The Friends of My Enemies
When a Cuban family stays awake searching for an essential medicine that is “out of stock,” when a grandfather realizes that the daily necessities are entirely out of reach of his pension, or when a young person resists dreaming of their future amidst blackouts and shortages, politics ceases to be a distant debate and becomes an intimate and painful experience.
In the midst of this harsh and complex daily reality, a question arises that appeals directly to the heart and ethics of the nation: who are the true enemies of the Cuban Cuban people? Is it those who, with successes and failures, attempt to keep the island afloat in the middle of the storm, or those who request, design, or apply the sanctions that keep it on the brink of shipwreck?
Is it acceptable for citizens to question their government's management? I say it is even necessary. It is a civic right. However, where is the consistency and sincerity when, minutes after speaking in the name of Cuba's well-being, they walk hand in hand with those who sustain and deepen the economic blockade that suffocates it, and while threatening and harassing it, the hardships of Cuban men and women seem to them a fair price to achieve “democracy”? Which democracy? Is a discourse of love for the homeland and freedom credible when measures that cut off fuel, food, or medicine needed by the neighbor next door are applauded?
Attempting to set oneself up as a defender of a people while embracing the entity directly responsible for their greatest hardships is a paradox bordering on cynicism. It is not merely a political contradiction; it is a moral and ethical fracture. Doing so in the name of the God who commands us to love our neighbor is a sin, for He Himself previously commanded not to take His name in vain.
Thus, an uncomfortable but necessary question must be asked: is an opposition that adopts the agenda and lives off the funds of the United States government respectable? Dignity is a value that is not financed from abroad. We already know that “he who pays the piper calls the tune.” When the cause being championed depends on the budget of a foreign power, the voice ceases to be one's own, and the project stops belonging to the people, serving instead the interests of the funder. A genuine calling for change is born from painful love for one's own people, not from Washington's tutelage.
In the light of Cuban history, we find definitive answers, incontestable lessons on how leadership and legitimacy are forged. None of the great articulators of Cuban sentiment, none of the men and women who managed to touch the deepest chords of our people and transform the country, ever did so under the protection or financing of a foreign government, much less the one about which Martí warned: “I lived in the monster, and I know its entrails,” in the same unfinished letter to his friend Manuel Mercado, in which he wrote:
“… annexationist activity, less fearsome due to the lack of reality among the aspirants of the legalistic species—without vision or creativity—than due to a convenient disguise for their complacency or submission to Spain, asks it without faith for Cuban autonomy, content only that there be a master, Yankee or Spanish, to maintain them or create for them, as a reward for their services as procurers, the position of prominent men, disdainful of the powerful mass—the skilled and moving mixed-race mass of the country—the intelligent and creative mass of whites and blacks.”
The most universal of Cubans wove the “Necessary War” from austerity, penny by penny, with the selfless help of tobacco workers in Tampa and Key West—emigrated Cubans—never with the sponsorship of the U.S. government, which he viewed with wise and anxious distrust. Half a century later, Fidel Castro and the Generation of the Centenary led a movement that penetrated the popular soul because it was born from the people themselves, financed by the modest peso of the worker, the peasant, and the student, without submitting to any external agenda.
They understood something fundamental: the tactic of foreign backing simply does not work in the Cuban consciousness, because Cubans, from their historical roots, instinctively reject tutelage over their destiny. Why then do the new figures attempting to position themselves as “opposition” repeatedly use that same failed formula?
Perhaps because they have forgotten that those who ask the oppressor for help to solve their problems end up handing over the keys to the house. Or perhaps because it is more comfortable to seek diplomatic applause, scholarships, and financing than to embark on the long, difficult, and genuine path of building a project with and for Cubans. Probably because they do not even believe in their own roles as freedom fighters, or because, as my neighbors in Central Havana say, they simply “don't have what it takes”—they lack arguments, grace, and talent.
The history of Cuba is essentially a history of dignity and human resistance. One can differ, debate, and seek paths to overcome the difficulties that overwhelm us today, but the ethical and non-negotiable limit will always be sovereignty and empathy with one's own people. A true patriot suffers with the pain of their people and never allies with those who coldly and strategically plan their suffering. As popular wisdom has already decreed: the friends of my enemies are not my friends. Whoever chooses to be friends with the enemy of their people inevitably ends up separated from the soul of Cuba.
Translated by Sergio A. Paneque Díaz / CubaSí Translation Staff