Fidel: A Critical Portrait

by Tad Szulc

  According to Chibás, Castro drafted the Manifesto "totally by himself," without being influenced by him and Pazos, as charged by Che Guevara. But Chibás says Pazos pushed Castro into proposing in the Manifesto the creation of a "civic-revolutionary front with a common strategy of struggle" and the immediate designation of "a person to preside over the provisional government, whose election will be left to the civic institutions." Castro liked the idea of the "civic-revolutionary front" because it would transcend the 26th of July Movement and, since he proposed it, could be controlled by him from the Sierra. The notion of a provisional government was likewise appealing to Fidel because it would be a prestigious "front" for his own revolutionary activities, and because he expected to be able to choose its president from the Sierra even though the Manifesto stated the selection would be made by "civic institutions" such as the bar association and the medical associations, all of which now opposed Batista. Both Chibás and Pazos were also given the impression that they would be considered for the chairmanship of the provisional government, though all along Castro planned to name a figurehead.

  A product of Castro's imagination and manipulative talents, the Manifesto had the desired effect of at least temporarily resolving the political crisis in the Movement by invoking "national unity" under his leadership. Patronizingly, the document said that "it is not necessary to come to the mountains to discuss this; we can be represented in Havana, in Mexico, or wherever may be necessary," and it gave the Fidelistas an appearance of moderation and reason. As for the endless debate on whether the tone of the Manifesto shows that Castro was not a Marxist-Leninist at the time or that the document was designed to conceal his true purpose, probably the best explanation was provided by Che Guevara in writing subsequently about these events. To him, the Manifesto was a "compromise," even though Castro failed to include more explicit proposals for an agrarian reform. Guevara concluded that "we were not satisfied with the compromise, but it was necessary; it was progressivist at that moment. It could not last beyond the moment at which it would have signified a halt in the revolutionary development. . . . We knew it was a minimal program, a program that limited our effort, but we also knew that it was not possible to impose our will from the Sierra Maestra and that we had to count for a long period on a whole series of 'friends' who tried to utilize our military force and the great confidence the people already felt for Fidel Castro for their macabre maneuvers . . . to maintain the domination of imperialism in Cuba . . ." Castro never disputed the substance of Guevara's interpretation of the Manifesto, and later that year he would again take the offensive to assure his absolute leadership of the revolution. The Movement was given a new National Directorate, but it remains unclear who named the members.

  Fidel also had personal problems to make him miserable. During the summer he wrote Celia: "When are you going to send me the dentist? If I don't receive weapons from Santiago, Havana, Miami or Mexico, at least send me a dentist so my teeth will let me think in peace. It's the limit; now that we have food, I can't eat; later, when my teeth are all right, there won't be any food . . . I really feel that I'm just not lucky when I see so many people have arrived here, and not one dentist." But Celia had sent him a new uniform, and he wrote her that "I'm going to begin the fourth campaign in it. . . . And you, why don't you make a short trip here? Think about it, and do so in the next few days. . . . A big hug. "

  During the balance of 1957, the Rebel Army went on consolidating its control of the Sierra Maestra, expanding the "Free Territory" farther east. Che Guevara, promoted by Castro to comandante (major, which was the highest rank in the guerrilla force), moved southeast with his own column, taking the small Batista garrisons at Bueycito and El Hombrito, and capturing weapons. In the El Hombrito area, Guevara set up an armory, a bakery, and El Cubano Libre, a newspaper for his men. But the anti-Batista opposition suffered reverses as well. An uprising by the navy against Batista in the port of Cienfuegos on September 5 was smashed by loyalist armored units and aviation, and thirty-two officers and sailors were killed. The Cienfuegos rebellion was part of a larger military conspiracy extending to Havana, Santiago, and the port of Mariel, but at the last moment the plans for an organized revolt were canceled; because of a breakdown in communications, the navy at Cienfuegos was not informed of this and so moved to capture the city without parallel uprisings occurring elsewhere.

