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I found this to be an attempt at a relatively even-handed article.  The 
problem with its proposal is that it does not ask the US to first 
qualify itself as a defender of human rights.  The US would first have 
to apologize for its numerous interventions in So and Centro America.  
Then it would have to explain and apologize for its support of regimes 
that exercised far greater human rights violations than Cuba's, for 
example its present support of Israel's repression of the Palestinians 
and its past support of Batista.  It would have to release all domestic 
political prisoners.  It would have to dismantle all covert operations 
that are presently ongoing to destabilize Cuba and other countries.  
Finally it would have to assure that its opposition to human rights 
violations in Cuba does not include opposition to Cuba's choice of 
economic system, in particular it does not define freedom to invest 
wherever it wants as a human right.  The moral authority that it would 
gain by doing these and other similar things might make it competitive 
with Cuba's moral authority and would certainly advance the cause of 
Human Rights Watch, which i assume is to approach the violation of Human 
Rights in an even handed way.

I might add that the statement in the second paragraph, "these 
dictatorships gradually gave way to civilian rule," fails to point out 
that there has always been a condition that the country allow freedom to 
invest for profit.  Our government does exactly what governments are 
supposed to do; it supports the interests of the ruling class, in our 
case the capitalist class.  It is not an evil government that prefers 
dictators over elected parliamentary governments.  It is an imperialist 
government that goes along with any other government that also supports 
capitalism and allows foreign investment. The Iraq war is a current 
example.  Saddam Husein's murderous gassing of the Kurds did not bring 
about US invasion; it was Iraqi insistence on exploiting its oil to the 
exclusion of foreign investment.
herb

On 6/15/2010 11:41 PM, Michael Balter wrote:
> In the New York Review of Books. Part of our occasional discussions of 
> these issues. I was not able to remove the ads, but wanted to be sure 
> that list members could access the full text.
> http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false
>
>
>     Cuba—A Way Forward
>
>
>           May 27, 2010 <http://www.nybooks.com/issues/2010/may/27/>
>
>
>       by Nik Steinberg
>       <http://www.nybooks.com/contributors/nik-steinberg/>,
>       Daniel Wilkinson
>       <http://www.nybooks.com/contributors/daniel-wilkinson/>
>
> E-mail <http://www.nybooks.com/mail_friend/5/23915/> Single Page 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false> 
> Share <http://www.addthis.com/bookmark.php> More by Nik Steinberg 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/contributors/nik-steinberg/>, Daniel Wilkinson 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/contributors/daniel-wilkinson/>
> Cuban blogger Yoani Sánchez 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/multimedia/view-photo/1149>
>
> José Goitia/The New York Times/Redux
>
> The Cuban blogger Yoani Sánchez, Havana, May 2008
>
> In a 1980 interview, Gabriel García Márquez told /The/ /New York 
> Times/ that he had spent three years writing a book about life in Cuba 
> under Fidel Castro. But, he said, “now I realize that the book is so 
> critical that it could be used against Cuba, so I refuse to publish it.”
>
> In view of the Colombian author’s past concern for the victims of 
> Latin America’s authoritarian regimes, it seems likely that what he 
> called a “very harsh, very frank book” addressed Castro’s systematic 
> repression of dissent: the rigged trials behind closed doors, the 
> abysmal “reeducation” camps, the long prison sentences. Castro’s 
> methods may have seemed relatively tame when compared with the mass 
> slaughter of civilians by US-backed regimes throughout the region, for 
> example in Guatemala. Yet as the cold war ended, these dictatorships 
> gradually gave way to civilian rule, and the Castro government was 
> left standing as the only one in the hemisphere that continued to 
> repress virtually all political dissent. García Márquez’s book 
> remained unpublished.
