Cuba
My family didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up. We lived in Novato, at that time a working-class bedroom community for San Francisco. My father was a police officer, and my mother worked at Xxx. But though they weren’t wealthy, my parents lived rich and engaged lives. They were highly inquisitive – interested in literally everything, from the arts to the sciences, from architecture and urban planning to the natural world, from history to pop culture.
They loved to travel – not at a luxurious level, but at any level they could afford. They wanted to see the world, and they wanted my siblings and me to see it with them. They took us to national parks, museums, and concerts. By the time I was a teen, I had seen Frank Sinatra, Benny Goodman, Ella Fitzgerald, and Sammy Davis Jr. in concert. We never had the best seats – but we were there, in live venues, watching singers and musicians who are now legends. Those concerts created indelible memories that will stay with me forever.
In sum, my parents were both adventurous and curious. And they instilled that sense of adventure, that thirst for knowledge, in their children. It didn’t matter what dream or scheme we had in mind – they never said no, they never discouraged us: “You want to go to Alaska and float the Yukon? Absolutely!”
But at the same time, they emphasized we’d have to make our own way through this bright and beautiful world we wanted to explore. And so, the full message was: Yes, go to Alaska – but start working and saving your money now so you’ll have the means to travel. There’d be no handouts. Ultimately how far we got, how much we were able to see and feel and experience, was all up to us.
That desire to explore the new, the unknown, was what led me to Cuba in 1987. It was forbidden for U.S. citizens to travel to Cuba, but I was strongly motivated by the very fact that visits were verboten. Also, I was an avid Jack London enthusiast by that time. He had traveled to Cuba on his honeymoon and had written a short story based on his visit. And that story was just embedded in my brain – I wanted to see the places he had mentioned. Also, travel to Cuba was cheap, and my parents enthusiastically supported my ambition. So I went.
And what did I find on that first trip? A beautiful country with lush, spectacular scenery, gorgeous beaches, and warm, friendly people. And it was also a prosperous country. In the late 1980s, Cuba’s economy was still supported by the Soviet Union. The economy was strong, and the people had good housing and medical care and plenty to eat. The culture was rich and vibrant, and the arts were flourishing. My visit was a feast for the senses, and it expanded my social and political horizons immensely.
But everything had changed by the time I took my second trip in 1992. The Soviet Union had dissolved, decamping Cuba in the process. All Soviet economic support and subsidies had been withdrawn, and the Cuban people were suffering mightily as a result. This was known as “The Special Period,” and it was certainly that – in the worst possible way. There was no work, minimal hard currency, and scant food. Though the country had an abundance of excellent physicians, there was little in the way of pharmaceuticals and functional medical equipment. People were hungry, and they remained untreated when they became sick. So within a few years and two short trips, I witnessed a dramatic and devastating change in the lives of the Cuban people.
One thing, however, hadn’t changed: the Cuban people themselves. They remained welcoming and vital. Moreover, I witnessed their incredible strength, resilience, and enduring optimism under extreme adversity. They continued to extract every bit of possible pleasure from life through their friendships, music, conversation, and the sharing of the few resources they had – some bananas or mangoes, a plate of fish, rice and beans, a small bottle of rum. Both their suffering and their extraordinary generosity touched me.
I’ve worked most of my life as a political consultant, and politics and governance have shaped my perspective to a great degree. But my relationships in Cuba have always been with average Cuban people – the vendors, the farmers, the fishermen – the people you meet walking the streets or strolling along a beach. I never had any interest in cultivating friendships with people in power or embroiling myself in the country’s politics. I still don’t. I’m political in the United States because it’s my profession. I want nothing to do with politics in Cuba because the country and its citizens are my passion.
But the suffering I witnessed in 1992 left a deep and troubling impression. I wanted to help, to do whatever I could to make things better. I didn’t have the opportunity to revisit Cuba until I went back with an old friend in 1998, and I was heartened that the situation had improved to some degree. But much remained to be done, and I started a series of charitable projects that are ongoing to this day – projects designed to help regular Cubans improve their daily lives. I began traveling to Cuba regularly to both oversee these projects and experience and understand the land, people, and culture of the island. Currently, I’ve made 76 trips to Cuba – and I anticipate making many more.
And along the way, I’ve forged some of the strongest friendships of my life. I’ve had friends who have grown old and died. I have others whom I met as children, and I’ve watched them grow up, marry, and have kids of their own. Sometimes their marriages have been happy. Sometimes they’ve ended in divorce. But it has been an honor to be friends with all of them in both their joys and their sorrows, in their successes and failures.
So I return to Cuba for the people. As Americans, we have so much in common with them, from a love of baseball to a basic irrepressible belief in a better future. But I also return for the exquisite, almost heartbreaking beauty of the country. Cuba encompasses some of the most stunning landscapes on the planet, and its biological diversity is astounding. Cubans are a conservation-minded people, and they’ve resisted helter-skelter development. They’re determined to preserve what they have, knowing that their pristine beaches, incomparable coral reefs, and verdant highland and lowland forests are irreplaceable. It isn’t easy: such a dedicated environmental ethic requires a commitment that transcends the desire for material goods, and – as a beneficiary of that priority – it never fails to impress and humble me.
While the Cuban government has preserved the nation’s natural heritage and provided excellent universal education, it has also failed to meet its obligations to its people in many key areas, from basic economic opportunity to the guarantee and protection of free expression. These deficits and oppressions are weighing heavily on the Cuban people, as witnessed by recent nationwide demonstrations against the regime.
People have asked me why I don’t walk away from Cuba at this point, given the recent government crackdowns. The repressive actions of the Cuban authorities must be opposed without reservation – but I’m convinced sanctions and embargos are an unproductive response. Aggressive confrontation by the United States only hardens the Cuban government’s resistance and increases the suffering of the Cuban citizenry.
I believe we need to increase our connections and outreach to Cuba, not further restrict them. Cooler heads – on both sides – must ultimately prevail. I truly believe we have a bright future together, one that will benefit both our countries, the hemisphere, and the world. That’s why I will never abandon Cuba. I will always return, no matter how difficult the circumstances.
As a political consultant, I know that there is a limit to the power of politics. Ultimately, the will of the people will assert itself – and the will of the Cuban people demands a normalized and open relationship with the United States. We must help them realize that aspiration.
