|
Demanding an End to Uyghur Oppression |
|
|
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=59286"><span class="small">Sean R. Roberts and Matthew Byrd, Jacobin</span></a>
|
|
Saturday, 01 May 2021 08:16 |
|
Excerpt: "We can oppose the saber-rattling and militarism of the US's China hawks without downplaying the oppression of the Uyghur people."
Two Uyghur women enter a highly surveilled bazaar in Hotan, in China's northwest Xinjiang region. (photo: Greg Baker/Getty Images)

Demanding an End to Uyghur Oppression
By Sean R. Roberts and Matthew Byrd, Jacobin
01 May 21
We can oppose the saber-rattling and militarism of the US’s China hawks without downplaying the oppression of the Uyghur people.
he Uyghurs — a predominantly Muslim people who inhabit China’s northwestern Xinjiang province and consider the region their homeland — have long had a tumultuous relationship with the various iterations of the Chinese state that have governed them since the mid-eighteenth century.
In 2017, that relationship entered a new and more terrifying phase as the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) — eyeing the region’s economic potential and drawing on Islamophobic, “War on Terror” rhetoric — began to construct a series of mass internment camps that, according to a 2018 study, are believed to hold over a million people in arbitrary detention.
The CCP has built a repressive apparatus that includes a panopticon of digital surveillance, family separation, forced birth control, and the physical destruction of Uyghur communities. As scholar David Brophy wrote in Jacobin in 2018, “More than at any point since its incorporation into the People’s Republic of China, Xinjiang today resembles occupied territory, and the party’s policies reveal an all-encompassing view of the Uyghurs as an internal enemy.”
Meanwhile, tensions have been steadily escalating between Washington and Beijing, with US hawks increasingly — and cynically — using the anti-Uyghur repression as just another means to saber-rattle. It is vitally important for the US left to understand the scale of the catastrophe being visited upon the Uyghurs — and doing what we can to stop it — while also refusing to play handmaiden to an ultra-hawkish turn in US foreign policy toward China.
Sean R. Roberts — a cultural anthropologist who has studied the Uyghur region for over three decades — has written a new book on the crisis, The War on the Uyghurs, which places its origins both in the Chinese state’s colonial relationship with the Uyghur people and the global War on Terror launched by the United States in 2001. Roberts talked to Jacobin contributor Matthew Byrd about those origins, why he considers the situation similar to the United States’ destruction of its indigenous populations, and what means might be used to end the crisis. Their conversation has been edited for clarity and length.
What’s Happening In Xianjing
MB: What is the current situation for Uyghurs living in China?
SRR: What has been happening generally since 2017 appears to be continuing apace. By 2017 the repression targeting Uyghurs had been getting worse since 2009. But most of the state securitization of the region and racial profiling of Uyghurs had been focused in Uyghur-majority and rural regions, especially in the south of Uyghur territory.
Then in late 2016 and early 2017 we saw a sudden escalation of repression that targeted not only Uyghurs but also other indigenous peoples in the region, including Kazakhs, Kyrgyz, Uzbeks, and others. This included the fortification of an already draconian system of electronic surveillance with ubiquitous police stations and checkpoints throughout urban spaces in the region. It also involved a campaign targeting Uyghur secular intellectuals, cultural figures, religious figures, and party officials, resulting mostly in the arrest of these people on the charges of “separatism,” “extremism,” and “terrorism.” This was followed by the disappearance of many less prominent civilians into extralegal internment camps which were framed as “reeducation” or “deradicalization” centers.
Internment was determined by a combination of evaluating one’s loyalty to the state — using a database that compiled surveillance on individuals, behaviors, connections, communications, and association with religious activities — as well as with quotas that came down from central authorities to local party organs. These two aspects have created an environment of fear.
The state is seeking to alter the Uyghur people by breaking their solidarity and severing their attachment with the territory of their homeland. This is being done by forced assimilation measures, forced language change, and the breaking up of social networks. At the same time, the state is transforming the terrain by demolishing or decommissioning mosques and religious pilgrimage sites, removing the Uyghur language from public spaces, and leveling entire Uyghur communities.
A critical part of this process involves thinning out the Uyghur population in the region to ensure they cannot voice concerns about this transformation. This is partly being accomplished by limiting births and promoting mixed-ethnic marriages. But perhaps a more prominent driver of these demographic changes has to do with the state’s large coerced labor program, sending Uyghurs to residential factories both inside and outside the region.
Some of those sent to factories are those who have been released from reeducation and mass internment camps. Others are merely rural Uyghur residents that the state wishes to move out of their villages to make way for development. While parents are placed in mass internment, prison, or residential labor programs, their children are being sent to residential boarding schools to be socialized in Chinese culture and language.
MB: In The War on the Uyghurs, you characterize this as the culmination of a settler-colonial project whose origins go back to the initial conquest of the Uyghur homeland by the Qing Dynasty in the mid-eighteenth century. Can you sketch out that history?
SRR: China initially conquered the Uyghur homeland in the mid-eighteenth century and ruled it as a dependency for a century, before being pushed out by local revolts in the 1860s.
You only see the type of colonialism usually associated with European states in the late nineteenth century. The Qing Dynasty conquered the region again in the 1880s and began a “civilizing mission” which included Han settlement. By most accounts it was a failure and the Qing Dynasty fell in 1911, followed by a fragile Republican government that inherited the Qing Territory. Throughout this period, the region was loosely controlled by Han governors who had tenuous relationships with the central authorities and ran it as their own little feudal empire.
After the Chinese Revolution in 1949, it was unclear what was going to happen to the region. It could have ended up like the Mongolian People’s Republic, an independent Soviet satellite state. But eventually it was folded into the People’s Republic of China [PRC].
