How Do You Tame Computer Users?

User on Revolico, the Cuban “Craigslist” (Silvia Corbelle, 14ymedio)

Generation Y, Yoani Sanchez, Havana, 18 May 2015 – Nimble fingers over the keyboard, a life divided between reality and the digital world, plus the gratification of amusing yourself, learning, teaching and being free through technology. These are some of the points shared by those of us in Cuba who have linked ourselves to information and communication technologies, whether for professional reasons or simply from personal passion. Now, a new association is trying to support these enthusiasts of circuits and screens, although the management of the organization proposes many limits on autonomy and ideological ties.

The new Computer Users Union of Cuba (UIC) will enjoy the official recognition that has been lacking until now for independent groups of bloggers, gamers and programmers. It will have statutes, a code of ethics and members will be able to rely on support and visibility through its structure. Nor is there any doubt that at the next international event where “pro-governmental civil society” appears — in the manner of the Summit of the Americas — the new affiliates of the UIC will attend.

If the promoters of these activities, in whatever part of the world, want to know how a pretend non-governmental organization is generated, they should pay attention to the details of the genesis of the new organization that will bring together Cubans engaged in new technologies. It will be an excellent opportunity not to see “a star being born,” but to witness how a black hole is created that that will seek to engulf one of the wildest, freest phenomenon parallel to power in Cuban society today.

They will try to engulf one of the wildest, freest phenomenon parallel to power in Cuban society today

The process for signing up for the UIC will be open until July 15. Applicants must submit the registration form, a photocopy of their academic degree, and sign a letter accepting the draft Bylaws and Code of Ethics, which first must be downloaded from the Ministry of Communication’s website. It is surprising that at this point the organizing committee which emerged from the entity’s constituent congress – despite its undeniable technological capabilities – doesn’t have its own digital site. It would have required a “civilian” portal that does not include “” in its internet address, because that would identify it as subject to the government… not as an NGO.

The UIC defines itself as an organization with a professional profile, with both voluntary and at the same time select affiliation, created under Article 7 of the Constitution of the Republic of Cuba. A glance at this part of the Constitution clarifies that these organizations “represent their specific interests and incorporate them into the task of edification, consolidation and defense of the Socialist society.” As if that isn’t enough, the president of the organizing committee, Allyn Febles, who is also vice rector of the University of Information Sciences, told reporters that “the new organization has as a base the unity of it members in support of the social project of the Cuban Revolution.”

An attempt, no doubt, to assign a political color to kilobytes, tweets and apps. As if they felt the need to demarcate the limits of technologies starting from Party considerations. Why are they so crude? Why isn’t it possible to create a Union of Cuban Computer Users dedicated to teaching the population to use the tools that allow them to more freely and easily access new technologies? Why do they have to interpose themselves between the keyboard and the social networks, and not just from any ideology but from a particular sectarian and exclusionary ideology?

The restrictions don’t end there. In its introduction, the ethics code defines a priori computer users as “committed to our Socialist Revolution…” while in Article 3 it imposes maintaining conduct “in accord with the norms and principles of our Socialist society.” The situation worsens, because Article 13 of the code itself imposes on the UIC members the obligation to inform on colleagues who incur offenses. Rather than an entity to preserve the rights to technology enthusiasts, it is creating an oversight body to control them.

It is expected that the members of the UIC will put intolerance ahead of information sciences, being soldiers ahead of being internauts…

Like a ghost of the past, the little check box of “political membership” reappears on the application form for admission to the UIC, where the applicant must put checkmarks next to organizations such as the Communist Party, the Young Communist Union or… the Federation of Cuban Women, the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution, and the Cuban Workers Center. Which contradicts the official spokespeople who shout themselves hoarse saying that these latter three are not political but rather social entities. Which is it?

The nice part of the UIC’s founding documents is where they warn that the UIC “will be working to create a climate of scientific and technical creation and for the elevation of its members to a professional level and a permanent technological upgrade, encouraging the identification and the recording of the knowledge of its associates and their preparation and fitness to undertake specific projects, as well and the identification of opportunities to impact the economic development of the country and the exporting of goods and services, and in this way contributing to an increase in the welfare of its members.”

But why, in order to receive these undeniable benefits, must they show political obedience and loyalty? The answer is simple: because it is expected that the members of the UIC will put intolerance ahead of information sciences, being soldiers ahead of being internauts… being censors ahead of being young people who play with binary code.

