Our Woman in Havana

by Vicki Huddleston

  In early January 2002 the new head of Cuban affairs at the State Department, Jim Carragher, called to tell me that the Pentagon was considering several locations for incarcerating prisoners from the war in Afghanistan. Among them was Guantanamo Bay. Jim added, “Don’t worry Vicki, it will likely be somewhere else.” Excitedly, I exclaimed, “Jim, it will be Gitmo.” I suspected that Carragher, who liked to keep the peace and pass on good news, thought that it would be better for all parties if a location other that Gitmo were chosen. He was probably right, but I was certain that Gitmo would be selected. There was no other place in the world where neither US laws nor local laws applied except Guantanamo Bay. I laid out my rationale for why Gitmo would be chosen: the prisoners would not be brought to the United States because habeas corpus laws would ensure that they were brought to trial. We would have insufficient evidence to convict, yet we would not release the prisoners because they might return to the battlefield. If we held them in an allied country, that nation’s laws would apply, forcing either release or a trial. But Guantanamo Bay is unique; there the only law that applies is US military law; while Cuba retains sovereignty over the territory, its laws have no force or effect, and US laws do not apply in a foreign country. I concluded that Gitmo was the logical place to incarcerate enemy combatants, keeping them off the battlefield and out of the public eye.

  It wasn’t that I was prescient. I had been through this before. In 1994, when our armed forces deployed to Haiti to prepare the way for returning deposed president Jean-Bertrand Aristide, our military rounded up partisans of General Raoul Cédras, the leader of the military dictatorship that had taken power in Haiti. By doing so it prevented attacks on the multinational forces and made it possible for Aristide to begin exercising authority without being confronted by his enemies. Those detained were not held at Guantanamo Bay but rather onboard a vessel in Port-au-Prince Bay, where ostensibly neither US nor Haitian law applied—but it was a stretch. Although those detained were not in the strictest sense combatants, we feared that they would promote or carry out violence against the multinational forces and Aristide’s government. Some months after Aristide was more or less firmly in power, we either released or turned these people over to the Haitian government because we had no legal justification for continuing to detain them. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it was a necessary one. Not all of the detentions were justified, and I especially regretted that it took months to secure the release of one innocent Haitian detainee who had been mistaken for his brother.

  Back in 2002, I had assumed that (as had been the case with Haiti) the enemy combatants who were captured on the battlefield or carrying out activities on behalf of Al-Qaeda would be tried or released when the war was over. But sixteen years later there is no end in sight for the so-called War on Terror. The fight that began on September 11, 2001, has evolved into a long and bloody struggle.

  The United States is still far from defeating the many terrorist groups affiliated with radical Islamic extremists who have brutalized civilian populations across the globe. Based on this experience I did not—and still do not—oppose the detention of enemy combatants. I understand the very real difficulty of conducting a judicial process when there is little evidence other than intelligence intercepts, rumors, and past deeds that are difficult to prove. The international terrorist threat is clearly a unique circumstance, and these dangerous fighters must be kept off the battlefield. But more disturbing than the length of time the enemy combatants were held at Guantanamo Bay was the manner in which they were treated. I never imagined that my government would use “enhanced interrogation” on the detainees and, when I learned that it had, I questioned my role in bringing the enemy combatants to Guantanamo.

  During my early January conversation with Jim Carragher about the possibility of imprisoning the enemy combatants at Guantanamo Bay, I said that I thought Castro might refrain from criticizing our activities on the base if we informed him in advance. If Fidel dissented publicly, many developing countries that looked to Cuba as a role model would support Cuba’s protest. But if he acquiesced, Castro’s silence would be perceived as silent approval, thereby giving the United States greater credibility with leaders in the developing world. Moreover, notifying Cuba would be the right thing to do because of the US military’s long-standing cooperation with the Cuban military at Guantanamo Bay. Carragher expressed some hesitation because he knew that Otto Reich, President George W. Bush’s nominee for assistant secretary of state for the Western Hemisphere, adamantly opposed cooperation of any sort with Cuba. Fortunately Reich was not yet in charge of Cuba policy because the US Senate had declined to schedule a confirmation hearing.