>
> The fact that Latin America’s most renowned writer would censor 
> himself in this way may actually say more about the plight of Cubans 
> under Castro than anything in his manuscript. For the notion that to 
> criticize Cuba is to abet its more powerful enemies was, for Fidel 
> Castro, the key to achieving what his prisons alone could not—ensuring 
> that his critics on the island remained isolated and largely ignored.
>
> For years, many believed that the last thing keeping the region’s 
> democratic tide from sweeping across Cuba was the unique force of 
> Fidel Castro’s character—the extraordinary combination of charisma and 
> cunning with which he inspired and corralled his supporters, provoked 
> and outmaneuvered his enemies, and projected himself onto the big 
> screen of world politics. Under his leadership, Cuba had made 
> impressive gains in health care, education, and the eradication of 
> extreme poverty. But the promise of the Cuban Revolution had been 
> undercut by years of chronic deprivation, exacerbated by the US 
> embargo, and brought to the brink of collapse by the dissolution of 
> the Soviet Union, which had propped up the island’s economy for 
> decades. Democracy would come to Cuba—the thinking went—as soon as 
> Fidel Castro was no longer standing in its way.
>
> Advertisement
>
> Then in June 2006, his health failing, Castro was forced to step down 
> formally after nearly five decades in power. And nothing happened. No 
> popular uprising in the streets, no Party shake-up, no coup. Instead, 
> his younger brother, Raúl, took up power and, though lacking Fidel’s 
> charisma, was able to keep the country running smoothly. Within 
> months, it seemed clear that Cuba’s single-party system could continue 
> without Fidel at the helm.
>
> Some still held out hope that Raúl Castro would begin a process of 
> political reform, a Cuban perestroika. Those looking for signs of an 
> opening pointed to several of Raúl’s early actions, including 
> state-sponsored public forums ostensibly aimed at encouraging 
> criticism of government policies and the signing of the two major 
> international human rights treaties.
>
> But was Raúl Castro allowing genuine criticism of his government? Was 
> the repressive machinery being eased or even dismantled? A year ago 
> Human Rights Watch set out to answer these questions. We knew it 
> wouldn’t be easy. The Cuban government welcomes tourists to the 
> island, but has for years denied access to international rights 
> monitors. Foreign journalists are followed around by undercover 
> agents: their e-mails are monitored and their phones tapped. Those who 
> publish in-depth stories on controversial issues face expulsion.
>
> Our first step was to write to the Cuban government requesting 
> authorization to visit the island. Human Rights Watch does not 
> normally request permission to do its work, but it seemed like a good 
> way to test whether the government’s attitude had changed. The 
> government never responded.
>
> We then got in touch with several local dissidents. Outside of Cuba, 
> people often refer to “the dissidents” as though they are a single, 
> unified political group. They are not. They do not share a single 
> ideology or objective. Rather, the dissident community is made up of a 
> variety of Cubans scattered across the island, some of whom belong to 
> small groups, and others who work alone. A dissident may be someone 
> who writes articles critical of the government, attempts to form an 
> independent labor union, or simply refuses to attend meetings of a 
> local revolutionary committee. What ties these people together is that 
> they engage in activities that the Cuban government considers contrary 
> to its policies, and therefore “counterrevolutionary.”
>
> We obtained reports of alleged government abuses from several 
> unauthorized human rights groups in Cuba, whose leaders have 
> persevered over the years despite tapped phone lines, restricted 
> mobility, frequent police raids, and periods in jail, relying on a few 
> committed volunteers to compile lists of political prisoners and 
> testimony about violations. But tracking down the alleged victims to 
> corroborate these reports often took weeks. E-mail access on the 
> island is virtually nonexistent, and many families outside of Havana 
> do not have phone lines. When we were able to get through by phone, 
> some people were too frightened to speak. Others spoke cryptically to 
> avoid arousing the suspicion of listening ears. Still others spoke 
> freely until their lines went dead, mid-sentence. While we did manage 
> to conduct some full-length interviews, it became increasingly clear 
> that the only way to get the full story would be to visit the island.