From “White Udder” to the seven-legged bull

Illustration of a cow. (14ymedio)

Illustration of a cow. (14ymedio)

Generation Y, Yoani Sanchez, Havana, 5 May 2015 – For a long time the extraordinary, the unusual, was our hope. On this Island which must have been Atlantis, the reincarnation of Alexander the Great was born and there lived a cow who gave the most quarts of milk in the history of humanity. Like all childish people we needed to feel that nobody surpassed us and that the ordinary rested far from our borders. White Udder, the cow that still owns the Guinness World Record, was a sacrificial victim on the altar of this national and political vanity. Gone are the times of those exaggerated ranching achievements, now we can only crow about our anomalies.

Muñeco is a bull with seven legs. The local press just narrated his story, a wild yearling born from two commercial zebu breed cattle, and ultimately adopted by the cattle rancher Diego Vera Hernandez in the Trinidad area. What distinguishes this exemplar from so many others that die of hunger and thirst in the Cuban countryside is that springing from its back, near the shoulder hump, are three additional legs and one testicle. Its anatomy includes everything the official rhetoric needs: on the one hand the inconceivable, on the other, this piece of virility that should not be lacking in anyone or anything that wants to brag about being made in Cuba.

Gone are the times of those exaggerated ranching achievements, now we can only crow about our anomalies.

Muñeco’s three legs have saved him from the illegal slaughter to which so many of his peers succumb due to the needs and poor livestock management displayed by the current system. That piece of another bull hanging from his back has freed him from the middle-of-the-night butcher’s knife because a clever farmer realizes that he has before his eyes a fair animal, a circus creature, to show off to journalists at the agricultural fairs. But there is not much difference from this pet with mischievous genes and that cow that represented all our hopes of seeing milk run in the streets and factories drowning in cheese and yogurt.

White Udder died from the excesses of a leader who needed results, but Muñeco has lived for the pride of this nation burdened by its own malformations.

Welcome Hollande, Goodbye Hollande

François Hollande and Raul Castro, at their meeting at the Palace of the Revolution. (EFE)

François Hollande and Raul Castro, at their meeting at the Palace of the Revolution. (EFE)

Generation Y, Yoani Sanchez, Havana, 12 May 2015 — The official reception at the airport, the photo shaking hands with the host, the wreath laid at the statue of José Martí and the expected lecture at the University of Havana. How many foreign politicians have followed this script in recent months? So many that we have lost count.

A true shower of presidents, foreign ministers and deputies has intensified over Cuba without daily life feeling any kind of relief from such illustrious presences. To this parade of world leaders has been added, this week, the French president François Hollande, who assured us that his country wants to “strengthen ties with Cuba” so that both nations, “assume greater international leadership.

During his stay, the politician met with Raul Castro, visited Fidel Castro in his home, and awarded the Legion of Honor to Cardinal Jaime Ortega y Alamino. The agenda did not include, however, any meeting with dissidents and activists. His vision of the Cuban stage could not be completed with a critical eye on the Government’s relationship with its own people. As the presidential plane lifted off, the official version of events barely registered on the retinas and ears of the French.

In a lecture at the University of Havana’s Great Hall, Hollande said that “to come to Cuba is to come to a country that represents for Latin America a form of expression, of vindication of dignity and independence.” Although he didn’t say it, the French president knows that he is in a nation with prisoners of conscience, without political parties, where opponents are threatened and repressed. A land without union rights, with an illegal independent press, and a military power that is handed down in the family.

On this visit we needed reaffirmation that the France of the Rights of Man still believes in the unshakeable values that recognize the rights of individuals to disagree, to express their differences without fear and to organize around them. We demanded some words of support, words that would confirm for us that the government of the European country is willing to support, in Cuba, the desires for freedom that have so marked and modeled its own national history.

In the minds of many, the first French president on Cuban soil will be remembered for his complacent posture toward the authorities

A man who has declared that French and Cubans have “shared the same movement of ideas, the same aspirations, the same philosophical inspiration, cannot believe that he has visited a country where citizens have chosen by their own free will to subordinate themselves to a totalitarian power. Does Hollande think that we have tacitly chosen the cage? Does he suppose, perhaps, that we are comfortable in our chains?

On the positive side of this visit, we will be left with the opening of the new Alliance Francaise headquarters, and a wider collaboration in tourism, education and health. However, in the minds of many, the first French president on Cuban soil will be remembered for his complacent posture toward the authorities. Hard to remember, after all these years, a trip with a script so very played-out.

Hollande was accompanied by a business delegation made up of companies such as Pernod Ricard, the hotel chain Accor, Air France, the distribution group Carrefour, the telecommunications company Orange, and several banks. Closing deals in the energy and tourist sectors was ultimately the most substantial share of their presence in Cuba, although the meeting with Fidel Castro has dominated the headlines.