  Still, he sent forward the memo with my request. After a few days of silence from Washington on the detainee question, my special assistant, Peter Corsell, was awakened long after midnight by the incessant ringing of his home telephone. It was common practice for Cuban state security to call our diplomats at all hours of the night as a subtle form of harassment. Peter, assuming this was the case, unplugged the phone and went back to bed. Then his cell phone started ringing. He accepted the call and was surprised to hear a US military official on the other end of the line: “We cannot reach Ambassador Huddleston and need to speak with her immediately,” the official barked.

  “It’s one o’clock in the morning, she’s probably asleep!” Peter replied.

  “We need you to wake her up and bring her to the Interests Section for a secure phone call right away,” the officer replied.

  “Understood,” Peter answered. “What should I tell the Ambassador this call is about?”

  “Just tell her that the secretary of defense needs to speak with her,” came the reply.

  Peter happened to live nearby, so he got dressed and walked over to my house within the residence compound. When he woke me up, I remember thinking, “It’s the middle of the night, this better be important.” When we arrived at the Interests Section, and I returned the call on the secure phone, I heard the official confirmation I had been expecting for some time—the enemy combatants from Afghanistan were going to be imprisoned at Guantanamo Bay. And our huge C-17 transport aircraft were preparing to load as we were speaking. Later that morning, after I’d returned home for a shower and breakfast, Carragher called to give me the go-ahead to inform the Cuban government.

  Jeff DeLaurentis, the US Interests Section political officer (and, years later, chargé d’affaires at our reopened embassy in Havana) and I met with Ricardo Alarcón and his deputy, Miguel Alvarez, to tell them about the imminent arrival of the first contingent of enemy combatants. We knew this was a risky undertaking, especially because it was rumored that President Bush would give Reich a recess appointment. If Castro denigrated our request or made it seem as if we had coming begging his approval, Reich would be the first to cite Castro’s actions as an excuse to shut down communication with the Cubans.

  Alarcón’s office was relatively modest considering that he was president of Cuba’s highest legislative authority, the National Assembly. It was adorned with a few plastic plants and well-worn white chairs and a couch, where Jeff and I invariably sat when we visited. Jeff was a consummate diplomat, with keen intelligence, warm personality, and distinguished good looks. I trusted that he would be able to ascertain whether Alarcón would cooperate. We had met with Alarcón many times during the Elián González affair, and Jeff always had a keen sense of whether he would advocate for our side of the issue with his boss, Fidel Castro. As was customary, we waited to begin our discussion until cups of Cuban espresso along with tall glasses of water were served. Alarcón was relaxed as he waited for me to speak. I had requested the meeting, so it was up to me to begin. Our personal relationship was good, hundreds of American groups were now meeting with Alarcón and other Cuban officials on a regular basis, and the dissidents had an unusual level of freedom. But we were well aware that this fragile truce might not last once Reich assumed control of Cuba policy.

  I slowly warmed up
to the sensitive topic of our meeting. First I complimented Alarcón on convincing Americans that all Cuba wanted was a normal relationship with the United States. He was the primary greeter-in-chief of the numerous people-to-people groups that were visiting Cuba, and he invariably made both a good impression and a persuasive argument for lifting the embargo. I also thanked him again for Cuba’s condolences and offers of medical assistance following the terrorist attacks on the United States a few months earlier. Unmoved by my sugarcoating, Alarcón leaned forward in his chair, sensing that something important was on my agenda.

  There was no point in delaying my bombshell any further: “Ricardo, my government plans to use Guantanamo Bay to incarcerate prisoners from Afghanistan,” I announced.

  “Oh, just like that, you are sending them to Guantanamo. And, of course, you are not here to ask our permission, are you?” he shot back.

  “No, Ricardo, I am not asking for your permission; the prisoners are already on the way,” Then I began making my case. I told him that after visiting Cuba, many American congressmen, senators, and VIPs had become advocates for lifting the embargo. If Castro denounced our use of Guantanamo Bay, he would lose their support because it would appear that Cuba was unwilling to punish the terrorists. Moreover, our two militaries had developed excellent relations at Gitmo, and Cuba’s cooperation at this critical time would further cement them. In any event, if Castro denounced us, it would do no good because, with or without Cuba’s permission, we were about to establish a military prison at Guantanamo. After a bit more discussion, Alarcón closed the conversation on a relatively positive note. He said, “We will see, Vicki.” This meant, “I will take the issue to Castro.”