>
> It would prove to be the most difficult research mission Human Rights 
> Watch had undertaken in the region in years. Our team entered on 
> tourist visas and traveled the length of the island by car, telling no 
> one in advance that we were coming and never staying in any town for 
> more than one night.^1 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false#fn1-441676209> 
> The fear we had sensed over the phone was even more palpable on the 
> ground. Some people became so uneasy talking about government abuses 
> that we cut short the interviews and moved on. Several alerted us to 
> watching neighbors who monitored suspicious activity for the local 
> Revolutionary Defense Committees. A Baptist minister, when asked about 
> human rights, told us quietly that what we were doing was illegal and 
> asked us to produce identification.
>
> Yet many people welcomed us into their homes, where they spoke frankly 
> of their experiences. Small boxes and folders were brought out from 
> beneath beds and inside kitchen cabinets, with official documents that 
> corroborated their stories. Among much else, we were shown a court 
> ruling from a dissident’s trial, which his wife and children were not 
> allowed to attend; a parole order warning a journalist that he could 
> be returned to prison at any time; a letter denying a critic of the 
> government permission to travel.
>
> Piece by piece, the evidence stacked up. The human rights treaties had 
> not been ratified or carried out. The “open” forums to discuss 
> government policies were governed by strict rules that prohibited any 
> talk of reforming the single-party system. More than one hundred 
> political prisoners locked up under Fidel remained behind bars, and 
> Raúl’s government had used sham trials to lock away scores more. These 
> new prisoners included more than forty dissidents whom Raúl had 
> imprisoned for “dangerousness.” The most Orwellian provision of Cuba’s 
> criminal code, this charge allows authorities to imprison individuals 
> before they have committed a crime, on the suspicion that they might 
> commit one in the future. Their “dangerous” activities included 
> failing to attend pro-government rallies, not belonging to official 
> party organizations, and simply being unemployed.
>
> We published our findings on November 18, 2009.^2 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false#fn2-441676209> 
> It was only then that we received a response from the Cuban 
> government: a public statement, published that day, declaring our 
> report “illegitimate and illegal.”
>
> If the crime of the political prisoners is essentially voicing their 
> opinions, a main function of imprisoning them is to isolate them from 
> their potential audiences. Ramón Velásquez Toranzo taught theater 
> until his political activities cost him his job. In December 2006, he 
> set out on a silent march across the island to call for the release of 
> Cuba’s political prisoners. On the road he was repeatedly threatened 
> and beaten by civilian Rapid Response Brigades, according to his wife 
> and daughter, who accompanied him. He was twice detained and forcibly 
> returned to his home by police. On his third attempt, he was taken to 
> prison and given a three-year sentence for “dangerousness.” Raymundo 
> Perdigón Brito, who had worked as a security guard before he too was 
> fired for “counterrevolutionary” activities, wrote articles critical 
> of the government for foreign websites until, in 2006, he was 
> sentenced to four years in prison for “dangerousness.” Digzan Saavedra 
> Prat, a shoemaker, documented abuse cases for a local human rights 
> group, an activity that cost him his job and caused him to be 
> convicted of “dangerousness” in 2008. His indictment accused him of 
> “being tied to persons of bad moral and social conduct,” “setting a 
> bad example for the new generation,” and “thinking he is handsome.”
>
> Those who continue to speak out while in prison are isolated even 
> further. One man was arrested and sentenced to four years for 
> “dangerousness” after he tried to hand out copies of the Universal 
> Declaration of Human Rights in public in 2006. In 2008, he attempted 
> to commemorate International Human Rights Day (December 10) by reading 
> the Universal Declaration aloud to fellow inmates. But according to 
> his wife, a guard cut him short, ordering him to eat the 
> text—literally. When he refused, he was beaten, thrown into solitary 
> confinement for weeks, and sentenced in a closed-door hearing to six 
> more years in prison for disrespecting authority.
