Payá had put the former president in a difficult position even before he arrived in Havana. If Carter endorsed Project Varela it would deeply antagonize his host, Fidel Castro. But if he failed to do so, it could undermine his standing as a strong advocate for human rights. No matter which way Carter decided, the press would have a great story.
Project Varela wasn’t the only difficulty that Carter would confront during his Cuba visit. Only days before his arrival, on May 7, John Bolton, the undersecretary of state for arms control, gave a speech at the Heritage Foundation accusing the Cuban government of having “a limited offensive biological warfare research and development effort” and “provided dual-use biotechnology to other rogue states.” The spokesman for the Cuban Interests Section in Washington, DC, sharply responded, “What he said is a big lie and a big slander.”
In 1991 Jorge Mas Canosa of the Cuban American National Foundation (CANF) had done the same thing, but his concern was somewhat more valid. He claimed that shoddy construction of the Juraguá Nuclear Power Plant by the Soviet Union was threatening Florida and the East Coast. The Cuban government responded by allowing an inspection of the facility by the International Atomic Energy Commission, which indeed found shoddy work on the connections among cooling pipes. The need for extensive repairs, combined with a lack of financing and pressure from the United States, halted construction and the power plant was never completed. The large dome can still be seen from the town of Cienfuegos on Cuba’s western coast. Bolton’s claim, like Mas Canosa’s, was designed to energize the diaspora. It was, however, untrue. Cuba was not manufacturing biological weapons.
Carter and his team felt that they had been blindsided. They had specifically asked the intelligence agencies and the State Department if Cuba was involved in any terrorist activities. The response was negative. It seemed to Carter’s staff that Bolton was deliberately trying to sabotage his visit. Three years earlier, prior to my taking the post in Havana, the intelligence community had briefed me on Cuba’s manufacture, research, and development of medicines. Their conclusion was that Cuba was not involved in producing bioweapons. I doubted that much had changed and suspected that Bolton was attempting both to undermine Carter’s visit and to provide conservatives with justification for returning to a hardline policy toward Cuba.
On May 12, 2002, President and Mrs. Carter arrived in Havana with Bolton’s accusation hanging over them and the press waiting to see how Carter would respond to Project Varela. Standing alongside other diplomats and the Cuban hierarchy, I watched as Carter’s private jet circled and landed at the José Martí International airport. The plane rolled to a stop, a ramp was pushed to the door, and Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter stepped onto Cuban soil. Fidel, dressed in a handsome double-breasted pinstriped suit and a patterned red tie, shook their hands and walked them down the line of official greeters. The media had been waiting for the handshake between Fidel and me. If I shook his hand, some in the Cuban diaspora would feel that I—their champion who was defying Castro—had betrayed them. To me the handshake meant little; it was standard protocol, and I was prepared for some bad publicity. But Fidel grabbed and released my hand so quickly that the media missed the photo opportunity. I later told them that Fidel was afraid that I was going to slip him one of my little radios.
I couldn’t help but be hopeful for our two estranged countries as we stood at attention for the playing of the American and Cuban national anthems and the US and Cuban flags waved side by side in the tropical breeze. Castro welcomed Carter by commending his courage in visiting Cuba amid the recent controversy. He denounced Bolton’s “sinister lies,” telling Carter that he could visit any facility he wished along with experts of his choice. Avoiding the controversy, Carter replied that he was indeed courageous because he was going to give his remarks in Spanish, adding only that he was looking forward to meeting the Cuban people. After the ceremony Rosalynn, President Carter, and Castro drove to the Hotel Santa Isabel in Fidel’s Soviet-era, armored ZiL limousine, trailed by a caravan of white Ladas and Mercedes-Benzes. Eusebio Leal Spangler, the historian of the city of Havana who had done so much to restore the city, guided them on a walking tour through Cathedral Square and to the Hotel Ambos Mundos (Two Worlds), where Ernest Hemingway lived when he first arrived in Cuba.
