Wednesday, September 13, 2017
This photograph was taken by Yander Zamora in the aftermath of Hurricane Irma, and is undoubtedly the most important and symbolic of these last 58 years: portraying the reality that Cubans live and the hope of a better one in the future. I do not quote Martí's famous words about children because I know they are on everybody's mind. Before this photograph, the most emblematic one about Cuba's fate also featured a child: Elián González. It symbolized betrayal and hopelessness, which have also been part of our reality.
Everyone will read this picture according to his own history and draw from it what drew him to it.
For me, it means the hope that someday it will be possible to restore Martí to his pedestal, not only the plaster bust that the child is carrying, but the man and his ideas, and that he will again occupy the central place in the national pantheon, without offensive comparisons to those who dedicated themselves to destroying his legacy and enslaving his people.
And what about the child who represents the innate and indestructible dignity of that martyred people? Without losing the nobility and simplicity proper to his years, his face is marked with deep pain and steely determination, as if he has learned the lessons of the past and knows that he holds the promise of the future.
Fidel Castro's followers suppressed every trace of rebelliousness in their children, terrible fathers who emasculated them so that they could never occupy their rightful place in the course of generations, allowing them, the "historical architects" of the revolution, to rule forever without ever yielding their place to them.
But this child and all his generation are not within the reach of those diabolical great-grandparents. They will grow up without fear and confident of themselves and will be the ones who put an end to tyranny someday. Perhaps, they will even teach their fathers and grandfathers what it means to be men, that surely it is not to look passively while their children are enslaved with their same chains, to ignore their cries of hunger, and to accept a future for them that is not worthy of the human condition.
Click on photograph to view a larger version.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
How 300+ Articles in The [New York] Sun by Another Author Were Wrongly Attributed to José Martí by Ivan A. Schulman. After 50 years, the Real Author Revealed.
In "José Martí y el 'Sun' de Nueva York: nuevos escritos desconocidos," published first in the Anales de la Universidad de Chile [Number 139, pp. 30-49], in 1966, and reprinted two years later in La Gaceta de Cuba [Number 65, June-July 1968, pp. 22-25], U.S. hispanicist Ivan A. Schulman announced that he had identified over 300 hitherto uncollected articles by Marti that had appeared in The Sun over twelve years (1882-1895). All the attributed articles from this period were signed with the initials "M. de S." The fact that Schulman does not cite the exact number of "M. de S." articles published in The Sun, nor deigns to provide even a partial list, much less entire articles, suggests that he never knew the real extension of his alleged discovery. Apparently, having convinced himself that "M. de S." was Martí's alter ego, everything which appeared above those initials was assigned to the Cuban without the need to keep a tally or perhaps even sight unseen. If Schulman had actually read all 300+ articles, it is possible that he might have disabused himself of this conceit. That he took ten years to publish his findings indicates that there was indeed some vacillation. In fact, the first to report Schulman's discovery was not Schulman but his teacher and mentor Manuel Pedro González, who made it a point in all his books to mention the "M. de S."attribution as an undisputed fact even before Schulman had staked his claim to, and made his case for, the articles. If accepted as authentic, these 300+ articles would constitute the largest single addition to the canon since Gonzalo de Quesada published the first edition of Martí's Obras Completas. The prospect of making such a contribution can pacify many doubts and feed many illusions.
Schulman recognized — as he could hardly hope to conceal it — that the "M. de S." articles were quite unlike anything that Martí had ever written before: impersonal and conventional; ironic and satirical; snobbish and fawning; frivolous and irrelevant for the most part. But rather than dismiss the articles on that account, Schulman posited that these incongruities were actually intentional, and rather than refute Martí's authorship, confirmed it. The incongruities, amounting to "self-disfigurement," as Schulman admits, formed part of an elaborate "disfraz" [disguise] which Martí had allegedly assumed when chronicling the gossip of European courts and allied topics, not because he would have been personally embarrassed to be known as a transatlantic gossip-monger, but because The Sun's editor, Charles A. Dana, noted for having pioneered personal journalism in the U.S., had prevailed on a penurious Martí to de-personify his prose style because The Sun's readers, supposedly, couldn't stomach its "tropological richness." Only by willfully "bastardizing his natural prose style," "drowning the artist" and "strangling his aesthetics," "disguising his ideology and personal inclinations," and "suppressing characteristic moral and social observations," could Martí's writing, in Schulman's estimation, pass muster at what Martí himself considered the world's best-written newspaper. Thus was born the un-Martí who, according to Schulman, wrote the "M. de S." articles in The Sun.
