JHU efforts to cut a union company raises doubts about its commitment to Baltimore

This op-ed originally appeared in The Baltimore Sun on 7/29/16

By Corey Payne, Gracie Hargrove, and Chase Alston
Johns Hopkins University and the AlliedBarton security guards who patrol its Homewood campus have a subcontracting relationship — removing much of the responsibility of labor protections and adequate support from JHU and placing it on a “middle man.” Through solidarity and organization, the security guards at JHU have been able to combat the worst effects of this precarious working relationship. Two years ago, they unionized through the SEIU, and have since fought for and won health care coverage, and they continue to advocate for a living wage.

Recently, that collective bargaining power has been threatened. JHU has opened its contracting to companies other than the unionized AlliedBarton, tailoring its bidding process to a company with close ties to JHU — Broadway — that is not unionized. If a non-union company replaces AlliedBarton, the gains made by the security guards are thrown into question; the slated changes to health coverage weren’t scheduled to take effect until January.

There is no doubt that University President Ron Daniels’ watchful eye on the “bottom line” has been a leading factor in his continuing reappointment. Up until now, the administration has succeeded by running the university like a business. With the addition of the current unionization conflict, attempts are being made to cut back on labor costs — a measure of austerity that is easily implemented when workers are not unionized. In its desire to cut expenditures, the administration is willing to cut the rights and advancements of its own security guards.

On Wednesday, after four days of organizing, our two Johns Hopkins University undergraduate student organizations — Students for a Democratic Society and the Black Student Union — delivered a petition to President Daniels and other members of the university administration. The petition, signed by 588 affiliates (89 percent of whom are current or former students), demands that JHU enter into a contract with a union security company in order to protect the gains — and maintain the collective bargaining rights — of Homewood security guards.

Given that Homewood campus is mostly empty during the summer months, and that our organizations had only four days to organize this response, this petition shows immense solidarity with our university’s security guards. In the past year, Hopkins students have proven to be more engaged about their own lives on campus; from hundreds demonstrating against racism to over a thousand petitioning against academic policy changes, we students have broken our historic apathy. We will not solely organize for ourselves; we stand shoulder to shoulder with our security guards and the Baltimore community. Even when that puts us at odds with the JHU administration.

Nearly all of the unionized security guards are black Baltimoreans — the same demographic that JHU has had a long and often cruel history of exploiting and oppressing. Through current projects such as HopkinsLocal and the Homewood Community Partners Initiative, President Daniels is trying to demonstrate a stronger and more improved relationship between JHU and the Baltimore community. The JHU administration has already supposedly committed to protecting the benefits of staff, as outlined in the administration’s Roadmap to Diversity — a rather toothless document that was released after the Black Student Union led protests against racism at Hopkins last fall. Yet if the administration removes this union from Homewood campus, President Daniels’ frequent statements of community partnership and solidarity will prove to be empty words.

The JHU administration’s white savior complex forces it to “help” Baltimore — but only if it results in greater benefits for the university. In order for JHU to stand with the Baltimore community, Hopkins must be willing to reduce the harm it still causes many Baltimoreans. This can begin here and now, with these workers. To display this supposed solidarity, President Daniels and the JHU administration must enter a contract with a union company. Anything less is a slap in the face to the university’s workers and the city at large.

Corey Payne (cpayne20@jhu.edu), Grace Hargrove (ghargro2@jhu.ed), and Chase Alston (calston8@jhu.edu) are student organizers at Johns Hopkins, where they are in the class of 2017.


Reentry Through Resistance

This article originally appeared in CounterPunch Magazine on 5/31/16.

After President Obama’s historic trip to Havana this spring, liberal politicians and pundits have praised the Administration’s policy of temperance towards the United States’ long-time adversary. Since Presidents Obama and Castro announced the “normalization of diplomatic relations” in December 2014, the U.S. government has claimed credit for allowing Cuba back into the international system of states, as Obama said in his 2015 State of the Union Address:

…our shift in Cuba policy has the potential to end a legacy of mistrust in our hemisphere. It removes a phony excuse for restrictions in Cuba. It stands up for democratic values, and extends the hand of friendship to the Cuban people.

