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1948 Ernesto Guevara traveled around the Argentinian provinces.

1951 December; he left for Chile and Peru with his friend Granado. Guevara lived for a short time in the leper colony of Huambo. Then he continued his journey to Bogata and later to Caracas.

1953 Back in Buenos Aires, he finished his studies in medicines. After that, he left for Bolivia with another friend, Ferrer. They planned to go to Venezuela, passing through Peru and staying for some time in Guayaquil, Ecuador. They met others Argentinians and decided to go to Central America. They travelled through Panama, Costa Rica and Guatemala. There, Guevara met Hilda Gadea, whom he would marry with later, in Mexico. Guevara got in touch with Peruvian exiles.

1954 June; invasion of Guatemala against Arbenz’s goverment. Guevara had to escape to Mexico, where he met Cuban exiles.

1955 July; he met Fidel Castro who told him about his plans to invade Cuba. He joined the group and started his military training.

1956 December 2; disembarked on Cuba’s south coast. December 18, the 12 survivors started the first guerrilla in the Sierra Maestra.

1957 June; Che was named commander. By the end of the year, the war in Cuba entered the decisive stage. Guevara was requested to make the journal Cuba Libre in the mountain range.

1958 December 29; Che’s column fought its final battle and overtook Santa Clara. December 31, president Fulgencio Batista escaped to Santo Domingo.

1959 January 2; triumphal entrance of Che and Camilo Cienfuegos in La Habana. February; Che is declared Cuban born. On June 2, he married Aleida March. From june till august, Che travelled through Africa, Asia and Yugoslavia. On October 7, Fidel Castro named him head of the Industry Department in the Agrarian Reform’s National Institute. On November 26, he is named president of the National Bank.

1960 Che finished his book “Guerra de guerrillas”(“Guerrilla warefare”), published under the responsibilty of the Rebel Department’s Instruction Deparment. Its first edition is censored all over Latin America. On July 26, during the First Latin America Youth Congress, Che defined the Cuban revolution as a marxist one. In October, he wrote “Nota para el estudio de la revolucion cubana” (“Notes for the studies about Cuba’s revolution”), in which he reviewed the revolution’s stages. From October 21 to Febrary 1961, he traveled to the socialist countries (in particular, to China, Czechoslovakia and the USSR) as part of a commercial delegation.

1961 On February 23, he was named Minister for Industry and he quit the National Bank’s presidency. In April, he wrote “Cuba, caso excepcional o vanguardia en la lucha contra el imperialismo” (“Cuba exceptional case or avantgarde in struggle against imperialism”). On april 17, Playa Giron was invaded. Che was the commander of the military regions. August; Che represented Cuba in the CIES meeting in Punta del Este (Uruguay). He made a short trip to Buenos Aires and had a secret meeting with the Argentinian president, Arturo Frondizi. Then he traveled to Brasilia, where he was decorated by Brazil’s president, J. Cuadros, with the Cruz del Sur order.

1962 October; The Russian rocket crisis obligates him to take his military place in Pinar del Rio.

1963 June; Che sent Masetti and a group of Cubans to organize a guerrilla in the northern region of Argentina. He wrote “Pasajes de la guerra revolucionaria” (Revolutionary war passages”). In December, he spoke in front of United Nations’ Assembly and he refered to the armed struggle as the only way to realize socialism. He travelled to Mali, Guinea, Ghana, Dahomey and Tazania.

1964 March; he went to Peking. On march 25, he made a speech in Ginebra in the Global Conference of Commerce and Development. He continued traveling to Paris and Algeria, where he got in touch with Ben Bella. On November, he visited Moscow for the third time, On december 11, he made a speech and replied to the United Nations’ General Assembly. On December 17, he left New York for Algeria via Canada. He met Ben Bella again, and on december 25, he travelled to Mali.

1965 January; he moved to Brazzaville, Congo, where he discussed the anti-imperialistic struggle in Africa with president Alphonse Massemba Debat. Then he went through Guinea, Ghana, Dahomey, Algiers and Paris, where he received the news about Masetti failure. In Febrary he travelled to Tanzania and he took part in the Second Afroasiatic Solidarity Economic Seminary, in Algiers. On march 3, he got in touch with Congo’s rebels again. He made a secret trip to Peking. On march 12, “El socialismo y el hombre en Cuba” (“Socialism and man in Cuba”) was published, in this book Che exposed his new man’s theory. On march 14, he went back to La Habana. In april he gave up all his official positions and his Cuban nationality in front of Fidel Castro. In July, he secretly travelled to Congo through Cairo. On october 3, Fidel Castro showed the letter where Guevara had given up his nationality and his charges of Minister and Commander.

1966 March, he had to leave Congo and went back to Cuba. From March to June he travelled through Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Argentina and Bolivia.

1967 On March 23, the guerrilla defeated the Bolivian army in their first unexpected battle. On april 10, the guerrilla triunfed again. Regis Debray and the Argentinian Ciro Bustos left the camp. They were caught by the army on april 20 and so was the journalist George Roth. On May 14, the Bolivian forces took the Nancahuazú guerrilleros’ camp which, just before,had been evacuated. On October 8, the battle in Quebrada de Yuro took place. The following day, the Bolivian goverment announced that Che had been executed. On October 15, Fidel Castro officially accepted Ernesto Che Guevara’s death.

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Time Magazine 10/08/1960

Che Guevara Russian Matryoshka Dolls

Stamps 1st edition Serie 35 years La Muerte (Thanks to Antonio!)

Watch and Cufflinks

Album Expedicionarios del Granma

Album Expedicionarios del Granma

Key Chain (Thanks to Carolina)

Che Guevara Copper Plate Santiago de Chile

Che Guevara Italian Wine bottle (Thanks to Marion)

Fingerpainted Glass Barcelona Spain

Che Guevara The wellknown Buttons

Che Guevara Money

Rare Comics serie Che

I received this – much appreciated- email from a visitor
(Izzy Vera, posted on 28/03/2004) of the site.

The Commodization of Che

Please excuse me, this has nothing to do with books, but there was no where else to post this. Looking over the collection of Che possessions, I was slightly revolted.

Is this what he wanted? His face plastered on millions of posters, t shirts, cufflinks(!), watches, cups, hats etc, all to be sold for the sake of fueling capialistic societies? His image turned into a mickey mouse-like commodity? I don’t think he wanted to be an idol, worshipped with man-made items.

The best way to pay homage to Guevara’s legacy is to live your life with truth and courage. See every man as your equal, treat him as such, and contribute as little as possible to the pockets of the capitalists.

Izzy Vera 28/03/2004

Alta Gracia Shirt Che Guevara

El Vive/ He Lives in Dutch

Unique Doormat Thanks to Silly Syl

Sweatband Thanks to Merie

DVD El Comandante Thanks to my father M.J. de Hey

Che Guevara Sjawl

Che Cigarettes Thanks to Nina & Ati

Che Notebook

Glow in the Dark (Chile)

Fingerpainted Glass Barcelona Spain

Che Guevara Coin

DVD La Revolución cubana

His extraordinary courage and passionate devotion to the cause of social change throughout the world have made him a revolutionary icon. Nothing symbolises this better than a photograph of him taken at a memorial service on March 5, 1960, in Havana, Cuba. No other image – apart from the one of Marilyn Monroe standing at a subway grid – has been reproduced as many times in history. That photograph of Che, with his long hair flowing from underneath his beret with a star affixed to it, his eyes gazing into the distance, can be found on posters, subway walls and countless consumer articles such as T-shirts, mugs, key chains, wallets and cigarette lighters all over the world. It also adorns walls across Cuba where Che is loved for the part he played in the cause of the revolution.

Alberto Korda:

However, the man who took that photograph, Alberto Diaz Gutierrez, known to the world as Alberto Korda, never made anything for himself from the image he gave the world. Korda was born in 1928, the same year as Che Guevara. He died in May 2001 while attending one of his many exhibitions round the world, in Paris. The life of the photographer reflected the transformation that the revolution effected in Cuban society.

HASTA LA VICTORIA, SIEMPRE

This is how he described it to Pacifica: “This photograph is not the product of knowledge or technique. It was really coincidence, pure luck.” Korda was one among the 20 to 30 photographers below the grandstand that day and Che made a brief appearance at the front of the stage, for barely a minute. Korda managed to take just two shots of Che – one horizontal and one vertical. He rejected the vertical shot because a head covered Che’s shoulder; he cropped the horizontal shot and gave it to Revolucion. French writers Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir were among those present at the memorial service for 136 people killed in an explosion that destroyed a vessel loaded with weapons for the Cuban government.

PATRIA O MUERTO

Yes!, This is also Che… If you didn’t know..Read a Book!! to find out why, when and how.

Cuando estaba a punto de tomar los hábitos, Celia de la Serna conoció a través de unos amigos a Ernesto Guevara Lynch, un apuesto ingeniero de ideas socialistas, muy culto, que había sido expulsado del Colegio Nacional por pegarle una cachetada a Jorge Luis Borges, después de que éste lo acusó frente a un profesor, diciéndole: “Señor, este chico no me deja estudiar”. Celia era menor de edad, pertenecía a una familia muy católica y adinerada, y vivía en una amplia casa que compartía con algunos de sus seis hermanos. Su padre, Juan Martín de la Serna, había sido militante radical en su juventud y había participado junto a Guillermo Lynch, tío de Ernesto, en la fallida revolución de 1890.

Cuando la familia de Celia se dio cuenta de que entre los dos jóvenes había más que una simple amistad, comenzó una suerte de “guerra”. Firme en sus decisiones, ella se fue a vivir a lo de una tía para poco después casarse, en 1927. Con parte del dinero que Ernesto había recibido de la herencia de su padre compraron varias hectáreas de tierra en Puerto Caraguatay, provincia de Misiones, donde se establecieron para dedicarse a la plantación de yerba mate. Ella fue una de las precursoras en cortarse el pelo a la garçon, fumar y cruzar las piernas en público. En seguida Celia quedó embarazada y decidieron ir a Buenos Aires para el nacimiento del niño. Acompañados por Raúl Guevara Lynch, viajaron en barco por el río Paraná. Pero en Rosario, donde bajaron para arreglar unos trámites, comenzó inesperadamente el trabajo de parto. El 14 de junio de 1928, a las 3 y 5, nació Ernesto en la maternidad del Hospital Centenario, el mismo día y mes de nacimiento que José Carlos Mariátegui, uno de los revolucionarios cubanos del fin del siglo XIX. Dos días más tarde siguieron hasta la Capital. El bebé padeció una bronconeumonía muy fuerte y casi pierde la vida, pero atendido a tiempo por buenos médicos pudo recuperarse.

Después de arreglar asuntos de trabajo y visitar a los numerosos parientes, volvieron a Misiones. Contrataron a una muchacha, Carmen Arias, para que los ayudara con los cuidados del niño. En medio de la naturaleza, comenzó a dar sus primeros pasos. Ernesto, después de sus ocupaciones, disfrutaba cabalgando junto a su primogénito por los paisajes misioneros.

De vez en cuando viajaban a Entre Ríos, donde vivía Edelmira de la Serna en una gran estancia junto a su familia.

A fines de 1929 volvieron a Buenos Aires porque Celia estaba a punto de dar a luz. Esta vez fue una niña, a la que bautizaron con su mismo nombre. Se instalaron en San Isidro, cerca del astillero que regenteaba Ernesto. Durante los meses de verano la familia pasaba los días en el Club Náutico. Una tarde, al volver a la casa, notaron que Ernestito tenía fiebre y no dejaba de tiritar. El médico diagnosticó bronquitis, pero una vez curada ésta, el asma quedó instalada. Había temporadas en que no sufría, pero luego volvía a atacarlo. Una de las primeras frases que aprendió a balbucear fue “papito, inyección”, ya que era consciente de que sin los medicamentos no podía respirar. Sus padres pasaban noches enteras junto a su cama. Ernesto dormía sentado en la cabecera para que su hijo, recostado sobre su pecho, soportara mejor el asma. Como el aire del Río de la Plata no lo favorecía, toda la familia se mudó al Centro, a un departamento de la calle Bustamante. Allí nació el tercer hijo, Roberto.

1932

Ya que carecían de serios problemas económicos, y los diferentes trabajos de Ernesto lo obligaban a trasladarse por distintas provincias, viajaban constantemente. Pasaban largas temporadas en Santa Ana de Irineo Portela, provincia de Buenos Aires, donde la abuela Ana Isabel Lynch Ortiz tenía una importante estancia que constituía el vínculo de unión familiar. Madre de doce hijos, disfrutaba de la presencia de ellos y de sus descendientes. Quizá por la enfermedad que muchas veces le impedía jugar con sus primos y lo hacía permanecer quieto entre los mayores, Ernesto se convirtió en el nieto preferido. Siempre entusiasmado por aprender cosas nuevas, en la estancia aprendió a fabricar manteca y queso, y a curar a los animales. Se negaban a comer pollo, diciendo que eran pequeños y que no se sabían defender. Como no le gustaba que lo trataran de “usted”, modalidad de entonces, exigía a los peones que lo tutearan o simplemente le dijeran “che”.

Siguiendo las recomendaciones del médico, la familia se trasladó a Alta Gracia, Córdoba. El clima de montaña le sentó muy bien a Ernestito y el asma disminuyó considerablemente. Se instalaron en el hotel La Gruta, pensando que se trataba sólo de una temporada, pero al comprobar que allí era el lugar donde su hijo sufría menos, se fueron quedando con la esperanza de que en algún momento la enfermedad desapareciera. Ernesto debió buscar trabajo en la zona, y se dedicó a dirigir algunas construcciones. Eso le dio la posibilidad a Ernestito de conocer a la clase obrera que trataba con su padre y compararla con la suya. Supo lo que era la miseria compartiendo sus días de juegos con los hijos de los mineros y los peones de campo. Durante los veranos, la familia visitaba Mar del Plata y los inviernos los pasaba en Achala, donde disfrutaba de la nieve.

Vivir en el hotel salía demasiado caro. Encontraron una linda casa en Villa Chiquita que alquilaban a un precio muy accesible. Sin pensarlo demasiado, se mudaron allí después de realizar los arreglos indispensables. Más tarde se enteraron de que en el pueblo se decía que la casa estaba embrujada y a eso se debía el precio.

