Death as a measure of all things Cuban
We are a nation that lacks good sense, but we are also lucky. Providence has given us an idol that corresponds to our destiny.
Politics in Cuba is the business of death. Without death we Cubans will not give politicians any credit. Moreover, we thumb our noses at those who are not sufficiently tyrannical.
As is the case in every invented nation, action is what is important in Cuba. We applaud the caudillos who can control and provoke events to happen. We boo the Cuban who says we have to think things out before attempting them. To theorize is to waste time, and it cedes hard-fought ground, something that is always in short supply on an island. Our enemy is occasionally our neighbor, and as such, must be defeated; preferably executed without much evidence. We are a country without good sense.
Nonetheless, we are also a lucky people. Providence gave us an idol that corresponds with our destiny. Fidel Castro is the ultimate incarnation of the Cuban people’s sluttish will. An “F” that is not as terrible as a funeral. A “C” that is not as criminal as Cuban. Throughout our long and macabre history of independence and revolutions, this messiah of death has been long awaited. To deny Fidel is to deny the Cuban people and their idiopathic idiocy. In this murderous synonymy, our nation has desired to commit suicide long before the fundamentalism of its formation.
Far away from our geography, we appear to be regular people. But inside Cuba, in that isolation with impunity that is the entire island, Cubans demonstrate to each other who we really are without any effort to hide it. We do so amongst our very own with unfathomable sadism. And with a lack of mercy proportional to our misery, which is a byproduct of communism but which did not exclusively come from that catastrophe.
The violence of the new revolutionary era is now obvious: second-generation Castroism, the dynastic delirium that will unashamedly and ingloriously be imposed upon our nation thanks to the fact that the majority of the people are exhausted and we are fine with any idiocy (always and only if it is an idiocy and not an idea). Furthermore, exile is technically over. What is left there are those – us – with current or expired Cuban passports, like orphaned rag dolls even orphaned from imagination. A place where no one ever thought of re-launching a new country without a country (a post-socialist Zionism) because of the eternal demagoguery of a redeeming return to a free Cuba that caused us to lose time. And lose ground.
As free Cubans, we were forced to always live biographies without life, a purely broody résumé of our exceptional sterile accomplishments. A balkanized cruelty found in our very hearts lacking a sense of community, completely incommunicado.
Today finally, there is more Castroism outside the island than within. The time has come for this obscene osmosis: academics and criminals, intellectuality and intelligentsia, the stateless and the apparatchiks, the religious and the oppressors, millionaires and militants, all mixed together, all of them a wretched bunch at the margins of ideology but not of the market.
However, as a people we once again have luck in this expansive alliance for our late transition from dictatorship to dictatoracracy: the political price will perhaps be the few cadavers that will interfere with the faith we have in our fossilized future. And that is a logical step. Without those minimal martyrs, without those few deaths, without that selective genocide carried out by State capitalism, the Cubans would not give any credit to our post-politicians.
For now, the neo-Castros have demonstrated their ability to be just as criminal. But an error would be irreversible since at this stage of the game, they do not have any other options available in this unscrupulous spiral. The Cuban who does not kill on time will sooner rather than later be killed by another Cuban who has a higher level of adaptive valor. This is Darwinism in action. Seriously.