Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Crazy with fury I will stain my rifle red while slaughtering any enemy that falls in my hands! My nostrils dilate while savoring the acrid odor of gunpowder and blood. With the deaths of my enemies I prepare my being for the sacred fight and join the triumphant proletariat with a bestial howl. Che Guevara, Motorcycle Diaries.

What trashy, purple prose! It is small wonder that the late Che Guevara, Che to his adoring Left, found his calling as Fidel Castro’s executioner. That he was crazy with fury certainly did nothing for his writing style. While Colt .45 rounds fired short range into Che’s chest put something of a dent in his plans for a bloody Bolivian revolution, still, he did rile a few proletarians. It may be they were bored to death with his incessant arm-waving rants: Power to the People! Workers of the World Unite!” Whatever. Unlike Che, however, they had to work for a living. It is rumored that a peasant shot him to death for the sake of peace and quiet.

In fact, Che Guevara prepared for his sacred fight by the imprisonment, torture and execution of his safely handcuffed countrymen. However rhapsodically adolescent is his book Motor Cycle Diaries, if truth be told, he was just another two-bit, Stalinist executioner. In fact, he was not at all inclined to stain his rifle red, that is, to place himself in harm’s way. It was enough for Che that others do the killing. He need only pronounce the trial done or inconvenient and order death; and death he did quite well. So well, a grateful Fidel gave him one of the most opulent mansions on the island. We need not speculate about the fate of its former decadent, capitalist owner. Ah well, “Power to the People!” Right?

A hard line Stalinist, an icon of the Left, Che Guevara, narcissist and Cuban cult hero, “…presided over the Cuban Revolution's first firing squads.” Doubtless out of compassion for his people, Che also“…founded Cuba's ‘labor camp’ system…to incarcerate gays, dissidents, and AIDS victims.”[1] What a guy.

It should surprise no one that the Hollywood movie star Jack Nicholson would make a cult hero out of Fidel Castro, or that Sean Penn and Danny Glover, ardent deciples of Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez, pitch his ideological malice to credulous leftists. We should not be surprised that a nutty Shirley McClain exclaimed ecstatically her discovery of a People’s Paradise during the course of a Cultural Revolution in which Mao Zedong, enslaved, starved or whimsically murdered millions of his people. And who can forget the endearing sight of Jane Fonda as she sat smiling giddily atop Russian gun emplacements as Viet Cong soldiers scanned the sky for American jets. While they will rant, it is good to know that Hollywood actors are just that, actors. Few, therefore, give a fig what they say.

But what are the words of outrage? What words should Americans use to express their outrage at six members (one a woman) of a Congressional Black Caucus, who demeaned their office and country by dancing La Cucaracha with the Castro brothers? These are Congressmen democratically elected and sworn to the protection of an American Constitution who pandered shamelessly to a communist tyrant. What is it they find so fascinating in a man who traffics in torture, murder, racism and the exploitation of his people? What? His slick dance step? Ah, well: Let the Workers’ of the World Unite!

Because the Congressmen live in America, they have not experienced starvation. They have not been rousted from their beds and condemned to a life of misery in filthy prisons. No one, day by day, has beaten them senseless with a truncheon. A sadist, trained in the arts of humiliation, has not subjected them to unspeakable acts. Their family and friends are free. They have not watched helplessly as a man or woman they love is placed against a stone wall or tied to a post and shot in the face.

What is the outrage? The six Congressmen should be ashamed. And they are not ashamed. Not at all. Indeed, they are defiant. They demand that the embargo of Cuba be lifted. They demand hard cash for Castro. They name him the enlightened and loveable leader of a free Cuban people. This is the outrage.

We might think that from their personal experience of prejudice, the Congressmen would have sympathized with the suffering of men and women ruined by a despot. Nevertheless, in a spectacle of fawning adulation, Castro tells us they apologized to him for America even as they bowed, scraped and kissed—well, shall we say for decorum’s sake, -- his Ring.

Where, in their voluptuous praise, is there a sense of that sibilant history Congressman Bobby Rush found so delightful in the humanist, Fidel Castro? Why didn’t they demand of him that he restore to Cubans the same human rights that Martin Luther King, by moral force alone, restored to African Americans? Or are these Congressmen American Cultists as blinded by cult worship, as are the Black Panthers who have made their ideological home in the pocket of former Black Panther now Congressman Bobby Rush. In fact,

“…the Caucus members did not ask about the Castro brothers’ political prisoners, or ask to see the conditions in the well documented abysmal prisons in which they put their critics. Nor did they seek to visit the Damas de Blanco, The Ladies in White, who demonstrate weekly in protest against the imprisonment of their relatives. Instead, the Black Caucus delegation cherished the chance to meet only with both Castros, and to sing their praises. Most outrageous was Rep. Bobby Rush (D-Illinois), who said of Raul Castro that what “endeared me to him was his keen sense of humor, his sense of history and his basic human qualities.” [2]

Now here truly is a racist irony:

The Castro police state has no use for blacks. In fact,”…a vicious racism against blacks accompanies this repression. In pre-Castro Cuba, blacks enjoyed upward social mobility and served in many government positions. In Castro’s Cuba, the jail population is 80 percent black, while the government hierarchy is 100 percent whites.”[3]

The Congressmen held their silence. They took pains to forget the questions they were morally bound to ask. If they were curious, they willingly suppressed their curiosity. If they suspected Castro’s brutality, they banned its image from their mind. But as Castro drove them around town in his personal car, did they wonder at the shabby streets and “fifties” automobiles? Did they question the ideological duplicity of its press? Were they moved to compassion by the suffering of the Cuban people? Perhaps Castro should have shared with them the memoirs of Valladares’s, Against All Hope that serves perfectly, “Cuba’s version of Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago”.[4]

Valladares recounts how prisoners were beaten with bayonets, electric cables, and truncheons. He tells how the other prisoners were forced to take ‘baths’ in human feces and urine…. When Lopez Chavez went on a hunger strike to protest the abuses in the prison, the guards withheld water form him until he became delirious, twisting on the floor and begging for something to drink. The guards then urinated in his mouth. He died the next day….[5]

Were these Congressmen so indifferent to Cuba’s history that they could look and still not see? Have they ever wondered why a Cuban man, with his wife and child, would take to the open sea? On a makeshift raft? In search of America? Did Castro, perhaps in the expression of his keen sense of humor, tell tales of his pacification of families with the temerity to try to escape his People’s Paradise?

Not content to trust the sharks, Castro…sent helicopters to drop sandbags onto the rafts of would-be escapees, or just to gun them all down. Epitomizing this barbarity was the Tugboat massacre of July 13, 1994, in which he ordered Cuban patrol boats to kill forty-one unarmed Cuban civilians—ten of them children—who were using an old wooden tugboat in their attempt to flee Cuba.[6]

Outrage! What are its words? I have none will take hold of it. But always and forever there is Shakespeare.

We should move the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue in every wound of Caesar that should move the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. [7]

What do you think?

Robert F. Harkins J.D.


[1] Paul Berman, The Cult of CHE, Don't applaud The Motorcycle Diaries. Sept. 24, 2008

[2] Ron Radosh. The Congressional Black Caucus Visits Cuba. April 12th, 2009

[3] Jamie Glazov, United In Hate, The LEFT’S ROMANCE WITH TYRANNY AND TERROR. (WND Books). P.50

[4] Ibid. P.48.

[5] Ibid. P. 48.

[6] Ibid. P. 51.

[7] William Shakespeare
Julius Caesar, 3.2.207-221 (circa 1599)

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