Companero

by Jorge G. Castaneda

  Finally home in Havana, Che presented the results of his trip on television. He sought to dispel any doubts regarding his prolonged absence and the unusual wait for the joint communiqué with the U.S.S.R. He explained that the negotiations had dragged on owing to their complexity. They had implied shifting practically all the country’s foreign trade, from one day to the next, toward an economic bloc which had nothing in common with Cuba: not its climate, weights and measures, language, or culture. Che also explained, quite convincingly, why the Socialist countries had finally agreed to his requests, how he had persuaded them, and why the accords were so advantageous to Cuba after its break with the United States. He projected an image of calm rationality and expertise; indeed, his screen presence was second only to Fidel’s, and all the more surprising in a person without any previous television experience.

  Che returned to Cuba with the same ideas—or perhaps even more adulatory than before—about the Socialist bloc. He expressed an admiration that was probably sincere, but hardly consistent with the facts. For instance, his comments on China, just a year after the catastrophe of Mao’s Great Leap Forward with its devastating impact on the economy, society, and politics, were very similar to the idealized views held by many visitors to China in those deluded years:

  Naturally, one cannot pretend that the standard of living in China is like that of developed countries in the capitalist world, but there are absolutely none of the symptoms of misery that one sees in other Asian countries which we have had a chance to visit, even far more developed ones like Japan. And one sees that everyone eats, everyone is dressed—dressed uniformly, it’s true, but everyone is decently dressed—everybody has work, and an extraordinary spirit.*14

  Che’s evaluation of the Socialist countries as a whole, though shared by millions of Communists around the world, was also at odds with the understanding many former devotees now held of socialism as it really existed. Undoubtedly, his purpose was, not to deceive the Cuban public. He believed in what he said, but was unwittingly painting himself into a corner. The gap between his beliefs and reality was so abysmal, and his intellectual honesty so deep, that his disillusionment would be devastating when it finally came. His sincerity could only lead to tragedy; as the following passage reveals, his expectations were simply too high:

  The human spirit in those [Socialist] peoples convinces us that we definitely cannot count on friendly governments except, above all, in those countries of the world. And besides, their strength, their high rates of economic development, the dynamism they show, the development of all the people’s potential, convince us that the future definitely belongs to all the countries who struggle, like them, for peace in the world and for justice, distributed among all human beings.61

  Che did not dedicate all his time at the National Bank to the economy, or to negotiations with China and the Soviet Union. He had two other activities during those fourteen months, which would prove important not only for him but for Cuba and Latin America. First of all, he helped launch the concept of volunteer work; secondly, he published his most influential work, Guerrilla Warfare (La guerra de guerrillas), vowing that Cuba would export the Revolution to the entire continent. The theses contained therein would prove Che’s most enduring legacy.

  Volunteer work projects began in Cuba on November 23, 1959. The first one took place at the Ciudad Escolar Camilo Cienfuegos, in Caney de Las Mercedes, in the province of Oriente. Che’s influence was evident both in the project’s goal—to build a school named after the late Camilo—and in the fact that the construction team was headed by Armando Acosta, Che’s Communist companion from Las Villas. Over several months, every Sunday Che would fly his official plane to Las Mercedes, where along with the shoe industry workers from Manzanillo and a hundred or so soldiers from the Rebel Army he helped build the school that carried his friend’s name.62 But he had in mind a much vaster program.

  Che himself set an example in the sugar harvest that December. He also worked in construction and textiles, and helped unload ships from Socialist countries. Beyond the fact that he enjoyed mixing with ordinary Cubans, there was also the personal challenge of working amid the dust of machinery and sugar cane, classical triggers for asthma attacks. But his real purpose was political. He believed that the best incentive for labor should be revolutionary emulation; it was crucial that Cubans be involved in the Revolution. Volunteer work was, for him, a pleasurable activity “that is done with joy, to the rhythm of revolutionary songs, amid a fraternal camaraderie and human contacts which invigorate and dignify all involved.”63

  Volunteer work also served to awaken revolutionary fervor and teach the basics of revolution:

  It was a school to raise awareness, an effort made by society and for society as an individual and collective contribution, [which] develops a higher awareness allowing us to accelerate the process of transition. … Volunteer work is a part of that educational undertaking.64

  Volunteer weekends soon became the fashion throughout the island. Some Cubans enjoyed them, others hated them. Songs were written in their praise, making their way as far as Chile: a tune by Isabel Parra extols “los domingos solidarios del trabajo voluntario”—the Sunday solidarity of volunteer work.

  Guevara’s endeavor had two effects. On the one hand, he became known as a leader willing to make sacrifices like everybody else—and this out of genuine commitment, not obligation. On the other hand, he became a role model, paving the way for the expansion of volunteer labor. The footage of Che cutting cane, weaving, carrying sacks of rice, and digging ditches soon became part of his iconography. His popularity grew apace. None of the other revolutionary leaders could equal his enthusiasm for working on weekends.

