As Fidel Fades

After I had interviewed Fidel Castro four times and studied him and his regime for many years, I could finally tell when he was saying something that expressed his real feelings. Those moments of truth were revealing because they were not simply part of the incredible miasma of verbiage that he creates to serve one or another of his myriad political and ideological purposes.

Recently, these moments of truth have illuminated and engaged a new question: After Fidel, what? Previously, in interviews with foreign journalists, Castro said that he did "not care what happened to Cuba after he was gone." This should not have surprised anyone. His words were psychologically the same as the apocalyptic royal arrogance of Louis XV, "Apres moi, le deluge," or Adolf Hitler, who, about to die in the bunker in Berlin, said that Germany itself should be destroyed because the Germans had not been good enough for him.

Indeed, their countries normally mean nothing to men with these enormous pretensions; they are mere stepping stones on their paths to power. As with many ambitious leaders of small countries, Castro's ambition was always bigger than the island of Cuba. That is why, in the l960s and 1970s for example, he reached out by sending at least 400,000 different Cuban troops in and out of Africa alone. Ironically, with his global ambitions destroyed, Castro is now turning to the future of Cuba. This new theme, which came to public notice only three years ago, began to build on his old themes of rabid obsession with anti-Americanism and obvious assurance that no one should succeed him, or, more importantly, ever could. Suddenly, he began to take the idea of succession, or at least transition, more seriously.

Preparing (Finally) for the Transition

In reality, there has seemed to be no need to think much about succession. Castro, who turned 74 in August 2000, has recently seemed physically healthy enough, despite some bouts with cancer and probably a heart problem, so the subject never garnered much attention.

Suddenly, in l997, the entire schema of thinking about succession took on new importance and demanded attention in Cuba. At the Fifth Communist Party Congress that year, Fidel first brought the question out in the open, but, with apparent seriousness, he was speaking now no longer of succession but of transition to "Fidelismo without Fidel." He seemed concerned about passing on his ideology or, as he likes to call it, his "doctrine." Suddenly, he was dealing with the questions of institutionalization that he had evaded for so long. Indeed, the charismatic leader must evade them if only because they so threaten his total hold on power.

Cuba has a Communist Party, yes, and even a central committee and a politburo, but these institutions always were peculiarly Fidelista potemkin Communist bodies and never resembled the serious collective leaderships of the bigger communist countries. In truth, since l959, Cuba has been ruled only by an all-powerful Fidel and by a Fidelismo that is historically akin to a caudillismo, such as the military dictatorships of Spain. (One can actually most easily compare them with the fascist father-and-son presidents of the 1920s and 1930s, Miguel and Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera, as well as fascist Generalissimo Francisco Franco, who was for many years a confidante of Fidel, interestingly enough.)

Then, in July 2000 at Manzanillo in southeastern Cuba, in a speech against the U.S. trade embargo, Castro insisted that there would be no change in Cuba's political system despite all the speculation about his death. "Now they talk about the famous transition," he said in a news conference. "I have read hundreds of articles about that famous transition. 'Who will come after Castro? Will his brother be able to control the situation?'" Then he added sagely, "You cannot cover the sun with your finger!" And therein, again, one hears the true words of Fidel Castro: He is the sun and all those poor mortals...