Adios to all that

As one of the Cuban-Americans making his first trip back explained to me, these mass pilgrimages are a clear repudiation of the old attitude toward the homeland in his community. Intimidating accusations of treason against those who wish to visit Cuba have lost much of the force they once possessed.

"I'm feeling torn about the embargo," admitted Mario, a businessman from Long Island. Formerly convinced that sanctions should continue forever, he now believes that ending them may eventually bring down the regime he despises. Like certain American policymakers, he also suspects that Castro prefers the status quo, so that he can blame the United States for Cuba's continuing economic decay.

"I was brought up to think this was all evil," mused another son of exiles, as we sat on the patio of the Hotel Nacional a few nights later. An executive of an American television company, Henry had come down for the Havana Film Festival, defying the old taboo. "But in spite of the horrible conditions here, a lot of the people seem happy. It's very confusing." He does feel certain of one thing, however, which is that the embargo should end as soon as possible.

For younger Cuban-Americans like Henry and Mario, ideology is giving way to their relatives' need for food and medicine. But humanitarian considerations are hardly the sole reason why the American sanctions policy is increasingly discredited. With a highly educated labor force and vast natural resources, the potential for economic growth in Cuba remains enormous. Castro has grudgingly acknowledged market forces, permitting some expansion of private agriculture and enterprises.

The urgent preservation of Old Havana's gorgeous but crumbling architecture, for instance, is being partially financed by small businesses set up under the authority of city historian Eusebio Leal, who more resembles an entrepreneur than a commissar. Yet he has set aside a significant share of his growing budget to improve conditions for residents of the neighborhood, a slum where residents rioted a few years ago over the lack of clean water and decent services. His vision of a flourishing community with prosperous small businesses, refurbished housing, popular cultural institutions and new schools sounded more social-democratic than Stalinist.

These are modest hopes, however, in a broad and dismal landscape of poverty. The depressing truth is that those who have dollars in Cuba now eat well, while those who have pesos are often hungry. Clever as he is, Castro has discovered no way to stabilize the dual economy left behind by Soviet Communism's collapse. Old revolutionary ideals of equality and sacrifice are being challenged by the flourishing black market. I couldn't walk two blocks in town without being offered stolen Cohiba and Monte Cristo cigars at a tiny fraction of their official price.

Globalization has won. The Revolution -- and the counter-revolution -- are dead.

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