  The timing of the military conspiracy came as a surprise to Fidel Castro, who had not been taken fully into confidence by the plotters, and it strengthened his suspicions that schemes were being developed to bypass the Rebel Army and remove Batista through other means. What he feared the most was the ouster of the dictator by a military coup d'état, thus shifting the power to a military junta and making him irrelevant.

  For all these reasons, Castro reacted with fury when he was belatedly informed that in November seven opposition groups had signed a pact in Miami to create a Cuban Liberation Junta and, among other steps taken after Batista's fall, to incorporate his revolutionary forces into the regular army. Not only had he not been consulted beforehand, but the Miami Pact was signed on behalf of the 26th of July Movement by Felipe Pazos and two other Movement leaders without specific authorization from the National Directorate. In a scathing communication on December 14, Castro announced that the Movement "did not designate or authorize any delegation to discuss such negotiations," that "the 26th of July Movement claims for itself the function of maintaining public order and reorganizing the armed forces of the Republic," and that "while the leaders of the other organizations who endorsed the pact are abroad fighting an imaginary revolution, the leaders of the 26th of July Movement are in Cuba, making a real revolution." He said the Movement "will never relinquish orientation and leadership of the people . . . and we alone shall know how to overcome or to die. . . . To die with dignity, one has no need of company."

  Castro's rejection of the Miami Pact meant the death of the Liberation Junta even before it could be officially born, because it was evident that without the Rebel Army it would be a wholly meaningless organization. At the same time, Castro acquired new enemies in the opposition, notably in the Students' Revolutionary Directorate (DR) whose new leadership had signed the Miami document. The DR's political leader, Faure Chomón, wrote that "no organization can, or should, as Dr. Castro has done in a sectarian fashion, claim for itself the representation of a revolution being made by all of Cuba." Castro would have new problems with the DR and the 26th of July Movement the following year, but for now he was again in full control. He also regained the confidence of Che Guevara, who, for some strange reason, had assumed at first that the Miami Pact was signed with Fidel's authorization. Upon learning that Castro rejected it, Guevara wrote him that now he was filled "with peace and happiness." He said that it was clear "who is pulling the wires behind the scenes," adding that "we unfortunately have to face Uncle Sam before the time is ripe."

  Uncle Sam, however, was engaged in a number of actions in Cuba that were both contradictory and mysterious. On one hand, the United States continued to supply the Batista regime with weapons to fight the rebels, while on the other hand it secretly channeled funds to the 26th of July Movement through the Central Intelligence Agency.

  The story of CIA financial support for the Castro rebellion, a selective form of support, is a surprising one, though it is unclear whether this operation was formally authorized by the Eisenhower administration or undertaken by the Agency entirely on its own. It is not even certain that Castro himself knew that some of the money reaching him or his Movement came from the CIA. A new reconstruction of this United States involvement with Castro shows that between October or November of 1957 and the middle of 1958, the CIA delivered no less than fifty thousand dollars to a half-dozen or more key members of the 26th of July Movement in Santiago. The amount was quite large, relative to what the Movement itself was able to collect in Cuba. The entire clandestine operation remains classified as top secret by the United States government; therefore
, the reasons for the financing of the Movement cannot be adequately explained. It is a sound assumption, however, that the CIA wished to hedge its bets in Cuba and purchase goodwill among some members of the Movement, if not Castro's goodwill, for future contingencies. This would have been consistent with CIA policy elsewhere in the world whenever local conflicts affected United States interests.