Since 1949 there has always been a drive by the PRC to integrate this region, but there hasn’t always been the capacity to do so. Initially, it tried the Soviet model of coopting local elites and governing through them. That ended in failure by the late 1950s, and then you had a series of chaotic mass social campaigns under Mao that didn’t allow the state to focus on this region in particular.
It was only in the early 1980s that the state really started thinking, “How do we incorporate this region into China?” and, “How do we define our nation? Is it a multicultural nation? A nation-state?”
There were a lot of very progressive ideas in the Chinese Communist Party generally and a lot of this affected the Uyghur region positively, including discussions about whether the region should have more substantive autonomy, more of a role for local peoples in governing and so on. But that began to end with the Tiananmen Square Massacre and, in particular, the fall of the Soviet Union.
From that time onward, the CCP began to look at what happened to the Soviet Union and determine how to prevent that from happening to China. They wrongly identified “ethnic self-determination” as one of the causes of the fall of the Soviet Union and started targeting any signs of a desire for self-determination — which throughout the 1990s, they referred to as “separatism.”
So the settler colonial process only really begins in the ’90s, which makes it much less drawn out than it seems if you’re first talking about this region becoming a part of modern China in the mid-eighteenth century.
MB: Media outlets have often labelled the forced labor camps as “the largest internment of an ethnic group since the Second World War.” The historical parallel you draw in the book, however, is not with the Holocaust but with the destruction of indigenous communities in the United States, Canada, and Australia in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
SRR: The comparison that is most relevant to what is happening in China is the US expansion to the West, and probably Canada as well. It begins with the desire to expand American economic growth, and to do that in the nineteenth century meant the United States had to control more land, develop it, and settle it. In that process, indigenous peoples were viewed as at best superfluous and at worst an obstacle that had to be removed.
Starting in the 1820s you had the policy of Indian removal, which became increasingly draconian throughout the rest of the nineteenth century — to the point where you saw the United States trying to break the solidarity of Native American nations, employing all kinds of forced assimilation measures, and eventually quarantining them onto reservations.
When I was writing my book and looking at what was happening to the Uyghurs, I saw so many parallels, even in tactics. The attempt to break solidarity and identity seemed to be central to what the Chinese government was doing. There was also embedded in a lot of these policies a desire to remove people from their homeland and thin out their demographic footprint.
The residential boarding schools and the residential labor programs are very similar to policies imposed on Native Americans in nineteenth-century America. There’s a famous quote from the director of the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania: “Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.”
MB: And now it’s, “Kill the Uyghur, save the human.”
SRR: Exactly, and while we don’t see the rapid, wholesale killing of people like we did in the Holocaust, what we do see is an attempt to separate families, separate communities, forcibly assimilate people to the dominant culture, remove them from their land, sever their connection to that land, break their social capital and solidarity, and destroy their culture.
This is essentially a technique of pacifying a people, ensuring that they cannot pose any threat or resistance to whatever the state wants to do with their homeland. I use the term cultural genocide because of its associations with the removal of indigenous peoples. And I think that what we see right now in the Uyghur region is a lot like the process of cultural genocide elsewhere in the world from a century ago, but benefitting from high-tech forms of repression that are available now in the twenty-first century.
The Uyghurs and the US “War on Terror”
MB: A major theme in The War on the Uyghurs is the role that the US War on Terror played in creating the international environment where repression of the Uyghurs could rapidly escalate. How did this war launched in 2001 lead to Uyghurs being thrown in forced labor camps in 2017?
SRR: After the fall of the Soviet Union, a lot of liberal thinkers had very optimistic ideas of a future where the principles of human rights and democracy would be maintained by American leadership. The global War on Terror destroyed that illusion, as we saw the United States perpetrate mass human rights abuses, including torture, arbitrary internment, mass involuntary surveillance — a lot of the things now happening in the Uyghur region.
Simultaneously, the War on Terror made the term a means of dehumanization, because if someone was labeled a “terrorist,” it suggested they were less than human, not worthy of any human rights. This opened a door where states could justify human rights abuses by saying such abuses were merely “combatting terrorism.”
It has also gradually fostered a generalized Islamophobia, where people are able to associate that same dehumanization of “terrorist” with any Muslim. We’ve seen this happen with the Rohingya in Myanmar, the Tigray conflict in Ethiopia, and the Uyghurs in China. It’s a very dangerous source of dehumanization which has replicated the nineteenth-century idea of “savages” about subjects of colonialism. It says, “these people are less than human and the only way to bring them into civilization is to transform them into humans,” which is also assumed to be something you can’t completely do.
With the Chinese government, there was a quick pivot right after 9/11 to redefine what it had been calling “separatism” in the 1990s into “terrorism,” and to try to link Uyghurs with groups such as al-Qaeda. The United States was complicit in this, in 2002 recognizing a small group of Uyghurs in Afghanistan as a terrorist group and endorsing its addition to the UN’s consolidated list of terrorist organizations. This did a lot of damage to Uyghurs, as it justified a higher level of persecution inside China that was immune from international criticism.
MB: There were even Uyghurs held in Guantanamo Bay, correct?
SRR: Yes. The United States was using bounty hunters in Afghanistan and Pakistan to round up alleged or suspected terrorists. There were a group of Uyghurs who — due to a variety of different circumstances — ended up in Afghanistan. They weren’t going there to join “global jihad.” They were finding different ways to get out of China and go somewhere that the Chinese government wouldn’t be able to catch them. A lot of them intended to get to Turkey, which was known as a kind of safe haven for Uyghurs. When the US bombing began, a lot of these people fled across the mountains into Pakistan, and a large group of them were sold to the US military by bounty hunters.
