Cuba: Kartographer Katie
Hi everyone! I’m Katie, and I’m obsessed with geography. While I embrace my Southern family roots in North Carolina, I’ve always had a travel bug and have an immense appreciation for history, politics, and culture. I’ve lived in Charlotte, Buenos Aires, Los Angeles, Edinburgh, and most recently (pandemic) New York City, and have traveled to 30+ countries on 4 continents so far.
My intended audience is people who have a Eurocentric, United States worldview. Whether we like it or not, we sit in positions of power as citizens of a country with hegemonic dominance. This perpetuates self-importance — and accompanying naivety — in the narrative we create about the world around us. Precisely because of this, we often do not grapple with considerations of indigenous issues, Western extractive power structures, and other aspects of the present-day diplomatic status quo of other countries while we enjoy our travels and leisure.
While I do want these blog posts to be fun and interesting (traveling is fun, and I’ll hopefully convince you that maps are cool!), my ultimate goal is for them to inform, inspire, and spark critical thinking about what maps — and the places and people behind them — tell us about power structures and how we can be more unifying and empathic in our understanding of the world around us.
- Please note that these posts are in no way meant to be exhaustive, comprehensive histories and overviews — if I held myself to those standards, I could never do these places justice. They are also not intended to highlight what scholars consider to be the most important issues — I am NOT an expert to attempt to make those sorts of calls. These posts are merely “starter packs” to further research, and I’ve done my best to link credit where credit is due for further exploration.
Table of contents:
Why it matters — US contributions to cultural and economic imperialism, ideological imposition (including capitalist-communist during Cold War), and human rights violations (Guantanamo Bay)
Indigenous history — Taino, Guanahatabey and Ciboney natives, Columbus exploitation and indigenous revival projects
Power structures — Spanish colonialism, U.S. economic, military, and cultural spheres of influence, Cold War Soviet backing
Today — Economic and cultural modernization, tourism infrastructure development, human rights concerns, ongoing U.S.-Cuban tensions
Why it matters:
When I was a child, I’d often stare at maps in the way that some kids would peruse comic books or play with dolls. My parents and grandparents had lots of maps hung up in their studies or playrooms, and I could never get enough of them. Each area of the world, each country, each region had different inlets and mountains and cities — there was so much to look at, and so many narratives about each place to craft in my head.
No matter where in the world I was looking on a map, my eyes would frequently dart back to the southeast United States, as if to orient myself back to my home state of North Carolina for a quick recharge before turning to somewhere that was unfamiliar, and in my young mind felt exotic. Uzbekistan, Tasmania, Madagascar, Somalia, and Mali were a few recurring ones that piqued my interest for some reason, as they rolled off my tongue in delightfully different ways than “France” or “Germany” or “Brazil”, and I had never really heard about in school.
Yet there was another place that felt equally unfamiliar — and surprisingly, was only a quick eye scan below my home state: Cuba. I remember distinctly that it was pink on my grandparents’ political map of the world — perhaps that’s why it originally caught my attention. Of course I had heard of places in the Caribbean — I envied friends who had made it down to the Bahamas or Jamaica. My parents had their honeymoon on St. John, in the U.S. Virgin Islands. What was this massive piece of land right below Florida (103 miles away between the closest two points, to be precise) that was not talked about at all in my childhood world? My uncle had spent time in Nicaragua after college, and I felt like everywhere north of Colombia in the Americas I had known at least someone in my peripheral network to have visited. Why had I never heard of anyone going to Cuba? What was going on with Cuba?
By sixth grade world history, I would find my first official attempt at an answer. I learned about Cuba’s fight for independence from Spanish colonialist powers with a thriving sugar industry and communist revolutionaries overthrowing a U.S.-backed dictator, Fulgencio Batista. I learned about Che Guevara and the rise of Fidel Castro. I learned about the Cold War and the Cuban Missile Crisis. My first closer-to-accurate narrative became that Cuba was diplomatically isolated from the United States, with (at the time) very little American tourist travel and a massive embargo that prevented free trade. I learned about the population that had fled during the revolution, and the people that remained who had little access to the variety of consumer goods, cuisines, and infrastructure we take for granted.