In the afternoon the Carters came to my residence for a Country Team briefing and to meet with the families of our diplomatic staff. I was nervous because I had to convince Carter that he must meet with Payá prior to his speech at the University of Havana, which would be broadcast live across the island on Tuesday afternoon. The problem was that Carter didn’t plan to meet with the dissidents until after his speech, once the official part of his visit was completed. But if he didn’t meet with Payá before the speech, it was unlikely that he would mention Project Varela. Carter had been told by Cuban officials like Ricardo Alarcón that it was a “North American” project, and critics of my outreach program had reinforced the idea that the dissidents, including Payá, were financially supported by the US Interests Section. I had tried to overcome this incorrect impression by sending Carter a letter describing Project Varela and the Cuban Spring it was helping to create. I also attempted to sway Carter and his advisers by telling the host of a popular television show in Miami that I was certain the former president would address democracy and human rights in his speech.
Carter’s speech was the only way that Cubans would learn that some of their compatriots were demanding a change in the way they were governed. Most had negligible access to international newspapers, TV, or radio broadcasts (except for the radios we were handing out), so they were unaware of the discussion surrounding Project Varela. But if Carter didn’t endorse the initiative, Cuban Americans would criticize him for missing an opportunity to promote freedom in Cuba. I knew I couldn’t change Carter’s view that the dissidents were creatures of President George W. Bush’s administration, but if I could persuade him to meet Payá before the speech he would at least have a chance to hear him out and make up his own mind; once Carter had spoken with Payá firsthand, he could decide whether or not to include Project Varela in his remarks. I was confident that if Payá explained Project Varela to the former president, he would support it. And if he did not meet with Payá, he would certainly regret the lost opportunity to endorse publicly the dissidents’ work to bring greater freedom to the Cuban people.
I was in a tough spot. In advance of Carter’s visit, his staff had negotiated with the Cubans exactly how the visit would unfold. If Carter met with Payá, as I wished, it would contravene the agreement between his staff and the Cuban government, in which he would only meet with the dissidents after the official portion of his visited had ended. Moreover, Carter’s staff wanted the former president to avoid taking sides in what they mistakenly believed was a political battle between Washington and Havana. Carter was coming as a peacemaker, not to roil the waters. But before Carter had even set foot on Cuban soil his visit had been politicized by Bolton and by Payá. He and his team were undoubtedly learning what I had discovered many times before: nothing is above politics when it comes to Cuba, especially if a former US president is involved.
President Carter was relaxed, friendly, and interested in hearing our opinions. The Country Team, which consisted of the political, economic, and consular sections as well as other agencies represented at the Interests Section, answered his questions about Cuba and our bilateral relations. Carter then gave me an opening by asking about Project Varela. I told him it was an entirely homegrown effort that had been named for an eighteenth-century Cuban priest who was a fierce antislavery advocate. I explained that I had initially doubted that Payá would succeed in collecting the required ten thousand signatures to file a referendum, that it would be next to impossible for him to travel throughout the country, which required permission from authorities who would be unwilling to help. Not to mention that travel was expensive and transport limited. But with the help of Elizardo Sánchez, who kept track of all the dissid
ents, Payá didn’t have to travel; rather, he recruited dissidents across the island to collect signatures. The project had begun quietly, and it wasn’t until the final months of the campaign that my staff and I realized that Payá would succeed. I suspect that Castro also had misjudged the attraction of Project Varela because state security and the local police had been slow to disrupt it. By the time they realized that the project was likely to succeed it was too late to stop it without using force. By then Castro’s choices were limited; if he crushed the project Carter would cancel his visit.
I told Carter that Oswaldo Payá was a devout Catholic who in the early years of the revolution had been sent to a reeducation camp because of his beliefs. His group was aligned philosophically with Europe’s Christian Democrats, who sought peaceful and legal means of initiating change. Most critically, Project Varela represented the Cuban people’s profound longing for greater freedom. Carter then asked a final question that would determine whether he met with Payá in advance of his speech. “Have you given Payá any money?” His staff suspected that we had used US government funds to reinforce the dissidents. We had the funds in the outreach program that could have been used to fund the dissidents, but I decided that doing so would compromise them. I had once almost broken my self-imposed rule not to give them money when a Cuban American supporter of Marta Beatriz Roque asked me to deliver five hundred dollars to her. I took the check back to Havana with the intention of giving it to her, but decided it was too risky and returned the money. This was a fortuitous decision—a few months later Marta’s trusted assistant gave Cuban state security all her records, including those that listed donors.