  These funds were handled by Robert D. Wiecha, a CIA case officer attached to the United States consulate general under the cover of vice-consul, who served in Santiago from September 1957 to June 1959. The late Park Fields Wollam, who as consul general was Wiecha's superior in Santiago, had told State Department colleagues at that time of the CIA role in dealing with the Castro organization. Wartime correspondence from the Sierra era and now in Cuban official archives shows furthermore that Wiecha had tried hard to arrange a meeting with Fidel himself from the moment he arrived in Santiago. The CIA officer's contact was with the Frank País group, and sometime early in July, País wrote Castro that a United States diplomat wished to meet him (Wiecha's CIA identity was unknown to País). Castro replied that "I don't see why we should raise the slightest objection to the U.S. diplomat's visit. We can receive any U.S. diplomat here, just as we would any Mexican diplomat or a diplomat from any country."

  Castro went on: "It is a recognition that a state of belligerence exists, and therefore one more victory against the tyranny. We should not fear this visit if we are certain that no matter what the circumstances may be, we will keep the banner of dignity and national sovereignty flying. And if they make demands? We'll reject them. And if they want to know our opinions? We'll explain them without any fear. If they wish to have closer ties of friendship with the triumphant democracy of Cuba? Magnificent! This is a sign that they acknowledge the final outcome of this battle. If they propose friendly mediation? We'll tell them no honorable mediation—no mediation is possible in this battle."

  On July 11, Frank País wrote Castro that "María A. told me very urgently at noon today that the American vice-consul wanted to talk with you, in the presence of some other man, but she didn't know who." This was the first direct reference to Wiecha, and País added, "I told her I would consult with you, but that we would first have to find out who the other man is and where they wanted to go and what they wanted to talk about." País's letter also showed that secret contacts also existed with the United States embassy in Havana: "I'm sick and tired of so much backing and forthing and conversations from the Embassy, and I think it would be to our advantage to close ranks a bit more, without losing contact with them, but not giving them as much importance as we now do; I see that they are maneuvering but I can't see clearly what their real goals are."

  At that time, a new American ambassador had arrived in Cuba to replace Arthur Gardner. Earl E. T. Smith, a political appointee, had gone to Santiago on August 1, the day after Frank País was buried. Two hundred women clad in black gathered there to request United States intervention against the terror practiced by the regime. When the women started to chant "Libertad! . . . Libertad! . . ." the riot police charged them with truncheons and water cannon. At the news conference that followed, Smith delivered his protest against the "excessive use of force." Raúl Chibás, who was in the Sierra with Castro that week, recalls that the news of Smith's statement caused "a moment of happiness among the troops . . . people were saying, 'You see, the ambassador has already changed, it looks like he isn't supporting Batista.' " Chibás states that even Castro said that American policy could change, "and people there talked about it as a favorable thing that would facilitate the struggle. . . . Anti-Americanism did not exist in that Rebel Army . . ."

  On October 16, Armando Hart wrote Castro that "I have been in contact with people close to the embassy. These contacts have told me that people who are on our side—but who do not appear to be—have had conversations with the ambassador himself. I think this is the best policy, since we are kept up-to-date about everything happening there and of all the possible U.S. plans, and at the same time the Movement does not officially commit itself." In all probability, Hart's contacts were officers in the CIA station at the American embassy; this would be consistent with Robert Wiecha's efforts in Santiago to meet Castro and his handling of Agency funds for the Movement. Robert Taber, the CBS reporter who had visited Castro in the mountains, wrote in his book about the Cuban revolution that "Wiecha rendered invaluable and humanitarian service to the Batista opposition." Taber, who was unaware that Wiecha worked for the CIA, identified him as the vice-consul who made inquiries about Armando Hart, Javier Pazos, and Antonio Buch who had been arrested in Santiago, "with the result that General Chaviano was compelled to produce the prisoners, unharmed, to prove that they had not been tortured or killed." Hart's unwitting contact with the CIA began with this intervention by Wiecha, and the Agency's secret relationship with the rebels may have started then. An unconfirmed but credible version of this relationship is that the CIA had also arranged to fly arms for Raúl in the "Second Front."

