cervantes, Reina Fleitas Ruiz,
Graciela González Olmedo, Blanca Múnster Infante,
and María Auxiliadora César

Women and Social Change in Cuba

The Cuban government has prioritized fulfillment of the Millennium Development Goals, promoting the presence of women in leadership roles in order to guarantee and promote women’s rights, power and political participation. The female presence in the Cuban Parliament grew after the election of 2008; women now occupy 260 of the 614 seats, or 42.34 percent of the National Assembly of People’s Power. The rate of growth has been constant, though it is still proportionally small compared to the great number of women with the necessary skills and requirements to participate in this governing body. Table 42.1 displays the rate of women’s involvement in the Cuban Parliament.

Women in the Cuban Parliament
Year	Percentage of Women
1976	21.8
1981	22.7
1986	33.9
1993	22.8
1998	27.6
2003	36.0
2007	42.34

Source: Federation of Cuban Women.

Comparing these numbers to the levels of participation of women in parliaments in other countries throughout Central America, there is little doubt that Cuba holds a prominent position in the region. Cuba now ranks third in the world for this indicator, the estimated average female representation in world parliaments being 17 percent.

Despite a growing representation of women in the Cuban Parliament, women participate in the Council of State to a lesser extent. [In all] six women have served in the Council of Ministers from 2004 to 2008, and thirty-three have held responsibilities in the vice ministries.

Women in Leadership Positions

Progress has been made in the distribution of management positions between men and women. In 2007, women made up 54.5 percent of management personnel in the medical field; among [dentists] the number rises to 65.3 percent. Despite these encouraging figures, this field follows the same pattern as other institutions: the pyramid narrows as it gets higher. Even though some women have been vice ministers of health, none has occupied the central position of the ministry. All this takes place in a health care system in which women constitute 70 percent of the workforce.

The participation of Cuban women in the different levels of the Cuban Communist Party (PCC) and in grassroots and labor organizations has been important to the process of women’s empowerment. In 2000, 30.1 percent of the active members of the PCC were women. Nonetheless, women held only 22 percent of the leadership roles in the municipal committees and 23 percent in the provincial committees. For that same year, women made up 13.3 percent of the Central Committee and 8 percent of the members of the Political Bureau, the highest level of power in the party. [Authors’ note: In April 2011, at the Sixth Congress of the Communist Party of Cuba, there were forty-eight women in the Central Committee (of a total of 115, or 41.7 percent—a dramatic increase of over 300 percent).]

In the National Association of Small Farmers (ANAP), women were barely represented in the leadership in 2000. Women held the presidency of 1.8 percent of the Agricultural Production Cooperatives (CPAs) and Credit and Service Cooperatives (CCSs). However, by 2008, there were sixty-one women leading CPAs and ninety-four presidents of the CCSs. Women now account for 23 percent of the members of the municipal committees of the ANAP and 24 percent of the members of the association’s committees. Women represent 32 percent of the total membership of the ANAP.

[In terms of access to education for women] comparisons to data from the beginning of the 2000s show steady progress. In the past five years, women have made up the majority of the population with technical training in the country, representing more than 60 percent of higher-education graduates each year. In medical sciences, for several decades, more than 70 percent of enrolled students and graduates have been women.

Women’s Participation in the Labor Force

[Regarding the nature of women’s employment] the following ratios describe the employment of Cuban women by occupation:

46 percent of workers in the public sector and 65.6 percent of professionals and technicians are women.
72 percent of workers in the education sector are women.
70 percent of workers in the health sector are women.
51.6 percent of researchers and 48.9 percent of workers in science and technical units are women.
17.22 percent of workers in the cooperative sector are women.
25.4 percent of [self-employed workers] are women.
Women’s presence is smaller in other branches of the economic activity, including agriculture (17.4 percent), construction (15.7 percent), and mining (19.1 percent).
Women have a larger presence (41.5 percent) in service jobs, such as businesses, restaurants, and hotels. In financial services, banking, and real estate, they represent 52.4 percent of workers and 51.3 percent in community, social, and personal services.

Women’s employment in the education sector is much higher than in other sectors. Women make up 51.6 percent of researchers and 60.4 percent of the scientific reserve of the country. Of 199 Scientific Research Centers, 48 (24 percent) are managed by women.

In 2006, Cuban women made up 69.4 percent of the workers in the health care sector, [and] 56.2 percent of doctors in Cuba are women. Differences still exist between specialties, however. More women work in clinical roles and more men in surgery. Pediatrics is a clear illustration of this dichotomy of roles because in this specialty women are the majority. [They] make up 65.3 percent of pediatricians and only 30 percent of pediatric surgeons. Differences also exist in other specialties. Women are the majority in the branches of nutrition (71.4 percent), ophthalmology (73 percent), and general family medicine (64.5 percent). [They] are less represented in specialties that focus on higher-level public health issues and cutting-edge research, including oncology (36 percent), neurosurgery (16.5 percent), and cardiovascular surgery (7 percent).

Income Gaps

Gender discrimination is prohibited in the daily practice of the labor relations system and by Cuban law. [Nevertheless, this] study found that women received 2 percent lower salaries than men, with the exception of those workers in the Ministry of Education.

Salary losses due to absence from work were caused by illness (60 percent), child care and care of other family members (22 percent), and maternity leave (18 percent). Of the total absences recorded by gender, 77 percent were registered by female employees. This confirms that men rarely miss work for any reason other than illness. The disproportionately large amount of responsibility that women take on compared to men in raising a family translates into fewer days worked on average each month and, as a result, lower incomes for women.

This means that, although salary discrimination does not exist, there is still a salary gap between men and women. This affects women’s contributions to social security, meaning that women’s pensions are smaller than men’s, reflecting women’s greater difficulty in accessing retirement benefits to sustain them in their old age.

Cuban Families and Gender Relations

One of the most important transformations for Cuban families has to do with the educational advancement of women. This progress has helped a greater number of women obtain their economic independence and, as a result, set a much lower tolerance for violent practice generated by the patriarchal culture in couples’ relationships. Educational advancement and greater legal flexibility for divorce help explain a higher divorce rate in the country. The crude divorce rate went from 0.5 per 1,000 inhabitants in 1960 to 3.1 per 1,000 in 2007. Case studies on the process for dissolving marriages in Cuba affirm that women are more likely to request a divorce. Other cases, however, still show situations in which women fear divorce because separation from their partners implies economic insecurity for them and their children.

There is now less prejudice facing Cuban women after a divorce and greater respect for their social function. This environment has led to an increase in the number of women who remarry. In 2007, 49 percent of divorced women eventually remarried compared to 51 percent of men.

Conflicts due to the growing role of women in society have led to the dissolution of many couples. Breakups and later remarriages create a new challenge for Cuban families: multiple parents. These arrangements often lead to the superimposition of education models that are conflictive from a gender standpoint.

In 1980, the abortion rate was 42.1 per 1,000 women, and in 2007, the number was 20.4, a reduction by just more than one-half. Use of birth control is an indicator of the freedom that Cuban women enjoy; easy access to contraception allows women to control their fertility. Access to birth control and the legalization and institutionalization of abortion offer real guarantees for women’s rights to control their own bodies. On the other hand, the more frequent use of birth control among women and female control of fertility may also be an expression of men not assuming full responsibility.

Victories Achieved

The formation of women as a new political actor, best represented by their organization the Federation of Cuban Women, which acts as an interlocutor with the government to draft national policy. The federation has shown significant results. These results have allowed Cuba to fulfill the benchmarks of Millennium Development Goal 3 related to gender equity.
A radical change in the social, economic, cultural, and political situation of Cuban women, which is evident in all aspects of progress made toward gender equity.
The reduction and/or elimination of many forms of violence against women in Cuba due in great part to the changes that have been made to women’s overall situation, the increase in awareness of gender issues, and the social policies guaranteed by the Cuban state, which acts to guarantee both women’s rights and the involvement of women as crucial actors in building integration and equality in society.
Progress in legislation and legal proceedings, which create a measure of protection for women’s rights in all areas of life.

Challenges

To implement a cross-cutting gender-based approach in designing and executing social policy, economic policy, and all institutional decisions.
To strengthen a gender-based perspective in education and to perfect nonsexist socialization mechanisms in schools and other institutions with a socializing role (the family, workplaces, mass media, and so on).
To perfect programs and actions that help resolve the contradiction between the high demands of female leadership and participation in society and the reproduction of patterns that subordinate women in gender relations, above all in the private sphere.
To promote new measures to eliminate the “glass ceiling” that prevents women from reaching decision-making positions.

Note

Excerpted from Clotilde Proveyer Cervantes et al., “50 Years Later: Women and Social Change in Cuba,” Oxfam, 2009. Reprinted by permission of the publisher.