“No, Mr. President,” I declared, “We have given them radios and books, but no money.” Had we given Payá money from any American source, public or private, Carter would have considered the project tainted. I did not agree; if we had provided financial assistance, it would not have lessened the validity of Project Varela. But Payá had never asked for financial support, and we didn’t provide any. With the briefing now over, President and Mrs. Carter walked to the terrace, where they greeted the families of our diplomats and the Cuban staff employed at my residence, two of whom had been hired when Carter approved the Interests Section agreement in 1977. They posed for photos on the large terrace and under the outstretched wings of the bronze eagle given to a previous American ambassador as a symbol of everlasting US-Cuban friendship.
Carter made his speech on late Tuesday afternoon in the Aula Magna (Great Classroom) at the University of Havana. My husband Bob and I were among Carter’s guests. Since my arrival over two years earlier, this was the first time I had been invited to attend an official event at which Fidel was present. (The Old Timers Baseball game that some of my staff and I attended when I first arrived might be considered an invitation to an event at which Fidel was present, but it had been a mistake.) We took our seats in a small section reserved for Carter’s team. It was a few feet to the right of the podium, facing Fidel and the Cuban hierarchy who were seated in the front rows. Carter opened his speech by thanking his hosts. He briefly reviewed our tangled history, concluding, “The hard truth is that neither the United States or Cuba has managed to define a positive or beneficial relationship.” He suggested that the United States could take steps to improve the relationship by allowing unrestricted travel, repealing the embargo, and setting up a commission to resolve expropriated property. As for Cuba, he lamented the fact that it denies freedoms to those who oppose its socialist government.
Carter was approaching the end of his remarks and had not mentioned Project Varela. I knew that he had met with Oswaldo Payá and Elizardo Sánchez, head of the Cuban Human Rights Commission, on Monday morning, after his meeting with us at the residence. I had been hopeful, but I was beginning to despair, when Carter gently brought up the issues. He noted that, “Articles 63 and 88 of your constitution allows citizens to petition the National Assembly to permit a referendum to change laws if 10,000 or more citizens sign it. I am informed that such an effort, called the Varela Project, has gathered sufficient signatures and has presented such a petition to the National Assembly. When Cubans exercise this freedom to change laws peacefully by direct vote, the world will see that Cubans, and not foreigners, will determine the future of this country.” Done! I was thankful and relieved but that didn’t stop me from intently watching for Fidel’s reaction. Throughout the speech, he had remained stone-faced, even as Carter called for ending the embargo. Now in the face of Carter’s challenge not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. A minute or so later there was polite applause as Carter finished his speech and asked for questions. Instead of questions there were comments, as the rector of the University of Havana and several colleagues spiritedly denounced Project Varela. They claimed that there was no need to change the constitution because Cubans had all the freedoms they required. Carter responded by defending Payá’s initiative. I thought their attack was a strategic mistake. Most Cubans had never heard of Project Varela until Carter mentioned it. Many might have ignored or missed the reference to it had the rector not forced Carter to defend it.
As soon as the questions were over, Fidel stood up and headed over to Carter with arms outstretched. I had started toward Carter to congratulate him, but had to quickly duck out of Fidel’s path in order to avoid being caught in an embrace between the two leaders. Together Carter and Fidel made their way outside to cheering students and a media anxious to discover more about Project Varela. Fidel waved everyone away. There would be no more questions; the two leaders were going to a baseball game. Afterward Carter would go about the rest of his visit. In the meantime, Fidel would plan his response, which would come several weeks later.