Schulman based his identification of "M. de S." with José Martí on external rather than internal factors, or what he calls "coincidences more than fortuitous:" the first "M. de S." article appeared in The Sun within a year of Martí's last acknowledged contribution (signed José Martí), and the "M. de S." byline disappeared completely from The Sun a month before Martí's death. The other piece of so-called evidence is of a similar character: the "M. de S." byline appeared for the first time in The Sun just a couple of months after Martí had severed his connection with La Opinion Nacional, of Caracas, where he wrote under the pseudonym "M. de Z." Of course, two men are not one and the same man because they enter and leave through the same door at the same time. Nor does the fact that Martí wrote under the pseudonym"M. de Z." to protect himself and his editor from persecution by Venezuelan dictator Guzman Blanco prove that Martí adopted "M. de S." in order to shield himself from the embarrassment of prostituting his genius and defacing his art. For Martí, even when writing a paid advertisement for gym equipment in La América, was always and unmistakably Martí. His writing could raise the level of any subject, but never did he write beneath his ability when treating any subject.
In "Seis crónicas inéditas de José Martí," published in Cuban Studies 29 , the late Carlos Ripoll and I challenged on various grounds Schulman's attribution of the "M. de S." articles to Martí. The reader is referred to that volume if he is interested in our reasons for rejecting Martí's authorship. The most compelling and simplest is that the final "M. de S." article published in The Sun, entitled "Paris Street Cleaning" (which the author refers to as "the toilette" of the city), is dated April 2, 1895, when Martí, who had already left New York for the last time, was ensconced at the old pirate-base of Great Inagua island, in the Bahamas. By the time it was published, on April 14, Martí and Máximo Gómez had succeeded in landing clandestinely in Cuba and were deep in the rebel manigua. Supposing that Martí was not preoccupied with other things during the last days of his life, how had he obtained the information to write that article (which is full of statistical data) and how was it smuggled out of the island — and why? Would Dana have asked Martí to write a 1750-word essay on garbage collection in Paris rather than a report from the trenches on the outbreak of war in Cuba? Is this, then, Martí's "Sanitary Testament," which complements his "Political Testament" and his "Literary Testament?" The absurdity of such a conjecture is so obvious and undeniable that the claim itself is its own refutation. Nevertheless, there are still those — including Ilian Stavans and Laura Lomas — who accept Schulman's attribution even after it was debunked in Cuban Studies. Stick the name "Martí" to something and it is very difficult to remove it.
As I wrote (to) Ripoll 20 years ago, "[i]t would be nice (but hardly necessary) to identify the real 'M. de S.' It is, rather, up to Schulman to show that Martí is 'M. de S.,' and that, of course, is impossible because he is not." I recognized later that it is more than "nice," indeed, it is imperative to discover the real identity of the author of the "M. de S." articles; for only then can Martí finally be free of the threat to his reputation posed by their capricious attribution to him. The answer, I suspected, was to be found in The Sun; itself and nowhere else. And that is exactly where I found it, among 280,000 other articles published in that period. Schulman had scoured the newspaper for all articles signed "M. de S.," which was almost a mechanical task. He did not, however, look for articles about "M. de S.," presuming no doubt that Martí would not want or consent to be unmasked in The Sun after so much trouble to conceal his identity and "strangle his aesthetics."
The real "M. de S." did not mind in the least being outed by her own paper since the attendant publicity served her ends. It was to promote her first novel that she consented to let her readers in on what was already an open secret. The Sun's book review, published on January 4, 1890, (p. 5, column 4), disposed of her anonymity: "The author is a newspaper correspondent widely known and esteemed. Readers of THE SUN have long been familiar with her work through the versatile and admirable European letters signed "M. de S." English social life has been minutely studied by Mme. Van de Velde and the results of her keen and appreciative observation are apparent in "Dr. Greystone.'" The Writer, a Boston-based monthly still published today, also identified Madam Van de Velde as the author of The Sun's "M. de S." column [Feb. 1890, Vol. IV, No. 2, p. 45]: "The New York Sun's European correspondent who writes under the signature "M. de S." is a lady, Mme. Van de Velde, who lives in London, and who has just published a novel, 'Dr. Greystone.'"