Chapter 43

Cuban Educational Reform during the “Special Period”

Denise Blum

Dust, Ashes, and Diamonds

En educación estamos cambiando todo lo que debe ser cambiado (In education we are changing everything that must be changed).

—Fidel Castro Ruz

Cuba’s economic recovery during the “Special Period” (1989 to the present) involved the introduction of increased tourism, private ventures, and U.S. dollars. These measures led not only to growing inequality and private enrichment but also to an exodus of teachers. In 1989, university professors and physicians were at the top of the salary scale, and teachers earned adequate salaries by comparison; thereafter, small private farmers, self-employed workers, and traders in the free agricultural and black markets became the highest earners. Many professionals shifted their state occupations to jobs in enterprises with foreign capital or in tourism, where they earned part of their wages or tips in hard currency; they also moved to the informal and black market jobs, where remuneration was higher. Labor needs dictated careers and education for those careers. This alignment, however, was part of major upheaval for the Cuban education system as it regressed into a state of emergency, if not crisis, as teachers were in short supply. The education budget for 1998 had decreased by 42 percent compared with 1989 (CEPAL 2000). While the government’s education expenditures also declined in the decade that followed, “Castro prided himself in speeches for not closing a single school, daycare center, or hospital, and for not leaving a single person destitute” (Eckstein 2004, 610).

The role of education in a socialist system is significant, as education serves a necessary political responsibility in addition to skill learning and supplying branches of production with a qualified workforce. The education system is charged with forming a socialist mind-set in the children to perpetuate a socialist society as dictated by the government. (Capitalist societies and their education systems also socialize their own—capitalist—ideology. In a socialist society, however, this is overt and explicit in the curriculum and teacher training and quite visible in educational activities.) The purpose of this chapter is to document major educational reform measures during the latter part of the Special Period, marked by the “Battle of Ideas” campaign that emerged during the rescue of Elián González in 1999, Raúl Castro’s presidency in 2008, and the evolution of those educational reform measures today. Because socialist education is explicitly political, examining the reform measures is key to understanding Cuban socialism.

The foundation of Cuban socialist education is the Revolution’s educational ethos. It is characterized by four major tenets: (1) a commitment to revolutionary values, with a heavy emphasis on morality and nationalism, as reflected in the heavy emphasis of teaching patriotism, especially in the courses on civic education and Cuban history; (2) universality: keeping all ages participating in the schooling process even once employed; (3) inclusiveness, as seen in the collective operation of the classroom and schooling on a whole; and (4) efforts to improve educational attainment and social well-being through increased graduation rates (Pumar 2010).

The government maintains its ethos with a nostalgic reinscription of ideological codes from the past on the present through education. This may take the form of informal or formal education that retains and reinforces the government’s efforts to generate popular support. Antonio Kapcia (2000) defines a “code” as a “set of related and cognate beliefs and principles that can be grouped together to make a coherent belief in a single, given, value” (13) as one of the building blocks of the wider ideology, linking past to present. In the context of education, these codes include patriotism, hard work, sacrifice, and collectivism. These codes are embedded in the legendary figures of José Martí and of Che Guevara, who feature prominently in Cuban textbooks and school activities to this day.

By metering the work-study principle (based on principles from Karl Marx and José Martí) in the Cuban education system, it is possible to understand the government’s economic and moral challenges and successes in preparing young people for society. The work-study principle combines manual and mental labor, understanding labor as a part of a Marxist dialectical process that ideally is both creative and meaningful. Moreover, the work-study principle is one that is inextricably tied to the land and the collective spirit, recalling the Rebel Army in the Sierra Maestra in the late 1950s, and has been manifested in the historical boarding schools (in the countryside), “Schools in the Countryside” (a one-month mobilization program for agricultural work), and school and community gardens. As schools are aligned to the political and economic structures of society (Bowles and Gintis 1976), the ongoing major educational initiatives in Cuban schooling are worth discussing to understand the present and future of Cuba.

Furthermore, a cultural and political hegemony (Gramsci 1971) exists in Cuba between the ruling governmental officials and the people. My particular focus, however, is on the relationship between the state and youth and the ways in which the state tries to appeal and win the ideological support of the young people using the education system.

Reviving Revolutionary Fervor

Predictably, the introduction of capitalist measures in the 1990s led to a decreased loyalty to the Revolution in economic terms. The values of solidarity and collectivism functioned within social networks, but little support existed for a government that could not provide materially for its people. Additionally, the increased infusion of capitalist measures encouraged the accompanying values of individualism, competition, alienation, and consumerism: all quite oppositional to the Revolution. For the Cuban government, this alarming development had to be stopped (Breidlid 2007).

The Cuban government found an opportunity for renewed ideological support in the international drama that surrounded the custody battle of Elián González in 1999 during the Special Period. The upsurge in popular support to return the boy, who was being held in Miami by relatives, to his father in Cuba was an ideological battle fought on all fronts: cultural, political, educational, and social.

The boy’s rescue became an opportunity to revive nationalism and revolutionary fervor. Cubans commented that the Cuban people had not been so united in national purpose and moral conviction since the 1961 Literacy Campaign. In fact, once Elián was returned, some Cubans noted that this was one of the few contemporary battles with the United States in which protest, debate, and justice came to fruition. This victory was particularly important to galvanize political support with the Cuban young people, whom the government had growing concern regarding their disaffection. The international attention given both the ideological and the legal issues that emerged in the custody struggle became a primed moment to initiate and advance new educational initiatives.

In this passionate political climate, Mesa Redonda was founded in December 1999 with the motive of publicizing and giving more popular participation to the movement to rescue Elián and opening a space for critical dialogue on current issues. This radio program was among the first to use the term “Battle of Ideas.” Invited panelists engaged in debate over national and international political, cultural, and sports issues. Today, Mesa Redonda continues as a news analysis television program that encourages critical dialogue over current issues.

During the Battle of Ideas campaign, innovations were implemented to address societal needs and secure youth participation and, consequently, sustainable ideological support for the Revolution. Two specific problems were targeted (1) the poor and overcrowded areas affected most severely by the rigors of the Special Period and (2) the discontent and rise in juvenile delinquency among Cuba’s highly qualified university students. Initially, the desvinculados (disconnected, disaffected youth) were sent to approximately 60,000 homes to assess social problems, and, as a result, a whole raft of programs were set up, the most important being the school of social work (this field had not existed previously). The social work schools gave a potentially lost generation a reminder of those with fewer material resources and a stake in the Revolution that they could see materialize as a result of their work in socially useful tasks, while benefiting from a well-paid job.

After a year of intensive training at one of the social work schools, students could enroll in university courses provided that they carried out social work every Saturday until they graduated. Social workers worked not only with the elderly, those with disabilities, and the mentally ill but also with young prisoners, encouraging them to attend university or technical schools. By mid-2004, 21,000 social workers had been produced to work with the most disadvantaged and alienated sections of society, and through this process, the state hoped that the youth would experience a renewed commitment to the Revolution.

Cursos de superación integral para jóvenes (integrated development courses for youth), like the social work schools, were an incentive to engage young people who had become disaffected in society. Many young people saw more benefit in working the black market than in continuing with their education. These integrated development courses were offered at night to accommodate youth. Young people earned a nominal amount of money for attending these classes, which included community projects. Thus, young people acquired knowledge and culture to reincorporate themselves into society (Mayo Parra n.d.).

Other school reforms existed as well. In 2000, in Havana, where many veteran teachers had left to consider more lucrative ways of making a living, teaching labor was replenished with maestros emergentes: high school students who were recruited mainly from the eastern part of the island to teach elementary and junior high school while receiving pedagogical training on the weekends. In order to use young unprepared teachers in training effectively, teleclases (televised instruction) were used with two maestros emergentes to a classroom to accompany the standard televised course. The student-to-teacher ratios were lowered to improve the quality of instruction and personal attention to the student. Elementary schools had a twenty-to-one student-to-teacher ratio, while junior high and high schools had a fifteen-to-one ratio. This was a way to ensure that proper content was delivered, with the maestros emergentes merely reinforcing subject matter and maintaining a disciplined learning atmosphere. Unfortunately, the maestros emergentes’ endeavor failed due to their inexperience, lack of pedagogical knowledge, and immaturity. Over 40 percent of the teachers in the classrooms were maestros emergentes, and the program was terminated in 2008 when Raúl Castro assumed the presidency.

Another initiative to remedy the teacher shortage was to provide training in multiple subjects for secondary teachers. In the junior high schools, the comprehensive profesor general integral was introduced in the 2003–2004 academic year, with one teacher teaching all subjects except for computer, art, foreign languages, and physical education. The focus was on interdisciplinary teaching and learning to cater more to the students as a group and also to emphasize the importance of holistic learning. However, this transformation at the junior high level increased a teacher’s workload in preparing for multiple subjects. One consequence was teacher resistance and exodus, making it difficult to keep the classrooms adequately staffed.