While the White House may want the public to believe that Cuba is reentering the system of states because the U.S. has decided to be benevolent in ending a harmful policy, the real reason is that the U.S. government no longer had a choice in the matter. After a half-century of attempting to overthrow Cuba’s communist government, the U.S. has failed to decimate the culture of resistance that exists in Cuba. Through it all, the Cuban people have bested U.S. imperialism.

Cuba’s reentry is a product of Cuba’s resistance, bolstered by Latin American solidarity. By removing the agency from the Cuban people and Latin American states, the U.S. narrative attempts to turn a defeat into a victory for imperial power.


Cuba’s Defiance

After toppling a U.S.-friendly dictator in 1959, the Cuban revolutionary government—led by Fidel Castro—was immediately thrust into an ongoing Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union. Just before Castro declared the revolution communist and official allegiance with the Soviets, the U.S. implemented the embargo (known in Cuba as the blockade) in response to the nationalization of U.S. oil refineries on the island without compensation.

This blockade restricts access to medicine, food, and other traded goods; it is considered a violation of humanitarian principles by myriad international organizations and governments—even the American Association for World Health found that doctors in Cuba lack access to more than 50 percent of the drugs on the world market because of the restrictions, and held that the blockade has led to significantly more suffering and death in Cuba. This has led Amnesty International to condemn the blockade, chiefly due to the unavailability of simple drugs protected by U.S. patents.

But Cuba has not only had to face humanitarian crisis at the hands of U.S. policy—the U.S. government has actively tried to overthrow the Castro regime dozens—if not hundreds—of times since 1960. The most famous instance was the 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion, when CIA-trained Cuban dissidents led a failed invasion of the island in order to orchestrate a coup d’état.

Assassination attempts against Fidel Castro (and later, Raul) by the CIA were numerous—as many as eight confirmed attempts in the decade of the 1960s alone—and ridiculously imaginative. Moreover, this policy is not an old one; the latest confirmed attempt was in 2007, when the CIA used poison pills to attempt the assassination.

But through economic and social hardship, military invasions, and political assassination attempts—all orchestrated by the strongest imperial power in the world—the Cuban people (and state) have resisted. No attempts have succeeded, and the failure of the United States has oftentimes inspired pride and bolstered resistance. And now, after more than a half-century of exile, Cuba is no longer alone on the margins of the interstate system.


Pan-American Solidarity

It was not through singular resistance alone that Cuba was able to join the ranks of un-exiled states. After more than a century of U.S. imperialism in the Western Hemisphere, the states of Latin America stood with Cuba against the North American hegemon. The greatest example of this was the formation of ALBA (the Bolivarian Alliance for the Americas) in 2004, with Cuba and Venezuela as founding members. The alliance was formed to create a system of leftist nations which countered U.S. imperialist foreign policy and promoted socialist governing styles. With the governments of Antigua and Barbuda, Bolivia, Dominica, Ecuador, Grenada, Nicaragua, St. Kitts and Nevis, St. Lucia, and St. Vincent and the Grenadines joining in stride, ALBA became a political and economic force for left-wing governments in Latin America.

But the solidarity did not end with those nations who had already declared themselves anti-imperialist (whether through their embrace of socialist ideologies or their resistance to neoliberalism). In 2008, Cuba was officially admitted to the Rio Group, an international organization of Latin American states designed to create Latin American solutions to Latin American problems, twenty-two years after the formation of the group. In addition to some of the left-wing ALBA states, the twenty-four member states of the group included traditional pro-U.S. governments such as Colombia, Mexico, and Panama.

Cuba was also a founding member of the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States (CELAC) in 2010—when it also gained the presidency of the group. From 2010 to 2011, Cuban diplomats spoke on behalf of thirty-three member states in Latin America to international forums around the world. In 2014, the second summit of CELAC was hosted in Havana—and the heads of state from all thirty-three nations were present.

It was clear at this point that the tides were turning. The U.S. government had long been criticized internationally for its policy towards Cuba (the United Nations has voted nearly unanimouslyevery year since 1991 calling on the U.S. to end the embargo), but the open embrace of Cuba by Latin American nations it considered regional allies began to force its hand.

But one of the most pivotal moments of solidarity came in 2012, when Colombian President Juan Manuel Santos—the host of that year’s Summit of the Americas and not a leftist by any sense of the word—called for Cuba to be present at the next summit. Since the Cuban revolution, Cuba had been excluded from the Organization of American States (OAS) and from all of the successive summits.