M[aria]. de S[auges]. Van de Velde (1833-1913), who wrote under her actual initials, was the wife of the Danish ambassador to the Court of St. James, and the editor, translator and benefactor of the American-expatriate author Bret Harte, who died in her home and was interred in a tomb designed and paid by her. with the inscription: "In faithful remembrance, M.S. Van de Velde." She was the author of French Fiction To-day [1891), and of Random Recollections of Court and Society  and Cosmopolitan Recollections , which treated at length the same subjects that she covered in her columns in The Sun and The London World. All of these books have recently been re-issued by print-on-demand publishers in India.
Ironically, in his article attributing Mme. Van de Velde's body of work in The Sun to José Martí, Ivan A. Schulman almost hit on the truth before dismissing it in favor of his version of magical realism: "On reading and analyzing the articles signed "M. de S." (as well as the one article signed "de Z.") the idea occurred to us on more than one occasion that, perhaps, this might be the work of a European, French, or Spanish columnist." Schulman quickly abandoned that idea after consulting several dictionaries of pseudonyms (which he lists in his article) and not finding an entry for "M. de S." in any of them. Why he would think that this confirmed his case for Martí is a question which he must now ask himself and which we cannot answer. Nor can we explain his assertion that "[d]espite Martí's artistic dissatisfaction [with the "M. de S." articles], and taking into account all of their imperfections, these writings do not diminish Martí's literary stature." Schulman could not be more wrong. The mere suggestion that Martí could have authored them is in itself damaging. If these articles had been admitted into the canon, as Schulman advised, the damage would have been catastrophic and perhaps irremediable.
Schulman's misattribution of the "M. de S." articles did have the unintended and indirect effect of rescuing Madame Van de Velde's writings from obscurity and elevating them light years beyond their merits. In this article, I have had to out "M. de S." a second time so that she might regain possession of what rightfully belongs to her. Thanks to Schulman's gaffe, Madame Van de Velde literary reputation (such as it is) has not only been burnished, but her name is now linked through history with not just Bret Harte's but José Martí's. She is really the only winner in this comedy of errors which had a 50-year run and closes today.
This article was originally published in Spanish in Cuba Encuentro on May 13, 2016 as:
"M. de S.": el "disfraz" falso de José Martí
Wednesday, March 02, 2016
For the first time in my life I believe that the United States is in an even more hopeless situation than Cuba. The clock will soon expire on the Castro gerontocracy, which can neither be revived nor cloned. If it is a victory to survive the worst, then a majority of Cubans can claim that victory, even in the midst of our country's ruin and the devastation wreaked on the lives of millions of our countrymen. The pall that settled for 57 years upon our country, while not exactly lifting, has grown grayer with time, and it is now possible to discern the outlines of the future: one which may not be to our liking and which almost certainly will not satisfy all Cubans (and, I suspect, will be a great disappointment to me personally); but, regardless, a different course (curse?) with different actors and an abbreviated shelf-life.
With greater clarity and no less certainty, America's fate is also being decided in these days. Will the great American experiment, born in revolution and tried in the crucible of civil war, fail at last because a man may be elected president whose ignorance and arrogance are the mirror image of Lincoln's wisdom and humility, who can divide a nation but can never hope to unite it?
The only minority group in this country that this aptly dubbed con-man has declined to insult is the KKK. Though prodded to repudiate the Klan for the biblical three times, he would not deny it. Why does the mother of all hate groups command such great deference from him? Does his tent, self-punctured with a thousand holes, still offer a warm spot to this oldest and historically most lethal domestic terrorist organization? He is either the most stupid man ever to run for president or the most dangerous (not that one excludes the other). On his defeat depends the survival of the Republican Party, and, indeed, the two-party system in this country. His victory would be calamitous. His defeat, because it would give us Hillary Clinton as president, would be just as calamitous. With him on the ticket there is no victory possible.
Cuban-Americans can take pride in the fact that they have provided the only two viable alternatives to the impending crisis in the Republican Party. In this case, however, one is better than two because two can only contribute to the victory of this one-man Fifth Column. It is time for Marco Rubio or Ted Cruz to quit the race and endorse the other Cuban-American. The one who retires will be the greater patriot and the greater man. But the other will save the American Republic from the fate that awaits it if that mountebank with AC and DC currents in his hair (and in his head) is elected president.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Ramón Castro y Ruz will be remembered, if he is remembered at all, as Fidel's older lackluster (some have even said "uneducated")) brother, but he was no such thing except as an imposture that assured his survival in a tribe dominated by a cheating Jacob. Ironically, Ramón was actually the one successful son in that family of wastrels. Of course, we do not consider Fidel or Raúl a success because their race was run without competitors. They shot, jailed and exiled anyone who threatened their monopoly on power, whether political or economic. Ramón was almost their first victim.