>
> We heard many similar accounts from former prisoners and the relatives 
> of current ones. Those who refused “reeducation” or questioned prison 
> conditions were thrown into solitary confinement cells measuring three 
> by six feet for weeks, even months, on end. Their visits were cut off, 
> phone calls denied, and letters confiscated. Since Cuba has for years 
> refused to grant human rights monitors access to its prisons, it is 
> difficult to get firsthand general accounts of the conditions inside. 
> The most comprehensive—by the sixty-seven-year-old journalist Héctor 
> Maseda Gutierrez, currently serving a twenty-year sentence for his 
> writing—had to be smuggled out of prison virtually page by page. It is 
> titled “Buried Alive.”
>
> While not all dissidents are locked up, nearly all are effectively 
> imprisoned on the island itself. In clear violation of international 
> law, the Cuban government requires its citizens to obtain permission 
> to leave the country, and those marked as “counterrevolutionaries” are 
> generally denied it. The prominent blogger Yoani Sánchez—whose posts 
> comment on the daily indignities of life in Cuba—has three times been 
> refused permission to leave the country, twice to accept international 
> prizes and once, in March 2010, to attend a conference on the 
> Spanish language.
>
> The emergence of a nascent blogosphere has been heralded as a sign 
> that Cuba is opening up, yet the government systematically blocks 
> critical websites and strictly controls access, forcing bloggers to 
> upload their posts using thumb drives and illegal back channels. 
> Because an hour’s use costs roughly one third of Cubans’ monthly 
> wages, and since there are few connections outside of cities, the 
> average Cuban has no access to the Internet. Although Yoani Sánchez 
> was named one of /Time/ magazine’s one hundred most influential 
> people, most Cubans on the island have never even heard of her, let 
> alone read her blog.^3 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false#fn3-441676209> 
>
>
> wilkinson_2-052710.jpg 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/multimedia/view-photo/1155>
>
> Adalberto Roque/AFP/Getty Images
>
> A street peddler, right, watching dissidents Ofelia Acevedo and 
> Oswaldo Paya of the Varela Project, whose grassroots campaign for a 
> democratic referendum in Cuba was squashed by the government, Havana, 
> October 3, 2003
>
> The Cuban government also seeks to isolate dissidents from their 
> communities. They are fired from their jobs and blacklisted from 
> employment. They are subjected to public “acts of repudiation,” in 
> which mobs surround their homes, chant insults, throw stones, and 
> sometimes assault them in plain view of their neighbors. Friends and 
> family members are warned to keep their distance, lest they too be 
> branded counterrevolutionaries and punished. Under the “dangerousness” 
> provision, even spending time with someone who is considered 
> “dangerous” is punishable, a kind of “dangerousness” by association.
>
> “People who come to my house are immediately called by state security 
> and reprimanded,” Eduardo Pacheco Ortíz, a human rights defender and 
> former political prisoner, told us. “Then these people—for fear of 
> losing their jobs, for fear that [the authorities] will take it out on 
> someone in their family—simply stop talking to me.”
>
> After Ramón Velásquez Toranzo was sentenced to four years for his 
> silent march across the island, his son René, who had not marched with 
> his father or considered himself “political,” was fired from his 
> longtime job without explanation, then repeatedly denied work on the 
> grounds that he was not “trustworthy.” Members of the local 
> Revolutionary Defense Committee regularly harassed and threatened him 
> in public. Police warned his friends that they would get in trouble if 
> they kept hanging around him, until he had few friends left. His 
> girlfriend was forbidden by her parents from seeing him. “Some days I 
> wake up and I think: I have nothing. I am nobody. I have no dreams 
> left for my future,” René told us.