Allí nació la cuarta hija del matrimonio, Ana María. Como Ernestito no podía ir a la escuela por sus ataques de asma, fue su madre quien le enseñó a leer y escribir. Sólo pudo cursar regularmente segundo y tercer grado en la escuela San Martín. El quinto y sexto los hizo yendo como pudo al colegio Manuel Solares gracias a la ayuda de sus hermanos, que copiaban los deberes para que después él estudiara. En la casa se hacían reuniones donde se discutía acerca de todo lo que pasaba en el mundo. Por aquella época, Ernesto hijo estaba muy interesado en la Guerra Civil Española, y apoyaba al gobierno republicano. Juntaba los recortes que salían en los diarios y en su habitación tenía un mural donde seguía paso a paso el desarrollo de la guerra, colocando banderitas.

También había construido con sus amigos una línea de trincheras en un terreno cercano y jugaban a “la guerra española”. Más tarde se asoció a la Acción Argentina contra el avance de la penetración nazi en América y acompañaba a su padre a los actos, orgulloso de lucir su carnet de juventud de la organización.

Cuando el asma lo obligaba a quedarse quieto, aprovechaba para leer alguno de los libros de la gran biblioteca de su padre. Entre muchos, descubrió a Gandhi, que lo emocionó profundamente. También practicaba el tiro al blanco y jugaba al ping-pong en una mesa que él mismo se había fabricado. En las piletas del Sierras Hotel, donde tomaba clases de natación, conoció a los hermanos Carlos y Alberto Figueroa, este último un buen ajedrecista con quien pasaba días enteros jugando. En 1939 conoció al ajedrecista cubano Capablanca.

1941

A los 13 años decidió ir con su hermano Roberto a trabajar. Se habían enterado de que por recoger uvas en la vendimia pagaban un peso diario. Obtuvieron el permiso de sus padres y partieron con sus mochilas. Pero a los pocos días debieron volver, enfermos por la cantidad de uvas que habían comido. Fue su primer salario y, como lo había prometido, se lo envió orgulloso a su abuela. En mayo de 1943 nació su hermanito Juan Martín, a quien más tarde iba a enseñarle versos ateos para que los repitiera frente a sus tías, que se escandalizaban al oírlos. El bachillerato lo cursó en el liceo Deán Funes, una escuela pública en la capital cordobesa, en lugar de ir a la Monserrat, donde estudiaba la aristocracia. Allí tuvo un incidente con la profesora de historia, de apellido Beruato: se había producido el golpe militar en el país y ella comenzó a hablar sobre la promesa de los militares de dar cultura a todo el pueblo.

El se rió en plena clase y ella le preguntó por qué lo había hecho. Respondió que los militares no le iban a dar cultura al pueblo “porque si el pueblo era culto no los aceptaría”. La profesora se asustó y lo sacó del aula. Estuvo en el liceo hasta 1946. Mientras cursaba quinto año, junto a su amigo Tomás Granado, hizo un curso de laboratorista. Este le presentó a su hermano mayor, Alberto, quien estudiaba medicina. Durante una huelga universitaria cayó preso y Ernesto lo visitó en la cárcel. El amigo le pidió que hicieran protestas, mitines, pero él le respondió que si no le daban una pistola no salía a la calle.

Por ese entonces estaba enamorado de una chica a la que apodaban La Negrita, hija de un poeta; pero en los bailes seguía con su costumbre de sacar a bailar a las más feas para que no se quedaran sin hacerlo. El verano de 1945 la familia volvió a pasarlo en Mar del Plata, donde tuvo la oportunidad de conocer al gran ajedrecista Miguel Najdorf.

1946

Ernesto tenía pensado comenzar la carrera de ingeniería pero debió viajar a Buenos Aires porque la abuela estaba muy grave. Había sufrido un derrame cerebral y él se quedó diecisiete días junto a su cama hasta que murió. Al sentirse impotente para salvarle la vida, meditó que tenía que ser médico. Fue así como se inscribió en la Facultad de Medicina de la Ciudad de Buenos Aires.

Se presentó al servicio militar pero lo declararon “no apto” a causa del asma. En marzo de 1947 toda la familia se trasladó a Buenos Aires y ocupó la casa que había sido de la madre de Ernesto, en Arenales y Uriburu. Al año se mudaron a un departamento en Aráoz 2180. Hacía tiempo que el matrimonio no se llevaba bien y decidieron separarse a medias. Además de las infidelidades de Ernesto, Celia estaba cansada de las aventuras económicas que emprendía y casi siempre fracasaban. El se instaló en un pequeño departamento de la calle Paraguay pero visitaba todos los días la casa familiar. En la facultad, Ernesto hijo conoció a una compañera muy culta, quien adquiriría relevante importancia en su vida: Berta Gilda Infante (Tita). Ella estaba muy enamorada pero más que novios fueron grandes amigos. A pesar del asma y de las continuas recomendaciones jugaba al rugby en el San Isidro Club (SIC), que había sido fundado por su parte, y se destacaba como tacleador fuerte. Junto a sus compañeros de equipo sacaron la revista “Tackle”, que tuvo 11 números. El escribía con el seudónimo de Chang Cho. Como no estaba de acuerdo con que su padre lo mantuviera consiguió trabajo como enfermero en la Flota Mercante del Estado, en los bancos petroleros. También se desempeñó como practicante en Sanidad Municipal y como empleado en la sección de Abastecimientos de la Municipalidad porteña, además de trabajar en el laboratorio de alergia del doctor Pisani.

Junto a su amigo Carlos Figueroa decidieron fabricar insecticidas, que ellos mismos preparaban a base de Gammexane y talco en el garaje de su casa. Quisieron ponerles a sus productos el nombre Al Capone (porque no dejaba nada vivo), pero no se lo permitieron; entonces los llamaron Vendaval. También vendieron zapatos baratos por la calle que habían comprado en un remate. En 1949 viajaron a Córdoba, juntos, “a dedo”.

1950

El 1e de enero salió a recorrer las provincias con Alberto Granado, en una bicicleta a la que habían colocado un pequeño motor. Todas las tardes se detenían debajo de un árbol y Ernesto aprovechaba para estudiar. Al pasar Mar del Plata escribió en su diario: “Alberto conoció esta noche a un viejo amigo mío, el mar”. Recorrieron 4.500 kilómetros. Sin abandonar los estudios, se embarcó en enero de 1951 para trabajar de enfermero en un buque petrolero del Estado. Recorrió la costa argentina, San Pablo (Brasil), Venezuela y Trinidad, en el Caribe, mientras leía a Marx y a Engels. De regreso viajó con su familia a Córdoba por el casamiento de Carmen González-Aguilar. Allí conoció a Chichina Ferreira, de dieciséis años, y se enamoró. Se quiso casar de inmediato, proponiéndole una luna de miel recorriendo América en una casa rodante, pero los padres de ella no lo aceptaron. Lo tildaron de comunista por atacar a Churchill y regalarle a Chichina un libro sobre Gandhi. A pesar de vivir a 700 kilómetros de distancia, siempre que podía viajaba a Córdoba para visitarla. Estuvieron juntos hasta 1952, cuando le avisó que se iba a recorrer América, en compañía de Alberto Granado.

1952

Partieron de Córdoba en una vieja motocicleta Norton, propiedad de Granado, con la que pensaban llegar hasta los Estados Unidos. La primera parte del viaje la hicieron en sentido contrario, hacia el sur, porque querían conocer la zona de los lagos patagónicos y pasar antes por Miramar, donde estaba veraneando Chichina. Pasaron la fiesta de Año Nuevo con la familia Guevara en Buenos Aires. Y el 4 de enero salieron hacia la costa. En el camino se encontraron con un hombre que vendía cachorros de pastor alemán y compró uno para regalarle a su novia: Come Back. A cambio, ella le dio una pulsera de oro. Pasaron felices días de romance hasta que los dos jóvenes partieron hacia Bahía Blanca. Sin saberlo, era la despedida, ya que a su regreso, nueve meses más tarde, Chichina se había comprometido con otro muchacho. El 28 de enero llegaron a una población llamada Los Angeles. Durmieron en el cuartel de bomberos. A mitad de la noche sonó la alarma y el jefe los dejó participar en el incendio. Ernesto salvó a un gatito que quedó como mascota del cuartel. Siguieron el viaje por el sur y cruzaron a Chile, donde estuvieron en las minas de Chuquicamata para ver la vida de los mineros. En ningún momento dejó de enviar cartas a sus familiares, donde iba haciendo un análisis económico, político y social de los países que atravesaba. En ellas también iba poniendo sus reflexiones, que indicaban su creciente tendencia hacia el comunismo. Casi siempre se trasladaban en camiones. Subieron hasta Bolivia y el 30 de abril llegaron Perú, y se quedaron veinte días en Lima. Allí conocieron al doctor Pesce, célebre médico leprólogo. Se hicieron muy amigos y visitaron varias veces el dispensario donde estaban los enfermos. En Colombia se sorprendieron por la cantidad de policía que había en las calles. Pudieron asistir a un partido de fútbol entre el Real Madrid y River, gracias a entrevistarse con Alfredo Distefano, quien les regaló dos entradas. Cruzaron a Venezuela, donde conocieron a un periodista con quien mantuvo una discusión donde se le escuchó decir a Ernesto: “Yo prefiero ser indio analfabeto a millonario norteamericano”. El 8 de junio llegaron navegando por el río Amazonas al Lazareto de San Pablo, Brasil, conocido mundialmente como uno de los sitios más inhóspitos donde se curaba a enfermos del mal de Hansen. Ernesto quiso ponerse a prueba y cruzó a nado el río, que en esa zona tiene un ancho de 1.600 metros. Tardó casi dos horas. En Venezuela se despidió de Alberto, quien había conseguido trabajo allí. Siguió en un avión que transportaba caballos de carreras hasta Miami, donde iba a quedarse un solo día. Pero por un desperfecto técnico en el motor, el avión despegó veinte días más tarde. Se quedó en esa ciudad con un dólar en el bolsillo, viviendo en una pensión a cambio de la promesa de enviar el dinero apenas pisara Buenos Aires, adonde llegó en setiembre.

1953

De vuelta, se propuso terminar la carrera de medicina antes de marzo del 1953. Ya tenía preparado un viaje para el mes de julio y debía apurar los exámenes. Le quedaban quince materias y las rindió estudiando las noches en casa de su tía Beatriz, que nunca se había casado y se dedicaba de lleno a su sobrino preferido, al que le cebaba mate durante toda la noche. Apenas se graduó comenzó con los preparativos para su nueva travesía. Esta vez, su acompañante fue su amigo de la infancia Carlos Ferrer (“Calica”), hijo de un médico especialista en pulmones. En la fiesta de despedida que le organizaron, se le escuchó decir a Celia a una amiga: “Lo pierdo para siempre”. Partieron una tarde gris y fría de julio desde la estación Retiro. Familiares y amigos fueron a despedirlo. Vestía un pantalón de fajina verde y tenía la cabeza rapada. Cuando el tren comenzó a andar, asomado a la ventanilla revoleaba un bolsón mientras gritaba: “¡Aquí va un soldado de América!”.

El 7 de julio de 1953 Ernesto Guevara y su amigo “Calica” Ferrer emprendieron su viaje por Latinoamérica. Llegaron en tren hasta La Paz, Bolivia, donde alquilaron un viejo departamento. Ernesto se había propuesto conseguir trabajo como médico y le gustó la idea de ejercer en una mina de estaño, donde podía tener contacto con la clase obrera.

Pero la situación era muy difícil; en las calles había enfrentamientos entre civiles y el ejército ya que estaba a punto de producirse una reforma agraria. Como el empleo no pudo concretarse, los dos amigos salieron a recorrer el interior del país. Después cruzaron a Perú acompañados por el abogado Ricardo Rojo, un exiliado político del peronismo al que acababan de conocer. Visitaron fascinados el Cuzco y Machu Picchu, pero se horrorizaron con la situación política que se vivía allí, en manos del dictador Odría. A fines de setiembre llegaron a Ecuador. Permanecieron un mes y se separaron. “Calica” partió hacia Venezuela, mientras que Ernesto, después de vender parte de su ropa para pagar el pasaje, se dirigió hacia Panamá junto a Gualo García, un estudiante de la Universidad de La Plata que encontró en el camino. En diciembre llegaron a Costa Rica. En un café conocieron a un grupo de exiliados cubanos que habían asaltado el Cuartel del Moncada, enfrentándose al régimen de Batista. Por primera vez escuchó el nombre de Fidel Castro, líder del movimiento revolucionario 26 de Julio, y de sus hazañas, de las cuales no dio crédito: “Ahora cuéntenme una de vaqueros”, replicó. Siguió con Gualo su viaje a dedo hacia Guatemala, donde se hospedaron por unos días en la casa de una peruana, Hilda Gadea. Luego se mudaron a una pensión barata y salieron nuevamente a buscar trabajo, que empezó con una venta ambulante de estampillas “milagrosas” con la imagen de Cristo. Comenzaron a frecuentar un círculo de jóvenes exiliados de diferentes lugares de América y con miembros de la izquierda guatemalteca. El aire que se respiraba en la ciudad era muy tenso, en cualquier momento iba a producirse un golpe de estado. Ernesto se enamoró de Hilda y a los dos meses le propuso matrimonio. Ella le pidió un poco más de tiempo. El 15 de mayo, un ejército financiado por los EE.UU. comenzó con el derrocamiento del gobierno. La ciudad más bombardeada y Ernesto participó activamente en la resistencia prestando servicios médicos. El presidente Arbenz terminó renunciando, la ciudad cayó en manos militares, y el joven argentino debió refugiarse en la embajada de su país para partir luego hacia México, rechazando la oferta de volver a Buenos Aires. A mediados de setiembre viajó en tren acompañado por Hilda, que había estado varias semanas detenida en la cárcel de mujeres. En la frontera se despidieron, ya que ella debía quedarse en Guatemala. Durante el trayecto conoció a Julio Cáceres, “El Patojo”, con quien llegó a la capital mexicana. Consiguieron trabajo como fotógrafos en plazas y fiestas. Por las mañanas, Ernesto hacía una ayudantía en el Hospital General, donde se reencontró por casualidad con el cubano Nico López, a quien había conocido en Guatemala. Este le presentó a un grupo de compañeros exiliados. Hilda, tras ser deportada, se sumó al círculo. Con empleo y su prometida al lado, parecía que Ernesto estaba dispuesto a asentarse lejos de su patria.