Before the Revolution, Ramón excelled as a politician and businessman. While Fidel never held a job in his life and depended on hand-outs from his family to support himself and his wife and son, Ramón prospered as a rancher and was thrice elected a councilman in his hometown of Mayarí — the first and only Castro ever to win a free election in Cuba. When his father Angel Castro died, Ramón purchased from his seven brothers and sisters their respective shares in his estate, which consisted of a 21,000 acre plantation and 28 outbuildings. We will not discuss how the paterfamilias acquired his property; his son Ramón, however, came into possession of it honestly.
He was not to enjoy it for long, however. One of the first things that Fidel Castro did upon coming to power was to confiscate his brother's land. Of course, his brother's along with everybody else's. With their backs literally against the (execution) wall, most landowners did not protest. Ramón did.
On his own behalf and as president of the National Association of Cuban Landowners (Colonos), he wrote a public letter to Fidel protesting the so-called Agrarian Reform, which resulted in the confiscation of all the country's arable land, not for the purpose of re-distributing it to the peasants (who were confined by Castro to cooperative farms), but to deprive the landed gentry of the source of their wealth and influence by replacing thousands of landowners with just one. Ramón's letter was published in Prensa Libre just before Castro nationalized and shut down every newspaper in the country.
Let us not overrate Ramón Castro's courage. He was the tyrant's brother and that was a title that could not be stripped from him. Still, he took a chance and it was a close call. Fratricide is certainly not beyond the brothers Castro, who had already executed 15,000 Cubans without due process or appeal in a country where the death penalty did not exist before 1959. Incredibly, more Cubans were shot by firing squad that year than died of natural causes. Fortunately for Ramón, Lina Ruz was still alive at the time.
Still, at Fidel's instigation (and some think in his own words), Ramón was attacked viciously in the government press as an "hermano desnaturalizado" (unnatural brother), accused of being a tool of United Fruit and a coward who had abstained from the struggle against Batista while his brothers directed the Revolution (always at a respectable distance and out of harm's way). Unlike his sister Juanita, the other discontented sibling in the Castro family, Ramón did not go into exile; but eventually decided that the intangible advantages of being the dictator's brother might well be worth 20,000 acres if he stopped demanding as his right what was now only in his brother's gracious gift. His gamble paid off. The brothers were reconciled and Ramón got back his plantation and became the only (and last) rancher in Cuba.
On re-reading this post it now seems to me that Ramón Castro comes off as too much of a hero for his initial opposition to the Agrarian Reform. Let it be noted, therefore, that Ramón Castro was also very much his father's son. He not only inherited Angel Castro's plantation but ran it exactly as his father had. He contracted for Haitian laborers, who were not allowed to live outside the grounds of the estate and were paid in script that could only be redeemed at the company store. Wholly dependent on their amo (master) for survival, the Haitians had even less protection than did 19th century Cuban slaves. They could be replaced easily and at no cost, whereas the death of a slave a century earlier meant the loss of an investment of thousands of dollars. For his harsh treatment of the Haitian "guest workers," Ramón Castro was known among the rebels in the Sierra Maestra as "el negrero" (the black slaver).
Like his younger brothers, Ramón was a sociopath accustomed to winning arguments with a gun. It is not known how many Haitians he killed, but he was accused though never prosecuted for the murder of four fugitives from the Moncada Barracks who had sought refuge at the Castro plantation in Birán, presumably because he feared he would be implicated personally in the attack. That's one more victim than Fidel killed in his youth, and he, too, escaped prosecution. Fidel was careful never actually to face his adversaries, but preferred to shoot them in the back (that way, if they survived, they could not identify him). The worst, though, was little brother Raúl, a serial killer just out of his teens. While ensconced in the hills, he entertained himself by hunting for "spies" among the rebel ranks and executed more of his own men as "traitors" than were felled by Batista's soldiers (46 executions vs. 35 casualties, in 1957). At one point, Fidel had to tell Raúl to stop because he was single-handedly winning the "war" for the enemy ("war" is in quotations marks because there were a total of 184 battlefield casualties on both sides in 3 years of alleged fighting).
Sunday, November 15, 2015
I still say that Cardinal Jaime Ortega, Archbishop of Havana, could beat them in any twerk off, though the fat bishop @ .58 would be a formidable opponent.
H/T: Francis the Destroyer Blog
Saturday, November 14, 2015
On November 13, 2015 at 5:35pm the José Martí Blog hosted a visit from Twentieth Century Fox (I.P. Address 216.205.224). It landed here through a search on Bing for "josé martí maría mantilla," which directed them to The Myth of José Martí's Natural Daughter.