Time will pass and our country will progress to a new political situation. We will hear some historians say that the influence exercised by the French president was decisive on this path to change. But that will be later, when the historians rewrite the past and adorn it at their convenience. For now, it is difficult to know how this insipid visit could influence our future.

From Ferry Line to Internet Line

Key West-Havana Ferry, takein in 1951 (Miami History Archives and Research Center)

Key West-Havana Ferry, taken in 1951 (Miami History Archives and Research Center)

Generation Y, Yoani Sanchez, 7 May 2015 – Toward the other side of the sea, that point on the horizon that so many Cubans dream of, several of the curious were gazing yesterday as they sat along Havana’s Malecon. Hours earlier word begun to spread that the United States has authorized “certain specific licenses for passenger ferry service” to Cuba. The rumor was enough for many to play with the idea of how this country would change if it were connected by boat to the other shore. A thousand and one illusions have been unleashed in recent hours, although the four ferry companies authorized by the U.S. Department of the Treasury have yet to receive approval from the Cuban authorities.

However, the symbolic effect of this relaxation reaches dimensions that transcend the political gesture. We live on an island and this has given the sea, for us, the character of an insurmountable frontier, a wall that isolates us from the world. When a Cuban prepares to visit another country, we rarely use the verb “to travel,” but rather appeal to a more dramatic word, salir: which means to “go out” or “get out” or even “break away.” To escape our insularity, to get to the other side, we have to saltar: “leap over.” A catamaran from Florida arriving along our coast every day would break – at least metaphorically – this geographic isolation used, for the last half century, for ideological purposes.

People in the street, however, are waiting for more than allegories. Now hopes focus on trips by Cuban-Americans becoming cheaper with the new maritime connection. Many dream that the holds of these boats can also bring the resources for private enterprise, agriculture and domestic life. “The pieces I’m lacking for my Russian-made Lada car,” Cheo, an engineer turned taxi driver, dreamed yesterday. His brother bought some Soviet car parts in Miami but he can’t send them because “they weigh too much and it’s too expensive by air.”

In the afternoon, two men were arguing in a crowded bus about whether the Cuban government would authorize a ferry landing in Havana. “Not even crazy people are going to allow that, boy,” shouted the older one, continuing his argument with, “Do you really think they’re going to let a boat with an American flag dock here?” The younger one, however, turned the conversation to his interests, ”What we need them to do, in addition to a ferry line, is put in an Internet line.” And so he finished with an ironic laugh.

Cubans appear ready to make up for lost time. To fit into the world in every way possible. To convert the sea that for so long was a barrier into a path, a road, a connection.

A Flooded May Day in Havana

The sewers can barely deal with the mud from the storm (14ymedio)

The sewers can barely deal with the mud from the storm (14ymedio)

Yoani Sanchez, 1 May 2015 – The El Cerro neighborhood is mud and tears right now. One of Havana’s most populous municipalities is trying to recover from the surprise rains that left three dead in the city, more than 1,400 houses affected and 27 partial or total building collapses. Many families lost their most precious belonging and the whole city has that smell that is left after floods, a mixture of sewage, garbage and pain.

The main scene of the tragedy experienced in the Havana capital is indoors, in the homes where they couldn’t save even a chair, but the official press tries to minimize it because it happened a few hours before the “triumphant” First of May, which is meant to show the world “the Cuban people’s attachment to the socialist system.”

The drama of those still cleaning out the mud with own efforts, shoveling it from their living rooms and bedrooms, doesn’t fit with today’s “workers’ glory,” foreign guests, and even Nicolas Maduro’s trip to share the platform in the Plaza of the Revolution with those who live in houses well-protected from inclement weather. Meanwhile, a few yards from the place where they waved flags and chanted slogans this morning, those affected by Wednesday’s storm tried to recapture the rhythm of their lives. The high water mark, which reached nearly six feet in some areas, is still fresh on the facades and in memories.

They should have suspended a parade that has cost thousands of pesos needed to help the victims

There are countries where it costs a president his job if he doesn’t personally go to the scene of an accident or a natural disaster. The absence of government officials in an area affected by a storm, a volcano or an earthquake earns the enmity of the citizens in many places, and the condemnation of the international community. In Cuba, however, fanfare has been imposed as a strategy to divert attention from the problems. This May Day has been an example of how official propaganda privileges triumphalism and minimizes misery.

A lady was sitting on the corner of Amenidad and Infanta Streets this morning, looking at the sky. Her hands wet from bailing out the water from the downstairs apartment where she lives. “I’m just waiting for the parade to end,” she said in a loud voice to anyone who would listen, with that wave of courage that overcomes us when we no longer have anything to lose. “When that’s over, maybe they will remember us,” she reaffirmed with a certain illusion.