1955

Año Nuevo, Ernesto le dio a su novia el “Martín Fierro”, a modo de anillo de compromiso. El 18 de mayo, sin poder contraer matrimonio en forma legal por cuestiones burocráticas, decidieron vivir juntos. Mientras tanto, en Cuba, los jóvenes que habían asaltado el Moncada y habían sido detenidos, fueron puestos en libertad gracias a una ley de amnistía.

Raúl Castro se refugió en México, donde conoció a la pareja de “recién casados”. El 8 de julio, en la casa de María Antonia González, donde se reunía regularmente el grupo, Ernesto conoció a Fidel Castro. La conversación que mantuvieron duró casi diez horas, durante las cuales intercambiaron todo tipo de opiniones.

El líder cubano le expresó su objetivo de organizar la resistencia contra el gobierno de Batista. Ambos hombres quedaron fascinados por la charla. Al amanecer, de vuelta a su casa, Ernesto le dijo a su mujer: “Si algo bueno se ha producido en Cuba desde Martí, es Fidel Castro; él hará la revolución”.

En el mes de agosto, Hilda quedó embarazada y pudieron casarse el día 18. Festejaron en su casa con un asado al que asistieron los hermanos Castro. Unos meses después hicieron su viaje de bodas por el interior del país. En octubre, Fidel se trasladó a los EE.UU. en busca de fondos para su organización, donde sentenció: “O seremos libres o seremos mártires”. De vuelta en México, comenzaron los primeros preparativos para enfrentar la dictadura cubana. Las reuniones se hacían en casa de María Antonia, y de a poco se iban sumando hombres y mujeres.

Se incorporaron entre otros un deportista de lucha libre, Arsacio Vanegas, y el ex coronel del ejército republicano español Alberto Bayo, quienes se hicieron cargo del entrenamiento físico de los futuros combatientes. Mientras tanto, Ernesto estudiaba ruso y leía libros de economía. La relación con Hilda no iba muy bien, pero seguían juntos por el hijo que estaban esperando.

1956

A principios de año comenzaron los entrenamientos fuertes. Hacían largas caminatas por la ciudad, practicaban defensa personal y tiro al blanco en un club de cazadores. Se sumó al grupo Antonio del Conde, El Cuate, dueño de una armería, quien les entregó armas al costo. El 15 de febrero nació Hilda Beatriz. Su padre la encontró “igualita a Mao Tse Tung”.

En Cuba habían comenzado a correr rumores y Batista mandó un hombre especializado con la orden de asesinar a Fidel Castro. La organización 26 de Julio alquiló un rancho en las afueras de la ciudad, donde se realizaban las prácticas. El 20 de junio Fidel y varios hombres que lo acompañaban fueron apresados por la policía. Al enterarse, su hermano tuvo tiempo y ocultó las armas. Se le comunicó a Fidel que iban a asaltar el rancho, entonces decidió acompañar a los federales para evitar un enfrentamiento inútil. Todos fueron detenidos menos Raúl, que pudo escaparse. El Che, por tener un carnet de estudiante de ruso, fue considerado un importante eslabón del movimiento. Un pariente suyo que trabajaba en la Embajada Argentina le ofreció ayuda, pero la rechazó argumentando: “Aquí entré con unos compañeros y con ellos saldré”.

Raúl, desde afuera, consiguió un abogado. Veinte hombres del grupo salieron en libertad bajo la condición de abandonar el país. Quedaron encerrados Fidel, el Che y Calixto García, acusados de comunistas. Quince días más tarde, el líder recobró la libertad. Gracias a una importante suma de dinero que entregó, unas semanas después sacó a los otros dos. A pesar de todo esto, no estaban dispuestos a renunciar a sus planes. Compraron un yate en muy mal estado, llamado Granma, al que debieron dedicarle un buen tiempo para arreglarlo. En octubre se sumó al grupo Camilo Cienfuegos, quien se encontraba exiliado en los EE.UU. Los allanamientos seguían persiguiéndolos a cada paso, evidenciando a un infiltrado dentro del grupo. Su nombre jamás se dijo, pasando a ser uno de los secretos de la revolución.

Los planes debieron precipitarse para que el traidor no tuviera tiempo de avisar a la policía. La cita fue de un día para el otro: el 24 de noviembre en el puerto de Tuxpán. En el apuro se olvidaron de recoger alimentos y parte del armamento que tenían. Sólo había espacio para 82 hombres en el bote, apretujados unos con otros.

El resto debió quedarse en tierra, algunos llorando bajo la lluvia. La travesía fue dura.

El yate estaba sobrecargado, los tripulantes mareados. Mientras tanto, en la isla se iban movilizando las tropas militares para esperarlos. En la ciudad de Santiago habían comenzado a rebelarse algunos sectores y se producían tiroteos en las calles. El 2 de diciembre pudieron ver tierra firme, sin saber que se trataba de la playa Las Coloradas. Quedaron varados a dos mil metros de la costa y debieron avanzar nadando. La aviación los ubicó y en seguida comenzó un feroz bombardeo. Algunos intentaron llegar al monte, otros se perdieron. Un campesino guió a los que quedaron hacia Alegría del Pío, donde sufrieron un nuevo ataque ya que ese hombre los había delatado. El Che recibió un disparo que rebotó en la caja de balas que llevaba colgada y apenas le hirió el cuello. Hubo muchas bajas, algunos fueron capturados y fusilados, pero los rebeldes estaban dispuestos a todo. Los días siguientes los pasaron ocultos en refugios: por las noches seguían camino hacia Sierra Maestra divididos en dos grupos, hambrientos y cansados. No tenían agua potable y pasaban varios días sin probar ningún tipo de alimento. El día 13 llegaron a la casa del campesino Alfredo González, miembro del movimiento 26 de Julio local, que de a poco se iba expandiendo por otras zonas. Los rebeldes fueron haciendo contacto con diferentes personas, que los hospedaban y les daban comida. De los 82 hombres que habían partido de México, solo quedaban 12, apenas armados. Sin embargo, Fidel se mostraba optimista. Después aparecieron 3 sobrevivientes más. Sin embargo, los principales diarios del mundo, al servicio de Batista y del imperialismo estadounidense, publicaban la noticia de la fracasada invasión, dando por muertos a Fidel y todos su hombres. El 31 de diciembre llegó a casa de los padres del Che una carta con sello cubano: “Estoy perfectamente, gasté sólo dos y me quedan cinco”, refiriéndose a las siete vidas que tienen los gatos.

1957

En enero eran 24 los combatientes rebeldes pero algunos jamás habían disparado armas. Muchas de las que tenían no servían, eran viejas o estaban destruidas por la sal del agua. El día 16, en La Plata, realizaron el primer ataque, del que salieron victoriosos. El Che mató a un soldado por primera vez. Un nuevo campesino los delató; aviones del ejército bombardearon el campamento donde estaban, lo que hizo que volvieran a separarse. Días más tarde, un grupo guiado por Crescencio Pérez encontró al resto. Por ese entonces, el Che sólo era un combatiente-médico y no participaba de las reuniones organizativas. De vez en cuando el asma, lo paralizaba, falto de medicamentos, pero no permitía ningún tipo de ayuda ni compasión. En varias oportunidades tuvo que quedarse quieto, en medio de lluvias de balas, esperando aliviarse. Como estrategia, Fidel permitió que el periodista Herbert Matthews, del “New York Times”, se acercara al campamento para hacerles un reportaje. La noticia recorrió el mundo y muchos comenzaron a interesarse por lo que pasaba en la isla. Sin embargo, los periódicos fraguaban las noticias y todas las semanas daban por muertos a los guerrilleros.

Esas informaciones eran las que llegaban a la Argentina.

Divididos en grupos, siguieron el camino hacia Sierra Maestra, topándose con soldados en muchas oportunidades. El enemigo siempre era mayor en número y estaba mejor armado que ellos. Se les fueron sumando campesinos y en el mes de mayo ya eran 150. Fidel decidió formar una nueva columna y puso, para sorpresa de varios, al Che como comandante.

Durante los momentos de descanso, le enseñaba francés a Raúl y alfabetizaba a los campesinos. También pudo llevar a cabo la creación de un periódico, “El Cuba Libre”, para informar al campesinado de lo que realmente estaba sucediendo y así alentarlos a que se sumaran a la lucha. En El Hombrito colocaron en lo alto del cerro una gran bandera con el nombre del movimiento, lo que enfureció a la aviación enemiga. En Santiago seguían los enfrentamientos y en La Habana había comenzado una rebelión estudiantil. Eran muchos los que estaban en contra del régimen y el ejército de Batista debía atacar en varios frentes a la vez.

1958

El 1° de marzo se estrenó una emisora, Radio Rebelde, instalada en la cresta de un cerro, a través de la cual podían comunicarse los diferentes grupos de la resistencia y mantener informado al pueblo de los acontecimientos. En Minas del Frío, el Che organizó un nuevo campamento, donde se reclutaban campesinos. Allí se enamoró de Zoila Rodríguez, hija del herrero a quien llevó su mulo Armando. Tuvieron una relación de varios meses y a la hora de separarse dejó el animal a su cuidado. Uno de los grandes aciertos de Fidel fue su estrategia de desmoralizar a los enemigos. Daba largos sermones a los prisioneros, explicándoles las razones de la revolución. Luego los dejaba en libertad con la moral herida. Es que era muy caro mantenerlos presos y no podía gastar sus pocos hombres para custodiarlos.

Con la victoria de los enfrentamientos en Las Mercedes, Sierra Maestra quedó liberada y se obtuvieron mejores armas. El Che se ocupó personalmente de la construcción de varias escuelas, de un hospital y dio los primeros pasos para llevar adelante la reforma agraria Entregó tierras a quienes las habían trabajado por más de dos años y distribuyó el granado en forma equitativa (muchas de esas personas no habían comido carne nunca en la vida). También inauguró la primera fábrica de pan en la montaña, otra de armas donde inventaron un fusil bazooka y una tabaquería.

Pero faltaba el golpe final.

La estrategia era abrir nuevos frentes de combate, acercándose a poblaciones próximas a la capital cubana. Hacia el este marcharon dos columnas: la 8, encabezada por el Che, que debía atacar Las Villas, y la 2, bajo el mando de Camilo, hacia Pinar del Río. La columna del Che estaba formada con un 90% de hombres analfabetos.

Por falta de conocimiento del terreno, fueron muchas las emboscadas en que las que cayeron. Pero a cada paso se acentuaba el apoyo del campesinado. Batista convocó a elecciones en un intento por detener la guerrilla.

Pero a pesar de las presiones, apenas el 30% de la gente votó y resultó electo el batistiano Rivero Agüero.

A la columna del Che se sumó la de Víctor Bordón, con 202 hombres y pocas armas. Creó el Pelotón Suicida, una escuadra de hombres escogidos, con Roberto Rodríguez, “El Vaquerito”, al mando. Como guía, apareció Aleida March, una combatiente de Santa Clara que había ejercido como mensajera. El Che se enamoró a primera vista. De La Habana salió un tren blindado.

El Che ordenó romper un trecho de las vías y éste se descarriló. Los rebeldes lo atacaron tirándole botellas de nafta encendidas. Muertos de calor, los 400 soldados terminaron rindiéndose y entregándoles un gran cargamento de armas sofisticadas. Sin embargo, el Che estaba muy angustiado: “El Vaquerito” acababa de morir. Para impedir el avance de las tropas se necesitó la colaboración activa del pueblo, que contribuyó arrojando muebles y colchones en las calles, obstruyendo el paso. Cuando Batista se enteró de semejante actitud, se ensañó con los civiles, torturándolos y asesinándolos a cambio de información. El 27 de setiembre el Che partió acompañado por 146 hombres de Jíbaro rumbo a las sierras de Escambray, en la provincia de Las Villas. Fueron 42 días de marcha. Paralelo a él, Cienfuegos avanzó hacia la Sierra de Bamburanao, en la misma provincia. La estrategia era dividir la isla. Para detener el avance de los tanques enemigos, colocaban en los caminos rollizos de palmeras formando pirámides. Al querer cruzarlos, la tracción comenzaba a girar junto con los tronos y quedaban en el lugar.

1959

En la madrugada del 1º de enero, después de celebrar una fiesta en el palacio de gobierno, Batista huyó del país junto a sus más fieles colaboradores. En la isla dejaba veinte mil personas muertas a lo largo de su mandato. Cuando Fidel se enteró, temiendo un golpe de Estado, apresuró su marcha sobre Santiago y llamó a una huelga general.

En La Habana, miembros del 26 de Julio tomaron los periódicos mientras la policía mataba a civiles. El caos era total. Nadie podía saber qué era lo que realmente estaba pasando La población quería hacer justicia por manos propias y tomó los estudios de televisión, donde comenzaron a llover las denuncias. A las 9 de la noche se pactó la rendición de Santiago.

Fidel le tomó juramento a Manuel Urrutia como presidente, quedando él a cargo del ejército revolucionario. El Che recibió la orden de marchar inmediatamente hacia La Habana junto con Camilo y sus tropas.

Al comunicárselo a sus hombres, éstos le pidieron quedarse argumentando que estaban cansados y que ya habían triunfado. ” Se ganó la guerra, la revolución empieza ahora”, retrucó el Che, obligándolos a marchar hacia La Habana, donde el pueblo esperaba ansioso conocer a los vencedores.

El Che emprendió la marcha hacia La Habana en un viejo jeep, a las tres de la tarde del 2 de enero de 1959, con una escolta de cuatro compañeros y Aleida March. Detrás los seguían sus hombres y campesinos que se iban sumando en el camino. La primera columna en entrar a la ciudad fue la de Víctor Palenque, y a las cinco de la tarde llegó la de Camilo Cienfuegos. A la madrugada, el Che pisó por primera vez en su vida el suelo de la capital cubana. Se dirigió directamente al cuartel de La Cabaña, donde pronunció un discurso a los soldados batistianos que había en el lugar.

En las calles, la gente festejaba. Los exiliados políticos, desparramados en diferentes puntos de América, volvían a su tierra los primeros días del año.

El 4 de enero se trasladó al aeropuerto de Camagüey para recibir a Fidel, después de seis meses de no verse. El 8, el líder de la revolución entró triunfante en La Habana, acompañado por Camilo. La familia Guevara llegó a la isla. Se encontraron después de varios años con el médico devenido en guerrillero. “Soy un combatiente que está trabajando en el apuntalamiento de un gobierno. ¿Qué va a ser de mí? Yo mismo no sé por qué tierra dejaré los huesos”, explicó a su padre.