I went to Cuba over the 2016–17 holiday break for a joint undergraduate-graduate business school trip sponsored by USC’s Marshall School of Business during a period of eased tensions between US and Cuban governments, making visa acquirement fairly more straightforward than usual (my degree was peripheral to Marshall — I was dual International Relations and Global Business, not technically in the business school. I had to practically beg to go — if you ever read this, Sean and Carl, THANK YOU for letting me go on the trip of a lifetime!). There, I learned a narrative that was far more of an American moral reckoning. I learned about our own imperialist influences in Cuba throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, about our aid suppressing black protests in Havana, our backing of a brutal dictatorship due to our communist paranoia during the Cold War, and human rights atrocities in our military base of Guantanamo Bay. I learned the two different Cuban stories that persist today, the reality of a Cuba with low upward mobility despite being an incredibly educated society, and the rise of tourist Cuba that uses a different version of their currency and has made people with multiple degrees recently wealthy not through their research and innovation but through being tour guides and hosts of casas particulares (home stays with government oversight).
For the past few years, Cuba has seen a revival as an American hotspot for travel, with access varying in difficulty depending on frequently-wavering US-Cuban relations. Our tourists often idealize the seemingly “frozen in time” infrastructure, vehicles, and cobblestone streets in Havana. We smoke cigars, drink mojitos, and take romantic walks down the Malecon and envision Hemingway’s ruminations and alluring performances to Celia Cruz. We rave about how NICE and FRIENDLY the people are, and how UNTAINTED the land is compared to the tourism we often see in other Caribbean islands, without thinking about the polarized nature of tourism in Cuba versus everything else. We leave fine restaurants sometimes unimpressed by muted flavors, playing the role of economists for a few moments as we comment on the downsides of socialism and import quotas that often prevent the quantities of ingredients commensurate with demand. But as with many countries on the map, Cuba has a long and problematic history with the United States that contributed to these outcomes and observations. I encourage everyone to confront and research further on their own before jet setting to Hemingway’s paradise.
Indigenous history:
When Columbus arrived in America, his first stop was Baracoa, near the eastern tip of Cuba, in November of 1492. Cuba had been inhabited by indigenous groups, mainly Guanahatabey, Ciboney, and Taino. They belonged in communities ranging from small settlements to city centers of over 3,000 people. These indigenous people, particularly Tainos, were inventive people who learned to strain cyanide from yuca, developed pepper gas for warfare, built oceangoing canoes large enough for more than 100 paddlers and played games with balls made of rubber, which Europeans had never seen before. Although the Taino never developed a written language, they made exquisite pottery, wove intricate belts from dyed cotton and carved enigmatic images from wood, stone, shell and bone.
While most were quickly killed off by disease, the few that remained were quickly enslaved and given Spanish surnames. Eventually, this usurpation would prove difficult for Taino descendants centuries later in their attempts to claim indigenous territorial sovereignty. The last indigenous land claim in Cuba was denied in 1850.
Several modern Cuban cities claim Taino origin, including Havana, Batabano, Camaguey, Baracoa, and Bayamo. Throughout the fifteenth century, the Spanish conquered various Taino chiefdoms and forced the inhabitants to work on colonial plantations and in gold mines. Their susceptibility to disease was severe, though, and soon the Spanish colonies lacked the labor required to sustain their colonial economic pursuits. By the end of the sixteenth century, the Spanish claimed the Taino people were extinct. It is no coincidence that the slave trade began to Cuba along a parallel timeline.
Long after the Taino’s fatal encounter with Columbus, elements of their culture remain in genetic heritage of modern Caribbean natives, the continuation of Taino words, and in isolated communities where it believed that some people fled Spanish enslavement and would continue on traditional methods of architecture, farming, fishing and healing for centuries to come. Today, Taino culture is recognized as an identity of its own and not in conflict with cubanidad (Cuban identity) — it is embraced, for better and for worse, as a tourist asset to the country, and it is believed that at least 4,000 Indo-Cubans have more Taino blood in them than not.
Power structures:
Spanish colonial rule persisted in Cuba until well into the nineteenth century, where it was a massive hub in the trans-Atlantic slave trade to support sugar production and mining. By this time, Cubans were fed up with the “perfect storm” variables of colonial exasperation: corrupt and inefficient Spanish administration, lack of political representation, and high taxes. Carlos Manuel de Cespedes, a wealthy planter in eastern Cuba, led a declaration of independence in 1868. His support from the landowners was mainly around economic freedom of their wealth, whereas farmers and laborers were more concerned with abolishing slavery and granting greater political power to the common man. This uprising failed, but in 1886 Spain abolished slavery on the island and gave some minimal reforms, like representation in parliament.