The US military brought them to Guantanamo Bay and imprisoned them for years, with the last Uyghur detainee being released in 2013. They were repeatedly questioned, and the US even allowed Chinese interrogators to come and interview them as part of an agreement on joint counterterrorism operations.
I actually talked to one young Uyghur man who was repatriated to Albania after being released. He was eighteen when he was brought to Guantanamo. He was trying to get to the United States to study and went to Pakistan to get a US visa, and a friend of his convinced him to go see Afghanistan.
He showed up in the country on September 12, 2001 with no idea what had happened the day before. He ended up at a Uyghur encampment which he didn’t see as a terrorist training center or related to any kind of organization but was probably in some ways connected to Häsän Mäkhsum, a Uyghur who I talk about in the book as having this idea of creating an insurgency to liberate the Uyghur homeland from China and also ended up in Afghanistan.
It’s Kafkaesque to read the interviews the US military did with Uyghur detainees, because many reported never having even heard of Osama Bin Laden or al-Qaeda before.
MB: As you mentioned, the War on Terror kicked off a global wave of Islamophobia that has touched France, Denmark, Israel, India, Sri Lanka, and beyond. When did this wave arrive in China?
SRR: It didn’t arrive immediately after 9/11. For most Chinese citizens, they didn’t really know what to associate this new idea of “terrorism” with. You probably had people who, over time, watching the news about the War on Terror, were thinking, “Oh, maybe Muslims are a real threat.” But from 2002 to 2008, there were no reports of violence in the Uyghur region of China, which belied the question of whether there really was this “existential terrorist threat” that the Chinese government faced.
Uyghurs used to be exoticized as people who liked to sing and dance, and were maybe dangerous in the sense of criminality, similar to racist stereotypes of African Americans in the United States. For example, in 1990s Beijing, Uyghur enclaves were popularly seen as places where you could get illegal narcotics. But that really changed in 2008 during the Beijing Olympics. A group of small, under-resourced Uyghurs in Pakistan — who posed no threat to China — began making videos threatening the games. This was the first time you had the idea of Uyghurs as an “existential threat” enter the imagination of regular Chinese citizens.
The Uyghurs shifted from this group that was seen as inferior, semi-criminal, and exotic to an existential threat. That ramped up the next summer in 2009, because you had riots in Ürümqi, the capital city of the Uyghur region, which involved both Uyghur-on-Han violence and Han-on-Uyghur violence. This erupted out of a peaceful demonstration by Uyghur youth — protesting the murder of two Uyghurs working in a toy factory in Shaoguan by their Han coworkers — that was violently put by down law enforcement.
This ethnic violence had nothing to do with terrorism or Islamic extremism, but it was the most violent event involving Uyghurs in China up to that point and led to significant demonization of Uyghurs. In the mind of many Han that I’ve spoken to, that event more than anything else defines their idea of Uyghur terrorism, even though it was essentially a civil disturbance that was an outcome of massive state-led development in the region and the pressures that created more than anything else.
MB: It’s not a central thread in the book, but you do mention that the CCP’s economic aspirations for Xinjiang province are a significant driver of the escalating repression. What are those aspirations, and why do they not include the Uyghurs?
SRR: In the 1990s, as the Chinese government started to focus on exporting consumer products abroad, the state began to understand that the Uyghur homeland was a significant region to develop because it had all of these overland routes to different markets. If you look at it on a map, most of its borders are outward facing, with routes going throughout the former Soviet Central Asian Republics on to Europe, going down to South Asia in Afghanistan, India, and through Pakistan down to the Persian Gulf. In some ways, the Belt and Road Initiative, at least the “Road” part of it, came out of this realization that the Chinese state was making about the importance of this region. It became an integral part of the strategy under Xi Jinping for promoting Chinese economic expansion globally.
At the same time, you had some of the same dynamics that you had in the United States in the nineteenth century. It’s ridiculous to call China anything but a capitalist country. And there’s been a realization that the development of the Uyghur homeland as an industrial base is something that will create economic growth. Some of these coerced residential labor programs seem to also be about making the Uyghur region a significant production hub. We’ve seen the proliferation of factories in the region — particularly in the apparel industry, as this region is the source of most of China’s cotton.
It again can be compared to the Native American example where, on the one hand, the indigenous population doesn’t necessarily want the area they see as their homeland developed by what they perceive as outsiders. And secondly there’s this dehumanization that has taken place, where Uyghurs are seen as inferior and incapable of participating in this new kind of development. Over the last several years, Uyghur intellectuals have been put in “reeducation centers” to be trained to work in apparel factories. So, they become a part of the economic machine, but at the very lowest rung.
What Can Be Done?
MB: The US government has started to employ more rhetorical opposition to China’s anti-Uyghur policies. However, the United States’ own history of cultural genocide means any US effort to lead a coalition of nations — many of whom have direct experience with the brutal consequences of US empire — would lack any moral credibility. How should ordinary people outside of China — particularly on the Left — address this situation?
SRR: I’m really hoping for more global grassroots advocacy on the issue, particularly focused around consumer advocacy.
MB: Congresswoman Ilhan Omar led several members of Congress in drafting letters to the CEOs of Apple, Amazon, Google, Gap, and other companies demanding they stop using forced Uyghur labor in their supply chains.
SRR: Right, in this day in age, that kind of advocacy can be powerful.
As my colleague Darren Byler pointed out to me, when engaging on this issue, critics on the Left also have to understand that Uyghurs have a very small diaspora population and are less concerned with articulating a leftist critique of what is happening to them than with stopping it.