También llegaron Hilda Gadea con su pequeña hija de 3 años y su amigo, el periodista argentino Jorge Ricardo Masetti. Sin distraerse demasiado con las visitas, el Che siguió con sus tareas. Inauguró una academia militar cultural en La Cabaña para continuar con la alfabetización de los campesinos. El gobierno dio los primeros pasos del cambio social: se construyeron las primeras casas populares, bajaron los precios de las medicinas, libros, servicios eléctricos y alquileres y se confiscaron las haciendas de más de 400 hectáreas, que pasaron a manos del estado y éste las repartió a los campesinos. Los ganaderos y empresarios, por supuesto, no estaban de acuerdo y se quejaron de ese “accionar comunista” del nuevo gobierno. El cubano Díaz Lanz se fugó a los EE.UU. y comenzó a armar allí una campaña contra Fidel. La situación era tensa. La Revolución comenzaba a enjuiciar y dictar penas de muerte a torturadores y asesinos batistianos.

El 7 de febrero, Ernesto Guevara se convirtió en ciudadano cubano “por nacimiento”. Además de seguir adelante con la reforma agraria, se dedicó a fundar la revista semanal “Verde Oliva” cuya tirada era financiada por los soldados, y la agencia Prensa Latina junto a Massetti, a la que luego se incorporó Rodolfo Walsh. El 22 de mayo se divorció de Hilda y se casó el 2 de junio con Aleida. Diez días más tarde, en carácter de embajador, viajó a El Cairo para entrevistarse con el presidente Nasser. Luego se trasladó a la India, donde depositó una ofrenda floral en la tumba de Gandhi. Siguió por Birmania, Tailandia, Tokio, Indonesia, Hong Kong entre reuniones diplomáticas y protocolares.

En Ceilán firmó un importante acuerdo para venderles 20 mil toneladas de azúcar. Pasó por Pakistán, Grecia, Yugoslavia, Italia, España y Marruecos. Mientras tanto, en Cuba, las diferencias entre el ala derecha y el ala izquierda del gobierno se iban profundizando. Fidel acusó en televisión al presidente Urrutia por sus inclinaciones anticomunistas y renunció a su cargo de primer ministro. El pueblo reaccionó a su favor, Urrutia tuvo que abandonar la presidencia y su lugar fue ocupado por Osvaldo Dorticós, quien le pidió a Fidel que se reincorporara a su puesto.

El Che regresó de su gira el 9 de setiembre. Dos semanas más tarde, aviones provenientes de Miami, comandados por Díaz Lanz, bombardearon la isla. El 29 de octubre, el avión que transportaba a Camilo Cienfuegos hacia Santa Clara se estrelló, quitándole la vida a uno de los hombres más importantes de la Revolución. Fueron dos golpes muy duros. En noviembre, el Che convocó con una masiva repercusión de los campesinos de Manzanillo a una jornada de trabajo voluntario, y comenzó a ejercer como presidente del Banco Nacional, lo que inquietó a muchos funcionarios. Antes de que terminara el año, se entregaron los primeros títulos de propiedad a campesinos: “Hoy se firmó el certificado de defunción del latifundio. Nunca creí que pudiera poner mi nombre con tanto orgullo y satisfacción sobre un documento necrológico de un paciente que ayudé a tratar”, declaró.

1960

A principios de año, miembros del gobierno de la URSS llegaron a la isla. Además de jurar apoyo a Cuba, firmaron importantes tratados de comercio. Muchos curiosos de todas partes del mundo visitaron Cuba. Pablo Neruda, Jean-Paul Sartre y Simone de Beauvoir se reunieron con el Che. Al no sentirse capacitado como banquero, renunció: “Soy antes guerrillero que presidente del Banco Nación”. Sin embargo, aceptó el nombramiento en el Ministerio de Industria. En Guatemala y Nicaragua comenzaron a entrenarse militares batistianos.

El 13 de octubre, los Estados Unidos declararon el bloqueo económico a la isla. Diez días más tarde, el Che viajó a Europa, buscando nuevas salidas comerciales y logró cerrar importantes tratos. En Praga obtuvo un crédito, en Moscú compró máquinas, en Pekín (durante la entrevista con Mao) sufrió un fuerte ataque de asma que le provocó un paro cardíaco. El 24 de noviembre nació en Cuba su hija Aleida. El 3 de enero de 1961, EE.UU. rompió las relaciones diplomáticas con Cuba. Casi todos los países latinoamericanos siguieron su ejemplo. El 75% del comercio exterior desapareció.

El 13 de marzo se decretó el primer racionamiento sobre la carne, leche, zapatos y pasta dentífrica. Con el flamante presidente norteamericano John F. Kennedy se temía una nueva represalia yanqui.

En la madrugada del 15 de abril, aviones piloteados por cubanos que habían sido entrenados por la CIA bombardearon las bases aéreas de Santiago, San Antonio de los Baños y Ciudad Libertad, con el objetivo de destruir la aviación. El Che se hizo cargo del ejército occidental, Raúl Castro comandó las tropas en Oriente y Almeida las del centro. Apenas llegó a Pinar del Río, el Che habló frente a los combatientes: “Por sobre los cadáveres de nuestros compañeros caídos, sobre los escombros de nuestras fábricas, cada vez con mayor decisión, ¡Patria o muerte!”. Las primeras tropas enemigas desembarcaron en Playa Girón.

Cuatro mil cubanos marcharon a defender su país.

El día 19 por la tarde, todo había terminado y la Revolución había vuelto a triunfar.

El 5 de agosto de 1961, el Che viajó a Uruguay para participar en el Congreso IberoamericanoEconómico y Social que tuvo lugar en Punta del Este. En el aeropuerto de Montevideo, diez mil personas lo recibieron con banderas de “Cuba sí, yanquis no”.

Sus familiares cruzaron el Río de la Plata para estar con él. Dio varias conferencias y el día 18 pasó en secreto a Buenos Aires invitado por el presidente Frondizi, con quien se entrevistó en la quinta de Olivos. Luego partió hacia Brasilia, donde el jefe de gobierno, Janio Quadros, declaró que respetaba la autodeterminación de los pueblos. De regreso a Cuba, se encontró con los problemas económicos agravados. Estados Unidos no iba a quedarse atrás. La CIA organizó diferentes tipos de sabotajes que se repartieron por la isla a lo largo del año ’62. Ante la amenaza de un ataque nuclear, la URSS les ofreció armamento. Bases rusas se instalaron en San Cristóbal para mantener alejado al enemigo. Los yanquis decretaron el bloqueo naval.

Cuando la tensión internacional llegó al máximo por temerse una confrontación, ambas potencias firmaron un acuerdo: los rusos desarmaban los cohetes y los yanquis prometían no invadir Cuba. El 20 de mayo nació Camilo Guevara.

1963

Celia, la madre del Che, se sumó a la política de su hijo.

Viajó por diferentes países de América del Sur, conectándose con grupos de izquierda, dando conferencias sobre el sentido de la Revolución Cubana e integrando congresos de mujeres socialistas.

En la Argentina, donde las relaciones con Cuba habían sido rotas, lanzó una campaña procastrista.

El 23 de abril, cuando regresaba del Uruguay, fue apresada por tenencia de literatura comunista. Soportó dos meses en la cárcel correccional de mujeres de Buenos Aires, donde empeoró su estado de salud a causa de un cáncer que la perseguía. Tuvo que vivir en la clandestinidad hasta que se exilió en el Uruguay.

El Che comenzaba a sentir la necesidad de continuar la revolución en otros países.

No podía quedarse quieto, detrás de un escritorio. En Argelia estaba actuando una guerrilla y el gobierno cubano les envió armas, operación a cargo de Masetti.

El 14 de junio nació su hija Celia.

1964

El Che seguía impulsando el trabajo voluntario y luchaba contra el déficit económico, tratando de evitar los problemas que traía el modelo soviético. Se inauguraron varias fábricas con tecnología de Europa oriental.

Mientras tanto, iba planificando un nuevo movimiento armado en América latina. En la Argentina un golpe militar había derrocado a Frondizi en 1962, y Massetti se había instalado en Salta para luchar. Pero su grupo fue disuelto en seguida y jamás se encontró su cadáver. Al enterarse, al Che ya no le quedaron más dudas: no podía permanecer en Cuba mientras otros hombres morían por llevar adelante sus ideas. En Brasil y Bolivia se habían producido sendos golpes militares.

En marzo recibió en su despacho a una muchacha argentino-alemana, Tamara Bunke (Tania), a quien había conocido en Berlín como traductora. Estaba siendo entrenada en técnicas de espionaje. El Che le comunicó su misión: ir a Bolivia, tomar contacto con las fuerzas armadas y el gobierno. En noviembre volvió a la URSS para participar del 47º aniversario de la Revolución de Octubre. En diciembre viajó a Nueva York para intervenir en la Asamblea de la Organización de las Naciones Unidas (ONU). Una mujer trató de asesinato pero falló.

De ahí pasó al continente africano. Se entrevistó con los líderes progresistas, ofreció apoyo a los revolucionarios de Angola y se reunió con los grupos armados del Congo. Fidel lo fue a buscar al aeropuerto el 14 de marzo de 1965.

Los días siguientes se reunieron en varias oportunidades: el Che se iba de Cuba a seguir con la causa revolucionaria en otros países. Africa le parecía el lugar propicio. “Yo puedo hacer lo que te está negado por tu responsabilidad al frente de Cuba y llegó la hora de separarnos” escribió en su carta de despedida. Aleida le acababa de dar un cuarto hijo, al que bautizó Ernesto.

El 2 de abril partió de La Habana hacia el Congo con pasaporte falso e imposible de reconocer físicamente, inclusive con una dentadura postiza. Días después comenzaron a llegar hombres entrenados en Cuba. Pero allí descubrieron que no había una verdadera unidad y la falta de organización del Ejército de Liberación del Congo era preocupante.

Los hombres se emborrachaban, hacían rituales y tenían demasiadas supersticiones. Se trasladaron a Luluaburg, donde el Che se enteró de la muerte de su madre.

Por el mundo comenzaron a circular diferentes versiones sobre el paradero del “Guerrillero Heroico”.

La CIA se encargó de desparramar la noticia de su muerte acusando a Fidel de haberlo asesinado. Otros decían que estaba en Perú, en Venezuela o internado en un centro psiquiátrico de México. El líder congolés Kabila ordenó un ataque al cuartel de Fort de Force, pero obligó al Che a permanecer en la base. La derrota fue aplastante. Sólo los combatientes cubanos se animaron a pelear. El resto desertó o no disparó sus armas. Nadie sabía realmente por qué se estaba peleando y la moral del grupo decayó.

Durante el mes de julio hubo algunos enfrentamientos, de los cuales sólo fueron positivos los comandados por Martínez Tamayo. Los EE.UU. dieron 200 millones de dólares al gobierno de Mobutu para desbaratar la guerrilla, ofreciendo recompensas. Cubanos anticastristas entrenados por la CIA llegaron para colaborar.

Después de muchas conversaciones con los líderes del Movimiento de Liberación y debido a un acuerdo tomado por la Organización de la Unidad Africana (OUR), se le ordenó al Che y a su gente abandonar el lugar. La guerra no existía.

En tres lanchas llegaron a Dar Es Salaam, donde permanecieron varios meses hasta que partieron clandestinamente hacia Praga, Checoslovaquia. Allí profundizó el proyecto de proseguir la lucha en Latinoamérica.

Primero pensó en Perú, pero las cosas no iban bien allí. Martínez Tamayo viajó a Bolivia, donde se reunió con Tania, quien se estaba ocupando de los preparativos para recibir al grupo de combatientes.

Bolivia parecía un punto propicio.

El 19 de julio de 1966 el Che volvió a Cuba en forma secreta.

Fidel intentó persuadirlo de quedarse, pero nada podía frenarlo. Muchos eran los que se ofrecían a acompañarlo. Disfrazado, recibió por última vez a sus hijos, sin dejar que lo reconocieran. A mediados de noviembre llegó a Bolivia.

Estableció un campamento en medio de la selva despoblada.

Encontró que sus planes eran contrarios a los del movimiento comunista local. El secretario del partido, Mario Monje, le dijo que sólo un boliviano podía dirigir la lucha y no un argentino. El Che no estaba dispuesto a estar bajo las órdenes de nadie: “Yo ya estoy aquí y de aquí sólo me sacan muerto”. Las relaciones terminaron rompiéndose. Fidel, desde Cuba, trataba de enmendarlas en vano. En La Paz, Tania continuaba recibiendo a los cubanos que llegaban…

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He said to me: “Our action is very simple. What we want to do is to initiate a coup d ‘etat. Batista pulled off a coup and in only one morning took over the government. We must make another coup and expel him from power… Batista has made a hundred concessions to the Americans, and we will make one hundred and one.” At that time I argued with him, saying that we had to make a coup on the basis of principle and yet at the same time understand clearly what we would do after taking over the government.

That was the thinking of a member of the first stage of the 26th of July Movement. Those who held the same view and did not change left our revolutionary movement later and adopted another path.

From that time on, the small organization that later made the crossing on the Granma encountered repeated difficulties. Besides the never-ending suppression by the Mexican authorities, there was also a series of internal problems, like those people who were adventurous in the beginning but later used this pretext and that to break away from the military expedition. Finally at the time of the crossing on the Granma there remained only eighty-two men in the organization. The adventurous thought of that time was the first and only catastrophe encountered within the organization during the process of starting the uprising.

We suffered from the blow. But we gathered together again in the Sierra Maestra. For many months the manner of our life in the mountains was most irregular. We climbed from one mountain peak to another, in a drought, without a drop of water. Merely to survive was extremely difficult.

The peasants who had to endure the persecution of Batista’s military units gradually began to change their attitude toward us. They fled to us for refuge to participate in our guerrilla units. In this way our rank and file changed from city people to peasants. At that same time, as the peasants began to participate in the armed struggle for freedom of rights and social justice, we put forth a correct slogan -land reform. This slogan mobilized the oppressed Cuban masses to come forward and fight to seize the land. From this time on the first great social plan was determined, and it later became the banner and primary spearhead of our movement. It was at just this time that a tragedy occurred in Santiago de Cuba; our Comrade Frank País was killed. This produced a turning point in our revolutionary movement. The enraged people of Santiago on their own poured into the streets and called for the first politically oriented general strike. Even though the strike did not have a leader , it paralyzed the whole of Oriente Province. The dictatorial government suppressed the incident. This movement, however, caused us to understand that working class partici­pation in the struggle to achieve freedom was absolutely essential! We then began to carry out secret work among the workers, in preparation for another general strike, to help the Rebel Army seize the government. The victorious and bold secret activities of the Rebel Army shook the whole country; all of the people were stirred up, leading to the general strike on April 9 last year. But the strike failed because of a lack of contact between the leaders and the working masses.