  Jeff and I left the meeting feeling hopeful that Castro would at least refrain from an attack on the Bush administration. But that evening a Cuban general told the media, “I hope the prisoners escape and kill their guards.” I was shocked; this comment would surely result in both governments shouting insults at each other via the media. I wondered what had gone wrong. A few minutes later Alarcón called to tell me that the general was not authorized to comment and his remarks did not reflect Castro’s views. It was highly unusual for the Cuban government to contradict one of its generals, but Alarcón promised that Castro would provide a very different opinion at a press conference the next morning. I was relieved. I would wait until Castro spoke before briefing Washington on his decision.

  To the amazement of the assembled journalists at the press conference, Castro said something along the lines of the Americans will do whatever they want to do at Guantanamo, no matter what Cuba thinks. His words were even better than I had hoped. Castro not only did not condemn us, but he was treating our controversial use of Guantanamo Bay as an American problem. I was delighted and secretly pleased that the media were shocked and confused. They simply could not fathom why Castro would contradict one of his own generals and give the United States a pass. But I knew that Fidel always treaded cautiously when it came to our vital interests. I assumed that in this case, he wanted to be on the right side of President Bush’s War on Terror, and he certainly didn’t want to be a target of America’s revenge.

  With only a few exceptions, Castro had long sought to ensure that we would never have a compelling excuse to invade Cuba. Two incidents in the late 1980s illustrate this point. Despite intercepting communications among our warplanes that were flying to Panama in the US invasion ordered by President George H. W. Bush, Castro did not warn strongman Manuel Noriega, most likely because he did not want to provoke us. If it eventually came to light that Castro had warned Noriega, we probably would have assumed that the Soviet Union, which operated a communications facility near Havana, had provided Castro with the intelligence. This in turn would have strained our relations with both the Cubans and the Soviets. The second example was Castro’s surprise detention and execution of high-ranking Cuban officials for allegedly profiting from illicit narcotics trafficking. I suspect that Castro eliminated these officials because he was worried that American intelligence agencies may have discovered their misdeeds and that the trail would lead to his brother, Raúl Castro. If it were proven that the highest levels of the Cuban government had been involved in illicit narcotics trafficking, it might give hawks within the US government a strong argument to advocate invading Cuba—as we did in Panama—or further tighten the embargo. Another factor in this purge of top military and intelligence officers was undoubtedly Castro’s desire to maintain an iron grip on Cuba’s military as the Soviet Union began its downward spiral.

  Castro likely hoped that acquiescing to our intended use of Guantanamo would bolster his charm offensive, which was directed at convincing the US Congress to lift the embargo. Surprisingly, Castro didn’t simply refrain from criticizing our decision to imprison the enemy combatants at Gitmo but ordered his military to cooperate with our military in securing the base. The full extent of cooperation between our militaries was not made public, and developed over time as more detainees arrived and as security issues began to arise. When the first plane of detainees arrived, Cuban air traffic control permitted our huge transport aircraft to use Cuban airspace. Guantanamo Bay has its own narrow “air corridor” for US military use, but it was nearly impossible for the C-17 pilots to make the tight turn from the windward to the leeward side of the base, where the airstrip is located, to enter that corridor and still remain in US airspace. The Cuban government also cooperated with American air traffic controllers in coordinating the use of airspace in eastern Cuba, thereby working with the US military to ensure the air defense of Guantanamo base and Cuban territory.

  But if Fidel Castro expected some reward or at least public acknowledgment of his government’s assistance, he was severely disappointed. One day after his non-comments on our use of Guantanamo Bay as a prison, and on the same day that the first group of detainees arrived, President Bush gave Otto Reich a recess appointment as the assistant secretary of state for the Western Hemisphere. This appeared to be a slap in the face to Castro, who had long held Reich responsible for engineering the escape from justice of Orlando Bosch, an alleged co-conspirator in the bombing of Cubana Airlines in 1976. But even the appointment of Reich did not dampen the cooperation between our militaries. The fence-line talks had created a relationship of mutual trust and respect that continued to enhance the security of Guantanamo Bay when it was most needed.