With that said, there are some left-leaning groups now emerging that have the type of strategy I mentioned. Groups like the Uyghur Solidarity Campaign, a leftist group in the UK. It is not necessarily an ethnic Uyghur group, but they have supporters from the Uyghur community and have done some campaigning targeting corporations that are complicit in the abuses against Uyghurs. There’s also the End Uyghur Forced Labor Coalition in the United States.

|
|
RSN: Extra! Republicans Murder Elephants |
|
|
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=27921"><span class="small">Mort Rosenblum, Reader Supported News</span></a>
|
|
Friday, 30 April 2021 12:37 |
|
Rosenblum writes: "Months after the Sandy Hook gunman killed 20 schoolkids and six adults, Wayne LaPierre went to Botswana, eager to make a National Rifle Association promo video, a brave white hunter in mortal combat with a raging bull elephant. It didn't happen that way."
A screen grab from footage of the National Rifle Association's Wayne LaPierre and his wife, Susan. (photo: The New Yorker)

Extra! Republicans Murder Elephants
By Mort Rosenblum, Reader Supported News
30 April 21
UCSON – Months after the Sandy Hook gunman killed 20 schoolkids and six adults, Wayne LaPierre went to Botswana, eager to make a National Rifle Association promo video, a brave white hunter in mortal combat with a raging bull elephant. It didn’t happen that way.
The New Yorker unearthed the video eight years after the NRA buried it. It shows LaPierre, ham-handed and nervous, botch an up-close execution of his docile prey. Two guides praise him profusely, then shake their heads in contemptuous disbelief behind his back.
With several off-mark bullets, he wounds his quarry. One guide helps him aim a final coup de grace. As he preens for photos with his kill, the other one directs his wife’s tripod-mounted gun so that she can murder her own elephant, standing still a short distance away.
Lots of pictures show Don Jr. and Eric Trump posed triumphantly over noble African beasts they dispatched in similar fashion. But the LaPierres, giddy with glee as they fondle massive ivory tusks and saw off leathery tails, reach to the depths of human depravity.
During the mid-80s, I spent months in the Okavango Delta, that same part of Botswana, researching a book titled Squandering Eden. Later, I tracked supply chains to ivory and rhino horn markets in Asia.
In 1984, Burundi was down to its last elephant. Yet it exported 100 tons of ivory – tusks from 11,000 elephants illegally trafficked from other African countries. Ten million elephants roamed the continent in the 1930s. Today, estimates number them at near 400,000.
The problem is complex in Africa, where mushrooming human populations look askance at lumbering pachyderms that trample crops and devastate trees with their trunks. Game wardens need to cull old bulls in big herds to maintain a natural balance.
But there is money to be made, legitimately or otherwise, on an unruly continent in a world where rich high-rollers, Chinese chefs, Asian healers, and others spare little thought to the population crash, if not extinction, of creatures great and small.
Safari operators that charge up to $50,000 for an elephant hunt lobby hard for the privilege. Poachers with automatic weapons, hardly concerned with sustainability, massacre at random. They hack out tusks with machetes and leave the rest to rot.
Big-game hunting still had a certain panache in the 1980s. Lionel Palmer, a Botswana legend, made his clients work for their trophies and kept his camp in tune with the wilds. Once he silenced one of his bearer’s loud radio with a .357 rifle blast.
But Lloyd Wilmot saw the future. We toured the Okavango in a stripped-down Land Rover and then crisscrossed above savannahs in his Cessna to follow depleted herds. “It’s shocking,” he said. “Killing is peanuts with modern weapons. Hemingway did enormous damage to African wildlife by making hunting macho.”
Though modest in manner and stature, Lloyd was fearless. He was nearly trampled three times by elephants – and once by hippos while skin diving in a swamp. His father, Bobby, notched up 45,000 crocodiles in the Okavango until a black mamba got him in 1968.
In 1970, he decided that animals should be seen, not shot, and he set up Lloyd’s Camp at Savuti. Tourists loved it. One wrote in his guestbook: “If Lloyd is my shepherd, I Wilmot want.” He is still there, but many of those herds and prides he showed me are not.
The trend is grim for all African wildlife. In 2019, CNN produced a piece on cheetahs, handsome cats that can pace a Ferrari in first gear. Fewer than 7,500 then remained in the wild, experts estimated, and 1,000 were kept as exotic pets in Arab Gulf states.
Hundreds are captured annually in the Horn of Africa, smuggled out of Somaliland to Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. Cheetahs languish in captivity; many die within the year. Simple math suggests a crash from which they may not recover.
With Asian tigers in short supply, traditional Chinese medicine men instead grind up lion bones for assorted maladies, mostly one more effectively treated with Viagra.
Even tall blond giraffes are targeted, a bellwether that reflects deepening global crises. Food grows scarce as temperatures rise, and locusts ravage crops that survive drought. And as heavy weapons flood into Africa, game wardens are no match for armed gangs.
Traditional poachers are now joined by zealots from the defeated Islamic State, who moved deep into Africa where they link up with local Muslim terrorist groups. In areas they control, no hunting rules apply. For hungry villagers elsewhere, anything is fair game.
Hunters kill giraffes for their meat. They take what they can carry away and, like those slaughtered de-tusked elephant carcasses, the rest is left for the hyenas and vultures.
Overall, well-heeled foreigners account for a small part of the decline in African big game, and the morality of guided safaris with high-tech firepower is a personal call. My own inclination is to lump them together with those vultures and hyenas.
I am still haunted by a photo spread, years ago, in London’s Sunday Times. It showed aging American millionaires with self-satisfied smiles in vast trophy rooms displaying mounted heads and stuffed pelts: lions, leopards, buffalo and the rest, even a few rhinos.
All that needless plunder raises the obvious question: How much good might been done in Africa if the cost of all those safaris went toward helping people? Live animals, protected in natural habitat game parks, generate income for Africans who badly need it.