Experience taught the leaders of the 26th of July Movement a valuable truth: the revolution must not belong to this or that specific clique;, it must be the undertaking of the whole body of the Cuban people.

This conclusion inspired the members of the movement to work their hardest, both on the plains and in the mountains. At this time we began to educate our forces in revolutionary theory and doctrine.

This all showed that the rebel movement had already grown and was even beginning to achieve political maturity…. Every person in the Rebel Army remembered his basic duties in the Sierra Maestra and other areas: to improve the status of the peasants, to participate in the struggle to seize land, and to build schools.

Agrarian law was tried for the first time; using revolutionary methods we confiscated the extensive possessions of the officials of the dictatorial government and distributed to the peasants all of the state-held land in the area. At this time there rose up a peasant movement, closely connected to the land, with land reform as its banner…. To carry out thoroughly the law providing for the abolition of the latifundia system will be the concern of the peasant masses themselves.

The present State Constitution provides for mandatory monetary compensation whenever land is taken away, and land reform under it will be both sluggish and difficult. Now after the victory of the revolution, the peasants who have achieved their freedom must rise up in collective action and democratically demand the abolition of the latifundia system and the carrying out of a true and extensive land reform. Reporter: What problems does the Cuban Revolution now face, and what are its current responsibilities?

Guevara:

The first difficulty is that our new actions must be engaged in on the old foundations. Cuba’s anti-people regime and army are already destroyed, but the dictatorial social system and economic foundations have not yet been abolished. Some of the old people are still working within the national structure. In order to protect the fruits of the revolutionary victory and to enable the unending development of the revolution we need to take another step forward in our work to rectify and strengthen the government.

Second, what the new government took over was a rundown mess. When Batista fled he cleaned out the national treasury, leaving serious difficulties in the national finances….

Third, Cuba’s land system is one in which latifundistas hold large amounts of land, while at the same time many people are unemployed….

Fourth, there is still racial discrimination in our society which is not beneficial to efforts to achieve the internal unification of the people.

Fifth, our house rents are the highest in the world; a family frequently has to pay over a third of its income for rent.

To sum up, the reform of the foundations of the economy of the Cuban society is very difficult and will take a long time. In establishing the order of society and in democratising the national life, the new government has adopted many positive measures.

We have exerted great effort to restore the national economy.

For example, the government has passed a law lowering rents by fifty percent. Yesterday a law regulating beaches was passed to cancel the privileges of a small number of people who occupy the land and the seashores…. Most important is the land reform law, which will soon be promulgated. Moreover. we will found a National Land Reform Institute. Our land reform here is not yet very penetrating; it is not as thorough as the one in China.

Yet it must be considered the most progressive in Latin America…. Reporter: How will Cuba struggle against domestic and foreign reactionary enemies?

What are the prospects of the revolution ? Guevara: The Cuban Revolution is not a class revolution, but a liberation movement that has overthrown a dictatorial, tyrannical government.

The people detested the American-supported Batista dictatorial government from the bottoms of their hearts and so rose up and overthrew it.

The revolutionary government has received the broad support of all strata of people because its economic measures have taken care of the requirements of all and have gradually improved the livelihood of the people. The only enemies remaining in the country are the latifundistas and the reactionary bourgeoisie. They oppose the land reform that goes against their own interests. These internal re­actionary forces may get in league with the developing provocation’s of the foreign reactionary forces and attack the revolutionary government. The only foreign enemies who oppose the Cuban Revolution are the people who monopolize capital and who have representatives in the United States State Department.

The victory and continuous development of the Cuban Revolution has caused these people to panic.

They do not willingly accept defeat and are doing everything possible to maintain their control over the Cuban government and economy and to block the great influence of the Cuban Revolution on the people’s struggles in the other Latin American countries….

Our revolution has set an example for every other country in Latin America.

The experience and lessons of our revolution have caused the mere talk of the coffee houses to be dispersed like smoke. We have proved that an up­rising can begin even when there is only a small group of fearless men with a resolute will; that it is only necessary to gain the support of the people who can then compete with, and in the end defeat, the regular disciplined army of the government. It is also necessary to carry out a land reform. This is another experience that our Latin American brothers ought to absorb. On the economic front and in agricultural structure they are at the same stage as we are. The present indications are very clear that they are now preparing to intervene in Cuba and destroy the Cuban Revolution. The evil foreign enemies have an old method. First they begin a political offensive, propagandising widely and saying that the Cuban people oppose Communism.

These false democratic leaders say that the United States cannot allow a Communist country on its coastline.

At the same time they intensify their economic attack and cause Cuba to fall into economic difficulties.

Later they will look for a pretext to create some kind of dispute and then utilize certain international organizations they control to carry out intervention against the Cuban people. We do not have to fear an attack from some small neighboring dictatorial country, but from a certain large country, using certain international organizations and a certain kind of pretext in order to intervene and undermine the Cuban

Revolution….

The Agrarian Reform, which Guevara speaks about in the future tense, became law on May 17, 1959, I. e., in the interval between the granting of the interview and its publication in China.

 Now is the time of the furnaces, and only light should be seen. – José Martí

 Twenty-one years have already elapsed since the end of the last world conflagration; numerous publications, in every possible language, celebrate this event, symbolized by the defeat of Japan. There is a climate of apparent optimism in many areas of the different camps into which the world is divided. Twenty-one years without a world war, in these times of maximum confrontations, of violent clashes and sudden changes, appears to be a very high figure. However, without analyzing the practical results of this peace (poverty, degradation, increasingly larger exploitation of enormous sectors of humanity) for which all of us have stated that we are willing to fight, we would do well to inquire if this peace is real.

It is not the purpose of these notes to detail the different conflicts of a local character that have been occurring since the surrender of Japan, neither do we intend to recount the numerous and increasing instances of civilian strife which have taken place during these years of apparent peace. It will be enough just to name, as an example against undue optimism, the wars of Korea and Vietnam. In the first one, after years of savage warfare, the Northern part of the country was submerged in the most terrible devastation known in the annals of modern warfare: riddled with bombs; without factories, schools, or hospitals; with absolutely no shelter for housing ten million inhabitants.

Under the discredited flag of the United Nations, dozens of countries under the military leadership of the United States participated in this war with the massive intervention of U.S. soldiers and the use, as cannon fodder, of the South Korean population that was enrolled. On the other side, the army and the people of Korea and the volunteers from the People’s Republic of China were furnished with supplies and advice by the Soviet military apparatus. The U.S. tested all sorts of weapons of destruction, excluding the thermonuclear type, but including, on a limited scale, bacteriological and chemical warfare.

In Vietnam, the patriotic forces of that country have carried on an almost uninterrupted war against three imperialist powers: Japan, whose might suffered an almost vertical collapse after the bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki; France, who recovered from that defeated country its Indo-China colonies and ignored the promises it had made in harder times; and the United States, in this last phase of the struggle.

There were limited confrontations in every continent, although in Our America, for a long time, there were only incipient liberation struggles and military coups d’état until the Cuban Revolution resounded the alert, signaling the importance of this region. This action attracted the wrath of the imperialists, and Cuba was finally obliged to defend its coasts, first in Playa Girón, and again during the Missile Crisis. This last incident could have unleashed a war of incalculable proportions if a U.S.-Soviet clash had occurred over the Cuban question.

But, evidently, the focal point of all contradictions is at present the territory of the peninsula of Indo-China and the adjacent areas. Laos and Vietnam are torn by a civil war which has ceased being such by the entry into the conflict of U.S. imperialism with all its might, thus transforming the whole zone into a dangerous detonator ready at any moment to explode. In Vietnam the confrontation has assumed extremely acute characteristics. It is not our intention, either, to chronicle this war. We shall simply remember and point out some milestones.

In 1954, after the annihilating defeat of Dien Bien Phu, an agreement was signed at Geneva dividing the country into two separate zones; elections were to be held within a term of 18 months to determine who should govern Vietnam and how the country should be reunified. The U.S. did not sign this document and started maneuvering to substitute the emperor, Bao Dai, who was a French puppet, for a man more amenable to its purposes. This happened to be Ngo Dinh Diem, whose tragic end-that of an orange squeezed dry by imperialism-is well known by all. During the months following the agreement, optimism reigned supreme in the camp of the popular forces. The last pockets of the anti-French resistance were dismantled in the South of the country-and they awaited the fulfillment of the Geneva agreements. But the patriots soon realized there would be no elections-unless the United States felt itself capable of imposing its will in the polls, which was practically impossible, even resorting to all its fraudulent methods. Once again the fighting broke out in the South and gradually acquired full intensity. At present the U.S. army has increased to over half a million invaders while the puppet forces decrease in number and, above all, have totally lost their combativeness.

Almost two years ago the United States started bombing systematically the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, in yet another attempt to overcome the belligerence of the South and impose, from a position of strength, a meeting at the conference table. At first, the bombardments were more or less isolated occurrences and were adorned with the mask of reprisals for alleged provocations from the North. Later on, as they increased in intensity and regularity, they became one gigantic attack carried out by the air force of the United States, day after day, for the purpose of destroying all vestiges of civilization in the Northern zone of the country. This is an episode of the infamously notorious “escalation.” The material aspirations of the Yankee world have been fulfilled to a great extent, regardless of the unflinching defense of the Vietnamese anti-aircraft artillery, of the numerous planes shot down (over 1,700), and of the socialist countries’ aid in war supplies.

There is a sad reality: Vietnam-a nation representing the aspirations, the hopes of a whole world of forgotten peoples-is tragically alone. This nation must endure the furious attacks of U.S. technology, with practically no possibility of reprisals in the South and only some of defense in the North-but always alone. The solidarity of all progressive forces of the world towards the people of Vietnam today is similar to the bitter irony of the plebeians coaxing on the gladiators in the Roman arena. It is not a matter of wishing success to the victim of aggression, but of sharing his fate; one must accompany him to his death or to victory.

When we analyze the lonely situation of the Vietnamese people, we are overcome by anguish at this illogical moment of humanity.

U.S. imperialism is guilty of aggression-its crimes are enormous and cover the whole world. We already know all that, gentlemen! But this guilt also applies to those who, when the time came for a definition, hesitated to make Vietnam an inviolable part of the socialist world, running, of course, the risks of a war on a global scale-but also forcing a decision upon imperialism. And the guilt also applies to those who maintain a war of abuse and snares-started quite some time ago by the representatives of the two greatest powers of the socialist camp.

We must ask ourselves, seeking an honest answer: Is Vietnam isolated, or is it not? Is it not maintaining a dangerous equilibrium between the two quarrelling powers?

And what great people these are! What stoicism and courage! And what a lesson for the world is contained in this struggle! Not for a long time shall we be able to know if President Johnson ever seriously thought of bringing about some of the reforms needed by his people-to iron out the barbed class contradictions that grow each day with explosive power. The truth is that the improvements announced under the pompous title of the “Great Society” have dropped into the cesspool of Vietnam. The largest of all imperialist powers feels in its own guts the bleeding inflicted by a poor and underdeveloped country; its fabulous economy feels the strain of the war effort. Murder is ceasing to be the most convenient business for its monopolies. Defensive weapons, and never in adequate number, are all these extraordinary soldiers have-besides love for their homeland, their society, and unsurpassed courage. But imperialism is bogging down in Vietnam, is unable to find a way out, and desperately seeks one that will overcome with dignity this dangerous situation in which it now finds itself. Furthermore, the Four Points put forward by the North and the Five Points of the South now corner imperialism, making the confrontation even more decisive.

Everything indicates that peace, this unstable peace which bears that name for the sole reason that no worldwide conflagration has taken place, is again in danger of being destroyed by some irrevocable and unacceptable step taken by the United States. What role shall we, the exploited people of the world, play? The peoples of the three continents focus their attention on Vietnam and learn their lesson. Since imperialists blackmail humanity by threatening it with war, the wise reaction is not to fear war. The general tactics of the people should be to launch a constant and a firm attack in all fronts where the confrontation is taking place.

In those places where this meager peace we have has been violated, which is our duty? To liberate ourselves at any price. The world panorama is of great complexity. The struggle for liberation has not yet been undertaken by some countries of ancient Europe, sufficiently developed to realize the contradictions of capitalism, but weak to such a degree that they are unable either to follow imperialism or even to start on its own road. Their contradictions will reach an explosive stage during the forthcoming years-but their problems and, consequently, their own solutions are differ- ent from those of our dependent and economically underdeveloped countries.

The fundamental field of imperialist exploitation comprises the three underdeveloped continents: America, Asia, and Africa. Every country has also its own characteristics, but each continent, as a whole, also presents a certain unity. Our America is integrated by a group of more or less homogeneous countries, and in most parts of its territory U.S. monopolist capitals maintain an absolute supremacy. Puppet governments or, in the best of cases, weak and fearful local rulers are incapable of contradicting orders from their Yankee master. The United States has nearly reached the climax of its political and economic domination; it could hardly advance much more; any change in the situation could bring about a setback. Their policy is to maintain that which has already been conquered. The line of action, at the present time, is limited to the brutal use of force with the purpose of thwarting the liberation movements, no matter of what type they might happen to be.

The slogan “We will not allow another Cuba” hides the possibility of perpetrating aggressions without fear of reprisal, such as the one carried out against the Dominican Republic or before that the massacre in Panama-and the clear warning stating that Yankee troops are ready to intervene anywhere in America where the ruling regime may be altered, thus endangering their interests. This policy enjoys an almost absolute impunity: the OAS is a suitable mask, in spite of its unpopularity; the inefficiency of the UN is ridiculous as well as tragic; the armies of all American countries are ready to intervene in order to smash their peoples. The International of Crime and Treason has in fact been organized. On the other hand, the autochthonous bourgeoisies have lost all their capacity to oppose imperialism-if they ever had it-and they have become the last card in the pack. There are no other alternatives: either a socialist revolution or a make-believe revolution.