Art instructor schools became a priority during the Battle of Ideas, and one school was built in every province. This idea was not new; the art instructor schools were also a priority in the 1960s. However, investment in this area had waned over the decades. With this initiative in 2000, cultural knowledge, skills, and appreciation were extended to every corner of the island, converting Cuba into the country “más culto” (most cultured) in the world. Fidel Castro reinforced his cultural mission using the José Martí maxim “ser culto para ser libres” (be cultured to be free), adding “in order to achieve an integrated knowledge of culture in our people” (Castro 2004) and noting the necessity of an interdisciplinary education.

Local university centers (sedes municipales) also served this interdisciplinary mission and provided greater access to those who had day jobs by offering college classes at night, with one sede municipal in every municipality. (There are 169 municipalities in the country.) This was part of the commitment to give educational access to all regardless of age. It is important to note that one can enroll in college for the equivalent of a BA or BSc only until age twenty-five. Therefore, the sedes municipales were established to give a second chance to those who were unable to enroll during the worst years of the Special Period and to encourage more students to enter higher education. They were not newly constructed schools; rather, already existing schools were used after hours.

In the area of pedagogical training, the sede municipal provided a mentor to each preservice teacher, as many were in the classroom teaching while taking classes. The idea behind the sede municipal, besides convenience and access, was to ensure that Cubans became more knowledgeable and skilled while considering the process of education as one of lifelong learning.

Seeking to involve older Cubans in the benefits of a new educational expansion, the Universidad Para Todos was established in 2000 to broadcast degree-level classes on television. Classes have been given in many subjects, such as French, English, Cuban history, geography, science, and the arts, by well-known Cuban scholars and scientists with the purpose of raising and integrating cultural and scientific knowledge on the island (Mayo Parra n.d.). In addition to using the television for teaching and learning, computer literacy was universalized starting in elementary school.

In 2003, over half of the sugar mills were closed in rural areas. Special schools were set up to retrain the thousands of unemployed sugar workers for alternate professions. In addition, technical training programs were created for those who had failed university entrance exams.

Educational Adjustments under Raúl Castro

When Rául Castro assumed the presidency in 2008, a new education minister was appointed, Ena Elsa Velázquez, and changes in the education system followed. Even though secondary school enrollment rose to 87 percent in 2006, after a 75 percent enrollment for the corresponding cohort in 1994–1995, this was still not comparable to 1989 enrollment levels of 88 percent (UN Development Program 2007). In response, the 2009 education budget was initially increased by 2 percent, but in mid-2009 several cuts were implemented. Boarding schools in the countryside (escuelas en el campo, grades 10 through 12), combining farmwork on the school grounds with academic courses, were closed due to the costs of resources, especially food, water, electricity, and transportation, to supply the country schools. Tenth through twelfth grades were studied in the city only. Moreover, with high school facility closures, the number of slots for high school students has declined by 50,000, or more than 20 percent, since 2008, with more students being channeled into the skilled trades, where slots jumped from 26,000 in 2008 to 74,000 in 2011 (Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas [ONE] 2012).

In 2011, the Cuban government announced important changes for the junior high schools. The students would have the same teachers for grades 7 through 9, the purpose being to place emphasis on the teacher-student relationship and to personalize the curriculum when necessary, attending to student needs. Teachers were no longer responsible for teaching most of the subjects, which was causing teacher burnout. Instead, their responsibilities were pared down to teaching only two different subject areas while still maintaining the title profesor general integral. In addition, teleclases were no longer relied on for content delivery. They were used for support and inserted for the first time to promote needed professions, especially teaching, agricultural work, and midlevel skilled workers.

Ideological reinforcement was needed in addition to guiding students into the needed career paths. Solidifying political responsibility meant that teachers were required to emphasize more patriotism in the classroom in order to prepare students for ongoing economic changes. Cuban history, which used to be taught only once in a child’s schooling, was now required in every grade from fifth through twelfth, including schooling for midlevel technicians and skilled laborers (Barrios 2009). Civic education, normally taught in only ninth grade, was now taught in sixth grade too. Civic education provided an important means to inculcate the revolutionary codes for state allegiance, patriotism, sacrifice, and hard work. The revolutionary heroes of Che Guevara, José Martí, and Camilo Cienfuegos were well rehearsed.

University Education and Changing Career Paths

The changes in the education system at the college level are of great importance and will have enormous repercussions in the long run. University enrollment in 2008–2009 increased by 167 percent compared with 1989–1990. However, in the 2012–2013 school year, enrollment dropped by 27 percent compared to 2008. Students are now encouraged to learn more practical careers in an effort to reduce costs. In addition, lower enrollment has been influenced by the recently required university entrance exams in history, language, and geography. Those who have more resources are able to hire tutors to prepare their children in school subjects as well as on exams. This undercuts the standard of equal opportunity enshrined in the Cuban Constitution. Opportunities are shrinking while competition is growing.

Nevertheless, Cuba does have more university graduates than those graduating from technical schools. In 2009–2010, 2.4 percent of students enrolled in agricultural studies, 7 percent in technical fields, and 24.8 percent in social sciences and humanities. These numbers are cause for concern, as this presents a surplus of academics and a shortage of workers. Access continues to be free and universal from prekindergarten through postsecondary education. However, enrollment rates do not reveal the whole story: between 17 and 30 percent of students who entered preuniversity or technical school do not complete their program (ONE 2009).

Increasingly more opportunities are being provided in technical fields and agriculture, with slots in the humanities being reduced. The goal is to strengthen and prioritize the training of technical personnel who are needed to revive the country’s production sector, thereby reducing the dependency on imports. For that reason, education officials are designing strategies for vocational guidance and recruitment, from elementary through high school education, in an attempt to encourage young people to choose professions and trades related to production, especially agriculture—which have typically been understood as hard labor and professions for the less educated. Esteban Morales has summed this up well: “It stopped being attractive, even to farmers’ children” (quoted in González 2012).

The enrollment figures, nevertheless, obscure other education challenges confronted in other countries of the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, such as the ongoing urban-rural divide. Although there are a greater number of students attending college, what is not seen are the declining high school and university graduation rates. Elementary education is a good indicator because it is mandatory and attendance policy is well enforced, one that contributes to high graduation and literacy rates. Significantly, the discrepancy between urban and rural graduation rates for elementary education students remains wide, with 1960–1961 and 2007–2008 graduation rates narrowing by only one percentage point (table 43.1). This difference clearly informs the extent to which the rural population will continue education at a higher level and how its representation and participation in society outside of agricultural work will progress or not.

Percentage of Graduates from Primary Schools in Urban and Rural Districts, 1961–2008
School Year	Urban	Rural
1960–1961	79	21
1970–1971	68	32
1980–1981	66	34
1990–1991	74	26
2000–2001	76	24
2007–2008	78	22

Source: ONE 2009.

Conclusion

With each period of educational change, the ideas of the liberating power of education, a socialist morality, and political responsibility are summoned, specifically using the words of the nineteenth-century writer and revolutionary José Martí to legitimate the message as well as Che Guevara, who advocated for moral rather than material incentives. The bonding of the moral and material is reflected in the schooled Marxist-Martiano work-study principle. The work-study principle, during the Battle of Ideas, was reflected in the mobilization of maestros emergentes, mainly from the eastern part of the island to Havana, and the mobilization of social workers to work with the disadvantaged in both rural and urban areas. Both of these initiatives were terminated in 2009 and 2010, respectively. Additionally, the long-standing, historical boarding schools and schools in the countryside that involved students in agricultural work were shut down in 2009 due to insufficient funds to provide transportation, utilities, food, and facility maintenance.

The boarding schools and schools in the countryside created new, enriching and lasting relationships for students and teachers, ones that broke down stereotypes and classroom hierarchies and addressed racism. Knowing the value of relationship building among student, teacher, family, and nation, the government is seeking new ways to create these bonds that promote collectivity and commitment to the Revolution and to being revolutionary. As Laurie Frederik (2012) clarifies, in Cuba “revolution” and “revolutionary” did not mean protest or rebellion. Rather, they had more to do with being patriotic and loyal to the socialist project at hand. The Revolution and being revolutionary called for strong moral fiber. Cuban psychologists and authors González Rey and Mitjans Martínez (2000) assert, “The creation of a sound moral personality, guided by deep convictions and values, is essential to the development of a socialist society” (28). As some ideas become ashes, others are dusted off and recycled from the past, and the diamonds of inventos cubanos and socialist values in education continue to be mined. Notably, the increased emphasis on morality is an indication of an economic system that may be in conflict with an education system that preaches solely socialist ideology.