  During the first year of Bush’s presidency, the Cuban diaspora had become increasingly nervous and upset with his moderate policy. The arrival of the unlawful enemy combatants at Gitmo put the issue into high relief, igniting a concerted effort by the Cuban diaspora to return to the policies of isolation and punishment. Galvanized by the mistaken idea that some sort of deal had been made with Cuba, they began an intense effort to convince Bush to roll back President Bill Clinton’s measures allowing thousands of people-to-people travelers, including movie stars and other VIPs, who came to Cuba. In their view, it was high time that Bush stop coddling Cuba and begin to retaliate for the loss of little Elián González.

  If Bush’s decision to give archconservative Otto Reich an interim appointment as the chief policy maker for the Western Hemisphere was an attempt to mollify Cuban Americans, it didn’t work. Florida’s conservative Cuban-American congressional delegation was convinced that the United States had made a deal with Castro. Surely, they reasoned, something had been given in exchange for Castro’s cooperation on Guantanamo Bay. Secretary of State Colin Powell told a hearing of the House of Representatives Foreign Affairs Committee that Cuba policy had not changed one bit. But Cuban American Republican representative Ileana Ros-Lehtinen simply couldn’t believe that Castro had willingly cooperated with the US military without getting something in return. Given Powell’s stature and reputation for integrity at the time, his reassurances might well have calmed the Cuban American community, but Cuba’s foreign minister, Felipe Pérez Roque, undermined him. Seeking to further Fidel’s charm offensive, he characterized relations between
our two militaries as nothing short of détente, saying, “We hope that one day the relations on all official matters can be handled with the respect and collaboration that is happening at Guantanamo.”

  Worried about losing Cuban American support, Bush did not acknowledge Castro’s cooperation on Guantanamo. Cuba remained on the State Department’s list of state sponsors of terrorism, along with Iran, Iraq, Libya, North Korea, Sudan, and Syria, despite the fact that few governments, even allies, would have allowed us to use their territory for the incarceration of the unlawful enemy combatants. But Castro, who refused to criticize us and directed his military forces to cooperate in providing security for the base, received nothing in return. Nevertheless, Cuban military and security forces continue even today to act as an early warning system, safeguarding Gitmo from an attack that would necessarily have to cross Cuban air, land, or territorial water that surrounds the base.

  Ultimately, I believe that we as Americans suffered the greatest blow during this chapter of US-Cuban relations because our government failed to observe international legal standards and procedures for the treatment of enemy combatants. While there may be solid justification for delayed justice during the ongoing conflict, there can be no excuse for subjecting fellow human beings to degrading treatment. Having violated international conventions covering the treatment of enemy combatants, the consequences for our own servicepeople in a conflict situation have been compromised. And the hard-earned image of our country as one that abides by the rule of law has been forever compromised.

  CHAPTER 12

  FIDEL’S CHARM OFFENSIVE

  ON FEBRUARY 7, 2002, I INVITED THE INTERNATIONAL PRESS FOR breakfast at the residence, hoping that food and comfortable surroundings might help me reinforce Secretary of State Colin Powell’s reassurance to Representative Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-FL) that no policy changes on Cuba were anticipated. This was an unusual event, the first media interview given by a chief of the US Interests Section. Press conferences on Cuba were generally handled by political appointees at the Department of State, like Powell or newly appointed assistant secretary Otto Reich. But Washington had made an exception because I was popular with Miami’s Cuban American community, who appreciated my strong stand on human rights. I wanted to follow-up on Powell’s remarks, which had been directed at reassuring the Cuban diaspora that the United States had not made a deal with Fidel Castro over the use of Guantanamo Bay to imprison Al-Qaeda enemy combatants, without resorting to the nasty rhetoric that too often accompanied our government’s statements on Cuba. I doubted that Powell’s or my reassurances would satisfy members of the diaspora, because they simply didn’t believe that we had not cut a deal with Castro. Why else would he refrain from criticizing the United States for using Gitmo as an offshore prison?