The crowds and security were so heavy that my official car couldn’t get through to retrieve Bob and me, so we began walking. As we were turning a corner, a small white Lada drove by, turned around, and made an abrupt stop across the street from us. Foreign Minister Felipe Pérez Roque jumped out of the Lada, greeting me with “¿Como estas, Vicki? Did you like the speech? How is everything?” I was astonished. Usually he ignored me, and now he was offering us a ride. Seeing my car and driver turning the corner, I had a good excuse to refuse. And I couldn’t imagine the three of us stuffed into the back seat of his little Lada. It turned out that Pérez Roque’s friendliness was for a reason—he wanted me to issue a visa to Mariela Castro, Raúl Castro’s daughter, who hoped to attend an upcoming gender rights conference in California. I assured him that I would do my best. When Mariela received the visa and later traveled to California, there were no objections from Cuban American legislators. Ten years later, when the administration of President Barack Obama issued Mariela another visa to attend a Latin American Studies conference in San Francisco, Cuban American senators Bob Menendez (D-NJ) and Marco Rubio (R-FL) vehemently protested. Someone with some insight into US-Cuba relations once said, “The US never remembers and Cuba never forgets.”
Carter’s speech was the high point of his visit. He had bravely confronted Castro in public by telling him that he ought to respect the petition and allow a referendum on the Cuban Constitution. He had also been true to his principles by calling for an end to the US embargo. He didn’t mention Bolton’s accusation. There was no need to, because prior to his speech Carter had visited the Cuban Center for Genetic Engineering, the facility that Bolton alleged was manufacturing bioweapons. After touring the center, Carter told the press that the Cuban government was not engaged in manufacturing biological weapons. Cuban scientists assured him that they strictly followed international protocols when sharing technology used in manufacturing medicines and vaccines. Carter added that the Cuban government had recently signed an agreement to share technology with Iran, but had not yet done so. Several weeks later, a congressional hearing concluded that while Cuba had the capacity to create biological weapons, there was no evidence to indicate that it was doing so. Bolton’s accusation had served only to detract from Carter’s visit and from Project Vare
la and to reveal that Assistant Secretary Reich had gained an important ally in his crusade for a harsher policy.
At his farewell press conference, President Carter reiterated that he had not come to Cuba to interfere in internal matters. Convinced that Project Varela was a homegrown initiative, and a good one, Carter again urged Castro to permit a referendum on the constitution. As Carter well understood, he had intervened in Cuba’s internal politics, but in the best possible way. He had reinforced peaceful dissent. He had also narrowly escaped calling his reputation as a defender of democracy and human rights into question. Had Carter not endorsed Project Varela, critics would have claimed that he was too timid and too willing to allow Castro to control his visit. But once he met with Payá and Sánchez, he didn’t hesitate to defy Castro.
Carter’s visit gave the Cuban people hope, but it came at a high price. Many of the leaders associated with Project Varela were jailed a year later during the Black Spring of 2003. Payá’s new found fame would protect him for the next decade, but not forever as, on July 22, 2012—a little over a decade later—he died in a suspicious car crash while traveling in eastern Cuba. It has not been proven, but it is possable that Cuban state security forced Payá’s car off the road. Before his tragic death he would continue collecting signatures, bringing the total to over thirty thousand. Although Project Varela was ultimately unsuccessful, it did briefly challenge the Cuban government.
The Carters’ departure was far different from the pomp and ceremony that accompanied their arrival. Neither diplomats nor the press, other than local media, were present. An unsmiling Castro was dressed in his customary fatigues, the tailored suit and tie a faint memory. Castro was making it clear that nothing had changed. He would soon take measures to correct any misimpressions that Carter’s visit might have left behind.
A few weeks after Carter’s departure, the Cuban Constitution was declared “irrevocable,” thereby ensuring that Project Varela could never obtain its objective of making Cuba’s communist system more democratic. Neighborhood block committees went door-to-door collecting signatures on a petition that declared the constitution “irrevocable.” Ninety-eight percent of Cuban adults signed. One of the few who did not was my friend Ana Maria González, who managed to be away from home each time someone brought the petition to her house. The fact that so few Cubans had the courage not to sign was a strong indication that they were not about to rise up against their government, no matter how bad the conditions.
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