The U.S. government immediately renounced this call, refusing to budge on the issue or extending an invitation to the Cuban president. President Obama even went as far as criticizing the Latin American leaders who stood with Cuba as “ignoring the…principle… of [resisting] oppression.”

The summit ended without a resolution to the ‘Cuba question’ and Obama returned to Washington defiant. But shortly afterwards, many Latin American governments announced that they would boycott the next summit (to be held in 2015 in Panama City) if Cuba’s leaders were not invited.

It is no coincidence that shortly after the announcement of the boycott, the U.S. and Cuba began to engage in secret talks that culminated in the restoration of diplomatic relations in December of that year.

At the summit, held four months after the announcement, Cuban President Raul Castro was present—and was the star guest. He gave a forty-nine minute speech (after only being allotted eight minutes, he said he deserved the time for all of the summits he had been excluded from) and gave a detailed history of U.S. imperialism in Cuba—from the Platt Amendment to the invasion attempts to the military base at Guantanamo, U.S. policy was skewered while Obama watched.

Nearly every head of state praised Cuba, and some went further by criticizing the U.S.; Argentine President Christina Kirchner Fernandez took credit away from the Obama Administration for the diplomacy and praised Cuba for fifty years of resistance. Bolivia’s Evo Morales called on the U.S. government to compensate Cuba for half a century of an inhumane blockade.

The solidary campaign of resistance worked. The White House evenadmits that they were pressured into diplomacy: “[the policy of isolation] constrained our ability to influence outcomes throughout the Western Hemisphere.” If the U.S. government wanted to continue to “influence outcomes” in Latin America, at least in this case, it would have to play by the new rules written south of their borders.


Solidarity Beyond Cuba

Latin American leaders rightly basked in their victory at the 2015 Summit of the Americas. They had successfully stood together to force the hand of the U.S. government in bringing Cuba back into the fold. But, as with all movements based on solidarity and resistance, this victory should be seen merely as a starting point for battles to come.

In calling for the need for solidarity of the peoples of the underdeveloped world, Frantz Fanon wrote in his master work, The Wretched of the Earth: “It is clear therefore that the young nations of the Third World are wrong to grovel at the feet of the capitalist countries. We are powerful in our own right and the justness of our position.” Fanon understood the potential for the exploited countries of the world to stand together and beat Western imperialism.

As many social scientists have pointed out, U.S. hegemony is weakening on all counts. Its attempts at holding onto power have resulted only in a further regression on the global stage. As it continues to grow weaker, U.S. imperialism can be more easily combatted.

The actions taken by Latin American countries to push for Cuban reentry to the world-system is demonstrative: when the exploited stand together, they can beat an empire. This can and should be emulated across the globe: through solidary, it is possible to change the nature of the world-system and resist imperialism in all its forms.

As Fanon wrote, merely a year after the implementation of the blockade on Cuba:

The Cuban people will suffer, but they will win in the end…That will be a day for rejoicing since it will be a crucial moment for men and women throughout the world. The almighty power of the dollar, whose security after all is only guaranteed by the slaves of this world…will then cease to dominate these slaves who created it and who continue to drain their heads and bellies of all their substance to feed it.

This day has not yet come, but perhaps this reentry is a sign of future triumph. But the Obama Administration will continue to weave a narrative of benevolence, temperance, and diplomacy. So long as history remembers the success of U.S. actions, it will forget the resilience of those who stood together. In order to overcome, we must push to remember not a story of imperial victory, but one of solidarity and resistance.

After the Blockade

This article originally appeared in Jacobin Magazine on 4/8/16

Last month, Barack Obama became the first US president in nearly ninety years to set foot in Cuba and the first ever to make an official state visit to the island. Obama’s trip came on the heels of his historic decision to re-establish diplomatic relations with Cuba — a move he hopes will burnish his foreign policy legacy and, equally importantly, solidify a sea change that even a hostile successor would find difficult to undo.

With Obama back stateside, discussion has now turned to the embargo — namely, what will happen if (or, more likely, when) it is lifted. Cruise ship companies are skirting the embargo’s remaining restrictions, launching “culturally themed” trips to Havana this spring. The number of US visitors to Cuba has increased 50 percent since Obama announced the rapprochement. And if the embargo disappears, the Guardian reports, Cuba “could see as many as 10 million US tourists a year — a deluge for which the creaking, crumbling bones of Havana are far from prepared.”