They didn’t organize any parties in this miserable place. Out of shame, they should have suspended a parade that has cost thousands of pesos needed to help the victims. A little political sanity would have been required… but, who can ask those who have lived as well-to-do bourgeoisie for 56 years to think like the proletariat?

The Curse of the Cursed

GY - sello-denegacion-entrada-pasaporte-artista_CYMIMA20150327_0011_18

Generation Y, Yoani Sanchez, Havana, 1 April 2015 – Imagine that after a flight of more than nine hours, you arrive at your destination but they don’t let you get off the plane. Your legs are numb from the journey, your relatives are waiting for you out there, your suitcases are full of gifts for friends… but an immigration official informs you that you will not be allowed to enter the country of your birth. You have to stay in your seat, tired and frustrated, while they clean the plane for the next passengers. In the time you wait for it to return to the airport from whence you came, you can’t stop asking yourself, “How could this happen to me in my own country?”

That nightmare, was just experienced by the artist Aldo (Maldito) Menendez – whose nickname means “cursed” – as he tried to visit Cuba to participate in the Cervantes Alternate Lives Festival of Camagüey (FIVAC). The Cuban consulate in Spain had already warned him that he was not welcome on the Island and had even stamped his passport with an authoritarian “annulled” on the so-called “empowerment” that Cuban emigrants need to enter their own country. But… the truly Maldito was not satisfied and wanted to experience firsthand whether they really wouldn’t let him cross the border.

Like any artist, Maldito is daring and irreverent. His works are provocative and even the title of his blog, Castor Jaboa, is an anagram* which, when we reorder its letters, delivers its message loud and clear. However, beyond his art, this young man who studied at the San Alejandro National Academy of Fine Arts in Havana, is a real cubanazo** who boasts the talent, mischievousness and the humor that so characterizes us. So how is it possible that, for political reasons, he is prevented from being in the place where he’s from, the site from which flows much of his art and his world of reference?

Maldito’s is not a new story, but that is no reason why we should get used to such abuse, nor cease to denounce it. After more than two years of immigration reform, its implementation has not eliminated the blackmail that Cuban emigrants are subjected to in order to enter the Island. The punishment of those who criticize the Cuban government from their residence abroad remains a denial of their right to return.

A few, protected by their power, decide who can once again walk these streets, embrace their friends, be in the house where they spent their childhood. And they do it from the arrogance of believing that they, with their ideology and their military uniforms, represent the essence of Cuba, when in realty they only manage to deform it, to restrict it… to kill it.

Translator’s notes:
*Castor Jaboa is an anagram for Abajo Castro — Down with Castro.
**A cubanazo is a boisterous, shamelessly stereotypical Cuban man (a woman would be a cubanaza) who dresses, walks, speaks and thinks in uniquely Cuban ways.


What remains after the tragedy

The location in the Alps where the remains of the Germanwing plane are strewn (Ministry of the Interior)

The location in the Alps where the remains of the Germanwing plane are strewn (Ministry of the Interior)

Generation Y, Yoani Sanchez, 30 March 2015 — There are clothes scattered across the mountains, open suitcases, children’s dolls that will never be played with again. Things that belonged to people who until recently were alive and of whom barely a memory is left, a trail of goods that will be sorted and conveyed to the families of the victims. The tragedy of Germanwings A320, crashed in the French Alps, makes me reflect, like many others, on the brief second that separates us from death. A suicidal leader, a madman at the helm, a war unleashed by others … a thousand and one ways to die that life brings us.

One evening in 1985 my family sat around the set table, waiting for Grandma. She never came, because two drunks in the middle of a brawl fatally wounded her in a nearby café. Her plate remained on the table. Cold, alone, with the spoon to its side and a glass of water making a wet round mark on the wood. Afterwards there were her shoes, the wallet where she treasured her money and a nutmeg. Her clothes hanging in the wardrobe along with some photos from her youth that we never got to ask her about where they’d been taken.

The things the dead leave us are sometimes more difficult to deal with than the memories themselves. What to do with that note they wrote before leaving home to remember to buy eggs, salt and a little oil? Their drawers, the sheets they slept on their last night, the cookies they liked so much? How to quiet the way the comb speaks, still with their hair, the Facebook account in which they recorded their last “like” or that red circle on the calendar that marked their birthday?

The things the dead leave us have their own voice. They remind us every time we look at them that in that fabric, wielding that pen, or looking into that mirror, until yesterday, had been someone who breathed and whom we loved.