>
> Some outside observers contend that the existence of around two 
> hundred political prisoners has little impact on the lives of the 11 
> million other Cubans. But as the blogger Reinaldo Escobar recently 
> wrote, “Why then does an index finger cross the lips, eyes widen, or a 
> look of horror appear on the faces of my friends when at their houses 
> I commit the indiscretion of making a political comment within earshot 
> of the neighbors?”^4 
> <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false#fn4-441676209> 
> The political prisoners may be small in number, but they are a 
> chilling reminder to all Cubans of what has been a basic fact of life 
> for half a century: to criticize the Castros is to condemn oneself to 
> years of enforced solitude.
>
> In addition to declaring our report illegal, the Cuban government also 
> claimed it was part of a broader effort to “trample” Cuba’s “right to 
> free self-determination and sovereign equality.” This charge, while no 
> more credible than the first, warrants serious attention, for it is 
> reflected in the concerns of García Márquez and many others outside of 
> Cuba who have for years been reluctant to criticize the Castros.
>
> Invoking national sovereignty may be the most common tactic used by 
> governments around the globe—and across the political spectrum—to 
> counter criticism of their abusive practices. It is the international 
> equivalent of the “states’ rights” claim that segregationists in the 
> US South used for years to defend their racist laws and policies. The 
> aim is to shift the focus of public concern from the rights of abuse 
> victims to the rights (real and imagined) of the states that abuse them.
>
> What sets the Castro government apart from most others that employ 
> this tactic is the fact that Cuba has indeed, for five decades, faced 
> an explicit threat to its national sovereignty—coming from the United 
> States, a superpower ninety miles off its shores. In the 1960s, the 
> threat took the form of covert military action, including the failed 
> Bay of Pigs invasion and multiple botched assassination attempts. It 
> continues in the form of the economic embargo established by President 
> Eisenhower in 1960, later expanded by President Kennedy, and 
> eventually locked in place by the 1996 Cuban Liberty and Democratic 
> Solidarity Act. Also known as “Helms-Burton,” the law prohibits the 
> president from lifting trade restrictions until Cuba has legalized 
> political activity and made a commitment to free and fair elections. 
> It also prohibits lifting the embargo as long as Fidel and Raúl Castro 
> remain in office. In other words, it requires that Cubans be free to 
> choose their leaders, but bars them from choosing the Castros. It is 
> thus a program to promote not only democracy but also regime change.
>
> It is hard to think of a US policy with a longer track record of 
> failure. The embargo has caused much hardship to the Cuban people but 
> done nothing to loosen the Castros’ hold on power. Instead it has 
> provided the Cuban government an excuse for the country’s problems. 
> Billboards line the roads outside Havana with slogans like “Eight 
> hours of the blockade is equivalent to the materials required to 
> repair 40 infant care centers.” The excuse is effective because it is 
> at least partly true.
>
> The US policy has also served the Castros as a pretext for repressing 
> legitimate efforts to reform Cuba from within. The most notorious 
> example of the past decade came in response to the Varela Project, a 
> grassroots campaign designed to take advantage of a constitutional 
> provision that allows a national referendum on any reform proposal 
> that receives 10,000 signatures. The organizers spent years holding 
> meetings and gathering signatures, enduring repeated harassment by 
> authorities, attacks, and arrests. In May 2002, they delivered more 
> than 11,000 signatures to the National Assembly.
>
> The response was crushing. Rather than put the referendum to a vote 
> (as required by law), the Castro government countered with its own 
> referendum, which proposed amending the constitution to declare the 
> socialist system “irrevocable.” This referendum passed, according to 
> the government, with 99 percent of the public’s support. Not long 
> afterward, the government began its most aggressive crackdown in 
> years, arresting seventy-five “counterrevolutionaries,” including many 
> Varela Project leaders, and sentencing them to an average of nineteen 
> years in prison.
>
> In a news conference immediately following the crackdown, Cuba’s 
> foreign minister claimed that the Varela Project had been “part of a 
> strategy of subversion against Cuba that has been conceived, financed, 
> and directed from abroad with the active participation of the US 
> Interests Section in Havana.” The United States had indeed been 
> supporting civil society groups in Cuba for decades. In 2002, the year 
> prior to the crackdown, the State Department devoted $5 million to 
> “democracy promotion” in Cuba, channeling it through the US Interests 
> Section in Havana and nongovernmental groups based mostly in Miami. 