But it is not just the “creaking, crumbling bones of Havana” that are unprepared for the arrival of US consumers. The Cuban left may be even more vulnerable than the country’s infrastructure — and harder to repair.

Can it survive in this new era, in which capitalism no longer stops short of Cuba’s shores?


The Blockade

In the US, restrictions on trade with Cuba are called “the embargo”; in Cuba, they are known as “the blockade.” The billboards lining the streets of Havana rotate between anti-imperialist and pro-revolutionary messages, often sporting phrases like “el bloqueo es genocidio” (“the blockade is genocide”).

Most Cubans object to the fifty-four-year-old blockade, which restricts access to medicine, food, and other traded goods and gives the state a ready-made excuse to repress political dissent.

The American Association for World Health found that doctors in Cuba lack access to more than 50 percent of the drugs on the world market because of the restrictions, and argues that “the US embargo has caused a significant rise in suffering — and even deaths — in Cuba.” Amnesty International condemns the unavailability of simple drugs protected by US patents, and members of the United Nations (with the exception of the US and Israel) have overwhelmingly voted against the embargo every year since 1991.

Indeed, just about the only people who support the embargo are those, like Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio, who think that removing it would rejuvenate the Castro regime. But as Carlos Alzugaray, a retired Cuban diplomat and US-Cuban relations expert, said earlier this month, Cubans generally worry more about the quality of their material lives than abstract concepts of human rights. “It would be a mistake to assume most Cubans prioritize political questions and are scared to express themselves,” he said. “They hope to live better. Change, political and economic, is coming to Cuba anyway, but on our own terms.”

For the Cuban left, the blockade is a far more complicated issue.

Instituted just before Fidel Castro declared the revolution a communist one, the embargo was the US’s response to the Cuban government’s uncompensated nationalization of US oil refineries. Tensions between the US and Cuba continued to escalate after the blockade’s enactment, culminating in the Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961 and the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962.

Throughout the Cold War, the US government viewed the nation as a Soviet foothold disturbingly close to American shores — a threat, both materially and existentially, to US hegemony.

But when the Soviet bloc collapsed in 1991, Cuba was thrown into crisis. People in Havana still talk of the years when electricity would only work for twelve hours a day, alternating between day and night.

The US, meanwhile, solidified its dominance on the global stage. The beleaguered country could no longer conceivably be seen as a menace to the US — much less one that warranted continued restrictions. Yet the blockade persisted, even when it proved unable to topple the Castros.

Today this impasse is finally waning. By engaging with the Cuban government, the Obama administration has admitted the failure of this Cold War vestige and the need for a new relationship.

The Cuban left has no illusions about the harmfulness of the blockade. It is an act of US aggression aimed at the civilian population of the island, and getting rid of it would improve the quality of life for millions. The US government should do so immediately.

At the same time, we shouldn’t ignore the potentially negative ramifications of such a change, both for the Cuban left and for the country more broadly.

Lifting the embargo would open up Cuba to American corporations and the US government’s attempts to “export democracy.” As the experience of countries in the region and around the world shows, neither would bode well for the island nation.


The Incoming Wave of Capitalism

In addition to US-based tour companies — which for decades have tried to circumvent the blockade — myriad other businesses and industries are looking to ride the wave of change straight into the Cuban market. AT&T is attempting to reach an agreement with Cuban telecommunications monopoly Etecsa; Major League Baseball hopes to capitalize on Cuba’s baseball culture; and Starwood Hotels and Marriott International both plan to open hotels in Havana once it’s permitted.

Then there are the companies that were fighting for a place at the table even before Obama’s visit was on the horizon. Verizon and Sprint both offer roaming services in Cuba and the Obama administration has let American companies sell construction materials, agricultural equipment, and telecommunications infrastructure to Cuba’s small capitalist class for years.

The list goes on: Airbnb and Netflix operate on the island, US credit cards are beginning to be accepted, and US airlines have been watching the détente closely, preparing for the flood of tourism.

Earlier this year, the US and Cuba signed an agreement to restore commercial air service, permitting twenty daily round-trip flights to Havana. Thirteen US airlines immediately pounced, then requested fifty-two flights. As of December, over two dozen US companies had submitted formal business proposals to the Cuban government — a sum that will only expand after Obama’s visit.