  The meeting between Castro and Wiecha never took place, however, for reasons Castro ignores. It may have been blocked by senior United States officials, particularly when Ambassador Smith himself expressed the hope that Batista would proceed with elections acceptable to Cubans. Curiously, American support for Batista seemed to grow just as Castro's power was increasing, and, typically, it would be withdrawn when it no longer mattered politically. The Wiecha story suggests that the United States may have missed an extraordinary opportunity to establish a dialogue with Castro when he was still in the hills and, theoretically at least, open to a positive future relationship. But it is idle to second-guess history.

  The Americans did not come to Fidel Castro's mountain in 1957, but the Communists did—even though the meeting was arranged in great secrecy. The visitor in October was Ursinio Rojas, a sugar worker and a member of the Communist party's Central Committee. He was the first senior Communist leader to see Castro since Flavio Bravo's visit to Mexico a year earlier to dissuade Fidel from the invasion. (Gottwald Fleitas, a party leader from Bayamo, went up the Sierra in the spring, supposedly to tell Castro that Communist activists among the peasants had been instructed to "cooperate" with the guerrillas.) Rojas had been in prison in Havana early in 1957 with Armando Hart, Faustino Pérez, and Carlos Franqui, and in long chats there with them, he maintained the party's official line that Castro was running a "putschist" operation in the Sierra. But by the end of the year, the Communists were beginning to rethink their policy, and Rojas told Castro that certain party members would be authorized to join the Rebel Army as individuals. One year after Castro had established himself in the Sierra Maestra, this was as far as the Communists were prepared to go. El Campesino, the party's underground newspaper, declared that "there exists a great difference between the level of the struggle in the Sierra Maestra . . . and the rest of Cuba, that is almost all of Cuba." Fidel Castro seemed unable to impress either the United States or the Communists that he should be taken seriously: Both did no more than hedge their bets.

  And before the year ended, Castro received a permanent visitor: On the verge of being caught by the police, Celia Sánchez abandoned her operations in Manzanillo to go up the Sierra. She would stay there with Fidel through the year of victory.

  CHAPTER

  11

  It was not a happy time for military dictators in Latin America. On January 23, 1958, after nearly ten years in power, General Marcos Pérez Jiménez in Venezuela was overthrown by the armed forces as the climax of a revolt by the civilian population led by students, intellectuals, and businessmen. The previous year, General Gustavo Rojas Pinilla had been ousted by the military in Colombia under roughly similar circumstances—with the Roman Catholic Church playing a major role in the rebellion—after a three-year rule. General Juan Perón in Argentina and General Manuel Odría in Peru departed in 1955 and 1956, respectively (Odría stepping down voluntarily, an unprecedented fashion in Latin American history). It was indeed a twiligh
t of the tyrants, yet in Cuba General Batista seemed impervious to the idea that a hemispheric trend was under way—as was the Eisenhower administration in the north.

  What was understood even less in Havana and Washington, as 1958 opened, was the character of the antidictatorial struggle conducted in the Sierra Maestra by Fidel Castro and his steadily growing Rebel Army. Whereas the liquidation of dictatorships in the four South American nations led mainly to the restoration of representative democracy in a modern, liberal mode, and even though Castro continued to insist publicly that Batista's removal would be followed by "free, democratic elections" within a year, he was quietly preparing a fundamental social revolution. Soon he would inform Cubans that free elections were incompatible with a social revolution—and, strictly speaking, his assessment was politically and ideologically accurate—but in the meantime Castro strove to convey an impression of dedication to democracy along with social justice

  An article published under Fidel Castro's by-line (and most likely written by him) in the February issue of Coronet magazine in New York went to astonishing and exaggerated lengths to portray him and his "armed campaign on Cuban soil" as the way to pure liberal democracy under which free enterprise would flourish. Even if he applied Martí's and Marx's concept of "historical justification" to conceal his real purpose until the right moment in the interest of a higher cause, and even if this were justifiable, the Coronet article borders on intellectual dishonesty. There was even no need for it: The bulk of American public opinion backed him anyway, while, as he surely knew, the Eisenhower administration would never be convinced by his claims.