  Problems arose when the idea was pushed beyond its original purpose. Cuba’s need to boost its sugar production eventually transformed the initial concept into a way of exploiting workers. Volunteer work began as a political, ideological, and cultural precept, admirable in its goals. When used as a means to extend the workday and reduce real salaries, it became counterproductive and harmful to the economy. Che would later understand this:

  Volunteer work should not be seen in terms of its economic significance for the State today; volunteer work is essentially a factor that can develop workers’ awareness more than any other.65

  As would become apparent in 1970, when Cuba failed to reach its stated goal of a 10-million-ton sugar harvest, nothing dislocates an economy as much as a massive transfer of labor from one sector to another, even (or especially) if it is done “voluntarily.”

  In time, the apparent—but illusory—economic benefits of volunteer labor transformed it into an obligation. People who failed to “volunteer” were penalized in various ways, ranging from social ostracism to accusations of being “counterrevolutionary.” Che did not live to see all this. His contribution to the altruism of the Cuban Revolution is one of the most lyrical pages in its history. But the perversion or distortion of his tenets would haunt him to the end: his death was partly due to his own misguided application of them.

  Che’s role in the government became even more varied. Aside from his formal duties in economic policy and diplomacy, he became increasingly involved in his true passion: promoting revolution in Latin America. He began to meet systematically with Latin American leaders, acquiring a better understanding of different political currents and also clearer opinions. He gradually focused on three fronts: regional reactions to U.S. aggression, the behavior of the traditional left, and propagating the lessons of the Cuban Revolution.

  After the August 1960 meeting of the Organization of American States in Costa Rica, it became obvious that Washington would try to enlist the support of Latin American governments in its anti-Communist, anti-Soviet crusade, just as it had against Guatemala in 1954. By 1960, Che had developed a sophisticated geopolitical analysis of the region. The following report of a conversation between Che and the Soviet ambassador in Cuba reveals a complex and subtle approach to the motives—and lo
gic—underlying the different political stances of regimes in the region:

  Che said: The governments of these countries are playing a game on two levels. Verbally they oppose intervention in Cuban affairs, but they vote with the Americans against Cuba. The reactionary governments of Latin America appear to stand firm vis-à-vis Washington, in order to pressure the Americans into giving them loans and other forms of assistance. They try to use the existence of a revolutionary Cuba to blackmail the United States. The U.S., fearing a repetition of the Cuban revolution in other countries, has begun providing more assistance in order to forestall the development of a revolutionary process in the region. But Latin America is at the boiling point, and next year we can expect revolutionary explosions in several countries, beginning with Peru and Paraguay. These processes will undoubtedly be accelerated if the United States, supported by reactionary governments, dares to take action against Cuba. Of course, any revolutionary uprisings in these countries will probably be crushed by the U.S. armed forces, who will be summoned by these countries’ reactionary governments. In such cases the Soviet Union and other Socialist countries would unfortunately not be able to help the people of countries like Argentina, Uruguay, Chile, or Peru.66

  Che grasped only too well the attitude of the United States and its allies in the region. The Alliance for Progress, launched by John F. Kennedy months after this conversation with Kudriavtsev, would pursue these very goals: to prevent new revolutionary outbreaks by channeling resources toward the countries south of the Rio Grande. Che was also right—to a lesser degree—about the position of Latin American governments. He foresaw that they would maintain a certain resistance vis-à-vis Washington as long as that allowed them to secure more aid, and if the confrontation did not extend beyond certain limits. And he was equally prescient in predicting that the U.S.S.R. would not be able to support other countries as it had Cuba—as Chile would discover ten years later. But Guevara overestimated Latin American resolve—even when buttressed by economic interests—in the face of an escalating conflict between Havana and Washington. With the exception of Mexico, all the region’s governments eventually submitted to the U.S. diktat, curtailing their commercial and diplomatic relations with Cuba.

  Moreover, Che was totally wrong about the imminent “explosions” within Latin America. They simply did not happen—either in Peru or Paraguay, or indeed even in Chile, which would follow a very different path ten years later. Still another decade would transpire after Salvador Allende’s election in Chile before any further revolutionary uprisings occurred in Central America. Precisely because his analysis of the region was accurate, Che’s projections were mistaken. The United States would indeed provide military support and economic backing to the governments in place, transferring to them huge amounts of aid compared with the past. Thanks in part to that strategy, which would later be termed “counterinsurgency,” the revolution did not come to Latin America.

  The happy ending envisaged by Guevara also failed to materialize because of another factor, which he accurately analyzed: the bankruptcy of the existing left. Che expounded his views of the Latin American left during a conversation with the Soviet ambassador, who was perhaps surprised by his frankness. As Kudriavtsev reported,

  Guevara began talking in a brusque tone. He said: the leaders of the left in Latin America do not take advantage of revolutionary situations, they behave like cowards, they do not go to the mountains to begin the struggle against their corrupt governments. Leftist parties in other countries of Latin America, Che emphasized, have far better conditions for an armed struggle and victory than the Cuban people. We are certain that the active struggle against American imperialism, which Cuba is pursuing, will soon revolutionize the masses in the countries of Latin America. There, finally, we will see truly revolutionary leaders capable of leading the people against their current corrupt and reactionary governments, and of achieving victory. That is why, Guevara emphasized, we believe that any attempt by the Cuban government to negotiate our differences with the U.S. will be unsuccessful. On the contrary, it might be interpreted by the peoples of Latin American countries as a sign of Cuban weakness. We must overcome the fatalism that is so widespread among the peoples of Latin American countries, in the sense that it is impossible to fight against American imperialism.67