Meanwhile, U.S. interest in Cuba accelerated during its own period of political unrest leading up to the American Civil War. During the 1850s, pro-slavery southern states wanted Cuba to become a slave colony. While the United States did not intervene in the failed uprising under Cespedes, they grew increasingly interested during the 1890s. Leading journalists like William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer took great interest in the Cuban struggle, using dramatic, sensationalist stories to sell millions of newspapers.
In 1895, central leaders of the Cuban revolution included Jose Marti, who had been living in exile in New York City before returning and killed in battle. After his death, Marti became a martyr and remains a hero to the Cuban people. Eventually, Americans sided with Cuba in the Spanish-American war — a mysterious sinking of their USS Maine in Havana’s harbor in 1898 triggered this — but the question persisted of whether we should liberate the island or seize it for ourselves. It was a critical philosophical question of whether America should become a European-style imperialist power.
Cuba won independence shortly thereafter, but the Platt Amendment asserted American influence, including that America would take over Guantanamo bay and have the right to intervene in Cuban affairs. This set the precedent for decades of American intervention in Cuban affairs under the guise of protecting Cuban independence from other foreign powers, but this stronghold set a bitter tone with Cubans. By the time of the revolution, the United States had an estimated $50 million in investments and $100 million in annual trade, so it was not difficult to taste hints of economic and cultural imperialism. In both 1906 and 1917, US military took over to resolve some political crises, but usually meant protecting American interests (e.g., sugar imports). Shamefully, US forces also intervened in 1912 to help put down black protests against discrimination.
The 1920s and 30s saw continued tension in Cuba, with the first socialist party established in 1925 in the wake of Gerardo Machado forming a brutal dictatorship. Machado was overthrown in 1933 by Fulgencio Batista, and Franklin D. Roosevelt declared neutrality, wanting to end U.S. imperialist rule as he sought to focus on domestic issues during the Great Depression. This solidified further in 1934, when the U.S. formally abandoned its right to intervene in Cuban affairs, revised sugar quotas, and changed tariffs to favor Cuba. For a short time, Cuba became a US-friendly democracy —Ernest Hemingway visited often during this period.
Relations grew hostile again in 1952, when Batista seized power again after 8 years of retirement in a coup and oversaw an oppressive regime. Fidel Castro launched a fierce Communist uprising the following year before being imprisoned and fleeing to Mexico in 1955. At this point, American interests shifted after World War II with rising paranoia and political fear mongering about communism alongside the rise of the Soviet Union. This fear pushed Americans to back Batista despite the brutal nature of his regime, and this rubs salt in old wounds for Cubans, who feel this is an extension of American imperialism.
Castro returned from Mexico in 1956, where by the end of the decade, he would assume the role of leader of communist Cuba. Accompanied by Argentine revolutionary Ernesto “Che” Guevara and other revolucionarios, Castro took to the Sierra Maestra mountains and launched guerilla warfare against Batista’s regime, which was an attack on the wealthy landowners, many of whom owned sugar plantations, as well as stakeholders in US interests. In 1959, Castro led a 9,000-strong guerilla army into Havana, forcing Batista and his confidantes to flee. Castro became prime minister, his brother, Raul, became his deputy and Guevara became third in command.
For the next two years, the US State Department and CIA attempted to remove Castro. In 1960, all US companies in Cuba were nationalized without compensation, and Washington broke off all diplomatic relations with Havana the following year. The nationalization was a particular blow to US influence in the country — at the time, American corporations and wealthy individuals owned almost half of Cuba’s sugar plantations and the majority of its cattle ranches, mines, and utilities. In a definitive blow to the invincibility of America’s military superiority complex, the Bay of Pigs Invasion of 1961 saw 1,400 American-trained Cuban exiles attempt to launch a divisive coup against Castro’s regime. Many of these people had fled their homes when Castro assumed power and were hoping to return to their previous wealth and lives. However, they were hugely outnumbered by Castro’s troops, and surrendered within 24 hours.