What could this possibly mean? One thing only comes to mind: someone there is researching a screenplay based on Martí's alleged paternity of María Mantilla.
There is no evidence to support such a conjecture and much evidence to refute it (including Martí's own written denial). But, of course, Hollywood is a distorter, not a purveyor, of historical facts. Perhaps the movie studio has purchased the rights to Francisco Goldman's novel The Divine Husband, or, less likely, the truculent Romero sisters — María Mantilla's grand-daughters — have found some nonagenarian hack who knew their uncle César and was willing to put forward their suggestion for a "María Martí" biopic. Perhaps they have even prepared their own treatment (which should doom the project from the start).
We hope that whoever visited this blog on Nov. 13 from Twentieth Century Fox got a good splash of cold water and put that project forever to rest.
An E-Mail from María Mantilla's Grand-Daughters
More Observations on the Romero E-mail
Saturday, November 07, 2015
The greatest reverence that can be shown to any historical figure is to desire to know everything about him. The most faithful biographer is the one who provides the most complete picture of his subject, not the myth-maker or repeater of the accepted pieties who wishes us to know only what he believes will elevate our opinion of his hero. These hagiographic histories can be sincere and well-intended, and those who are satisfied by them would no doubt reject less orthodox treatments as sacrilegious or at least mischievous. So it is that the true historian, who hides nothing and puts the truth before his own interests, is often ostracized by those that hold that the truth must always be subordinate to the greater good (as they perceive it) and that to smash an idol is worse than to worship one.
No figure in Cuban history, and, indeed, few figures in world history, have been more victimized by their self-appointed "champions" than has José Martí. Indeed, it can be argued that it was not until the advent of the late Carlos Ripoll that the many coats of varnish that had been slapped on Martí's portrait were finally stripped away and the original exposed to the light much to its advantage. That work of restoration is an ongoing one, in exile, at least, if not in Cuba, where the opposite process has been underway for 56 years, resulting in a mutilated and falsified depiction of Martí which serves the purposes of the island's ruling elite, whatever those purposes happen to be at any given time: whether Martí as the "Intellectual Author of the Revolution," the somewhat slow disciple of Marx, or the nationalist cum socialist (precursor of Hitler?).
Following in the tradition of Ripoll, but now far ahead of him in the extent to which he is willing to challenge, and, indeed, decimate popular misconceptions about Martí, Jorge Camacho has authored a landmark study about José Martí y la cuestión indígena (Chapel Hill: North Carolina University Press, 2013). This until now marginal but essential subject will change forever not only our interpretation of Martí's famous essay but even Martí's relation to "Nuestra América." Camacho has demonstrated that practically everything that is standard received knowledge on this subject was not only wrong, but wrong in the worst possible way, that is, the truth was the opposite of the popular belief supported by popular scholarship. Martí was not a latter-day Bartolomé de las Casas, the "Protector of the Indians" (in truth, even las Casas is not really the canonical las Casas admired by Martí, since he saved the Indians from extinction at the price of African slavery).
Martí romanticized the indigenous peoples of the Americas and strongly castigated the Spanish for their depredations on them, especially the systematic destruction of their culture and its literary monuments. He said that the Spaniards had torn a leaf from the Book of Nature. Their descendants, however, he saw as a retrograde people that would become extinct if they did not assimilate to the dominant culture and join the concert of civilization. Assimilation was no longer a choice, but an imperative since "America will not move until the Indian moves." Getting the Indian "to move" is no easy thing and a lot harder if you are trying to make him move where he doesn't want to go. At the time that Martí was writing his crónicas for La Nación, Argentina was engaged in the systematic extermination of its indigenous population. The Argentines did not even try assimilation. As Camacho shows, Martí did not reproach his Argentine friends (all of whom were connected to the government) for their conduct, but supported their course of action both publicly and privately, even going so far as supervising the committee that translated into English for international arbitration the documents supporting Argentina's claims to the Indians' lands, which were disputed by Brazil. Martí's enthusiastic support for Indian assimilation in the United States after all the tribes had been subjugated and confined to reservations by the federal government proved in the long run almost as catastrophic as genocide: the Indians were allowed to live but "educated" out of their languages and cultures at Indian schools (such as Carlisle, which Martí praised in the highest terms). Shorn of their identity, these assimilated Indians were still racially unacceptable to whites and rejected as renegades by other Indians.