Education plays not only a political role but also a societal role, a key tool for the state. Moreover, education plays a significant role in understanding Cuban socialism. The government offers more access to higher education while implementing entrance exams that filter out some students. Graduates from preuniversity schools are diverted to vocational schools rather than guided to universities. The vocational schools must prepare the young people to function in a more liberal economic market with private initiatives. As the vocational-technical schools take center stage, how will the system stabilize and improve the quality for a skilled labor force if the former structures and rules are removed and replaced by a market structure and rules?

The goal is to reclaim every Cuban for the Revolution—to maintain a functioning form of socialism even though capitalist measures (such as private property and entrepreneurship) have been established. The dual economy presents a dual value system of collectiveness and competition, making the old rigid schooling inadequate if not irrelevant. Young people are quite aware of this disconnect, as evidenced in the high enrollment but low graduation rates. Weaknesses in the educational system began with the crisis of the 1990s. Many were not corrected, and the government continues to make adjustments.

Orienting and recruiting students to meet societal needs has not been easy. Currently, with entrance exams, the quota of students permitted to enter the university has been lowered, except for medicine. Students are being redirected into vocational education to become midlevel technicians and skilled workers. For this purpose, the state has allocated more funding to higher education, specifically vocational training. The greatest needs, agricultural-related professions and teachers, are not as appealing to the youth. As a result, problems continue with scarcity of both teachers and agricultural workers/producers because of national issues and the global economic crisis.

At the beginning of the 2012–2013 school year, there was a 6.8 percent deficit in permanent classroom teachers, which has again forced administrators to fill positions with students who “lack experience” in teaching, as acknowledged by Juventud Rebelde itself (Barrios 2012). The article warns that the career of teaching is currently an “Achilles’ heel.” As evidence, it cites the fact that of the more than 31,000 university slots offered in education this current school year, only 19.7 percent of these have been filled, with the greatest shortages in Havana, Ciego de Ávila, Matanzas, and Artemisa, some of the hardest places to fill (Barrios 2012). Without a doubt, the teacher shortage is not only a problem in schooling but one of the family and society as well. Well-prepared, knowledgeable teachers are needed for the future of Cuban society.

The Cuban government, under Raúl Castro’s leadership, continues to mine practical solutions to ongoing economic and ideological challenges: allowing property and car ownership and sales, permitting Cubans to travel more easily, lowering costs on cell phone usage, making available more public transportation, and providing access to a non-Cuban television network, Telesur, which provides a broader political perspective. In trying to solve the problem of economic stagnation, the policymakers inadvertently created new problems for the education system with their socialist commitment to a strong welfare state. Schools have a clear economic and political purpose: to absorb unemployment, fill a skills need, and prevent potential disaffection.

The cornerstone of socialist Cuban education is the work-study principle, which has all but disappeared. Vocational training has taken primacy, but the integration of the private sector into vocational activities remains an open question. Will the market structure displace state companies? What impact will a more open economic system have on vocational training, education, and moralism? Education is the principal weapon for resistance, creation, and socialism. Regardless of economic changes, educational reform will continue to involve the ideological and material struggle for the trust and support of the youth.

References

Barrios, M. 2009. “Un nuevo punto de crecimiento en la educación cubana.” August 29. http://tvcamaguey.blogspot.com/2009/08/un-nuevo-punto-de-crecimiento-en-la.html.

———. 2012. “Los maestros que nos faltan.” Juventud Rebelde, October 13.

Bowles, S., and H. Gintis. 1976. Schooling in Capitalist America. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Breidlid, A. 2007. “Education in Cuba—An Alternative Educational Discourse: Lessons to Be Learned?” Compare 37, no. 5: 617–34.

Castro, F. R. 2004. “La graduación del primer curso de las Escuelas de Instructores de Arte, en la Plaza Ernesto Che Guevara, Santa Clara.” Speech given by Fidel Castro, October 20, 2004. http://www.cuba.cu/gobierno/discursos/2004/esp/f201004e.html.

CEPAL. 2000. La Economía Cubana, Reformas Estructurales y Desempeño en los Noventa. 2nd ed. Mexico City: CEPAL.

Eckstein, S. 2004. “From Communist Solidarity to Communist Solitary.” In The Cuba Reader: History, Culture and Politics, edited by A. Chomsky, B. Carr, and P. M. Smorkaloff, 607–22. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

Frederik, L. 2012. Trumpets in the Mountains: Theater and the Politics of National Culture in Cuba. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

González, I. 2012. “Cuban Higher Education in Times of Reform.” Inter Press Service, August 13. http://www.ipsnews.net/2012/08/cuban-higher-education-changing-in-times-of-reform/.

González Rey, F., and A. Mitjans Martínez. 2000. “Motivación moral en adolescentes y jóvenes.” In Selecciones de lecturas sobre introducción a la psicología [Moral motivation among adolescents and youth], edited by L. Ibarra Mustelier and N. Vasallo Barrueta, 28–37. Havana: Servigraf.

Gramsci, A. 1971. Selections from the Prison Notebooks. New York: International Publishers Co.

Kapcia, A. 2000. Cuba: Island of Dreams. Oxford: Berg.

Mayo Parra, I. n.d. Cambio educativo en Cuba: Antecedentes y contexto. Mexico City: Memorias del VII Encuentro Nacional de Investigacíon Educacional, Universidad Pedagógica Nacional.

Oficina Nacional de Estadísticas. 2009. Anuario. http://www.one.cu.

———. 2012. Anuario. http://www.one.cu.

Pumar, E. S. 2010. “Cuban Education and Human Capital Formation.” Cuba in Transition 20: 97–105.

UN Development Program. 2007. Human Development Report, 2007/2008. New York: UN Development Program.

Chapter 44

The Changing Dynamics of Sexuality

Emily J. Kirk

CENESEX and the Revolution

Since 2008, when power officially shifted to Raúl Castro and the first sexual reassignment surgery was carried out in twenty years, Cuba’s National Center of Sexual Education (CENESEX) has increasingly become a topic of interest in international media coverage. Headed by Mariela Castro Espín, the daughter of current president Raúl Castro, and former Federation of Cuban Women (FMC) president, Vilma Espín, CENESEX has piqued the curiosity of many. Indeed, the center and the dramatic changes it has instituted have been used to exemplify what is often referred to as “Castro’s Cuba”—the implication being that the island is led by a familial dictatorship. Similarly, significant amounts of both academic and journalistic literature on Cuba regularly present the Revolution as a monolithic and unalterable structure, employing a largely top-down approach. Yet the changes that have occurred in the evolution of the CENESEX and, in particular, its recent work seem to indicate the precise opposite.

The center was officially established in 1989 and its precursor (the National Group for Work on Sexual Education) (GNTES) in 1977 (Hamilton 2012, 49). It developed from a teaming of Cuba’s unique brand of feminism and educative processes, instituting sexual health care, increasing related research, and developing dramatically more progressive attitudes from Cuba’s historically homophobic values (Kirk 2011). The center refocused its primary aim in 2004 to concentrate on lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) issues and since 2008 has been responsible for considerable advances in Cuba, including celebrations for the International Day Against Homophobia, comprehensive care for transgender people, and a redefinition of the Communist Party’s Fundamental Principles.

While originally a small national group with the aim of establishing needed sexual education across the island, CENESEX has evolved into an internationally recognized center, focusing primarily on achieving rights and respect for LGBT people through education. The center’s contemporary role continues to push the boundaries of what is considered to be revolutionary, highlighting well the complexity of the Cuban Revolution.

CENESEX and the Revolution

After decades of institutionalized homophobia, notable changes occurred following the 1989 establishment of CENESEX. The center (and, by extension, the GNTES) had previously made considerable efforts to dissuade institutionalized homophobia and machista attitudes regarding sexuality. These abuses included, among others, forced attendance at reeducation camps (the Military Units for the Aid of Production); restrictive legislation forbidding homosexuals from working in the fields of education, medicine, sports, and the foreign service; and a basic understanding of homosexuality as anathema to the Revolution (Lumsden 1996, 77; Turner 1989, 70).

Throughout the 1990s, CENESEX continued developing its work in sexual education, while Cuba as a whole continued to struggle with attitudes toward sexual diversity. The internal struggle became clear in 1992, as both president Fidel Castro and FMC president Vilma Espín made public statements regarding homosexuality. President Castro noted in an interview that he was “absolutely opposed to any form of repression, contempt, scorn or discrimination with regard to homosexuals” (quoted in Leiner 1994, 59). Similarly, in 1992, FMC president Vilma Espín publicly noted that oppression against gays and lesbians had to stop, adding that they should instead be respected and welcomed (Leiner 1994, 59).