Watching that New Yorker video (the link is attached) adds another question. Just how much money did the NRA squander for scrapped propaganda meant to portray its spendthrift director as a skilled role-model sportsman?
It is sickening enough to see a hobby hunter gloat over an elephant that in a fair matchup would stomp him into mush. In the case of Wayne LaPierre, a wimp warrior who callously condones so many human gun deaths at home, it is beyond obscene.
Mort Rosenblum has reported from seven continents as Associated Press special correspondent, edited the International Herald Tribune in Paris, and written 14 books on subjects ranging from global geopolitics to chocolate. He now runs MortReport.org.
Reader Supported News is the Publication of Origin for this work. Permission to republish is freely granted with credit and a link back to Reader Supported News.

|
|
|
FOCUS: Cuba After the Castros |
|
|
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=52127"><span class="small">Jon Lee Anderson, The New Yorker</span></a>
|
|
Friday, 30 April 2021 12:07 |
|
Excerpt: "Sixty years after the Bay of Pigs, the Castro brothers are gone from the main stage, and Cuba is a threadbare place facing an uncertain future."
Fidel Castro with his brother Raúl, whose retirement marks the end of an era and has elicited polarized reactions in Cuba. (photo: Tomas Garcia/AP)

Cuba After the Castros
By Jon Lee Anderson, The New Yorker
30 April 21
ince 1975, Cuba’s ruling Communist Party has periodically convened a congress at which, in keeping with the arcane rituals of socialist states during the Soviet era, the Party makes public official policy guidelines. This year, the eighth congress ended after a four-day session that was arguably its most momentous: it coincided not only with the sixtieth anniversary of the 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion, which led to the breakdown in relations with the United States and helped to precipitate the Cuban Missile Crisis a year later, but also with a historic curtain call for the Castro era.
At the opening session, on April 16th, Raúl Castro, the younger brother of the late Cuban jefe máximo, Fidel Castro, confirmed his plans, as he had promised he would, to step down as the First Secretary of the Communist Party. This was the last senior post he held, since he vacated the Presidency, in 2018, to make way for his handpicked Party loyalist, Miguel Díaz-Canel, who now also succeeds him as First Secretary. Raúl, who will turn ninety in June, has held the position for ten years, just as he held the Presidency for two five-year terms, after succeeding his ailing brother, in 2008. (Raúl had, in fact, served as Cuba’s de-facto leader for the previous two years, after Fidel nearly died from a bout of diverticulitis.)
Fidel had been Cuba’s undisputed strongman since January, 1959, when the Castros, their Argentine friend Ernesto (Che) Guevara, and several hundred guerrilla comrades overthrew the regime of a gangsterish dictator, Fulgencio Batista, and seized power. For most of the subsequent decades, Raúl served as his brother’s defense minister, and remained in the shadows. Now, he returns to them. It is believed that Raúl intends to retire to Santiago, Cuba’s second city, which is at the opposite end of the seven-hundred-and-forty-mile-long island from Havana, and near where he and Fidel grew up. He has already prepared his final resting place, a mausoleum alongside his former guerrilla comrades in the Sierra Maestra, at the site of their old base camp. (Fidel’s ashes are interred in a Santiago cemetery, next to the mausoleum of the nineteenth-century independence hero José Martí.)
Ushered in by Fidel’s defiant proclamation of “the socialist nature of the Cuban Revolution” exactly sixty years ago, just as the C.I.A.-backed Bay of Pigs invasion got underway, Cuba’s radical transformation made the country a dynamic player in the Cold War. Cuba sponsored covert guerrilla missions to dozens of countries in Latin America and Africa, and dispatched troops to fight in wars in Angola, Mozambique, Ethiopia, and elsewhere. For the past thirty years, however, since the implosion of the Soviet Union and the disappearance of most of the world’s other Communist states, the narrative has changed, and Cuba’s story has been mostly one of pluck and survival, while the rest of the world has changed around it, not necessarily for the better.
That, at least officially, is how the Communist Party wants Cuba to be seen today. The slogan of the congress at which Raúl bade farewell was Somos continuidad—We are continuity. And indeed, there is much that is unchanging in Cuba. It remains a single-party socialist state that exists in eternal counter-position to the United States, the capitalist superpower—or “the Empire,” as it is known to Cuba’s Communists—just ninety miles away, across the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. In his speech, while lambasting the United States for its long-standing trade embargo, which Donald Trump extended with more than two hundred measures, Raúl called for “a respectful dialogue to build a new relationship with the United States, but without renouncing the principles of the Revolution, or of socialism.”
The formal end of the Castro era has elicited polarized reactions among Cubans, with Party loyalists expressing unquestioning faith in the system, and disbelievers signalling cynicism about the future. Requesting anonymity for fear of official retaliation, a Cuban friend told me that the revolutionary government is “just a big theatre piece that made its début sixty years ago and continues today. They’re not going to change anything and will do whatever they want as long as they can maintain control of things. There’s a lot of need on the street, and discontent too, but people won’t be able to do anything about it, because, if they try, they’ll just send in more police to keep a lid on things.”
The “discontent” he referred to is the San Isidro Movement, a loose alliance of dissident rappers, artists, journalists, and academics who, assisted in recent years by access to the Internet, have become increasingly active, staging protests in public and on social media. Last November, after one of them was arrested, the movement organized a sit-in and hunger strike in Havana, which was broken up by the police after ten days, and was followed by an unprecedented street protest of hundreds of people outside the ministry of culture. Both actions garnered widespread media attention, and the government has responded with police harassment of activists, occasional arrests, and a vituperous trolling campaign by commentators on state media.