> For instance, several Cuban journalists received salaries from 
> US-funded Internet publications critical of the Castro government.
>
> Nonetheless, many of the seventy-five were convicted without any 
> evidence of support—direct or indirect—from the US government. And in 
> those cases where the Cuban government did show they received US 
> support, it provided no credible evidence that the recipients were 
> engaged in activities that would be considered illegal in a 
> democratic country.
>
> According to Cuban court documents, the support took the form of 
> supplying, through the US Interests Section in Havana, equipment like 
> fax machines (“used systematically in sending information to 
> counterrevolutionary cells located in Miami”), books (“all with a 
> pronounced subversive content”), and medicine (“with the explicit 
> purpose of winning over addicts to their cause”). In other cases, the 
> prisoners had been paid by the US for filing articles or radio reports 
> for foreign outlets, or visiting the US Interests Section, where they 
> had “access via the Internet to the websites of enemy 
> publications…[and] counterrevolutionary dailies like the /Nuevo 
> Herald/, the /Miami Herald/, Agence France-Press, Reuters, and the 
> American television channel CNN.”
>
> Many governments require civil society groups to register funding they 
> receive from foreign states. But for Cubans there is a catch: to 
> register funding from the US government is to admit to a crime 
> punishable with a prison sentence of up to twenty years—even when the 
> funding merely supports activities like human rights monitoring, labor 
> organizing, and establishing independent libraries. In fact, these 
> activities are illegal in Cuba even when pursued without US support. 
> The criminal code explicitly outlaws “actions designed to support, 
> facilitate, or collaborate with the objectives of the 
> ‘Helms-Burton Law.’”
>
> Since promoting democratic rule is a central objective of 
> Helms-Burton, any action taken toward that end can therefore be 
> considered a crime. In this way, just as criticism of the Castros is 
> equated with abetting their enemies, promoting democracy is equated 
> with US-sponsored regime change.
>
> But if the pretext for the crackdown was bogus, it nonetheless served 
> a crucial function: to recast the government’s repression of its 
> citizens as the story of a small nation defending itself against a 
> powerful aggressor. It was the same tactic that Fidel Castro had been 
> employing to brilliant effect for decades. By casting himself as a 
> Latin American David besieged by a US Goliath, he usurped the role of 
> victim from his prisoners. The sleight of hand worked because, for 
> many outside of Cuba, the indignation provoked by the US embargo left 
> little room for the revulsion they would otherwise feel for Fidel 
> Castro’s abuses.
>
> Raúl Castro has adopted this same tactic, so that when outsiders hear 
> of Cuba’s political prisoners, many think first of what the US has 
> done to Cuba, not what Cuba has done to its own people. While the 
> prisons, travel restrictions, and information controls make it 
> difficult for Cuban dissidents to get their stories out to the world, 
> the Castros’ portrayal of Cuba as a victim makes audiences abroad less 
> willing to hear these stories. The effect is to seal Cuba’s prisoners 
> off from international sympathy and reinforce their prolonged solitude.
>
> Once a year, for nearly two decades, the UN General Assembly has voted 
> overwhelmingly to condemn the US embargo. In 2009, the resolution 
> passed 187–3, with only Israel and Palau siding with the United 
> States. While this condemnation is deserved, there is no such UN vote 
> to condemn Cuba’s repressive policies, or comparable outrage about 
> its victims.
>
> This discrepancy is particularly pronounced in Latin America, where 
> the long history of heavy-handed interventions and outright coups has 
> left an abiding aversion to US bullying. Even leaders whom one might 
> expect to be sensitive to the prisoners’ plight choose to remain 
> silent. President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva of Brazil was himself 
> imprisoned by a military dictatorship, and former President Michelle 
> Bachelet of Chile is the daughter of a political prisoner (and herself 
> a torture victim). Yet in recent years, both have made state visits to 
> Cuba in which they embraced the Castros and refused to meet with 
> relatives of political prisoners.