It was evident that Cuba was facing a massive internal debate regarding sexual diversity, as the entrenched homophobia was being challenged through the revolutionary ideology of unity and equality, which had previously condemned it. CENESEX, following its complex development as a result of a Cuba’s unique brand of feminism and processes of education, continued to push the boundaries of acceptability within the Revolution. Indeed, the FMC and student groups in particular worked within and alongside CENESEX, increasingly incorporating issues related to sexual diversity (Krause-Fuchs 2007, 70).

In 2004, both CENESEX and its sister organization, the Cuban Multidisciplinary Society for the Study of Sexuality (SOCUMES), joined the International Lesbian and Gay Association (ILGA), as the central goals of CENESEX shifted toward LGBT issues (Castro Espín 2012, 31). Indeed, the center placed significantly more emphasis on the employment of an integral approach to achieve juridical and societal respect for sexual diversity (Roque Guerra 2011). Sexual education was still the main focus of CENESEX, although achieving sexual diversity rights became central to the educative process. Thus, although it represented only one of the fourteen “Areas of Work” cited by CENESEX, the area of sexual orientation rights and gender identity has expanded since 2004.

Of particular note was the 2004 incorporation of a “Sexual Diversity” section on the CENESEX website. The principal goal of the new section was to provide educative material on sexual diversity and challenge prejudice (Roque Guerra 2012, 224). The CENESEX website has continued to be a vital medium of communication and is indicative of the center’s development. To explain, while the mission statement refers to the importance of the management and application of appropriate sexual education, the information present on the website instead suggests two main interests: education and respect for sexual diversity. This is clear by the website’s home page, which presents, among others, links to the Diversity Is Natural campaign, SOCUMES, their declaration of sexual diversity rights, and the Cubans Against Homophobia newsletter. Similarly, there is a clear trend in the increasing number of articles published in the center’s research journal Sexología y Sociedad (Sexology and Society), which provides articles from both national and international experts on varying topics related to sexual health and sexuality. Although online copies are available only from 2008 on, there is a clear trend in the increasing numbers of articles focused on LGBT issues and respect for sexual diversity. In 2008, for example, only two of the sixteen articles published in the journal focused on LGBT issues, while they represented four of the twelve published in 2011 and one of the four that have since been added for 2012.

Following the center’s 2004 shift, further liberalizations in the attitudes toward sexual diversity became evident. In particular, notable success has been achieved in the field of care for transsexual and transgender people. In 2005, CENESEX, expanding on a multidisciplinary initiative that the GNTES established in 1979, developed the National Commission for Comprehensive Care of Transsexual Persons, including various legal and social aspects (Acosta 2006; Castro Espín 2012, 31; Roque Guerra 2011; Roque Guerra 2012, 244). The primary aim of the commission was to provide comprehensive care, including diagnoses, therapy, and support. By 2008, the commission had received ninety-two applications—and twenty-seven applicants had received official diagnoses as transsexuals, nineteen of whom were undergoing the process to receive gender reassignment surgeries, and thirteen had already obtained permission to change their name and photo on their national identification cards (Acosta 2006, 2008).

The commission was later strengthened by the June 2008 establishment of Resolution 126 (Grogg 2009). The resolution, signed by Public Health Minister José Ramón Balaguer, authorized the development of a center to provide comprehensive health care for transsexuals, including free gender reassignment surgeries and therapy (Acosta 2006, 2008). The evolution of the commission also prompted the presentation of a Gender Identity Bill for the Council of State (Roque Guerra 2012, 224). For the first time since 1988, Cuban physicians began carrying out sexual reassignment surgeries (Castro Espín 2008). The resulting positive effects for the transsexual community were made clear, as in 2012 a forty-eight-year-old transgender woman and local Committee to Defend the Revolution president was elected as a delegate to the municipal government (Pedroso 2012; The Guardian 2012).

Indeed, CENESEX continuously increased the breadth of its work within the field of sexual diversity as a whole. In 2005, for example, CENESEX, collaborating with the National Center for the Prevention of STD/HIV-AIDS, held a gay film festival. That year also marked the first year Cuban specialists participated in the Henry Benjamin International Gender Dysphiria Association (Castro Espín 2012, 31). And the following year, CENESEX personnel (representing Cuba) attended the International Conference on Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Human Rights as well as the ILGA World Congress. And by 2007, Cuba was commemorating the World Day Against Homophobia (Castro Espín 2012, 31–32; Roque Guerra 2012, 224).

The year 2008 would prove to be a milestone as the developments of the previous years came to the fore. Sexual diversity and related rights became a repeated theme of debate across the island among both officials and the general populace. The growth of these discussions was evident in the increase of publications that explored the topic of sexuality as a whole. Analysis of the popular magazine Bohemia, for example, is telling. While in the early 2000s articles that focused on sexuality and sexual health had become common, in 2008 these articles also increasingly introduced issues of sexual diversity. The May 2008 edition of the magazine was the first edition to have a full article (six pages) focusing on sexual diversity. The article, titled “Diversidad sexual: Desafiando molinos,” incorporated an interview with Mariela Castro Espín and described in detail the challenges as well as prejudices faced by those of nonheterosexual orientation. It was also the first time CENESEX was featured in an article, with the center’s efforts to dissuade prejudice through education being described in detail (Bohemia 2008, 24–29).

The second annual commemoration for the International Day Against Homophobia (May 17) also occurred in 2008, increasing dramatically from the smaller commemoration the previous year into a celebration. In total, Havana and six other provinces participated, and various activities were held. Notably, the second Conference for International Day Against Homophobia occurred “with the support of cultural institutions, student organizations, the government, the UJC [Young Communist League], and the PCC [Partido Comunista de Cuba (Communist Party of Cuba)]” (Castro Espín 2012, 32).

It is important to note the significance of this day for Cuba, as previously these celebrations had never been held. In addition, seven of the island’s fifteen provinces participated in the celebrations, another first. Significantly, May 17 is also the anniversary of the 1959 Agrarian Reform Law, proposed and drafted by, among many others, Ernesto “Che” Guevara, which redistributed large landholdings to the landless (Kapcia 2008, 29). It has since been celebrated annually and, understandably, is an important anniversary of revolutionary history. Thus, in Cuba, the significance of the celebration of May 17 in support of an International Day Against Homophobia goes beyond support for LGBT communities; it also indicates the importance of the celebration, as considerable numbers chose to share it along with another of great historical importance.

Yet, while significant change was achieved particularly throughout 2008 and 2009, much of the success was eclipsed in November 2010 at the UN General Assembly’s Social, Humanitarian, and Cultural Affairs Committee. The participating Cuban diplomats voted in favor of an amendment, suggested by Mali and Morocco, that would result in the substitution of all specific references to abuses due to “sexual orientation” with a more general “discriminatory reasons on any basis.” In effect, the wording that sought to denounce homophobia would be replaced with a diluted version, weakly arguing against discrimination in general. Significantly, Cuba was the only Latin American country that voted in favor of the amendment (Acosta 2010a). It was clear that while changes had occurred across the island, the official Cuban position on sexual diversity was still controversial as, in this important international forum, the Cuban officials took a step backward.

Following the vote, CENESEX and SOCUMES immediately—and publicly—criticized the decision. Dr. Alberto Roque, the leading physician at CENESEX who also works closely with SOCUMES, stated, “Failure to specifically mention discrimination on the rounds of sexual orientation gives the green light for many states and government to continue to treat homosexuality as a crime” (quoted in Acosta 2010b). The public and forceful opposition to the government’s official position highlights well the growing influence of the center as well as its position as a body under the aegis of the state but one enjoying a considerable level of autonomy.

Indeed, while the new leadership was working on liberalizing state control, CENESEX was continually developing a notable national and international profile as the global media gradually became more interested in its achievements. Sexual diversity became the cornerstone of the center’s work and would continue as they increased the numbers of related talks, lectures, films, debates, plays, and campaigns across the island.

The center has also been working to develop and ratify an updated Family Code, building on the 1975 Code, which emphasized the importance of women and promoted equal distribution of household responsibilities and child care. The code was essential for the development of women’s rights; however, it focused on the nuclear heterosexual family. In effect, it suggested that to be a good family or revolutionary, one must be in a heterosexual partnership. While it presented a narrow view of the household, it did serve to advance more progressive attitudes regarding gender identities and roles. However, it was clear that a new code was needed—one that would illustrate and legitimize diverse family models.

