ANN LOUISE BARDACH
November 15, 2009
ON JULY 27, 2006, Fidel Castro nearly died during emergency intestinal
surgery to stem internal bleeding caused by chronic diverticulitis.
Since then, Cuba watchers and obituary writers have been on high alert
awaiting his demise.
Yet, more than three years later, Castro soldiers on, approaching his
mortal end with the same zeal he lavished on his life. The 83-year-old
appears to have adjusted to his medically mandated retirement, enduring
various surgeries and their complications.
A state-of-the art convalescent suite has been installed in his
principal residence, Punto Cero, where he is surrounded by family and
Cuba's finest doctors. On his good days, he entertains well-wishers,
among them, Harry Belafonte and Oliver Stone. And he continues to
intervene in the thorny politics of Cuba.
In 2007, while still in hospital, Castro began a transition from being
Cuba's commander-in-chief to its pundit-in-chief, penning columns he
calls ''Reflections'' in the state-run newspaper, Granma. Late last
year, he offered some introspection. ''I have had the rare privilege of
observing events for a very long time,'' he wrote. ''I do not expect I
shall enjoy such a privilege four years from now - when President
Obama's first term has concluded.''
But until Castro is in the grave, we will be hearing from him. While his
brother Raul and the Cuban army are running the day-to-day affairs of
the country, Castro retains and exercises veto power. Cubans continue to
feel the strongman's sting.
In March, more than a dozen of the most senior members of the Cuban
regime were purged from the government. While Raul Castro had initiated
the internal coup, Fidel was quick to weigh in and assail its
casualties, all former members of his inner circle. The men had
succumbed to ''the honey of power'', he wrote in his column. Their
replacements have dodged the limelight and tread far more carefully.
Castro's reluctant leave-taking - with its periodic near-finales - fits
into a long tradition of Hispanic ''caudillos'' or dictators. Consider
Francisco Franco, Spain's dictator of almost 40 years.
Both Castro's father and Franco hailed from northern Spain, a region
renowned for its fierce and stubborn citizenry. And notwithstanding
divergent political ideologies - Franco was a zealous anti-communist -
the men had a good deal in common. Both were willing to forge
unpalatable and unpopular alliances with totalitarian states to shore up
their power - Franco with Nazi Germany and Castro with the Soviet Union.
And Franco's shrouded last days neatly foreshadowed Castro's.
Franco became grievously ill in 1974 and was forced to (''temporarily'')
turn over his rule to Prince Juan Carlos. Castro also initially ceded
control to his brother only ''temporarily''. Like Castro, Franco had an
unexpected recovery, although his lasted only a year before he died at 82.
Franco's scheming to die with gravity and splendour backfired, and his
protracted departure became a joke that would long outlive him.
''Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead,'' Chevy Chase would
intone on Saturday Night Live as a running gag.
Castro's long goodbye is proving equally irresistible for late-night
comedians. And it also has kept the media in an indefinite state of high
alert, as they formulate and reformulate coverage and obituaries.
When I asked Castro in 1994 when he would retire, he snapped: ''My
vocation is the revolution. I am a revolutionary, and revolutionaries do
not retire.''
Journalist and author Ann Louise Bardach serves on the Brookings
Institution's Cuba Study Project.
Cuba's strongman turns to dictating terms of demise (15 November 2009)
http://www.theage.com.au/world/cubas-strongman-turns-to-dictating-terms-of-demise-20091114-ifln.html
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