Asia is a continent with many different characteristics. The struggle for liberation waged against a series of European colonial powers resulted in the establishment of more or less progressive governments, whose ulterior evolution has brought about, in some cases, the deepening of the primary objectives of national liberation and in others, a setback towards the adoption of pro-imperialist positions. From the economic point of view, the United States had very little to lose and much to gain from Asia. These changes benefited its interests; the struggle for the overthrow of other neocolonial powers and the penetration of new spheres of action in the economic field is carried out sometimes directly, occasionally through Japan.

But there are special political conditions, particularly in Indo- China, which create in Asia certain characteristics of capital importance and play a decisive role in the entire U.S. military strategy.

The imperialists encircle China through South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, South Vietnam, and Thailand, at least.

This dual situation, a strategic interest as important as the military encirclement of the People’s Republic of China and the penetration of these great markets-which they do not dominate yet-turns Asia into one of the most explosive points of the world today, in spite of its apparent stability outside of the Vietnamese war zone. The Middle East, though it geographically belongs to this continent, has its own contradictions and is actively in ferment; it is impossible to foretell how far this cold war between Israel, backed by the imperialists, and the progressive countries of that zone will go. This is just another one of the volcanoes threatening eruption in the world today.

Africa offers an almost virgin territory to the neocolonial invasion. There have been changes which, to some extent, forced neocolonial powers to give up their former absolute prerogatives. But when these changes are carried out uninterruptedly, colonialism continues in the form of neocolonialism with similar effects as far as the economic situation is concerned. The United States had no colonies in this region but is now struggling to penetrate its partners’ fiefs. It can be said that following the strategic plans of U.S. imperialism, Africa constitutes its long-range reservoir; its present investments, though, are only important in the Union of South Africa, and its penetration is beginning to be felt in the Congo, Nigeria, and other countries where a violent rivalry with other imperialist powers is beginning to take place (in a pacific manner up to the present time).

So far, it does not have there great interests to defend except its pretended right to intervene in every spot of the world where its monopolies detect huge profits or the existence of large reserves of raw materials.

All this past history justifies our concern regarding the possibilities of liberating the peoples within a long or a short period of time.

If we stop to analyze Africa, we shall observe that in the Portuguese colonies of Guinea, Mozambique, and Angola the struggle is waged with relative intensity, with a concrete success in the first one and with variable success in the other two. We still witness in the Congo the dispute between Lumumba’s successors and the old accomplices of Tshombe, a dispute which at the present time seems to favor the latter: those who have “pacified” a large area of the country for their own benefit-though the war is still latent. In Rhodesia we have a different problem: British imperialism used every means within its reach to place power in the hands of the white minority, who, at the present time, unlawfully holds it. The conflict, from the British point of view, is absolutely unofficial; this Western power, with its habitual diplomatic cleverness-also called hypocrisy in the strict sense of the word-presents a facade of displeasure before the measures adopted by the government of Ian Smith. Its crafty attitude is supported by some Commonwealth countries that follow it, but is attacked by a large group of countries belonging to Black Africa, whether they are or not servile economic lackeys of British imperialism.

Should the rebellious efforts of these patriots succeed and this movement receive the effective support of neighboring African nations, the situation in Rhodesia may become extremely explosive. But for the moment all these problems are being discussed in harmless organizations such as the UN, the Commonwealth, and the OAU. The social and political evolution of Africa does not lead us to expect a continental revolution. The liberation struggle against the Portuguese should end victoriously, but Portugal does not mean anything in the imperialist field. The confrontations of revolutionary importance are those which place at bay all the imperialist apparatus; this does not mean, however, that we should stop fighting for the liberation of the three Portuguese colonies and for the deepening of their revolutions.

When the black masses of South Africa or Rhodesia start their authentic revolutionary struggle, a new era will dawn in Africa. Or when the impoverished masses of a nation rise up to rescue their right to a decent life from the hands of the ruling oligarchies. Up to now, army putsches follow one another; a group of officers succeeds another or substitutes a ruler who no longer serves their caste interests or those of the powers who covertly manage him-but there are no great popular upheavals. In the Congo these characteristics appeared briefly, generated by the memory of Lumumba, but they have been losing strength in the last few months.

In Asia, as we have seen, the situation is explosive. The points of friction are not only Vietnam and Laos, where there is fighting; such a point is also Cambodia, where at any time a direct U.S. aggression may start, [as well as] Thailand, Malaya, and, of course, Indonesia, where we cannot assume that the last word has been said, regardless of the annihilation of the Communist Party in that country when the reactionaries took over. And also, naturally, the Middle East. In Latin America the armed struggle is going on in Guatemala, Colombia, Venezuela, and Bolivia; the first uprisings are cropping up in Brazil. There are also some resistance focuses which appear and then are extinguished. But almost all the countries of this continent are ripe for a type of struggle that, in order to achieve victory, cannot be content with anything less than establishing a government of socialist tendencies.

In this continent practically only one tongue is spoken (with the exception of Brazil, with whose people, those who speak Spanish can easily make themselves understood, owing to the great similarity of both languages). There is also such a great similarity between the classes in these countries, that they have attained identification among themselves of an international americano type, much more complete than in the other continents. Language, habits, religion, a common foreign master, unite them. The degree and the form of exploitation are similar for both the exploiters and the men they exploit in the majority of the countries of Our America. And rebellion is ripening swiftly in it.

We may ask ourselves: How shall this rebellion flourish? What type will it be? We have maintained for quite some time now that, owing to the similarity of their characteristics, the struggle in Our America will achieve, in due course, continental proportions. It shall be the scene of many great battles fought for the liberation of humanity. Within the frame of this struggle on a continental scale, the battles which are now taking place are only episodes-but they have already furnished their martyrs, who will figure in the history of Our America as having given their necessary quota of blood in this last stage of the fight for the total freedom of man. These names will include Com-andante Turcios Lima, Padre Camilo Torres, Comandante Fabricio Ojeda, Comandantes Lobatón and Luis de la Puente Uceda, all outstanding figures in the revolutionary movements of Guatemala, Colombia, Venezuela, and Peru.

But the active movement of the people creates its new leaders: César Montes and Yon Sosa raise up their flag in Guatemala; Fabio Vázquez and Marulanda in Colombia; Douglas Bravo in the Western part of the country and Amrico Martín in E1 Bachiller, both directing their respective Venezuelan fronts.

New uprisings shall take place in these and other countries of Our America, as it has already happened in Bolivia, and they shall continue to grow in the midst of all the hardships inherent to this dangerous profession of being modern revolutionaries. Many shall perish, victims of their errors; others shall fall in the tough battle that approaches; new fighters and new leaders shall appear in the warmth of the revolutionary struggle. The people shall create their warriors and leaders in the selective framework of the war itself-and Yankee agents of repression shall increase. Today there are military aides in all the countries where armed struggle is growing; the Peruvian army apparently carried out a successful action against the revolutionaries in that country, an army also trained and advised by the Yankees. But if the focuses of war grow with sufficient political and military insight, they shall become practically invincible and shall force the Yankees to send reinforcements. In Peru itself many new figures, practically unknown, are now reorganizing the guerrillas. Little by little, the obsolete weapons, which are sufficient for the repression of small armed bands, will be exchanged for modern armaments, and the U.S. military aides will be substituted by actual fighters until, at a given moment, they are forced to send increasingly greater numbers of regular troops to ensure the relative stability of a government whose national puppet army is disintegrating before the impetuous attacks of the guerrillas. It is the road of Vietnam; it is the road that should be followed by the people; it is the road that will be followed in Our America, with the advantage that the armed groups could create Coordinating Councils to embarrass the repressive forces of Yankee imperialism and accelerate the revolutionary triumph. America, a forgotten continent in the last liberation struggles, which is now beginning to make itself heard through the Tricontinental in the voice of the vanguard of its peoples, the Cuban Revolution, has before it a task of much greater relevance: to create a second or a third Vietnam, or the second and third Vietnam of the world.

We must bear in mind that imperialism is a world system, the last stage of capitalism-and it must be defeated in a world confrontation. The strategic end of this struggle should be the destruction of imperialism. Our share, the responsibility of the exploited and underdeveloped of the world, is to eliminate the foundations of imperialism: our oppressed nations, from where they extract capital, raw materials, technicians, and cheap labor, and to which they export new capital-instruments of domination-arms and all kinds of articles, thus submerging us in an absolute dependence.

The fundamental element of this strategic end shall be the real liberation of all people, a liberation that will be brought about through armed struggle in most cases and which shall be, in Our America, almost indefectibly, a Socialist Revolution. While envisaging the destruction of imperialism, it is necessary to identify its head, which is no other than the United States of America.

We must carry out a general task with the tactical purpose of getting the enemy out of its natural environment, forcing him to fight in regions where his own life and habits will clash with the existing reality. We must not underrate our adversary; the U.S. soldier has technical capacity and is backed by weapons and resources of such magnitude that render him frightful. He lacks the essential ideologic motivation which his bitterest enemies of today-the Vietnamese soldiers-have in the highest degree. We will only be able to overcome that army by undermining their morale-and this is accomplished by defeating it and causing it repeated sufferings. But this brief outline of victories carries within itself the immense sacrifice of the people, sacrifices that should be demanded beginning today, in plain daylight, and which perhaps may be less painful than those we would have to endure if we constantly avoided battle in an attempt to have others pull our chestnuts out of the fire.

It is probable, of course, that the last liberated country shall accomplish this without an armed struggle and the sufferings of a long and cruel war against the imperialists-this they might avoid. But perhaps it will be impossible to avoid this struggle or its effects in a global conflagration; the suffering would be the same, or perhaps even greater. We cannot foresee the future, but we should never give in to the defeatist temptation of being the vanguard of a nation which yearns for freedom, but abhors the struggle it entails and awaits its freedom as a crumb of victory.

It is absolutely just to avoid all useless sacrifices. Therefore, it is so important to clear up the real possibilities that dependent America may have of liberating itself through pacific means. For us, the solution to this question is quite clear: the present moment may or may not be the proper one for starting the struggle, but we cannot harbor any illusions, and we have no right to do so, that freedom can be obtained without fighting. And these battles shall not be mere street fights with stones against tear-gas bombs, or of pacific general strikes; neither shall it be the battle of a furious people destroying in two or three days the repressive scaffolds of the ruling oligarchies; the struggle shall be long, harsh, and its front shall be in the guerrillas’ refuge, in the cities, in the homes of the fighters-where the repressive forces shall go seeking easy victims among their families-in the massacred rural population, in the villages or cities destroyed by the bombardments of the enemy.

They are pushing us into this struggle; there is no alternative: we must prepare it and we must decide to undertake it. The beginnings will not be easy; they shall be extremely difficult. All the oligarchies’ powers of repression, all their capacity for brutality and demagoguery will be placed at the service of their cause. Our mission, in the first hour, shall be to survive; later, we shall follow the perennial example of the guerrilla, carrying out armed propaganda (in the Vietnamese sense, that is, the bullets of propaganda, of the battles won or lost-but fought-against the enemy): the great lesson of the invincibility of the guerrillas taking root in the dispossessed masses; the galvanizing of the national spirit, the preparation for harder tasks, for resisting even more violent repressions; hatred as an element of the struggle, a relentless hatred of the enemy, impelling us over and beyond the natural limitations that man is heir to and transforming him into an effective, violent, selective, and cold killing machine. Our soldiers must be thus; a people without hatred cannot vanquish a brutal enemy.

We must carry the war into every corner the enemy happens to carry it: to his home, to his centers of entertainment; a total war. It is necessary to prevent him from having a moment of peace, a quiet moment outside his barracks or even inside; we must attack him wherever he may be, make him feel like a cornered beast wherever he may move. Then his moral fiber shall begin to decline. He will even become more beastly, but we shall notice how the signs of decadence begin to appear.

And let us develop a true proletarian internationalism; with international proletarian armies, the flag under which we fight would be the sacred cause of redeeming humanity. To die under the flag of Vietnam, of Venezuela, of Guatemala, of Laos, of Guinea, of Colombia, of Bolivia, of Brazil-to name only a few scenes of today’s armed struggle-would be equally glorious and desirable for an American, an Asian, an African, even a European. Each spilt drop of blood, in any country under whose flag one has not been born, is an experience passed on to those who survive, to be added later to the liberation struggle of his own country. And each nation liberated is a phase won in the battle for the liberation of one’s own country.

The time has come to settle our discrepancies and place everything at the service of our struggle.

We all know great controversies rend the world now fighting for freedom; no one can hide it. We also know that they have reached such intensity and such bitterness that the possibility of dialogue and reconciliation seems extremely difficult, if not impossible. It is a useless task to search for ways and means to propitiate a dialogue which the hostile parties avoid. However, the enemy is there; it strikes every day and threatens us with new blows, and these blows will unite us, today, tomorrow, or the day after. Whoever understands this first, and prepares for this necessary union, shall have the people’s gratitude. Owing to the virulence and the intransigence with which each cause is defended, we, the dispossessed, cannot take sides for one form or the other of these discrepancies, even though sometimes we coincide with the contentions of one party or the other, or in a greater measure with those of one part more than with those of the other. In time of war, the expression of current differences constitutes a weakness, but at this stage it is an illusion to attempt to settle them by means of words. History shall erode them or shall give them their true meaning.

In our struggling world every discrepancy regarding tactics, the methods of action for the attainment of limited objectives, should be analyzed with due respect to another man’s opinions. Regarding our great strategic objective, the total destruction of imperialism by armed struggle, we should be uncompromising. Let us sum up our hopes for victory: total destruction of imperialism by eliminating its firmest bulwark, the oppression exercised by the United States of America. To carry out, as a tactical method, the people’s gradual liberation, one by one or in groups: driving the enemy into a difficult fight away from its own territory, dismantling all its sustenance bases, that is, its dependent territories.

This means a long war. And, once more, we repeat it, a cruel war. Let no one fool himself at the outset and let no one hesitate to start out for fear of the consequences it may bring to his people. It is almost our sole hope for victory. We cannot elude the call of this hour. Vietnam is pointing it out with its endless lesson of heroism, its tragic and everyday lesson of struggle and death for the attainment of final victory. There, the imperialist soldiers endure the discomforts of those who, used to enjoying the U.S. standard of living, have to live in a hostile land with the insecurity of being unable to move without being aware of walking on enemy territory-death to those who dare take a step out of their fortified encampment, the permanent hostility of the entire population. All this has internal repercussions in the United States [and] propitiates the resurgence of an element which is being minimized in spite of its vigor by all imperialist forces: class struggle even within its own territory.

How close we could look into a bright future should two, three, or many Vietnams flourish throughout the world with their share of deaths and their immense tragedies, their everyday heroism and their repeated blows against imperialism, impelled to disperse its forces under the sudden attack and the increasing hatred of all peoples of the world!