As a result, CENESEX, in collaboration with the FMC, the UJC, and the National Union of Cuban Jurists, submitted an amended Family Code to the National Assembly of People’s Power in 2012. It focused primarily on the legal recognition of same-sex couples. Originally, same-sex marriage was a suggested modification, but due to sensitivity to cultural values, reference to “marriage” was later changed to “civil unions.” In addition, sections were also added in which the rights of nonheterosexual women would be able to utilize Cuba’s reproductive technologies, which have previously been reserved only for married heterosexual women. The code has not yet been seriously considered in the National Assembly, a situation that many believe to be the result of fear of the legalization of same-sex marriage (Ramírez 2007; Roque Guerra 2010; Sierra 2008). Yet, since it has been officially submitted to the National Assembly, it must legally be discussed and put to a vote (interview with Manuel Vásquez Seijido, CENESEX coordinator for the Network of Jurists for Sexual Diversity Rights, February 13, 2013, Havana). The amendments remain a continuous topic of contention as the center continues its efforts to persuade the National Assembly to incorporate diverse family structures.

CENESEX has continued to press to change the island’s historically homophobic legislation. As noted by center director Mariela Castro Espín, if the rights of LGBT Cubans were not ratified, then they were in essence left unprotected by the law (Sierra 2008). For this reason, constant efforts have been made to establish a juridical presence for LGBT issues. The Penal Code, for example, has consistently proved discriminatory. While homosexuality was officially decriminalized in 1979, the previously homophobic laws were replaced with vague and thus only superficially more liberal ones, leaving many in the hands of homophobic judiciaries. One such law was the highly subjective Ley de la peligrosidad, under which anyone could be arrested for engaging in “dangerous” or perceived “antisocial” behavior (Bejel 2001, 106). The center has continued to work toward updating these laws through advocacy and, in particular, education. Two of the center’s departments—the Juridical Department and the Department of Services, Social Networks, and Sexual Rights—deal with issues regarding the advancement of LGBT rights. The process to change the Penal Code, as is the case with the Family Code, is extremely complex. It would require the various ministries at several levels to agree with the amendments, followed by a highly involved ratification process. Thus, it is likely that several other aspects of revolutionary Cuba will also have to change before significant and meaningful amendments are made.

Indeed, and despite significant changes in national attitudes, legislation regarding sexual diversity has not changed dramatically. Yet there have been some significant developments in the PCC’s official stance. An important step occurred in 2010, when former president Fidel Castro (expanding on his 1992 statement in which he declared that he was opposed to discrimination against homosexuals) publicly assumed responsibility for much of the homophobia that had occurred in Cuba in the early decades of the Revolution. He explained that the leadership’s decisions were based on the pervasive climate of machismo and on the growing U.S. threats (Reuters 2010). While policy changes were not suggested, the address did function as a vital step in the development of LGBT rights and respect. It engaged new ideas regarding sexual diversity and the role of the leadership and its policy and as a result forced many to rethink what it meant to be a true revolutionary.

Further reforms within the Communist Party occurred in 2011, when the National Congress of the Communist Party made significant changes to the Party’s Fundamental Principles. In particular, two sections made telling amendments. Section 54 noted that discrimination on the basis of race, religion, or sexual orientation would not be tolerated, especially for anyone working in the public sphere, participating in political organizations, or in general working for the defense of the Revolution. Similarly, section 65 stated that all media outlets and sections of the press were required to present the “reality” of Cuban diversity, including gender, skin color, religious beliefs, and sexual orientation (Cubadebate 2011; El Universal 2011). These amendments were of paramount importance for legitimizing LGBT rights and respect as well as the condemnation of homophobia as a whole. Additionally, these changes illustrate the official direction being taken by the leadership, representing another step in developing a more progressive and accepting attitude toward sexual diversity—which had previously been considered anathema to the Revolution.

It is also important to note that, while generally considered internationally to be an activist organization, the breadth of academic research the center produces and publishes in the field of sexuality is considerable. A recent study published in the journal Sexología y Sociedad, for example, provides a detailed analysis of the sociopolitical impacts of society on transsexuals. The findings noted that transsexual people, particularly women, largely suffered due to a combination of, among other things, the social construction of gender identity, lack of social integration and therapy, and insufficient sexual education. The study also offered possible solutions and options for self-empowerment, suggesting improved education and therapy models as well as improved familial ties in order to prevent social exclusion.

In addition, CENESEX remains an educative center, offering extensive training for students as well as the populace. Courses currently offered include a master’s in sexology, a diploma in clinical sexology, a diploma in integral care for family violence, distance education, postgraduate courses for professionals, and promotional training (which is designed specifically for activists). The teaching staff includes many of the approximately forty staff members, including sexologists, psychologists, physicians, and legal experts. The center is an integral element of the Ministry of Public Health and the National Public Health Care model while maintaining its active role in progressing attitudes toward sexual diversity through education.

Conclusion

CENESEX has developed from its initial position as a small national group to become an internationally recognized center focusing on rights and respect for sexual diversity through education. Major achievements in Cuba have characterized the center’s recent history as sexual diversity has gradually been redefined as “normal” and as celebrations for the International Day Against Homophobia have taken place, LGBT film festivals have been a success, and the understanding of sexual diversity on the whole has been discussed, while the PCC has officially incorporated sexual diversity into its Fundamental Principles. Yet significant challenges remain, as the National Assembly seems disinterested in the amended Family Code, necessary protective legislation is lacking, and some discrimination is still present.

It is important to note that the changes made in recent years are not inherently revolutionary. Indeed, while heralded for the revolutionary success that CENESEX has promoted in recent years, these changes have not been that revolutionary—many countries have adopted similar policies. Instead, what is both remarkable and revolutionary is the speed by and manner in which CENESEX has developed and established sweeping changes—which have then been widely accepted by the Cuban public. A country that had previously institutionalized and imprisoned homosexuals just a few decades earlier and that still maintains in several ways a deep-rooted machista attitude now hosts internationally recognized antihomophobia celebrations and campaigns. Given this context, few have accomplished what the center has done.

Yet aside from the successes and challenges facing CENESEX, the center is also telling of the Revolution as a whole. Importantly, the center’s evolution contradicts the traditional understanding of Cuba as a staunch monolithic structure, often referred to in the literature as “Castro’s Cuba.” Indeed, as its evolutionary process highlights—working with the Ministry of Health, the Ministry of Education, the FMC, the PCC, the Union of Young Communists, the University Student Federation, and SOCUMES—the center has evolved through a complex model of negotiations. Instead of the presupposed top-down model of change within the Revolution, the development of CENESEX incorporates significant elements of a bottom-up approach to change, vastly differing from classic understandings of revolutionary Cuba.

A new way of understanding the Revolution is developing, one in which it is understood as a complex process of negotiations rather than as an unmovable, restrictive structure (Kapcia 2008, 179; Kapcia 2009; Ludlam 2012). The evolution of CENESEX supports this contention, as it illustrates well the nature of the Revolution as a negotiative model of processes. CENESEX was developed out of a teaming of Cuban feminism and education practices and continues to evolve through comparable means to achieve change—working within the Revolution and its constructions to push the boundaries of what is—or should be—considered revolutionary. CENESEX will continue to evolve throughout these processes, developing Cuba’s national understanding of sexual diversity and providing a revolutionary model for others to follow.

References

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———. 2008. “Health-Cuba: Free Sex Change Operations Approved.” Inter Press Service, June 6. http://ipsnews.net/news.asp?idnews= 42693 (accessed February 2, 2012).

———. 2010a. “Cuba: Foreign Ministry Explains Controversial ‘Sexual Orientation’ Vote to Activists.” Inter Press Service, December 2. http://www.lexisnexis.com:80/uk/nexis/results/docview/docview.do?start=29&sort=BOOLEAN&format=GNBFI&risb=21_T13960687041 (accessed February 2, 2012).

———. 2010b. “Cuba: ‘Sexual Orientation’ Vote in UN Panel Kicks Up Controversy.” Inter Press Service, December 1. http://www.lexisnexis.com:80/uk/nexis/results/docview/docview.do?start=30&sort=BOOLEAN&format=GNBFI&risb=21_T13960687041 (accessed February 2, 2012).

Bejel, Emilio. 2001. Gay Cuban Nation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Bohemia. 2008. “Diversidad sexual: Desafiando molinos.” Vol. 100, no. 11: 24–29.

Castro Espín, Mariela. 2008. “La atención a transexuales en Cuba y su inclusión en las políticas sociales.” Revista Sexología y Sociedad 14, no. 36 (April). http://www.cenesexualidad.sld.cu/la-atencion-integral-transexuales-en-cuba-y-su-inclusion-en-las-politicas-sociales (accessed January 3, 2012).

———. 2012. “A Cuban Policy Approach to Change.” Cuban Studies 42: 23–34.

Cubadebate. 2011. “Proyecto de documento base de la primera conferencia nacional del Partido Communista de Cuba.” October 14. http://www.cubadebate.cu/noticias/2011/10/14/descargue-proyecto-de-documento-que-discutirá-conferencia-nacional-del-particdo-pdf/ (accessed November 1, 2011).