The potential end of the embargo has also whet the appetites of other countries. In the past, many international firms and governments feared a US backlash for being too friendly with the Cuban regime. But since Obama’s December 2014 announcement, countries like France and Japan have joined Russia and most Latin American nations in attempting to curry favor with the Cuban state and obtain permission to invest on the island.

The influx of companies has already changed Cuban society. For example, new telecommunications deals have brought public wi-fi hotspots to the parks of major cities — providing many Cubans their first opportunity to access the internet. (Direct mail between the US and Cuba has also surged since December.)

Obama will no doubt use these business deals to demonstrate that his open policy towards Cuba is good for both US businesses and Cuban consumers. But while the restoration of trade and green light to invest will certainly benefit US capitalists, it’s less clear whether and how it will benefit ordinary Cubans.


Foreign Capital in Cuba

There’s no consensus among economists about whether foreign direct investment (FDI) — an outside company buying or opening a firm in another country — is good or bad for host countries.

Most mainstream economists see it as a necessity for economic growth, contending that when FDI is combined with liberalization (i.e. austerity and privatization), development takes off. Left-wing economists disagree. They consider FDI an exploitative mechanism that, at its most basic level, uses a host country’s resources and markets without improving the lives of residents.

As evidence, they point to the weak (or, some argue, nonexistent) causal link between FDI and human and/or economic development. The case of Eastern Europe is instructive. According to the United Nations Commission on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), the region had $300 million worth of FDI in 1990. By 1991 (directly following the collapse of the Soviet Union), FDI had spiked to $2.448 billion. Ten years later it was up to $27.2 billion.

The flow of FDI into Eastern Europe was part of a broader regional integration into global capitalism, and, as economist Jasminka Sohinger has shown, many countries in the area experienced economic growth. However, as social geographer Petr Pavlienek has pointed out, FDI also negatively impacted the region, intensifying instability, increasing economic and social inequality, and creating a “dual economy” of haves and have-nots.

For the most part, Pavlienek says, foreign investors failed to develop meaningful ties with local and regional economies — creating neocolonial relationships in which local economies were controlled by foreign capital with little chance of advancing into higher value and higher wage production.

Results did vary across Eastern Europe. What was crucial, Nina Bandelj and Matthew Mahutga argue, was how countries responded to FDI. The same goes for Cuba, although it’s unclear what approach the state will adopt.

The Cuban system has not fallen, and there is no evidence to suggest that it will if the blockade ends. Nor is a transition to liberal democracy on the immediate horizon. The ruling Communist Party appears partial toward a Chinese or Vietnamese state-capitalist model and is unlikely to implement sweeping austerity or privatize state enterprises. In this sense, the Cuban government will probably deal with the inflow of foreign capital as it has for the past six decades — as a “communist” state.

Of course, the way the Cuban state regulates the expansion of trade and FDI will present its own set of problems. At the moment, Cuba provides incentives to firms that are joint ventures between foreign capital and the Cuban state. But this says little about how ordinary Cubans will fare if an explosion of FDI enters the country.

As Samuel Farber recently noted, the government often positions itself between Cuban workers and foreign capitalists, facilitating an exploitative relationship in which workers’ wages are driven down. This is on top of labor’s broader obstacles, which include a lack of transparency and an inability to organize independent trade unions.


A Strange Struggle for the Left

The Cuban left is still groping toward a strategy that acknowledges the detrimental effects of the blockade, while refusing to waiver in their belief that a turn to capitalism is any kind of solution.

Racism, sexism, and homophobia mingle with poverty and scarcity in Cuban society — to say nothing of the authoritarian state apparatus that governs in the name of the revolution. No one can seriously place all blame for Cuban society’s difficulties on the US blockade, but a turn to capitalism hardly presents a solution.

One leftist historian and intellectual explained his fears: “When the day comes that there is a US-funded business at every corner, when the day comes that consumerism surrounds us, I will not be able to recognize our revolution. And that day is coming.”

Others expressed similar trepidation. A prominent LGBT rights and anticapitalist organizer told me:


These changes are going to bring us towards the Trump brand of capitalism. Cuba has never been a worker’s state — it is a state-capitalist system, not a socialist one. The party is forcing us to swallow their vision of the future by leading the people to believe there are only three options: their way, US capitalism, or civil war. But we fear that their way and US capitalism will appear too similar.


