Evil under the Sun

‘Communism is my religion!” rhapsodically announced Silvia Rodríguez, a young Cuban office worker, her eyes alight. “And Fidel is my god!” Compañera (comrade) Silvia is Deputy Chairman of Committee for the Defense of the Revolution Number 7, Zone 133, of Bayamo, a city of 123,000 near Santiago in eastern Cuba. She is a person of some importance in a world tightly controlled by Cuba’s network of CDRs, or block committees, with the authority to make life unpleasant for those below her in rank. Her opposite numbers in Havana could withhold people’s food rations, for example, if, during Gorbachev’s visit, these underlings failed to volunteer to be bused to stations along a twenty-mile route outside the city to applaud the Soviet president. Not to do so would demonstrate patently unsocialist behavior, and the CDR would conscientiously take note.

On a visit to the Moncada Barracks in Santiago—which Fidel Castro and 123 men attacked in 1956 in an abortive first attempt to take power—I was told by an ardent guide: “We must teach our children to love the Revolution and Fidel!” By her enthusiasm, I should imagine the guide might rank high in her own CDR. For there is a CDR for every single city block and every agricultural production unit in all Cuba. Silvia Rodríguez’s CDR in Bayamo, with a membership of only 59, has its own officers responsible for “ideology,” for “vigilance,” for “defense.” A Cuban’s entire life is under the surveillance of his CDR, which in addition to food rations also controls his employment and leisure time.

RG

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Richard Grenier

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‘Communism is my religion!” rhapsodically announced Silvia Rodríguez, a young Cuban office worker, her eyes alight. “And Fidel is my god!” Compañera (comrade) Silvia is Deputy Chairman of Committee for the Defense of the Revolution Number 7, Zone 133, of Bayamo, a city of 123,000 near Santiago in eastern Cuba. She is a person of some importance in a world tightly controlled by Cuba’s network of CDRs, or block committees, with the authority to make life unpleasant for those below her in rank. Her opposite numbers in Havana could withhold people’s food rations, for example, if, during Gorbachev’s visit, these underlings failed to volunteer to be bused to stations along a twenty-mile route outside the city to applaud the Soviet president. Not to do so would demonstrate patently unsocialist behavior, and the CDR would conscientiously take note.

On a visit to the Moncada Barracks in Santiago—which Fidel Castro and 123 men attacked in 1956 in an abortive first attempt to take power—I was told by an ardent guide: “We must teach our children to love the Revolution and Fidel!” By her enthusiasm, I should imagine the guide might rank high in her own CDR. For there is a CDR for every single city block and every agricultural production unit in all Cuba. Silvia Rodríguez’s CDR in Bayamo, with a membership of only 59, has its own officers responsible for “ideology,” for “vigilance,” for “defense.” A Cuban’s entire life is under the surveillance of his CDR, which in addition to food rations also controls his employment and leisure time.