In 1962, the US blocked Soviets from putting nuclear missiles in Cuba in a frenzy that almost caused World War 3. The crisis was resolved when the US agreed to remove missiles from Turkey in exchange for Cuba removing the Soviets’ on their soil. In 1980, Castro tried to relieve political dissent by briefly allowing Cubans to leave the island in what was announced as the Mariel Boatlift. Around 25,000 left for Florida, which added another dimension to the already tenuous power dynamics — an internal battle between Castro and Cuban dissidents, which plays out in American politics. For example, in the 1990s after the Soviet Union collapsed, Clinton and Castro began negotiations to end the conflict. However, embittered Cubans in America pushed to keep the embargo because they wanted to see Castro fail.
Today:
Despite easing of US-Cuban opposition after the fall of the Soviet Union, tense relations persist between the two countries, and human rights issues remain a huge concern due to the amount of secret policing and suppression of political dissent. Guantanamo Bay remains the place with the most contentious United States stronghold — though what used to be imperialists strongholds has transformed into a much different form of shame in the form of military abuses after 9/11.
On the US side, the US continued to lease out the 45 miles of Guantanamo Bay in southeast Cuba after Castro assumed power, although Cuba multiple times reportedly refused to cash the checks. Intense scrutiny returned to the base in the early 2000s, when Guantanamo Bay was used as a detainment camp for the “War on Terror” post- 9/11. In 2002, the George W. Bush administration brought the first 20 detainees to Guantanamo’s Camp X-Ray as part of a rapid reaction to the 9/11 attacks by al Qaeda. The administration claimed that the detainees were neither jailed criminals nor prisoners of war and so were not subject to international human rights law. By 2003, the camp reached an all-time high of 680 detainees. Over the next several years, multiple suicides, deaths of natural causes, and other leaks would prompt the Supreme Court to place new limits on the government’s ability to try detainees in military tribunals and upholds their right to challenge detention in federal court in 2006. Later that year, 14 “high-value detainees” from al Qaeda arrive. Previously, they were held at secret CIA “black sites”, which Bush acknowledged for the first time, where it was revealed several detainees were subjected to harsh interrogation techniques, including waterboarding, which have been widely condemned as torture. In 2016, the Obama Administration sent Congress a four-part strategy to close the facility.
Meanwhile, domestic Cuban policy inched towards individual rights and liberties. In 2011, Cuba passed a law permitting individuals to buy and sell property for the first time in 50 years. That same year, authorities released over 2,500 political prisoners. In 2012, Pope Benedict visited and criticized the US trade embargo, putting pressure on Washington to compromise. In a groundbreaking diplomatic moment, Pope Francis moderated peace talk between Obama and Castro in 2013. Obama then became the first president to visit Cuba since Calvin Coolidge in 1928.
Though progress has been made unlocking wealth for Cuban individuals — largely through loopholes that enable profit-making activities in the tourist industry — economic mobility still remains severely debilitated and political dissent remains dangerous. Americans can more freely enter the country to enjoy its gorgeous mountains, crystal-clear ocean waters, and vibrant city life, but it is more important than ever to recognize our contributions to their political instability, catalyzed by first our imperialist endeavors and then our ideological paranoia-fueled military aggression.
Perhaps one of the most poignant yet simple quotes that stuck with me from my trip was from Manuel, our 82-year-old tour guide who had fought in the revolution of 1959 alongside Che Guevara and Castro. His spirit and fervor for his country remained stronger than ever — his aspirations for a Cuba that embraces equality and lives out the ideals of what his fellow revolutionary men had wanted in the first place before a multitude of factors soured their dreams through the latter half of the twentieth century. It truly gives me chills recalling his impassioned speech he gave us on the bus ride on the way back to the airport in Havana.
In some ways, his aspirations for humanity were not all too different from some of the same desires and moral reckonings we have grappled with this year. I’ll let him wrap up the story:
“We were not terrorists. We were not dictators. We were Cubans. We were a group of young people with ideas. We were unhappy with our country, but we loved our country, and we fervently wanted to make it better. Reduce inequality, improve education, provide healthcare to all. We made mistakes. Mistakes that cost us our lives, our livelihood, our dreams. But you have to remember — your country’s model, of capitalism and pseudo-imperialist patriotism, that model is not necessarily the model that every country wants. Remember that. And with that, I bid you farewell — Viva la revolucion.”