El Universal. 2011. “Bloguero cubano aplaude apertura de orientación sexual.” October 17. http://www.eluniversal.com/internacional/111017/bloguero-cubano-aplaude-apertura-de-orientacion-sexual (accessed October 17, 2011).

Grogg, Patricia. 2009. “Men and Women Defend Their Sexual Orientation against Prejudice.” Inter Press Service, March 31. http://www.lexisnexis.com:80/uk/nexis/results/docview/docview.do?start=51&sort=BOOLEAN&format=GNBFI&risb=21_T13967991259 (accessed February 2, 2012).

Hamilton, Carrie. 2012. Sexual Revolutions in Cuba. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Kapcia, Antoni. 2008. Cuba in Revolution: A History since the Fifties. London: Reaktion Books.

———. 2009. “Lessons of the Special Period.” Latin American Perspectives 39, no. 1: 30–41.

Kirk, Emily. 2011. “Setting the Agenda for Cuban Sexuality: The Role of Cuba’s CENESEX.” Canadian Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Studies 36, no. 72: 143–63.

Krause-Fuchs, Monika. 2007. ¿Machismo? No, gracias. Cuba: Sexualidad en la revolución. Madrid: Ediciones Ideas.

Leiner, Marvin. 1994. Sexual Politics in Cuba. Boulder, CO: Westview Press.

Ludlam, Steve. 2012. “Interest Representation, Participation and Power: Political Dimensions of Cuba’s Economic Reforms.” Paper presented at the 2012 Cuba Research Forum Conference, Nottingham, United Kingdom.

Lumsden, Ian. 1996. Machos, Maricones and Gays: Cuba and Homosexuality. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Pedroso, Aurelio. 2012. “De travesti a concejal.” Rebelión, November 19. http://www.rebelion.org/noticia.php?id=159404 (accessed November 19, 2012).

Ramírez, Marta. 2007. “Lesbianas por la maternidad: Del teatro a la realidad.” Cultura y Sociedad, no. 4, April.

Reuters. 2010. “Fidel Castro Takes Blame for 1960s Gay Persecution.” August 31. http://www.reuters.com/article/2010/08/31/us-Cuba-castro-idUSTRE67U4JE20100831 (accessed November 1, 2011).

Roque Guerra, Alberto. 2010. “Homophobia: Challenges to the Cuban Family and Society.” Remarks given at the opening of the panel on the family and society during the observation of World Anti-Homophobia Day, 2010, Havana. http://www.walterlippmann.com/docs2901.html (accessed November 1, 2011).

———. 2011. “Diversidad sexual en las políticas en Cuba: Avances y Desafíos.” Revista Sexología y Sociedad 17, no. 45 (April). http://www.cenesexualidad.sld.cu/diversidad-sexual-en-las-politicas-publicas-en-cuba-avances-y-desafios-0 (accessed January 3, 2012).

———. 2012. “Sexual Diversity in Revolutionary Times.” Cuban Studies 42: 218–26.

Sierra, Raquel. 2008. “Diversidad sexual: Abriendo paso a la comprensión.” Cultura y Sociedad, no. 1, January.

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Turner, Dwayne C. 1989. “The Homosexual Sons and Daughters of the Cuban Revolution: Steps to Liberation.” Human Mosaic 23: 60–78.

Chapter 45

Transcript of Television Interview with Mariela Castro

Amy Goodman

Goodman: Talk about the work that you’re doing in Cuba.

Castro [translated]: I am the director of the National Center of Sexual Education. This is an academic center that is part of the Ministry of Public Health. Its mission is to coordinate the national program of sexual education with a multidisciplinary focus which coordinates different sectors.

Goodman: Why have you chosen to make sexuality and the politics of sexuality your issue? You, yourself are heterosexual. You’re married to a man. You have three children.

Castro: This is work that my mother began with the Federation of Cuban Women. She was the one who created CENESEX. Though professionally I worked with preschool children and adolescents, as I heard about the difficulties of LGBT people, I began to sympathize with their needs and problems. Many LGBT couples chose to come to counseling sessions with me, and as I listened to them, I started to study, to find tools to be able to help them.

Goodman: You’ve come to the United States at an interesting time. The president, President Obama, has just endorsed same-sex marriage, marriage equality. What are your thoughts about this?

Castro: I think it’s very valuable that the president of the United States speaks out publicly in favor of the rights of same-sex couples. Being the most powerful country in the world, what the president says has great influence on the rest of the world.

Goodman: Yet we do not have across-the-board law that says that same-sex marriage is accepted. And in Cuba you don’t either. What are you doing in Cuba to change the laws?

Castro: In Cuba, CENESEX is leading an educational strategy, with the support of the media, to promote respect for free and responsible sexual orientation and gender identity. We are also doing some advocacy with state institutions and civil society organizations, so that they support this educational strategy. Beyond the educational strategy and our media strategy, we are also promoting legislative initiatives that suppress the same rights for homosexuals and transgender people, so that, for example, the Family Code recognizes the rights of these people and also their possibilities as couples, the legalization of their union as a couple.

Goodman: Are you pushing for same-sex marriage in Cuba?

Castro: I am promoting marriage, but this was not accepted by many groups of people. And so, what we are negotiating is the legalization of consensual unions and that the legalization of these unions would guarantee, more than anything, their property rights, inheritance rights.

Goodman: So, do same-sex couples have the same economic rights as heterosexual couples?

Castro: All rights are guaranteed for all people. There is no exclusion for LGBT people. But where there is still not respect for their rights is around the guarantee that if one member of a same-sex couple dies, the survivor be recognized as the person who should receive the inheritance, or even just be allowed to enjoy the goods they had enjoyed as a couple.

Goodman: Presumably, you have your father’s ear, the president of Cuba. How does he feel about making it fully equal between same-sex couples and heterosexual couples?

Castro: He is convinced that it is necessary, that it is part of the project of full justice the Cuban Revolution proposes.

Goodman: Is he as supportive as you are?

Castro: He has been supportive since before, from when my mother was working on these issues.

Goodman: And what about gay men and lesbians in the military?

Castro: In all of Cuban society, there are all kinds of people. In the army, as well, there are homosexuals and lesbians. They don’t manifest it publicly, but they are there.

Goodman: If it is known, if they are open, would they be kicked out of the military?

Castro: I see that the rules have become more flexible. Of course, before, they were more rigid. I think that in all Cuban society, the policy and laws are becoming more flexible. And the same will happen in the army.

Note

Television interview with Mariela Castro conducted by Democracy Now, June 11, 2012. Reprinted by permission of Democracy Now.

Chapter 46

Surfing Revolico.com

John M. Kirk

Cuba’s Answer to Craig’s List

Perhaps nothing offers a more immediate (and interesting) panoramic view of the changes in Cuban society in recent years than a few hours trawling through the sections of this website. It was created in 2007 and is enormously popular on the island. The website boasts 5 million visits monthly and notes that 75 percent of its traffic comes from repeat customers. Most of the client basis consists of Cubans on the island, but as a result of the approximately 400,000 members of the Cuban diaspora who visit annually, the number of postings from Cubans abroad and even from foreigners is increasing.

A small core of employees run the site, as is mentioned at Revolico.com: “We are a small but functional team of computer programmers who one day felt the need to develop a simpler, more organized and efficient way of advertising and seeing what others were advertising. The idea arose, and we decided to give it a try.” What began as a small advertising venture has now grown spectacularly and is regularly consulted by Cubans with access to a computer terminal. Many thousands of advertisements appear on the site. On November 19, 2012, for instance, a note from the site’s webmasters stated that 8,095 ads were on the site that day and that a staggering 292,994 commercials had been placed on the Web during the previous sixty days.

I check the website from time to time to follow trends in terms of the interests of Cuban consumers. The information provided here is for several days, selected at random, in November 2012. There are six basic categories: Computers, Automobiles, General Buy/Sell, Employment, Services, and Housing. For the day in question, the largest number of ads was in the Computer section (119,605), followed by General Buy/Sell (84,468), Housing (35,045), Services (27,771), Automobiles (25,386), and Employment (for people offering services and seeking positions, 715).

Each of the categories is subdivided into various sections to make it easier for clients to find the appropriate merchandise. As is clear, most of the subscribers to Revolico are interested in electronics. The computer section alone has nineteen subsections, including PCs, laptops, printers, hard drives, DVD burners, and sound cards. Likewise, the General Buy/Sell category has a plethora of electronic goods, including MP3 players, iPods, video games, flat-screen televisions, and Xboxes.

Some prices help to give an idea of the cost of these items. Average computers, such as HP, Toshiba, and Acer, sell for 600 CUC (convertible pesos, roughly equal to the U.S. dollar). A Toshiba satellite C650 laptop was offered for 400 CUC; a nineteen-inch Samsung LED monitor, 180 CUC; an eight-gigabyte flash drive, 12 CUC; and a Bluetooth USB, $6. Lexmark, HP, and Canon printer cartridges could be refilled for 4 CUC. One vendor noted, “I sell new PC parts brought from abroad. Please don’t bother me by quoting other prices on the Revolico site. These are brand new.” Advertisements were placed by technicians offering to install Windows 7 and 8 (5 CUC) as well as antivirus software (4 CUC).