When I asked Carla Gloria Colomé, a thirty-year-old independent journalist, whether she felt that the San Isidro Movement was the seed of a new restlessness, she said, “When its activists carried out their hunger strike, many of us observers thought that their headquarters had been turned into a free and democratic experiment—democratic space. I believe it has given back to us something we Cubans had lost: our civicism. We had forgotten that we had the right to protest and had the right to demand freedoms. If Díaz-Canel’s slogan is Somos continuidad, the movement’s is Estamos conectados: We are connected. It has also allowed us to imagine another thing we had forgotten—that we have a country and that it is possible to recover it.”
Another friend, the novelist Wendy Guerra, expressed blunt skepticism about the significance of Castro’s departure from power. In a Whatsapp message, she wrote, “I don’t think Raúl has really packed his bags. After living in Cuba for forty-nine years, this narrative seems familiar to me, one in which there is always an attic, a second floor, or a basement, where the government decisions are concealed. Raúl is like the abusive husband who has nowhere else to go, nor wants to go. He has separated but hasn’t left home.”
Indeed, at the end of the Party congress, Díaz-Canel promised to “consult with Raúl Castro on strategic decisions about the future of the nation.” The lack of clear signposts to Cuba’s future intrigues Ada Ferrer, a Cuban-American scholar at New York University who is the author of a forthcoming book, “Cuba: An American History,” and a Personal History, “My Brother’s Keeper,” which recently appeared in The New Yorker. “There’s no script for a post-Castro Cuba. Maybe it will end up being anticlimactic, as was Fidel Castro’s departure from power—his death. That seems to be the point of the Somos continuidad, right? But it feels less like a motto than a prayer sometimes. I think the leaders realize that, whatever continuity they seek, in terms of retaining power, everyone is seeking, needing some change.”
What other changes are in the offing? Not many, at least on the surface. At the Party congress, it was announced that, in addition to Raúl Castro, three other members of the seventeen-person Politburo, the governing council of the Communist Party, were leaving—including two other veterans of the Revolution who had fought in the Sierra, José Ramón Machado Ventura, who is ninety, and Ramiro Valdés, who is eighty-eight—and five new members were sworn in. Among them is Luís Alberto Rodríguez López-Calleja, a sixty-year-old general who was once married to Raúl’s daughter, Deborah, and who in recent years has been the influential boss of the anodynely named Grupo de Administración Empresarial S.A., or GAESA, a conglomerate that oversees the island’s many military-owned businesses, which include tourist resorts, hotels, supermarket chains and retail stores, financial-services institutions, gas stations, shipping and construction companies, and ports. Lopez-Calleja’s addition to the Politburo sends an important message that the Communist Party and the military will remain the ultimate stewards of economic affairs, even if, as Díaz-Canel recently promised, there is to be an increase in private-sector opportunities.
The moment is an important crossroads for Cuba, languishing as it is in an economic downturn precipitated by a chronic lack of productivity; fuel shortages caused by the economic collapse of Venezuela, the island’s main benefactor and oil supplier; the Trump Administration decrees, which reduced cash remittances from the United States, banned U.S. cruise ships from Cuban waters, and further restricted travel to Cuba. In both substance and tone, the past four years have seen a sharp souring of the brief honeymoon that accompanied the Obama Administration’s historic overture, announced in December, 2014, after nearly two years of secret negotiations, which restored diplomatic relations between the two countries, and was followed by a surge in American tourism and a sharp increase in foreign investment. That rapprochement came to a halt after Trump’s election, in November, 2016, and Fidel Castro’s death later that month. Within a few weeks, a series of bewildering “sonic attacks” began affecting C.I.A. and State Department personnel stationed at the U.S. Embassy in Havana. The atmosphere of fledgling good will that had characterized the Obama era was replaced under Trump by one of open hostility.
The evidence available suggests that Cuba has weathered the coronavirus pandemic quite well, with an official count of five hundred and ninety-one deaths, in a population of eleven million, but the lockdown measures hit the economy hard. With virtually no outsiders allowed in for most of the past year, the economy shrank a staggering eleven per cent in 2020, while imports dropped by around forty per cent, because the state did not have the money to pay for them. As a result, Cubans are facing scarcities of basic food items, medicines, and household essentials—as they did in the early-to-mid nineties, during the so-called special period that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union—and many people are forced to spend several hours each day seeking the means of daily survival. Earlier this month, in a sign of the times, the government announced key agricultural reforms, overturning decades-old laws that prohibited people from slaughtering their own cattle or selling beef and milk without state permission.
Part of the problem has been the government’s cumbersome two-tier currency system, which was formally ended in January, although the phase out is not yet complete. Under that system, Cubans who are fortunate enough to have access to U.S. dollars, through remittances, for instance, have been able to buy most of what they need—though they, too, have been standing in line for hours, owing to the import shortages—while those who only have Cuban pesos are finding it difficult to purchase adequate food for their families in the mostly empty government-owned stores and undersupplied fixed-price produce markets.
Yet, amid the shortages and general belt-tightening, the biopharmaceutical industry has entered final-phase trials at home and in Iran and Venezuela, with several of its own COVID-19 vaccines. (The vaccines have been given patriotic names, such as Mambisa, for the guerrilla group that fought for independence from Spain in the nineteenth century.) The government has announced hopes to vaccinate more than half the population by August, and to begin exporting vaccines by the end of the year. If the program is successful, and there is every likelihood that it will be, given the government’s continued and significant investment in its health-care system and biotech industry, Cuba will be far ahead of its Latin American neighbors, most of which have negotiated deals with vaccine manufacturers in China and Russia, or have received donations from them and a few other countries. Cuba could become a regional savior and earn some badly needed money from the commercial vaccine market.
