Travel-Study

Inequity Inside Communist Cuba

What is the future for economic reform in Cuba when a cab driver can make $100 a day and a doctor, lawyer, or teacher makes $20 a month?

By JESSICA RODRIGUEZ, MBA Class of 2001

STANDING AMONG HUNDREDS of Cubans listening to the children’s choir on Christmas Eve, I felt the light breeze from a fan brush my face and realized that I felt at peace for the first time in 10 days. There were no Cuban flags waving in this tiny Havana cathedral, no 20-foot images of Che Guevara, no revolutionary slogans on the walls stating “Patria o Muerte” (Country or Death) or “Hasta el fin venceremos” (We will survive until the end). For 10 days, these phrases and pictures, strange to me and my travel companions of 29 Business School students and several faculty members, had reminded us that communism is still alive in a nation just 90 miles away from the world’s leading capitalist power. Now, as our study trip drew to a close, I was startled to realize how smothered and overwhelmed I had felt and how fearful that I might say something that would land somebody in trouble.

In the spring of 2000, I was among a group of business students who proposed a winter break study trip to Cuba. School administrators warned us that Cuba lacked a cadre of the School’s alumni/ae, which would make our planning more difficult, but we were not deterred. We wanted to learn how this tiny country had been able to survive despite an embargo by the United States and the economic demise of its main funder, the former Soviet Union. Cuba also offered us the chance to study an “economy in transition,” since in order to ward off financial collapse, the government in 1994 implemented a series of economic changes. These included the addition of the American dollar to the Cuban peso as legal tender, the creation of sole proprietorship opportunities for some Cuban citizens, and direct investment opportunities for foreign companies willing to enter into joint ventures with the government. At the core, we wanted to understand if it was really possible for some aspects of a market economy to coexist with communist ideology.

Personally, I wanted to go to Cuba to make my own conclusions about the embargo and the Castro regime, and even though I had grown up among many Cuban Americans, I hoped deep down inside that the painful picture they had painted for me was incorrect. I hoped to meet Cubans who could present a coherent picture of life in Cuba. In hindsight, I see that I expected straightforward answers to questions that by their very nature demanded convoluted ones. Emotionally, this was a draining but exciting experience, and I am still trying to make sense of the many contradictions and mixed messages I observed.

Take, for example, the fact that Cuba today is better off economically than it was prior to implementing those economic changes, yet during our trip we never encountered a Cuban who fully embraced or praised them. Everyone we met, from the managers of state-run plants to our tour guides to students and faculty at the University of Havana, used the phrase “special period” when referring to the reform era. The phrase, frequently repeated by government officials and Cuban media, conveyed to us that people believe the reforms to be a temporary, necessary evil. However, those statements did not coincide with the actions they displayed. When asked where they wanted to work after graduation, those very same students who defined this era as a special period all stated that they wanted to go to one of the major foreign joint venture firms on the island because that was where the most growth and opportunities were likely to occur.

Although socioeconomic inequality is widespread in many countries, including the United States, it is particularly shocking to see it emerge in Cuba, where equality remains at the center of the communist ideology. While the government seems to carry out this ideology by offering free schooling and health care, employment for all, and equality in pay, it was obvious to us, as well as to many Cubans, that the legalization of the dollar has helped create two distinct societies. One group has access to dollars and is composed of low-skill laborers in the tourist industry such as cab drivers, hotel staff, tour guides, and entrepreneurs who open small restaurants serving tourists. The other gets paid only in pesos and has no access to dollars; this group consists of highly skilled professionals such as doctors, lawyers, and teachers.

When you learn that the take-home pay for a skilled professional who gets paid in Cuban pesos is approximately $20 a month and that a taxi driver can make five times as much in a single day, you realize the great conflict that must emerge in this country between skilled and unskilled workers. Further compounding this issue is the government’s policy of providing basic necessities free to everybody but its practice of narrowly limiting the definition of a necessity. Rice and beans are free but soap is not. The true value of soap was driven home to our group every time we left our hotels and individuals begged not for cash but for soap and other toiletries. On one occasion a fight almost broke out on the street among several women when a second-year student pulled out a tiny bottle of fragranced body wash to give to someone.

We met individuals who revealed frustration in knowing that if they pursued a skilled profession they were destined for poverty and their further dismay at knowing that opportunities within tourism were limited. We heard from one cab driver who told us his industry was the most sought-after in the country, with a waiting list of more than a year to become a cabbie. We also met people who complained that all of the renovations and investment occurring in Cuba were not for them but for “the tourists” or Cubans with access to dollars. It took 10 years for a park to be renovated, one person told us, while a mall in Havana composed of upscale retailers who accepted only dollars was built in a year and a half. I suspect there is some sense of security in knowing you are guaranteed lifelong housing and a job, but this is counterbalanced with the knowledge that you will never own property or be offered incentives for climbing a corporate ladder.

The government insists that it has created checks and balances to obliterate disparities. It collects $400 a month from taxi drivers and embeds a tax of 70 percent in the price of items purchased in dollar-denominated stores, which it then redistributes to the population. Yet disparities are visible nearly everywhere and couldn’t have been clearer to us than during the evening we decided to hit an upscale nightclub in Havana. Given the $20 entrance fee, the expensive cars lined up at the entrance, and the well-dressed men and women entering the venue, we expected it to be a tourist spot. Yet as we gathered in the front, we were shocked to see Cubans paying the fee and entering the club. When we were able to press someone for an explanation as to how Cubans afforded this place, we were told hesitatingly that many of them work in the tourist industry. Some Cubans apparently try hard not to notice the contradictions, or at least tried not to share them with us. We encountered many students who insisted that the government did not limit their access to the Internet and other sources of media or their freedom to associate with tourists. The statistics I’ve seen indicate that Cuba has a lower Internet penetration rate than Haiti, an extremely poor country, and Cuba’s mass media are limited to two television channels and an eight-page daily newspaper, all three of which offer no political views that contradict the government’s. As for free association, this was belied when a hotel security officer mistook one member of our group for a Cuban. The GSB student was told she could not go beyond the lobby because Cubans are not supposed to engage tourists.

Looking back on the Christmas Eve Mass I attended, I am reminded of one specific interaction. As I listened to Mass, I noticed and was surprised to see a significant number of gays and lesbians. Given the historically fractured relationship between gays and the church throughout the world, I inquired about the seemingly better relationship in Cuba. I was told that gays convened at church because it was the only place they felt safe and at peace. It was the only place where they could convene without fear. At church, things were very simple and clear to them, even if only for a moment. That may be the only place in Cuba where that might be the case.