>
> Meanwhile, an increasing number of leaders have praised the Castro 
> government as a standard-bearer for the region. President Evo Morales 
> of Bolivia says that Cuba “teaches the entire world how to live with 
> dignity and sovereignty, in its permanent fight against the North 
> American empire.” President Rafael Correa of Ecuador speaks of the 
> “Latin American pride” he feels when witnessing Cuba’s ongoing 
> revolution, which “secured the reestablishment of human rights for all 
> Cuban men and women.” Perhaps the most fervent supporter is President 
> Hugo Chávez of Venezuela, whose government has taken over the role, 
> once filled by the Soviet Union, of keeping the Cuban economy afloat 
> by providing millions of barrels of subsidized petroleum. Chávez calls 
> Cuba’s revolution “the mother” of all Latin American liberation 
> movements, and Fidel Castro “the father of the motherland.”
>
> Over the past decade, a growing number of voices in the United 
> States—including editorial boards, research organizations, and 
> advocacy groups—have called for an end to the embargo. But they are 
> far from winning the policy debate in Washington. Anti-Castro 
> hard-liners within the Cuban-American community continue to wield 
> disproportionate influence, even if their dominance has waned in 
> recent years.
>
> The opponents of the embargo have failed to be persuasive. Many have 
> sought to play down the scope of repression in Cuba out of a 
> concern—similar to García Márquez’s—that criticism of the Cuban 
> government will only strengthen the hand of the anti-Castro 
> hard-liners. But by making this strategic choice, they have undermined 
> their credibility among the very people they need to persuade: those 
> who are justifiably concerned about Cuba’s political prisoners. 
> Moreover, they are unable to offer a politically workable solution to 
> members of Congress, who will never vote to end the embargo if this 
> will have no effect on the regime’s abuses.
>
> The embargo must go. But it is naive to think that a government that 
> has systematically repressed virtually all forms of political dissent 
> for decades will cease to do so simply because the embargo has been 
> lifted. Nor is it realistic, given the effectiveness of the Castros’ 
> repressive machinery, to believe that the pressure needed for progress 
> on human rights can come solely from within Cuba. The embargo needs to 
> be replaced with a policy that will bring genuinely effective pressure 
> on the Castro government to improve human rights.
>
> For this to happen, the United States must make the first move. 
> President Obama should approach allies in Europe and Latin America 
> with an offer to lift the US embargo if the other countries agree to 
> join a coalition to press Cuba to meet a single, concrete demand: the 
> release of all political prisoners.
>
> Some governments are sure to rebuff the offer, especially in Latin 
> America. But for many others, the prospect of ending the embargo will 
> remove what has long been the main obstacle to openly condemning the 
> Cuban government’s abuses. And concentrating this multilateral effort 
> exclusively on the issue of political prisoners will make it far more 
> difficult for leaders who say they respect human rights to remain silent.
>
> The new coalition would give the Cuban government a choice: free its 
> political prisoners or face sanctions. Unlike the current US embargo, 
> these sanctions should directly target the Cuban leaders—by denying 
> them travel visas or freezing their overseas assets, for 
> example—without harming the Cuban population as a whole. Ideally this 
> ultimatum alone would suffice to prompt the government to release its 
> prisoners. But even if it did not, the new approach toward 
> Cuba—multilateral, targeted, and focused on human rights rather than 
> regime change—would fundamentally transform the international dynamic 
> that has long helped the Castros stifle dissent. The Cuban 
> government’s efforts to isolate its critics at home would lead to its 
> own isolation from the international community.