Although Martí always advocated that Latin Americans embrace their indigenous roots and not copy European models blindly and to the detriment of what was "ours," it is undeniable that he was Eurocentric to the core of his being (and what else could he be given his origins and education?). Camacho also identifies and presents credible evidence for charging Martí with cultural racism, ethnocentrism, and even racial biases. These prejudices, of course, are not the sole province of those who denigrate the Indian. His champions, too, like Martí, tend to objectify and judge him according to their own idealized conception of the noble savage and are often disappointed that the less savage the Indian becomes, the less apparent his nobility appears. And when the Indian is finally civilized — that is, no longer an Indian except in external appearances — they will mourn the loss of everything which they once desired the Indian to lose.
I am not as bold or as forthright as Jorge Camacho — not by half, which is not to say that I would have withheld the facts which he discloses; but, rather, that I would have presented them in such a way as to mitigate Martí's blame whenever possible by contrasting his attitudes to the really genocidal ones of his contemporaries (like Sarmiento's and Mitre's). In the context of his time, if not ours, Martí is among the least culpable (which is not the same as saying blameless). My approach, I suppose, shows that I am still not an impartial commentator on these matters and perhaps I never will be; but I admire Jorge Camacho for telling the truth without qualifiers or palliatives because I recognize that this is what we need. Indeed, what Martí needs and would want.
Originally published in Linden Lane Magazine, October 2015
"Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, the Holy See's secretary of state under former Pope Benedict XVI, took a 23,000-euro helicopter ride to southern Italy paid for by funds for sick children from a Catholic Hospital, apparently to do 'marketing' for the hospital. The same hospital, Bambin Gesu, paid 200,000 euros for enlarging Cardinal Bertone's apartment at the Vatican, an allegation which the hospital confirmed, according to the author [Gianluigi Nuzzi] of the book [Merchants in the Temple], claiming they were also hoping to use the apartment for 'institutional' purposes." — Delia Gallagher and Daniel Burke, CNN, "New Books Allege Financial Scandals at the Vatican," November 5, 2015
The unsung "hero" of the normalization juggernaut was Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, who did the legwork while Pope Francis took the credit. In a recent interview with the Huffington Post, Bertone admitted that he "made five trips to Cuba and made my own contribution to Cuba-U.S. relations," explaining that "it was not something that just fell from heaven; there was a lot of work behind it." Indeed, nothing of the kind "fell from heaven," though it well may have bubbled up from hell, with Bertone as its conjurer.
Bertone has always been willing to work on behalf of the Castro dynasty and its interests. Communist Cuba has no need to pay for agents of influence in the Vatican when it has Cardinal Jaime Ortega as its official lobbyist there. Bertone's special relationship with the Cuban kleptocracy is born of their mutual venality and sustained, perhaps, as it certainly is in Ortega's case, by home movies stored in the vaults of State Security.
In 2005, Cardinal Bertone called the U.S. trade embargo on Cuba "unjust and ethically unacceptable" (it would take years for the Vatican to denounce as such the clerical molestation of children); and in 2008, Bertone declared, in Havana, that "the embargo constitutes an act of oppression against the Cuban people and a violation of Cuba's independence." He did not, however, condemn the oppression of the Cuban people by the Castro regime, nor explain why the refusal of the U.S. to trade with Communist Cuba oppresses its people or violates its independence while the denial of human and civil rights to its citizenry by its unelected rulers does not.
Moreover, how can a country be "independent" which blames all its domestic troubles on its inability to trade with another country (and "trade" as defined by Castro always means being subsidized by a third country in exchange for surrendering Cuba's independence to it)? The most notorious example in modern times of a servile state is surely Communist Cuba's 30-year vassalage to the Soviet Union which ended only when the Soviet empire itself ended. Yet never did the Vatican protest the fact that Cuba's main export to the Soviet Union was cannon fodder. One would suppose that such trade would be more objectionable to the Vatican than the absence of such trade. But such contradictions are the stock in trade of Vatican diplomacy, which supported sanctions on South Africa's apartheid regime but not on Cuba's apartheid regime.
Of course, Cardinal Bertone, as an exploiter and despoiler himself, sees nothing wrong with using humans as chattel or profiting from their misery. It is no surprise that a man who hails Fidel Castro as a "humanitarian" would believe that he, too, can commit any vile act and still be considered a "humanitarian," The fact that his carrion prey are children and sick children at that explains the great affinity between Castro and Bertone, for Castro has never had any mental reservations about stealing the kids milk money, much less their future.