And if we were all capable of uniting to make our blows stronger and infallible and so increase the effectiveness of all kinds of support given to the struggling people-how great and close would that future be!

If we, in a small point of the world map, are able to fulfill our duty and place at the disposal of this struggle whatever little of ourselves we are permitted to give: our lives, our sacrifice; and if some day we have to breathe our last breath on any land, already ours, sprinkled with our blood, let it be known that we have measured the scope of our actions and that we only consider ourselves elements in the great army of the proletariat but that we are proud of having learned from the Cuban Revolution, and from its maximum leader, the great lesson emanating from his attitude in this part of the world: “What do the dangers or the sacrifices of a man or of a nation matter, when the destiny of humanity is at stake?”

Our every action is a battle cry against imperialism, and a battle hymn for the people’s unity against the great enemy of mankind: the United States of America. Wherever death may surprise us, let it be welcome, provided that this, our battle cry, may have reached some receptive ear, that another hand may be extended to wield our weapons, and that other men be ready to intone our funeral dirge with the staccato singing of the machine guns and new battle cries of war and victory.

If you read this letter one day, it will mean that I am no longer alive. You will hardly remember me, and the smallest among you will have entirely forgotten me.

Your father was a man who acted as he thought best and who has been absolutely faithful to his convictions. Grow up into good revolutionaries. Study hard to master technique, which gives you mastery over nature. Remember that it is the Revolution which is important and that each of us, taken in isolation, is worth nothing. Above all be sensitive, in the deepest areas of yourselves, to any injustice committed against whoever it may be anywhere in the world.

Yours always, my children. I hope to see you again.

A big strong kiss from Daddy.

Though belatedly, I am completing these notes in the course of my trip through Africa, hoping in this way to keep my promise. I would like to do so by dealing with the theme set forth in the title above. I think it may be of interest to Uruguayan readers.

A common argument from the mouths of capitalist spokesmen, in the ideological struggle against socialism, is that socialism, or the period of building socialism into which we have entered, is characterized by the abolition of the individual for the sake of the state. I will not try to refute this argument solely on theoretical grounds, but rather to establish the facts as they exist in Cuba and then add comments of a general nature. Let me begin by broadly sketching the history of our revolutionary struggle before and after the taking of power.

As is well known, the exact date of the beginning of the revolutionary struggle–which would culminate in January 1959–was July 26, 1953. A group of men led by Fidel Castro attacked the Moncada barracks in Oriente Province on the morning of that day. The attack was a failure; the failure became a disaster; and the survivors ended up in prison, beginning the revolutionary struggle again after they were freed by an amnesty. In this process, in which there was only the germ of socialism, man was a fundamental factor. We put our trust in him–individual, specific, with a first and last name–and the triumph or failure of the mission entrusted to him depended on his capacity for action. Then came the stage of guerrilla struggle. It developed in two distinct environments: the people, the still sleeping mass that had to be mobilized; and its vanguard, the guerrillas, the motor force of the mobilization, the generator of revolutionary consciousness and militant enthusiasm. This vanguard was the catalyzing agent that created the subjective conditions necessary for victory. Here again, in the framework of the proletarianization of our thinking, of this revolution that took place in our habits and our minds, the individual was the basic factor. Every one of the fighters of the Sierra Maestra who reached an upper rank in the revolutionary forces has a record of outstanding deeds to his credit. They attained their rank on this basis. It was the first heroic period, and in it they competed for the heaviest responsibilities, for the greatest dangers, with no other satisfaction than fulfilling a duty.

Our work of revolutionary education we frequently return to this instructive theme. In the attitude of our fighters could be glimpsed the man of the future. On other occasions in our history the act of total dedication to the revolutionary cause was repeated. During the October crisis and in the days of Hurricane Flora we saw exceptional deeds of valor and sacrifice performed by an entire people. Finding the method to perpetuate this heroic attitude in daily life is, from the ideological standpoint, one of our fundamental tasks.

In January 1959, the revolutionary government was established with the participation of various members of the treacherous bourgeoisie. The presence of the Rebel Army as the basic element of strength constituted the guarantee of power. Serious contradictions developed right away. In the first instance, in February 1959, these were resolved when Fidel Castro assumed leadership of the government, taking the post of prime minister. This process culminated in July of the same year with the resignation under mass pressure of President Urrutia. In the history of the Cuban revolution there now appeared a character, well-defined in its features, who would systematically reappear: the mass. This multifaceted being is not, as is claimed, the sum of elements of the same type (reduced, moreover, to that same type by the reigning system), which acts like a flock of sheep. It is true that it follows its leaders, basically Fidel Castro, without hesitation. But the degree to which he won this trust results precisely from having interpreted the people’s desires and aspirations in their full meaning, and from the sincere struggle to fulfill the promises he made.

The mass participated in the agrarian reform and in the difficult task of the administration of state enterprises; it went through the heroic experience of Playa Giron; it was hardened in the battles against various bands of bandits armed by the CIA; it lived through one of the most important decisions of modern times during the October crisis; and today it continues to work for the building of socialism. Viewed superficially, it might appear that those who speak of the subordination of the individual to the state are right. The mass carries out with matchless enthusiasm and discipline the tasks set by the government, whether in the field of the economy, culture, defense, sports, etc.

The initiative generally comes from Fidel or from the revolutionary high command and is explained to the people, who make it their own. In some cases the party and government take a local experience and generalize it, following the same procedure. Nevertheless, the state sometimes makes mistakes. When one of these mistakes occurs, one notes a decline in collective enthusiasm due to the effect of a quantitative decrease in each of the elements that make up the mass. Work is paralyzed until it is reduced to insignificant amounts. It is time to make a correction. That is what happened in March 1962, as a result of the sectarian policy imposed on the party by Anibal Escalante. Clearly this mechanism is not enough to ensure a succession of sensible measures. A more structured connection with the mass is needed, and we must improve it in the course of the next years. But as far as initiatives originating in the upper strata of the government are concerned, we are currently utilizing the almost intuitive method of sounding out general reactions to the great problems we confront.

In this Fidel is a master. His own special way of fusing himself with the people can be appreciated only by seeing him in action. At the great public mass meetings one can observe something like the dialogue of two tuning forks whose vibrations interact, producing new sounds. Fidel and the mass begin to vibrate together in a dialogue of growing intensity until they reach the climax in an abrupt conclusion crowned by our cry of struggle and victory. The difficult thing to understand for someone not living through the experience of the revolution is this close dialectical unity between the individual and the mass in which both are interrelated and, at the same time, in which the mass, as an aggregate of individuals, interacts with its leaders.

Some phenomena of this kind can be seen under capitalism, when politicians appear capable of mobilizing popular opinion. But when these are not genuine social movements–if they were, it would not be entirely correct to call them capitalist–they live only so long as the individual who inspires them, or until the harshness of capitalist society puts an end to the people’s illusions. In capitalist society man is controlled by a pitiless law usually beyond his comprehension. The alienated human specimen is tied to society as a whole by an invisible umbilical cord: the law of value. This law acts upon all aspects of his life, shaping his course and destiny. The laws of capitalism, which are blind and are invisible to ordinary people, act upon the individual without his being aware of it. He sees only the vastness of a seemingly infinite horizon before him. That is how it is painted by capitalist propagandists who purport to draw a lesson from the example of Rockefeller–whether or not it is true –about the possibilities of success. The amount of poverty and suffering required for a Rockefeller to emerge, and the amount of depravity entailed in the accumulation of a fortune of such magnitude, are justify out of the picture, and it is not always possible for the popular forces to make these concepts clear. (A discussion of how the workers in the imperialist countries gradually lose the spirit of working-class internationalism due to a certain degree of complicity in the exploitation of the dependent countries, and how this at the same time weakens the combativity of the masses in the imperialist countries, would be appropriate here, but that is a theme which goes beyond the aim of these notes.)

In any case the road to success is pictured as beset with perils–perils that, it would seem, an individual with the proper qualities can overcome to attain the goal. The reward is seen in the distance; the way is lonely. Furthermore, it is a contest among wolves. One can win only at the cost of the failure of others. I would now like to try to define the individual, the actor in this strange and moving drama of the building of socialism, in his dual existence as a unique being and as a member of society. I think the place to start is to recognize his quality of incompleteness, of being an unfinished product. The vestiges of the past are brought into the present in the individual consciousness, and a continual labor is necessary to eradicate them. The process is two-sided. On the one side, society acts through direct and indirect education; on the other, the individual submits himself to a conscious process of self-education. The new society in formation has to compete fiercely with the past. This past makes itself felt not only in the individual consciousness–in which the residue of an education systematically oriented toward isolating the individual still weighs heavily–but also through the very character of this transition period in which commodity relations still persist. The commodity is the economic cell of capitalist society. So long as it exists its effects will make themselves felt in the organization of production and, consequently, in consciousness.

Marx outlined the transition period as resulting from the explosive transformation of the capitalist system destroyed by its own contradictions. In historical reality, however, we have seen that some countries that were weak limbs on the tree of imperialism were torn off first—a phenomenon foreseen by Lenin. In these countries capitalism had developed sufficiently to make its effects felt by the people in one way or another. But it was not capitalism’s internal contradictions that, having exhausted all possibilities, caused the system to explode. The struggle for liberation from a foreign oppressor; the misery caused by external events such as war, whose consequences privileged classes place on the backs of the exploited; liberation movements aimed at overthrowing neocolonial regimes–these are the usual factors in unleashing this kind of explosion. Conscious action does the rest. A complete education for social labor has not yet taken place in these countries, and wealth is far from being within the reach of the masses through the simple process of appropriation. Underdevelopment, on the one hand, and the usual flight of capital, on the other, make a rapid transition without sacrifices impossible. There remains a long way to go in constructing the economic base, and the temptation is very great to follow the beaten track of material interest as the lever with which to accelerate development.

There is the danger that the forest will not be seen for the trees. The pipe dream that socialism can be achieved with the help of the dull instruments justify to us by capitalism (the commodity as the economic cell, profitability, individual material interest as a lever, etc.) can lead into a blind alley. And you wind up there after having traveled a long distance with many crossroads, and it is hard to figure out just where you took the wrong turn. Meanwhile, the economic foundation that has been laid has done its work of undermining the development of consciousness. To build communism it is necessary, simultaneous with the new material foundations, to build the new man. That is why it is very important to choose the right instrument for mobilizing the masses. Basically, this instrument must be moral in character, without neglecting, however, a correct use of the material incentive–especially of a social character. As I have already said, in moments of great peril it is easy to muster a powerful response to moral incentives. Retaining their effect, however, requires the development of a consciousness in which there is a new scale of values. Society as a whole must be converted into a gigantic school.

In rough outline this phenomenon is similar to the process by which capitalist consciousness was formed in its initial period. Capitalism uses force but it also educates people in the system. Direct propaganda is carried out by those entrusted with explaining the inevitability of class society, either through some theory of divine origin or a mechanical theory of natural law. This lulls the masses, since they see themselves as being oppressed by an evil against which it is impossible to struggle. Next comes hope of improvement–and in this, capitalism differed from the earlier caste systems, which offered no way out. For some people, the principle of the caste system will remain in effect: The reward for the obedient is to be transported after death to some fabulous other world where, according to the old beliefs, good people are rewarded. For other people there is this innovation: Class divisions are determined by fate, but individuals can rise out of their class through work, initiative, etc. This process, and the myth of the self-made man, have to be profoundly hypocritical: it is the self-serving demonstration that a lie is the truth. In our case direct education acquires a much greater importance. The explanation is convincing because it is true; no subterfuge is needed. It is carried on by the state’s educational apparatus as a function of general, technical, and ideological education through such agencies as the Ministry of Education and the party’s informational apparatus. Education takes hold among the masses and the foreseen new attitude tends to become a habit. The masses continue to make it their own and to influence those who have not yet educated themselves. This is the indirect form of educating the masses, as powerful as the other. But the process is a conscious one.

The individual continually feels the impact of the new social power and perceives that he does not entirely measure up to its standards. Under the pressure of indirect education, he tries to adjust himself to a situation that he feels is right and that his own lack of development had prevented him from reaching previously. He educates himself. In this period of the building of socialism we can see the new man being born. His image is not yet completely finished–it never will be, since the process goes forward hand in hand with the development of new economic forms.

Aside from those whose lack of education makes them take the solitary road toward satisfying their own personal ambitions, there are those–even within this new panorama of a unified march forward–who have a tendency to walk separate from the masses accompanying them. What is important, however, is that each day men are acquiring ever more consciousness of the need for their incorporation into society and, at the same time, of their importance as the motor of that society. They no longer travel completely alone over lost roads toward distant aspirations. They follow their vanguard, consisting of the party, the advanced workers, the advanced men who walk in unity with the masses and in close communion with them. The vanguards have their eyes fixed on the future and its reward, but it is not a vision of something for the individual. The prize is the new society in which men will have different characteristics: the society of communist man. The road is long and full of difficulties. At times we lose our way and must turn back. At other times we go too fast and separate ourselves from the masses. Sometimes we go too slow and feel the hot breath of those treading at our heels. In our zeal as revolutionists we try to move ahead as fast as possible, clearing the way. But we know we must draw our nourishment from the mass and that it can advance more rapidly only if we inspire it by our example. Despite the importance given to moral incentives, the fact that there remains a division into two main groups (excluding, of course, the minority that for one reason or another does not participate in the building of socialism) indicates the relative lack of development of social consciousness. The vanguard group is ideologically more advanced than the mass; the latter understands the new values, but not sufficiently. While among the former there has been a qualitative change that enables them to make sacrifices in their capacity as an advance guard, the latter see only part of the picture and must be subject to incentives and pressures of a certain intensity. This is the dictatorship of the proletariat operating not only on the defeated class but also on individuals of the victorious class.

All of this means that for total success a series of mechanisms, of revolutionary institutions, is needed. Along with the image of the multitudes marching toward the future comes the concept of institutionalization as a harmonious set of channels, steps, restraints, and well-oiled mechanisms that facilitate the advance, that facilitate the natural selection of those destined to march in the vanguard, and that bestow rewards on those who fulfill their duties and punishments on those who commit a crime against the society that is being built. This institutionalization of the revolution has not yet been achieved. We are looking for something new that will permit a complete identification between the government and the community in its entirety, something appropriate to the special conditions of the building of socialism, while avoiding to the utmost a transplanting of the commonplaces of bourgeois democracy–such as legislative chambers, for example–into the society in formation. Some experiments aimed at the gradual institutionalization of the revolution have been made, but without undue haste. The greatest brake has been our fear lest any appearance of formality might separate us from the masses and from the individual, might make us lose sight of the ultimate and most important revolutionary aspiration: to see man liberated from his alienation.

