Published: September 17 2010 22:08
There are two very different visions of the young Raúl Castro who fought
alongside his older brother Fidel and Che Guevara against the Cuban
dictator Fulgencio Batista more than five decades ago.
Some recall a guerrilla leader whose zone of operations in the eastern
Sierra was the best organised among the Castros' July 26 rebel movement,
and that the local population was also the best cared for. For others he
was Mr Hyde to Fidel's Dr Jekyll, ruthlessly ordering executions after
Batista fled Havana on New Year's Eve 1959 having bid farewell to his
nation with the curious: "¡Salud! ¡Salud!" (Good health and good luck!)
Either way, the 79-year-old is now more likely to go down in history as
the man who tried to save Cuban communism from itself – by turning to
capitalism. This week the government announced it is to shed 500,000
workers, who will instead have to become self-employed or start
co-operatives in just six months. As Raúl said: "We have to erase
forever the notion that Cuba is the only country in the world in which
people can live without working." The measures will eventually lead to
1m, or a fifth of the labour force, working in the private sector, and
represents the biggest shake-up of the Cuban state since 1968, when all
shops, from hamburger joints to street vendors, were nationalised.
Cubans had been expecting the measures with a mix of hope and fear ever
since he took over from Fidel, who is now semi-retired after suffering a
near-fatal intestinal disorder in 2006. But the germ of the idea came
just after the fall of the Berlin Wall, on a trip to China. There Raúl
concluded that growth, growth and more growth would be his central
strategy. His challenge now is to avoid political change while promoting
economic transition. The risk is that by letting the genie out of the
bottle, uncontrollable political forces could be unleashed as well.
Like his brother, he was born at the family farm in eastern Cuba. Their
father, Angel, a Spanish immigrant, was a wealthy landowner; their
mother, Lina Ruz González, was a scullery maid who became Angel's second
wife. Both attended prestigious Jesuit-run schools. Yet while the
brothers share ideology and goals, their styles could not be more
different. For years, Raúl literally lived in the shadow of his brother
– he is eight inches shorter than Fidel's six feet. To all outward
appearances, he seemed content to be there.
Nonetheless, Raúl is a man of some accomplishment. Over five decades as
defence minister, he built the army into a formidable force. It achieved
the rare if not unique feat of winning three African campaigns in the
second half of the 20th century, in Angola, Ethiopia and Mozambique. At
times ruthless – he was prominent in the campaign against General
Orlando Ochoa, a popular soldier and possible rival, who was executed in
1989 after being accused of corruption – he is also a pragmatist, less
wedded to dogma than Fidel.
While known to row in private, in public they present a common front.
One exception came in 1994, when Raúl broke publicly over the need to
liberalise agricultural markets after the fall of the Soviet bloc,
arguing that Cuba's biggest security threat was beans, not cannons. In a
videotape to communist party members, he explained that without reform
it would fall to him and the army to subdue protest and thus have to
"play the role of the bad guy in the movies". Raúl subsequently turned
the army's hand towards running tourist and other services, which now
generate millions of dollars for the state.
It was only in July 2007, however, that he gave his first major public
speech in which he echoed popular complaints of a decaying command
economy where state wages, equivalent to $20 a month, cannot cover bare
necessities. Since then he has repeatedly decried paternalism, called
for more individual initiative and encouraged the public and official
media to denounce bureaucratic bungling. When Fidel quipped the other
day that the Cuban model no longer worked, he was merely uttering the
common view fostered by his brother to prepare the way for change. Any
hard-line dissenters in the elite – who might respect but do not revere
Raúl as they do Fidel – fell in line.
Raúl is perhaps even more secretive than Fidel. As he once said, "I am
not used to making frequent appearances in public, except at times when
it is required ... I have always been discreet, that is my way." While
Fidel has roamed the world, Raúl has spent just 24 hours in the US, and
has barely set foot in other parts of the west.
He lives in a compound on 25th Avenue on the western outskirts of
Havana. For two blocks, vegetation and green metal screening block the
view, and plainclothes security agents hanging around on the pavement
are easy to spot.
His favourite pastime is said to be playing dominoes over a bottle of
rum with friends. Reportedly jovial in private, he reveals a wry wit in
public, and is known as a more liberal father than his more
authoritarian and austere brother. In 1959, he married Vilma Espín, the
daughter of a wealthy lawyer for the mighty Bacardí family who went on
to become a heroine of the revolution. They had four children and she
became known as Cuba's de facto first lady, as Fidel was divorced and
guarded about his private life.
The family has followed him to his offices at the party and government
headquarters on Revolution Square, the scene of military parades and
mass rallies. His only son, Alejandro, an interior ministry official, is
thought to play a role akin to national security advisor. His daughter
Deborah's husband, Luis Alberto Fernández, is a colonel who manages the
military's expanding business interests, and is reportedly Raúl's top
economic advisor. Deborah's son, Raúl, is always at his grandfather's
side at public appearances, apparently serving as bodyguard and assistant.
Raúl Castro lacks Fidel's vision and drive, but calls a spade a spade,
and is known to care for his own. While Fidel demanded that officials
drive Soviet Ladas without air conditioning, Cuba's top brass today roam
the roads in spanking new Chinese sedans, windows rolled up. And in
socialist Cuba owning a new car, or any car at all, is akin to owning a
yacht – or at least for now, should Raúl's reforms succeed.
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/cf897a06-c287-11df-956e-00144feab49a.html
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