To build a better post-blockade future, leftists like sociologist Boaventura de Sousa Santos advocate a leftward shift: “If [Cuba’s] problems are solved within a socialist framework, Cuba may once again become an agent for the renovation of the Left . . . bringing about a different kind of socialism from the one that failed in the twentieth century.”


The New Guard

But is a turn to the left possible?

Last year, Samuel Farber described the state of Cuba’s left, pointing out the hard truth that most would-be leftist dissenters do not stray far from the Communist Party mainstream. The leftists who do exist receive no more sympathy from the state than their conservative counterparts.

The artists, intellectuals, and academics in the Cuban left have also struggled to expand their base — many Cubans are staunch supporters of Fidel and remain committed to the party out of loyalty to the revolution. The revolutionary university student organization, la Federación Estudiantil Universitaria (FEU), often holds gatherings that erupt in chants of “Viva Fidel! Viva la Revolución!” (“Viva Raúl! Viva las reformas!” are curiously absent.)

Yet intellectual and political collectives such as the Critical Observatory of Cuba, Project Rainbow, and Participatory and Democratic Socialism (PDS) have sprung up to advocate more radical solutions to the problems Cuban society faces.

Last summer, PDS leader Pedro Campos Santos spoke with Dissentabout the transition. The Cuban state, he said, has


not allowed a discussion within the party or among the people about the type of society, the kind of socialism, that Cubans want . . . There is not a word on workers’ self-management of business, and state monopolies of all kinds are being strengthened. There is talk of a new constitution and a new electoral law, but with all of the people remaining on the outside of the discussions.


In attempting to offer some sort of alternative, Santos and others have had to contend with a dizzying array of obstacles.

For starters, surveillance and repression have increased since the diplomatic thaw. Opposition demonstrations, once rare events, occur more frequently. But security forces usually break them up and detain the participants. November 2015 had the highest number of arbitrary arrests in years — until the first two weeks of December surpassed it.

Activists also suffer material consequences for organizing. The Cuban state still controls more than 75 percent of employment (a number that’s even higher in the academic and white-collar sectors), and has been known to strip privileges and ranks from those who oppose it. The intellectual and antiracist Roberto Zurbano, for instance, was dismissed from his prominent position in the cultural organization Casa de las Américas in 2013 after publishing a critical op-ed in theNew York Times.

In addition, the absence of an independent civil society hamstrings activists. While many groups in official civil society — workers unions, student groups, community organizations — better the lives of Cubans, they are also tied to, and constrained by, the Cuban Communist Party. And it is often the party itself that must be organized against — a tall task when building an opposition means building illegal organizations, usually without the advantage ofreliable, unrestricted internet access.

Many opposition groups respond to this set of challenges by coalescing around US-supported actions — whether through recognition, funding, or organizational support. This tactic, while incredibly prevalent among right-wing and centrist dissidents, is also found among social democrats and other would-be leftists, who choose to embrace imperialism out of expediency.

The remaining leftists advance a mish-mash of causes and struggles. From antiracists to anarchists to LGBT rights activists, those on the party’s left flank are often as disorganized as they are passionate. This organizational weakness is compounded by the organizational strength of the Communist Party, which dominates the plane of left ideas. The FEU is illustrative: a group of young, passionate leftist students with significant social and organizational capacity that remains committed to the only party they know to support the revolution.

Many on the Left fear that, because of the party’s strong grip on political power, the country will begin to shift toward a China- or Vietnam-style system without significant leftist resistance. For those who support socialism and democracy, this outcome would be just as bad as US-style capitalism — an exploitative labor relationship without the consolation of a more open civil society and political process.


Building an Alternative

Cuba cannot continue to starve on the margins of the world system, cut off from the international community by an inhumane blockade. But neither should we accept unfettered foreign capital, and with it, the defeat of the socialist project. The Cuban state seems to be internalizing this binary. The Left knows there are other paths to be taken.

As Cuban PDS activists wrote last year: “The policy of aggression and blockade pursued by the United States for half a century failed of its own nature, as did the ‘state socialism’ [the government] tried to impose on the Cuban people. Nothing sustainable can ever be built from the top down.”

But there is an alternative from the bottom up, if the Cuban left can defeat both incoming capitalist forces and an authoritarian state: a true anticapitalism built on a free civil society, workers’ power, and democracy.