  It is surprising that Che already held this opinion of traditional leftist parties in Latin America. His assessment was quite valid: there was nothing revolutionary about them. And his prediction about the emergence of new leaders within the Latin American left would prove correct. Thanks to the example and support of the Cuban Revolution, younger, more radical and libertarian figures and groups surfaced throughout the continent. Che was right to believe that Cuba’s firm stance before the United States would set an example for a new generation of leftists in the hemisphere.

  Still, the heart of his analysis did not come true. The impoverished masses of Latin American did not follow the new leaders who emerged from the Cuban crucible. Despite all their efforts and sacrifice, the Communist parties did not become the harbingers of revolution. Nor did the partisans of Castro and Guevara who proliferated in the jungles and universities of Latin America; they, too, failed to arouse the masses forsaken by the Communists. Once again, Che was right in his analysis, and wrong in his conclusions.

  What is finally most impressive is his prescience and constancy. From the beginning, he sustained the same ideas, based on similar diagnoses and linked to the same hope. This can be seen most clearly in Guerrilla Warfare (La guerra de guerrillas), whose prologue appeared in early 1960 in the daily Revolution; the complete text was published in the second half of that year by the Ministry of the Armed Forces. The day after the preface appeared, Fidel Castro called the newspaper’s director, Carlos Franqui, and demanded that he not publish the rest of the text. Franqui asked him to reach an agreement directly with Che. He then informed the Argentine (with whom he did not have very cordial relations) of the call, and the latter agreed to suspend publication.68

  The controversial—even for Cuba—text’s most important and famous ideas, laden with consequence for Latin America, appear on the first page; Che was by now remarkably concise and rigorous. He began by asserting that the Cuban Revolution had contributed three great lessons to the “mechanics of revolutionary movements in America”:

  Popular forces can win a war against the army.

  It is not always necessary to wait for all the conditions to be present [to make] a revolution; the insurrectional foco can create them.

  In the underdeveloped Americas the terrain of the armed struggle must be primarily the countryside.69

  He added a couple of warnings, both complementary and contradictory, which also became virtual—though ephemeral—canons for the armed struggle in Latin America:

  When a government has come to power through some form of popular election, whether fraudulent or not, and it maintains at least the appearance of constitutional legitimacy, guerrilla activity cannot take place, because the possibilities for civic struggle have not yet been exhausted. … Guerrilla warfare is a struggle of the masses, a struggle of the people; the guerrilla as an armed nucleus is the fighting vanguard of the people, its great strength resides in the mass of the population.70

  The conceptual gaps in these passages would soon be filled by the comandante’s many commentators. The first, while not the most significant, reveals how difficult it is to interpret Guevara’s tenets, especially when they are a matter of life or death for so many people. Che’s third thesis can be understood to imply that all of Latin America is underdeveloped, and that any struggle within it must always begin in the countryside. Alternatively, it can be taken to refer only to those parts of Latin America which are underdeveloped; in other areas, guerrilla warfare should not be limited to the countryside. In practice, the first interpretation has systematically prevailed (except in those countries where it cannot be applied—Uruguay, for instance, where Montevideo accounts for over half
the population). Taken at face value, the thesis is false, if not dangerous. Large sections of Latin American society would surmount many of the worst traits of their underdevelopment—including the prevalence of rural population and poverty—precisely in those years, or soon afterward. Many men died—including two of Che’s close friends, his bodyguard Hermés Peña and the Argentine journalist Jorge Masetti—because they went off to fight in the jungles of Latin America, inhabited at the time only by guerrillas and armies.

  Che’s approach to the war in Cuba, which underlies his cardinal ideas, is itself open to discussion. It prejudges the central question of the debate: did the 26th of July guerrillas defeat the army militarily, as suggested in regard to the battle of Santa Clara, or did Batista lose what was essentially a political contest without his army being defeated? Che focused all of his attention and expertise, and the weight of his authority, on the military aspects of the struggle in Cuba and Latin America. He presupposed that the core of the struggle consisted in the confrontation between two armies, with one loser and one winner. But in the thirty-five years since Guerrilla Warfare was published, this miracle has been repeated only once—in Nicaragua in 1979. And even there, things did not quite happen as Che predicted.

  There is also a contradiction between Che’s second thesis regarding the conditions for a foco (or incipient guerrilla base) and his warning about elections. If guerrilla warfare can create the conditions for revolution, then it makes no difference whether they are present ex ante; a foco can begin independently of the circumstances. Hence, the existence of a “democratic” regime ceases to be an obstacle. There can be insurrectional focos even in those countries where a constitutional regime is in power—for instance, Venezuela or Colombia. And indeed, many such focos appeared throughout the continent very soon afterward, regardless of Che’s warning—indeed, with his blessing and backing.