Despite widespread pessimism, there are hints that Díaz-Canel will move forward to free up the economy for private-sector entrepreneurs and investors. His government recently legalized a tranche of previously restricted professions for so-called cuentapropistas, people working for themselves, outside of the state sector. One prospective investor, the Cuban-American entrepreneur Hugo Cancio, told me that he believed that long-standing restrictions on investments by Cuban-Americans would soon be lifted. When I asked him why Raúl Castro hadn’t instituted such changes before he left power, he said, “Raúl has been an iconic figure during all these years and, even if he knows the changes need to be done, it’s not for him to execute them. So he is leaving as he came in, as a revolutionary, handing off to a new leadership that is more in tune with the new Cuba reality and a changing world. He’s like the father who says to his son, ‘Kid, you take it from here.’ ”
Beyond the pandemic and the economy, Cuba faces other existential questions, which, as ever, revolve around its relationship with the United States. Despite expectations that a Biden Presidency would reverse many of the Trump-era strictures and return to the détente of the Obama era, the messaging from the White House has been lukewarm. At a press conference on April 16th, the White House press secretary, Jen Psaki, told reporters, “A Cuba policy shift or additional steps is currently not among the President’s top foreign-policy priorities.”
In January, shortly after Biden’s Inauguration, his adviser on the Western Hemisphere for the National Security Council, Juan S. González, forecast the new Administration’s approach. “It’s no longer 2015,” he told me. He indicated that the U.S. would free up remittance levels and reduce travel restrictions for Americans, but that the new Administration was not going to rush into an energy-sucking round of talks aimed at restoring trade and other blandishments for Cuba. “Two things I’m conscious of with this President is time and political capital,” González said. “With the historic burden he and the Vice-President are carrying on their shoulders, the first priority has to be the pandemic, migration, and rebuilding frayed relationships with regional partners.” González also, as other U.S. officials have done, alluded to electoral considerations in Florida, where the Cuban-American voter turnout went hard for Trump, and which remains a source of worry for Democrats.
As something like a new Cold War approaches, this time with China, but accompanied by increasingly hostile chessboard maneuvering from Russia, the U.S. is assessing its options. Countries such as Cuba—and, for that matter, Venezuela and Nicaragua—have entered the realm of the known perturbables: places of concern that need keeping an eye on, but which, amid all the other crises in the world, feel containable. González told me that in the Western Hemisphere the top priorities are Mexico, along with Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala (the Northern Triangle countries of Central America that are the sources of most of the migrants arriving at the southern border), and Brazil, because of the Amazon Basin and the climate crisis, which is a foremost item on Biden’s to-do list.
González noted that the Administration would be taking a diplomatic approach to these issues, including overtures to President Jair Bolsonaro, of Brazil—an extreme anti-environmentalist who has actively incited Amazonian forest destruction by loggers, miners, and ranchers. At last week’s virtual Earth Day summit, Bolsonaro pledged to protect the Amazon, in return for large financial commitments from the U.S. and other wealthy countries. John Kerry, Biden’s climate czar, applauded Bolsonaro’s apparent change of heart, but environmental watchdog groups and indigenous leaders questioned his sincerity and warned the Biden Administration against entering into any deal that would legitimize him.
Recent inroads made by China to the region are also a preoccupation. Earlier this month, González, on his first trip to South America for President Biden, travelled to Argentina, where he discussed China’s COVID diplomacy and, he told me this week, “reports of talks with the Chinese government regarding potential refurbishment of a military base in Ushuaia,” a port city in Patagonia. President Alberto Fernández, González said, told the U.S. envoy “that he would not allow a Chinese military base on Argentine soil.”
Six decades after the missile crisis, then, there are new sources of geostrategic tensions in the hemisphere, and they no longer necessarily involve Cuba. The Castro brothers are gone from the main stage, and the Caribbean island they dominated for so long is a threadbare place, still paying a price for its temerity in standing up to “the Empire.” In the Empire itself, meanwhile, Cuba is mostly forgotten, no longer relevant except in helping determine U.S. elections in Florida. As Joe Garcia, a former Democratic congressman from Florida and a Cuban-American, explained it to me, “In the same way that the assault on the Capitol on January 6th ended the myth of American exceptionalism, what Cuba is slowly coming to terms with is the reality that they are not the center of the universe anymore, as Fidel always told them they were. . . . They’re no longer a country engaged in revolutions and fighting anticolonial wars in Africa. They’re a country that has national challenges that are more pressing than its former aspirations.”
Garcia, like his fellow Cuban-American Hugo Cancio, maintains relationships with some Cuban officials, and occasionally serves as a behind-the-scenes messenger between Havana and Washington. He told me he believes that a dramatic transformation from a stagnant state-run economy to one led increasingly by the private sector—albeit one ultimately under Communist Party control, as in China—is essential. “There is going to be a restructuring,” Garcia said. “I could call it a retreat, and it is, really, from everything they’ve tried to do for sixty years, but the fact is that this is a way forward. The alternative is chaos.” Garcia added, “Raúl is going, and he’s saying: ‘After me this is what we’re doing.’ He’s not saying: ‘After me the flood.’ He’s got to do this. But what he can’t say is, ‘We’ve failed.’ ”

|
|
FOCUS: Will Manchin and Sinema Sabotage Biden? |
|
|
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=53214"><span class="small">Heather Digby Parton, Salon</span></a>
|
|
Friday, 30 April 2021 11:22 |
|
Excerpt: "The GOP is ideologically spent and the economy is set to blast off. Now is the time for Manchin and Sinema to move."
Senator Kyrsten Sinema at the U.S. Capitol on February 10, and Senator Joe Manchin departing the building on February 11. (photo: Getty)

Will Manchin and Sinema Sabotage Biden?
