Morbid Individualism Invades Cuba

orbid Individualism Invades Cuba

June 15, 2012

Haroldo Dilla Alfonso*

HAVANA TIMES — In straightforward language, understandable by Muzhiks

and Cossacks alike, Lenin noted that a revolutionary situation occurred

when those above can no longer govern as before, and those below can no

longer bear their government as before.

This is an image that always reminded me of a failed rape attempt, but

that in its essence aims to describe a historical tipping point that

changes the correlation of political forces in a particular society.

Obviously, there's nothing like this in Cuba. Although it's true that

those above can't do things like they always did, they still have the

energy to keep themselves on top. At the same time, though those down

below don't seem to want those on top, they're not sure what they want.

When this happens, Italian communist Antonio Gramsci said society is

faced with an organic crisis characterized by the emergence of "morbid

phenomena of the most varied kind."

Our society is experiencing this. An example is the emergence of

unhealthy individualism, where people have no sense of responsibly for

what happens beyond their familiar circle, which is complemented by a no

less irresponsible technocratic line that speaks of winners and losers.

This is a paradoxical situation in a system that has worked hard to

present the collective above everything else, crushing the individual.

In this, individuals have wound up escaping forced collectivism but are

unable to build voluntary associations, even the most basic ones.

This is not a random or unexpected result. As part of their strategy of

social dominance, the post-revolutionary elite charged itself with

instilling in Cubans the dreadful idea that collectives only serve to

respond to a superior level and that those below only exist to the

extent that they are part of a vertical command and control structure.

Nothing outside of this top-down structure is of any worth, and nothing

outside can exist that is not exposed to repression.

The possibilities for horizontal interaction, for there to be

initiatives outside the official environment — even if it's a

pro-workers slogan on May Day — and for people to freely associate were

(and are) considered disruptive and punishable.

The most genuine public settings in Havana (those in which people

interact freely, socialize and form communities for certain purposes)

are little more than tolerated and controlled ghettos along the Malecon

seawall or on the wide avenues of the Vedado district or in public parks.

Therefore these anomalous covens of "weirdoes" — gays, freakies,

gothics, lesbians, emos, dissidents, critics, artists and free thinkers

— are separated from "normal people" by a perimeter guarded by

"friendly" police officers.

The other settings, the official public ones, are actually "non-places"

where people go for something specific and leave as soon as they can,

like one does from a bus station. This applies to the inhospitable

Revolution Square and the "Protestodromo" (a downright macabre site

built on the ruins of an exquisite complex designed by Jean-Claude

Nicolas Forestier nearly a century ago).

It is a problem that not only concerns the possibility of engaging in

politics, but it is also related to questions of everyday life.

A few days ago I received information from a friend (an almost "winner"

who has joined the emerging middleclass) about the distressing situation

of water in her apartment building located on the edge of the upscale

Miramar community.

The situation begins with the poor supply capacity but is exacerbated by

the fact that the building's residents, unable to meet and come to an

agreement, have been installing "water thieves" (individual pumps) in

their apartments, resulting in a situation in which half of the

residents are often deprived of any water.

This same friend of mine, with a young daughter, is already preparing

her budget to pay for a tutor as the only way to compensate for the

decline of the Cuban educational system.

Later I saw an article in Havana Times by the astute Erasmo Calzadilla

concerning a young disabled woman (Mercedes), who has to live and raise

her son on the equivalent of $10 USD, which the government gives her as

assistance.

Though she has a technical school degree, she can't find work because of

her physical condition, and therefore lives in a hovel with 16 other

people. What's more, her orthopedic boots (essential for her being able

to move around) cost $40 or a four-year wait.

Mercedes — a typical "loser" to our beloved technocrats — doesn't see a

way out of her situation, especially since she says that there is

corruption in the management of the Housing Department.

As an example, she cites the fact that though they are required to

supply two homes per year to disabled people, they have never fulfilled

that obligation – instead they sell the units under the table.

This is something that the Cuban Association of Persons with Physical

Disabilities (ACLIFIM) should protest, but instead they do nothing.

I live in a liberal country (the Dominican Republic), among whose many

virtues is neither a high level of democratic civility or sociability.

Nonetheless, in the building where I live there's a neighborhood council

that makes decisions that affect all the residents, and it functions

effectively.

Society has taken in its hands a constant struggle for the improvement

of education, and when problems are presented at any school it is normal

for parents and students to mobilized around the issue.

They will form coalitions of parents, students, teachers and activists

who demand better education by demonstrating in the street or picketing

outside of parliament. But my friend and many other disappointed parents

could never do that in Cuba.

Just recently I read about hundreds of people with disabilities who took

over a downtown public square in one South American capital and forced

the government to revise its social assistance policies.

They simply converted their physical weaknesses into strengths in a

public setting.

But Mercedes — and hundreds of people in her same situation — cannot

protest because ACLIFIM is a vertically controlled social welfare

organization whose leadership would never consider taking over a public

square (if they even thought about such an action they would be removed

from their positions ipso facto).

So when — in the greatest act of cynicism — the Cuban leaders and their

poorly paid bloggers began to denounce paternalism and

nestlings-with-their-beaks-wide-open, Cubans had no choice but to begin

dealing with all of their problems individually, purely on their own.

This includes even those basic problems that require a minimum degree of

cooperation. It's like a society in retreat where the notion of

collective action smells of imposition and obligation.

It is a circumstance where those who are able rush to get on the train —

like my friend who has already installed her own personal "water thief"

— while those who are unable, like Mercedes, die while living in shacks

with 16 other people.

I sincerely believe that among the historical responsibilities for which

the post-revolutionary political elite will have to answer is having

dissolved the sense of association as the basic element of citizenship.

They destroyed the wealth of a civil society that organized all kinds of

associations and went back to this drama of atomization and banality.

For this same reason, reconstructing that fabric should be a priority

for Cuba's democratic future.

—–

*Published originally in Spanish by Cubaencuentro.com

http://www.havanatimes.org/?p=72661