Internet connectivity is a major problem in Cuba, and several enterprising Cubans offered access through their accounts. One person offered a month of e-mail service abroad for 15 CUC; another offered twenty-four hours of Internet for 5 CUC as long as the purchaser had “an email account and the possibility of connecting abroad.” Many of these accounts are illegal, often the result of enterprising Cubans hacking into legal accounts of foreign businesses or bribing government officials with Internet privileges. Many of the services offered in this regard will probably be illegal. An exception was one advertisement offering sixty hours of Internet for 120 CUC, the owner adding that “this is a legal ETECSA [the national telephone company] account.” One enterprising vendor offered services for 15 CUC, adding, “Our desire is to be an oasis in the midst of the desert.”

Dozens of ads offered imported television programs, mainly from the United States. One person offered a weekly recompilation (“including materials in High Definition for clients with plasma TVs”) in digital format of 300 gigabytes. Among the weekly package was a collection of twenty-five to thirty-five films as well as a selection of games, shows, soap operas, cartoons, music videos, twenty to forty documentaries, classic films, and sports (soccer, baseball, and boxing), comedy, and reality shows. Another offered for 1 CUC a wide selection of popular television shows, including Miss Marple, American Idol, Boston Legal, Cold Case, Criminal Minds, CSI (the Miami, Las Vegas, and New York series), Downton Abbey, Grey’s Anatomy, Dancing with the Stars US, Law and Order, The Good Wife, The Mentalist, and NCIS.

Under the government of Raúl Castro, two of the major reforms now allow the buying and selling of homes and vehicles—for the first time in five decades. Popular media in North America have largely forgotten about these reforms now that the novelty has worn off. In Cuba, however, fierce negotiations take place over the prices for both these categories, and Cubans have learned quickly the need to be shrewd bargainers. The prices for cars seem high to the North American reader, but in Cuba—where for decades access to hard currency has not meant that one could go down to the local car showroom and buy a car—this is a major development.

Foreign journalists in Cuba often refer to the approximately $20 that represents the average monthly wage in Cuba. As this book illustrates, nothing is ever as it seems in Cuba since there are so many exceptions to every rule. And while many people do get by on minimum salaries, others have other, lucrative sources of income. As a result, a vigorous business exists of selling cars. It is generally a seller’s market since demand far outstrips supply. Some examples are worth noting. A 1990 VW Jetta, for instance, is offered for 17,500 CUC, a 2006 Lada is offered for 16,500 CUC, and a 2009 Mazda 6 “American model,” fully loaded (with air conditioning, heating, and independent climate controls among a long list of features), is offered for 80,000 CUC (“In the last analysis we’re talking about a tremendous luxury car,” notes the ad).

Part of the charm of Cuba is to see the older prerevolutionary American cars, a surprising number of which are still working. Their prices are high since they are used as working transportation vehicles. A 1952 Plymouth (complete with Toyota brakes and a reconditioned Renault engine) is on sale for 13,000 CUC. A 1957 Chevrolet (with a Mitsubishi engine and a Hyundai gearbox) is on sale for 18,000. One keen vendor offers his 1953 Ford for 13,800 CUC, noting that it has a Russian (Volga) gearbox and radiator, German engine, and Toyota suspension. He notes that he easily makes 40 CUC as a botero, or private taxi driver (“and so in a year you can recoup your investment”).

Numerous services are offered by Cubans to act as personal chauffeurs. One particularly adept salesman focused his advertisement on returning members of the Cuban diaspora (400,000 Cuban Americans return to the island annually): “Esteemed Visitor, You are returning after being abroad for some time to visit your family members and friends. . . . I recommend that you return to your barrio in classic American car, something which will provide a touch of distinction to your visit.”

Another intriguing ad featured a company called SEATAXI, which is owned by a group of former pilots. They have several cars to drive clients around on a twenty-four-hour basis (“We are not bothered by getting up early in the morning,” they note). They charge a daily rate of 50 CUC for one to ten days, 40 for eleven to twenty days, and 30 CUC for longer periods. One intriguing feature of their service is the “VIP treatment” they offer at airports, clearly because of their many years working there as pilots. For 25 CUC, clients can be met as they leave the plane and taken to the VIP lounge, where they can have a drink and wait for their luggage. They will be given preference in the Immigration and Customs lineups and can be spirited through the airport process. In a revolutionary socialist country like Cuba, this service would have been unthinkable a few years ago.

Two of the most popular categories of employment revolve around the professions of taxi driving and working in a paladar, or private restaurant. One ad is from the owner of a 1950 Chevrolet who was looking for someone to rent it as a taxi driver. He noted frankly, “The deal is simple: You will pay me 800 Cuban pesos—about $38—daily, and whatever else you make above this will be yours. You will have to buy the gas, and you can have the car between 7am and 6pm.”

In terms of employment, two advertisements illustrate clearly the “new Cuba.” One is from a twenty-two-year-old, a graduate in physical education who is well mannered and responsible. She is looking for a well-paid position and is prepared to pay 300 CUC to obtain one. Another advertisement is worth noting. A twenty-three-year-old woman placed an ad looking for a job in a paladar. She wrote that she was “attractive, with good work habits and was very responsible.” She claimed to speak “almost six languages” and was respectful and organized. In addition, she noted that she had “a European capitalist mentality”—a claim that she would never have made even a few years earlier. The two young women who were looking for well-paid positions are typical of many young Cubans who grew up in the worst years of the “Special Period” and could not have helped being influenced by those very difficult years.

An advertisement that would also been inconceivable in recent years is from a person offering services to walk dogs and to look after them “while the client enjoys their vacation.” The rise of prostitution during the early years of the Special Period has now largely decreased. Still, it is not rare to see foreign tourists accompanying Cubans (usually significantly younger) and paying them for services rendered. One ad was placed by a twenty-seven-year-old man who offered his “services to accompany women up to the age of 45.” He noted that he was in excellent physical shape and offered his services for 20 CUC. He noted, however, that the ad was directed “only at people over 18,” emphasizing the dubious nature of his interest. Sadly, the occasional advertisement also appears along the lines of a forty-five-year-old Frenchman who described himself as “well endowed and very hot.” His sales pitch was brutally direct: he was looking for women from eighteen to fifty-five who possessed lots of body hair and would be prepared to participate in a number of sexual acts in return for a “financial arrangement.”

One of the major reforms introduced by Raúl Castro made it legal for Cubans and foreign residents to buy and sell housing, a policy that had been impossible for some fifty years. It was a major development and has resulted in a flurry of advertisements on Revolico. Prices vary greatly, ranging from 6,000 CUC (for a two-bedroom house in Guantánamo) to 350,000 CUC for a four-bedroom house with three bathrooms, two kitchens, three terraces, and many fruit trees.

A final smattering of advertisements from the broader, more general category offers an almost surreal collection of goods and services. In no particular order, some of the great variety of goods offered include a case of twelve bottles of “excellent wine” for 12 CUC; pirated CDs of music, recorded to reflect the client’s tastes, for 1 CUC; all kinds of medicines imported from the United States, ranging from Centrum multivitamin pills (17 CUC for 100 capsules) to Afrin nasal spray (30 milliliters for 8 CUC); pizza boxes (thirty by thirty centimeters) for 15 cents each; Rosetta Stone language program CDs for 10 CUC; silicone breasts (“made of cohesive gel, the latest models, both smooth and texturized”) for 600 CUC; Great Dane puppies for 300 CUC; and piglets for 20 CUC. As can be expected, this “grab bag” of thousands of advertisements covers an enormous variety of goods and services.

So what lessons can be learned about Cuba today from consulting this website? Revolico.com, which has been in existence only since 2007, provides a popular service for many Cubans. It also illustrates clearly just how Cuba has changed in recent years since the public advertisements for many of these goods and services would have been illegal just a few years ago. Cuba has changed enormously since the Special Period was initiated but to an exceptional degree since Raúl Castro has come to power. Is this change for the better? That is, of course, for the reader to determine. Many of the features of contemporary Cuban society are welcome changes from the past. At the same time, the somewhat crass materialism is disappointing. In many ways, Cuba is emerging from the cocoon in which it was carefully isolated from the rest of the world and is in the process of being “Latin Americanized,” along with the bootleg CDs, the street peddlers, and the plethora of private services being offered. What is also clear is that there is no going back for post-Fidel Cuba as Cubans take advantage of the reforms introduced by Raúl, for better or worse.