By Heather Digby Parton, Salon
30 April 21
The GOP is ideologically spent and the economy is set to blast off. Now is the time for Manchin and Sinema to move
resident Joe Biden gave his first speech to a joint session of Congress this week and by most accounts, it was a successful event. The TV ratings weren't high but according to snap polls, those that did watch liked what he had to say and the media were complimentary about his delivery and presentation — which is half the battle.
Biden introduced a new piece of legislation called the American Family Act which features items such as paid family leave, universal daycare and preschool, free community college, elder care, and a number of other initiatives that other developed countries have had for years but which Americans have been staring at longingly from afar. It's obvious that if we want a 21st Century economy, we're going to have to at least catch up to what other countries have been doing since the middle of the 20th.
His initiative comes on the heels of the previously announced American Jobs Act (aka Biden's infrastructure plan) and the already passed American Rescue Plan Act, as well as his administration's very successful vaccine roll-out. Considering that Biden had virtually no transition and came into office on the heels of an insurrection and in the middle of a global pandemic, that's not a bad first 100 days.
But the hard work is really just beginning.
The government has responded well to the pandemic crisis, which is a refreshing change from the previous administration. And the big COVID relief package has given the economy the boost it needed to recover (and it is recovering smartly). But Biden's platform is much more ambitious. Taking office at a time of great turmoil in the country after years of unnecessary wars, economic and social stagnation, as well as pent-up demand for racial justice, he and the Democrats have decided to try to enact a truly transformative agenda.
Of course, that is a very tall order. As we are all well aware, the Democrats have a very narrow majority in the upper chamber and there are a few senators who seem to be determined to pare down these ambitious goals in the name of "bipartisanship" and "fiscal responsibility." If that sounds familiar, it should. Centrist Democrats have been wringing their hands over deficits and taxes for the past 40 years, a form of inherited political PTSD from the Reagan Revolution. But there are fewer of them than there used to be and it's always possible that after much cajoling, sweet-talk and flattery, party leaders will find a way to corral them into going with the program without watering it down to nothing but a puddle of lukewarm water.
And then there is the GOP.
One of the reasons the first hundred days are often able to produce some big achievements is that the other party is usually back on its heels. There's a period of confusion about what went wrong, a jockeying for power, and indecision about how best to deal with the new majority. It takes a while to settle down and decide on a strategy. And in this case, all of that is magnified by the fact that Donald Trump refused to concede the election and his followers staged a violent insurrection to stop the peaceful transfer of power and the whole ordeal still looms over the party like a big nuclear cloud.
The stories about pilgrimages to Mar-a-Lago, Twitter selfies of House leaders groveling for forgiveness after suggesting that Trump's behavior on January 6th was irresponsible and the dispensing of phony "awards" to make him feel valued, all expose the ongoing illness at the heart of the party. Despite some attempts by Never Trumpers and some obvious positioning by ambitious politicians looking for an opening, the base of the party is still under the control of Donald J. Trump and that means everything is still really all about him.
Adding to the confusion is the fact that Republican dogma was pretty much discredited even before Trump came on the scene. He drop-kicked most of it into oblivion with his incoherent program of libertine values, trade wars, tax cuts, deficits and wall building. He had a hold on the voters the Republican establishment couldn't bear to cross so even aside from enabling his disgusting personal behavior, they gave up any claim to ideological credibility. Majority Leader Mitch McConnell can wax on about the Democrats' "court-packing" or attempting to usurp the sacred process of the Senate but it will just elicit laughter.
Senator Tim Scott of South Carolina tried to revert to the pre-Trump talking points in his rebuttal to President Biden on Wednesday night and it sounded downright bizarre, as if we were listening to a scratchy, old recording of some radio speech in the 1930s. He complained about the American Families Plan being "even more taxing, even more spending, to put Washington even more in the middle of your life — from the cradle to college" and called the infrastructure plan a "partisan wish list."
Yawn. After the Trump spending spree they all gleefully signed on to, those tired old saws have no credibility at all. Times have changed. Last Sunday's NBC News poll showed that 55 percent of Americans thought the government should focus on doing more to help people, while just 41 percent said it was already trying to do too many things. As the NY Times pointed out, "in the 1990s, it was the other way around; during the George W. Bush and Obama presidencies, NBC polls usually found the country more evenly split."
Still, Scott denounced Biden for dividing the country, disingenuously blaming him for the fact that Republicans unanimously refused to vote for his COVID relief bill when Democrats all voted for Trump's. He unctuously declared "COVID brought Congress together five times; this administration pushed us apart," giving Tucker Carlson a run for his money for the troll of the year award. But it was his Trumpian flourish on the issue of race that shows that the culture war is really all Republicans have left. Scott pulled out the "reverse racism" card, virtually guaranteed to make the Trump followers squeal with delight to see a Black politician defend their point of view.
The Republicans cannot credibly oppose Biden's agenda. Their arguments about debt and tax cuts have been refuted, their ideas about radical individualism have been shredded by our experience with the pandemic, their claims to moral authority in the wake of Trump are simply laughable. All they have is power and they will wield it mercilessly. But they have no way to explain it to the broader American public that makes any sense.
The only question, then, is whether or not that makes any sense to the centrist Democrats like West Virginia Sen. Joe Manchin or the two senators from Arizona, Kyrsten Sinema and Mark Kelly. Sadly, there is a fair chance that other than the hardcore Trumpers who will believe anything they're told, these Democratic senators will be the only people in America to whom it does. They must be persuaded that now is the time, while the Republicans are ideologically spent and the economy is set to blast off, to do something real and meaningful for the American people.
These occasions don't come very often. It would be a crime if the Democrats let this chance slip from their grasp.

|
|