Despite the lack of institutions, which must be overcome gradually, the masses are now making history as a conscious collection of individuals fighting for the same cause. Man under socialism, despite his apparent standardization, is more complete. Despite the lack of a perfect mechanism for it, his opportunities for expressing himself and making himself felt in the social organism are infinitely greater. It is still necessary to deepen his conscious participation, individual and collective, in all the mechanisms of management and production, and to link this to the idea of the need for technical and ideological education, so that he sees how closely interdependent these processes are and how their advancement is parallel. In this way he will reach total consciousness of his social being, which is equivalent to his full realization as a human creature, once the chains of alienation are broken. This will be translated concretely into the reconquering of his true nature through liberated labor, and the expression of his own human condition through culture and art. In order for him to develop in the first way, work must acquire a new status. Man-as-a-commodity ceases to exist, and a system is installed that establishes a quota for the fulfillment of his social duty. The means of production belong to society, and the machine is merely the trench where duty is fulfilled. Man begins to free his thinking of the annoying fact that he needs to work to satisfy his animal needs. He starts to see himself reflected in his work and to understand his full stature as a human being through the object created, through the work accomplished. Work no longer entails surrendering a part of his being in the form of labor power sold, which no longer belongs to him, but represents an emanation of himself, a contribution to the common life in which he is reflected, the fulfillment of his social duty. We are doing everything possible to give work this new status of social duty and to link it on the one side with the development of technology, which will create the conditions for greater freedom, and on the other side with voluntary work based on the Marxist appreciation that man truly reaches his full human condition when he produces without being compelled by physical necessity to sell himself as a commodity.

Of course, there are still coercive aspects to work, even when it is voluntary. Man has not transformed all the coercion that surrounds him into conditioned reflexes of a social character, and in many cases he still produces under the pressures of his environment. (Fidel calls this moral compulsion.) He still needs to undergo a complete spiritual rebirth in his attitude toward his own work, freed from the direct pressure of his social environment, though linked to it by his new habits. That will be communism. The change in consciousness does not take place automatically, just as change in the economy does not take place automatically. The alterations are slow and are not rhythmic; there are periods of acceleration, ones that are slower, and even retrogressions. Furthermore we must take into account, as I pointed out before, that we are not dealing with a period of pure transition, as Marx envisaged it in his Critique of the Gotha Program, but rather with a new phase unforeseen by him: an initial period of the transition to communism, or of the construction of socialism. It is taking place in the midst of violent class struggles, and with elements of capitalism within it that obscure a complete understanding of its essence. If we add to this the scholasticism that has held back the development of Marxist philosophy and impeded a systematic treatment of the transition period, whose political economy has not been developed, we must agree that we are still in diapers and that it is necessary to devote ourselves to investigating all the principal characteristics of this period before elaborating an economic and political theory of greater scope. The resulting theory will, no doubt, put great stress on the two pillars of the construction of socialism: the education of the new man and the development of technology. Much remains to be done in regard to both, but delay is least excusable in regard to the concept of technology as a basic foundation since this is not a question of going forward blindly but of following a long stretch of road already opened up by the world’s more advanced countries. This is why Fidel pounds away with such insistence on the need for the technological and scientific training of our people and especially of its vanguard. In the field of ideas that do not lead to activities involving production, it is easier to see the division between material and spiritual necessity. For a long time man has been trying to free himself from alienation through culture and art. While he dies every day during the eight or more hours in which he functions as a commodity, he comes to life afterward in his spiritual creations. But this remedy bears the germs of the same sickness: it is a solitary individual seeking harmony with the world. He defends his individuality, which is oppressed by the environment, and reacts to aesthetic ideas as a unique being whose aspiration is to remain immaculate. It is nothing more than an attempt to escape. The law of value is no longer simply a reflection of the relations of production; the monopoly capitalists–even while employing purely empirical methods–surround it with a complicated scaffolding that turns it into a docile servant. The superstructure demands a kind of art that the artist has to be educated in. Rebels are subdued by the machine, and only exceptional talents may create their own work. The rest become shamefaced hirelings or are crushed.

A school of artistic inquiry is invented, which is said to be the definition of freedom, but this “inquiry” has its limits, imperceptible until we clash with them, that is, until the real problems of man and his alienation arise. Meaningless anguish or vulgar amusement thus become convenient safety valves for human anxiety. The idea of using art as a weapon of protest is combated. Those who play by the rules of the game are showered with honors–such honors as a monkey might get for performing pirouettes. The condition is that you not try to escape from the invisible cage. When the revolution took power there was an exodus of those who had been completely housebroken. The rest–whether they were revolutionaries or not–saw a new road. Artistic inquiry experienced a new impulse. The paths, however, had already been more or less laid out, and the escapist concept hid itself behind the word “freedom.” This attitude was often found even among the revolutionaries themselves, a reflection in their consciousness of bourgeois idealism.

In countries that have gone through a similar process attempts have been made to combat such tendencies by an exaggerated dogmatism. General culture was virtually a taboo, and the acme of cultural aspiration was declared to be the formally exact representation of nature. This was later transformed into a mechanical representation of the social reality they wanted to show: the ideal society, almost without conflicts or contradictions, that they sought to create. Socialism is young and has its mistakes. We revolutionaries often lack the knowledge and intellectual daring needed to meet the task of developing the new man with methods different from the conventional ones—and the conventional methods suffer from the influences of the society that created them. (Again the theme of the relationship between form and content is posed.) Disorientation is widespread, and we are absorbed by the problems of material construction. There are no artists of great authority who at the same time have great revolutionary authority. The men of the party must take this task in hand and seek attainment of the main goal: to educate the people. What is sought then is simplification, something everyone can understand, something functionaries understand. True artistic inquiry ends, and the problem of general culture is reduced to taking some things from the socialist present and some from the dead (therefore, not dangerous) past. Thus socialist realism arises upon the foundations of the art of the last century. But the realistic art of the nineteenth century also has a class character, more purely capitalist perhaps than this decadent art of the twentieth century that reveals the anguish of alienated man. In the field of culture capitalism has given all that it had to give, and nothing remains but the stench of a corpse, today’s decadence in art. But why try to find the only valid prescription in the frozen forms of socialist realism? We cannot counterpose “freedom” to socialist realism, because the former does not yet exist and will not exist until the complete development of the new society. But we must not, from the pontifical throne of realism-at-all-costs, condemn all art forms since the first half of the nineteenth century, for we would then fall into the Proudhonian mistake of going back to the past, of putting a straitjacket on the artistic expression of the man who is being born and is in the process of making himself.

What is needed is the development of an ideological-cultural mechanism that permits both free inquiry and the uprooting of the weeds that multiply so easily in the fertilized soil of state subsidies. In our country the error of mechanical realism has not appeared, but rather its opposite. And that is so because the need for the creation of a new man has not been understood, a new man who would represent neither the ideas of the nineteenth century nor those of our own decadent and morbid century. What we must create is the man of the twenty-first century, although this is still a subjective aspiration, not yet systematized. This is precisely one of the fundamental objectives of our study and our work. To the extent that we achieve concrete successes on a theoretical plane–or, vice versa, to the extent that we draw theoretical conclusions of a broad character on the basis of our concrete research–we will have made a valuable contribution to Marxism-Leninism, to the cause of humanity.

By reacting against the man of the nineteenth century we have relapsed into the decadence of the twentieth century. It is not a very grave error, but we must overcome it lest we open a wide breach for revisionism. The great multitudes continue to develop. The new ideas are gaining a good momentum within society. The material possibilities for the integrated development of absolutely all members of society make the task much more fruitful. The present is a time of struggle; the future is ours. To sum up, the fault of many of our artists and intellectuals lies in their original sin: they are not truly revolutionaries. We can try to graft the elm tree so that it will bear pears, but at the same time we must plant pear trees. New generations will come that will be free of original sin. The probabilities that great artists will appear will be greater to the degree that the field of culture and the possibilities for expression are broadened. Our task is to prevent the current generation, torn asunder by its conflicts, from becoming perverted and from perverting new generations. We must not create either docile servants of official thought, or “scholarship students” who live at the expense of the state–practicing freedom in quotation marks. Revolutionaries will come who will sing the song of the new man in the true voice of the people. That is a process that takes time.

In our society the youth and the party play a big part. The former is especially important because it is the malleable clay from which the new man can be built without any of the old vestiges. The youth are treated in accordance with our aspirations. Their education is every day more complete, and we are not forgetting about their integration into work from the outset. Our scholarship students do physical work during their vacations or along with their studying. Work is a reward in some cases, a means of education in others, but it is never a punishment. A new generation is being born.

The party is a vanguard organization. It is made up of the best workers, who are proposed for membership by their fellow workers. It is a minority, but it has great authority because of the quality of its cadres. Our aspiration is for the party to become a mass party, but only when the masses have reached the level of the vanguard, that is, when they are educated for communism. Our work constantly aims at this education. The party is the living example. Its cadres must teach hard work and sacrifice. By their action, they must lead the masses to the completion of the revolutionary task, and this involves years of hard struggle against the difficulties of construction, class enemies, the maladies of the past, imperialism.

Now, I would like to explain the role played by the individual, by man as an individual within the masses who make history. This is our experience; it is not a prescription. Fidel gave the revolution its impulse in the first years, and also its leadership. He always set its tone. But there is a good group of revolutionaries who are developing along the same road as the central leader. And there is a great mass that follows its leaders because it has faith in them. It has faith in them because they have known how to interpret its aspirations. It is not a matter of how many kilograms of meat one has to eat nor of how many times a year someone can go to the beach, nor how many pretty things from abroad you might be able to buy with present-day wages. It is a matter of making the individual feel more camplete, with much more internal richness and much more responsibility. The individual in our country knows that the glorious period in which he happens to live is one of sacrifice; he is familiar with sacrifice. The first ones came to know it in the Sierra Maestra and wherever they fought; afterward all of Cuba came to know it. Cuba is the vanguard of Latin America and must make sacrifices because it occupies the post of advance guard, because it shows the masses of Latin America the road to full freedom.

Within the country the leadership has to carry out its vanguard role. And it must be said with all sincerity that in a real revolution, to which one gives his all and from which one expects no material reward, the task of the vanguard revolutionary is at one and the same time magnificent and agonizing. At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality. Perhaps it is one of the great dramas of the leader that he must combine a passionate spirit with a cold intelligence and make painful decisions without flinching. Our vanguard revolutionaries must make an ideal of this love of the people, of the most sacred causes, and make it one and indivisible. They cannot descend, with small doses of daily affection, to the level where ordinary men put their love into practice.

The leaders of the revolution have children just beginning to talk, who are not learning to say “daddy.” They have wives who must be part of the general sacrifice of their lives in order to take the revolution to its destiny. The circle of their friends is limited strictly to the circle of comrades in the revolution. There is no life outside of it. In these circumstances one must have a big dose of humanity, a big dose of a sense of justice and truth in order not to fall into dogmatic extremes, into cold scholasticism, into an isolation from the masses. We must strive every day so that this love of living humanity is transformed into actual deeds, into acts that serve as examples, as a moving force. The revolutionary, the ideological motor force of the revolution within his party, is consumed by this uninterrupted activity that comes to an end only with death, unless the construction of socialism is accomplished on a world scale. If his revolutionary zeal is blunted when the most urgent tasks have been accomplished on a local scale and he forgets about proletarian internationalism, the revolution he leads will cease to be a driving force and sink into a comfortable drowsiness that imperialism, our irreconcilable enemy, will utilize to gain ground. Proletarian internationalism is a duty, but it is also a revolutionary necessity. This is the way we educate our people.

Of course there are dangers in the present situation, and not only that of dogmatism, not only that of freezing the ties with the masses midway in the great task. There is also the danger of the weaknesses we can fall into. If a man thinks that dedicating his entire life to the revolution means that in return he should not be distracted by such worries as that his child lacks certain things, that his children’s shoes are worn out, that his family lacks some necessity, then with this reasoning he opens his mind to infection bathe germs of future corruption. In our case we have maintained that our children should have or should go without those things that the children of the common man have or go without, and that our families should understand this and struggle for it to be that way. The revolution is made through man, but man must forge his revolutionary spirit day by day. Thus we march on. At the head of the immense column–we are neither ashamed nor afraid to say it–is Fidel. After him come the best cadres of the party, and immediately behind them, so close that we feel its tremendous force, comes the people in its entirety, a solid structure of individualities moving toward a common goal, individuals who have attained consciousness of what must be done, men who fight to escape from the realm of necessity and to enter that of freedom. This great throng organizes itself; its organization is a result of its consciousness of the necessity of this organization. It is no longer a dispersed force, divisible into thousands of fragments thrown into the air like splinters from a hand grenade, trying by any means to achieve some protection from an uncertain future, in desperate struggle with their fellows. We know that sacrifices lie ahead and that we must pay a price for the heroic fact that we are, as a nation, a vanguard. We, as leaders, know that we must pay a price for the right to say that we are at the head of a people that is at the head of Latin America. Each and every one of us punctually pays his quota of sacrifice, conscious of being rewarded with the satisfaction of fulfilling a duty, conscious of advancing with everyone toward the new man visible on the horizon.

Allow me to draw some conclusions: We socialists are freer because we are more complete; we are more complete because we are freer. The skeleton of our complete freedom is already formed. The flesh and the clothing are lacking; we will create them. Our freedom and its daily sustenance are paid for in blood and sacrifice. Our sacrifice is conscious: an installment payment on the freedom that we are building. The road is long and in part unknown. We know our limitations. We will create the man of the twenty-first century–we, ourselves. We will forge ourselves in daily action, creating a new man with a new technology. The individual plays a role in mobilizing and leading the masses insofar as he embodies the highest virtues and aspirations of the people and does not wander from the path. Clearing the way is the vanguard group, the best among the good, the party. The basic clay of our work is the youth. We place our hope in them and prepare them to take the banner from our hands.

If this inarticulate letter clarifies anything, it has accomplished the objective that motivated it. Receive our ritual greeting—which is like a handshake or an “Ave Maria Purissima”: Patria o muerte! [Homeland or death]