The other day David Frum interviewed Patrick Oppmann, CNN’s longtime correspondent in Havana, about the accelerating unraveling of Cuban society. The United States has tightened sanctions on an island that was already struggling, and now finds itself desperate. Even its traditional friends — Mexico and Venezuela — keep their distance. Russia and the European Union are preoccupied elsewhere. Cuba is alone.
What made the interview striking was not only the situation on the island, but Oppmann himself. After years living in Havana and raising his daughter there, he sounded shaken. He described the surreal difficulty of being, by Cuban standards, wealthy, yet still unable to function. He now buys gasoline on the black market at astronomical prices. His car was broken into, and when he called the police, he had to drive to pick them up. They had not eaten that day, so he fed them. He tries to report with intermittent power and unreliable internet. Prices are unbelievable. And for the first time, he said, Cubans are going through the trash in search of anything — ideally food. It is a desperate situation.
Cuba is a communist state, and it has denied its citizens the right to protest, the freedom to travel, and the liberties that liberal democracies consider basic. But compared to many Caribbean, Central American, and even South American nations, Cubans historically had food, education, low violent crime, access to medical care, and a life expectancy comparable to far wealthier countries. Yes, they had benefactors at times, and yes, the United States has intervened in their affairs for decades. But the Cuban experiment — whatever one chooses to call it — cannot be understood without comparing it to countries of similar size, history, and vulnerability.
If we are intentionally trying to collapse their society, then we owe the world an explanation grounded in research, not slogans. We should be able to show what Cuba was before, what Cubans wanted, what we have done to obstruct it, and why. If we claim moral authority, we should be able to demonstrate it. And if we truly object to the rights Cubans lack, then why are we not equally troubled when Salvadorans or Saudis lack them? Selective outrage is not a principle. It is a tactic.
And if Cuba collapses, what then? Will we take responsibility for the Cuban people? Will our corporations? If a hurricane hits, as it did Puerto Rico, will we complain about the cost? And are we holding Puerto Rico to the same standards we insist Cuba must meet?
If starving Cubans arrived on our shores tomorrow, it is entirely possible we would detain them in harsh conditions. We are struggling with our own press, our own dissenters. Our leaders are placing their likeness on display. Are we really the ones who get to decide the fate of another nation?
A government that claims to act for humanitarian reasons should be willing to submit its actions to international scrutiny. If the goal is to help the Cuban people, then let international authorities help them. No one is asking for our freedom or our capitalism. They are asking for food, electricity, medicine, and dignity.
What right do we have to decide Cuba’s future — and do we truly want what is best for them? And do they not have the right to decide for themselves?