Rumbling through the basement, the document was just another find from one of my parents’ antiques expeditions. Wrapped in plastic, it nonetheless bore the classic fingerprints of my dad, a native of Cuba who maintained an effortless mental connection to his homeland while cruising obscure stops in small-town America.
A student of history with a voracious appetite for newspapers and old books, he would find neglected historical texts and slide them under the back seat of the Leisure Van. He would provide these stowaway concepts rescued from the ravages of time a safe passage back to his personal library.
The article was from Harper’s Weekly, 1899, titled, “Taking the Census in Cuba.” Written the year after the U.S. victory in the Spanish-American War, it described U.S. attempts to restore order to its latest possession. As I scanned the lead paragraph, I was seized by a modern-day comparison to Iraq.
Then and now, U.S. motives seemed sincere and altruistic from our perspective. According to correspondent Franklin Matthews, “… it was the purpose of this country to keep its armed forces in Cuba solely `for the pacification thereof,’ with the intention ultimately of restoring government to the people of the island when a state of peace should exist there . . . the armed forces of the United States remain in the island, and the prospect of their departure is not immediate.”
Then and now, fears of terrorism propelled us to act.
When the Maine battleship sank in Havana harbor, manic media outlets and public outcry pushed the U.S. to reconsider its reluctance to take on its enemy. Congress subsequently declared war. Significantly, attached to that declaration was the Teller Amendment, which would have changed world history had it been fully realized.
Its prescience? That after restoring peace the United States would “leave the government and control of the island to its people.”
Even the census, seemingly drawn out with the counting of “horses, cows and other animals,” and the door-to-door questioning of birthplace, occupation and marital status, had a higher purpose of establishing order and paving the way for a transition to democracy.
As Matthews put it, “All these [census] facts will be of value in deciding as to the best way of restoring Cuba to the Cubans.” Although there would be the appointment of a “civil governor,” “One thing is practically self-evident; no ready-made plan of self-government can be imposed upon the island off-hand. It must be a matter of gradual growth.”
The tone of the piece was formal and proper.
No hint can be found of the looming business and political interests that would fetter Cuba’s sense of sovereignty for decades. In fact, the Teller Amendment appeared to enjoy something of a honeymoon in Cuba. As Matthews reminds his reader dutifully, “It has been apparent, however, that the time is approaching to test the experiment of self-government in Cuba, to which the solemn faith of the government of the United States is pledged.”
A half-century later, our country awoke to a socialist revolution, a failed invasion and a nuclear confrontation nightmare.
With its well-intentioned sowing, how did the U.S. reap such bitter fruit?
To some extent, an answer presents itself with the Platt Amendment in the Army Appropriation Bill of 1901 that guaranteed the right of the U.S. to intervene in Cuba under certain conditions. For three decades, the U.S. essentially had final say over Cuba’s self-rule.
The Teller Amendment, as noble as it sounded, gave way to the reality that after much cost, investment and potential, our nation couldn’t release control of a country of such strategic and economic value. There was simply too much at stake.
In preserving that prerogative, however, our country stoked the passions of Cuban nationalism for decades. Even Fulgencio Batista, who was friendly with the U.S., recognized those passions and negotiated an end to the amendment in 1934. At that point, however, nationalist pride and anti-imperialism had taken root, providing a certain charismatic leader an easy rallying cry that has rung throughout the years, “Patria o Muerte!”
When studying in Cuba many years ago, I was a bit surprised to see that the sinking of the Maine led an evening newscast. It was a footnote in our history, but it was presented as a reminder to the public. Reading between the lines, the segment seemed to suggest, “All it will take for the U.S. to invade again will be an act of terrorism, even if it’s self-sabotage.”
Agree or not with such conspiracy, that an event a century ago would be used to cast aspersions on the modern-day character of nations is not an uncommon phenomenon.
Through the eyes of our history with Cuba, I wonder then about our presence in Iraq and the goodwill we are hoping to cultivate. Inasmuch as our country is sincere about restoring Iraq to Iraqis, will the U.S. be able to let go when the time comes?
As a reminder of what can occur, I have another antique magazine from my father carefully wrapped in plastic. It was a Life Magazine from January 1959.
A triumphant Fidel Castro gesticulates with characteristic fervor, having seized control of the island. Who would have foreseen what would come, even from a seemingly powerless neighbor?