>
> In the absence of such a shift, Cubans seeking reform will continue to 
> face daunting odds. Any hope of drawing attention to their cause will 
> require desperate measures, such as the hunger strike recently carried 
> out by Orlando Zapata Tamayo, a dissident who had been in prison since 
> the 2003 crackdown. For eighty-five days, Zapata Tamayo’s protest went 
> largely unnoticed. It was only when he finally starved to death in 
> February—becoming the first Cuban hunger striker to perish in almost 
> forty years—that the world reacted. The European Parliament passed a 
> resolution condemning his death as “avoidable and cruel” and calling 
> for the release of all political prisoners. The Mexican and Chilean 
> legislatures approved similar declarations.
>
> The Cuban government responded in familiar fashion: it blamed the US. 
> The state news organ claimed that Zapata Tamayo had been “thrust into 
> death” by the “powerful machinery of the empire.” When several other 
> dissidents began hunger strikes in the following days—including 
> Guillermo Fariñas, a journalist who at this writing is reportedly near 
> death—Cuban authorities dismissed them as “mercenaries” of the US. 
> Decrying what he called a “huge smear campaign against Cuba,” Raúl 
> Castro told the Cuban Congress, “We will never yield to blackmail from 
> any country.”
>
> Raúl Castro seems confident that he can defuse this latest challenge 
> with the same sleight of hand his brother used so effectively in the 
> past. And indeed, the flurry of condemnation following Zapata Tamayo’s 
> death appears to have already faded. But more than just a tactical 
> move, Raúl’s response reflects a vision for Cuba’s future that does 
> not bode well for those desiring change. It is the vision he set forth 
> on the fiftieth anniversary of the Cuban Revolution in 2009, 
> addressing the nation from the same public square where Fidel had 
> first proclaimed victory:
>
>     Today, the Revolution is stronger than ever…. Does it mean the
>     danger has diminished? No, let’s not entertain any illusions. As
>     we commemorate this half-century of victories, it is time to
>     reflect on the future, on the next fifty years, when we shall
>     continue to struggle incessantly.
>
> A story of struggle always needs an adversary, just as a claim to 
> victimhood needs an aggressor. After playing this role for fifty 
> years, the United States is now in a unique position to bring about 
> change in Cuba: when it stops acting like Goliath, the Castro 
> government will stop looking like David. Only then will Cuba’s 
> dissidents be able to rally the international support they need to end 
> their long years of solitude.
>
> /—April 28, 2010/
>
>   1.
>
>       The research trip was carried out by Nik Steinberg and a Latin
>       American human rights lawyer who preferred to remain anoymous. ↩
>       <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false#fnr1-441676209>
>
>
>   2.
>
>       Human Rights Watch, "New Castro, Same Cuba: Political Prisoners
>       in the Post-Fidel Era." ↩
>       <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false#fnr2-441676209>
>
>
>   3.
>
>       /Time/ magazine has also named Sánchez's blog, Generation Y, one
>       of the twenty-five best in the world; it can be read at
>       www.desdecuba.com/generationy
>       <http://www.desdecuba.com/generationy>.↩
>       <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false#fnr3-441676209>
>
>
>   4.
>
>       Escobar's blog, Desde Aqui (From Here), can be read at
>       www.desdecuba.com/reinaldoescobar
>       <http://www.desdecuba.com/reinaldoescobar>.↩
>       <http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/may/27/cuba-a-way-forward/?pagination=false#fnr4-441676209>
>
>
>
>
> -- 
> ******************************************
> Michael Balter
> Contributing Correspondent, Science
> Adjunct Professor of Journalism,
> New York University
>
> Email: [log in to unmask] <mailto:[log in to unmask]>
> Web: michaelbalter.com <http://michaelbalter.com>
> NYU: journalism.nyu.edu/faculty/balter.html 
> <http://journalism.nyu.edu/faculty/balter.html>
> ******************************************
>
> "When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why 
> the poor have no food, they call me a Communist." -- Hélder Pessoa Câmara