Marifeli Perez-Stable

Published in The Miami Herald
July 1, 2010

In 1988, Amnesty International, the International Committee of the Red Cross, the Washington, D.C.-based Institute for Policy Studies, the Bar Association of the City of New York and, most notably, the then-U.N. Commission on Human Rights all sent delegations to Cuba.

A year earlier the UNCHR first raised questions about human rights and prison conditions on the island. Though defeated by one vote, the U.S.-led resolution to condemn Havana let the cat out of the bag. In the mid-1980s Against All Hope — a memoir by Armando Valladares of his 22 years in prison — became an international bestseller. Shortly thereafter Ronald Reagan appointed him ambassador to the UNCHR.

International pressure and, just as important, reformist trends in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe persuaded the Cuban government to allow visits by outside observers. Indeed, the times were a-changing.

Delegations from the above-mentioned organizations visited prisons and interviewed political and common inmates.

The Interior Ministry readied the facilities in advance of the visits; nonetheless, an effort was being made to improve conditions. The UNCHR met with almost 90 citizens of the 1,500 who had asked to meet with the U.N. team.

“There has been positive change in Cuba on the human-rights front,” said the U.S. Department of State Bulletin in April 1989. Altogether some 300 political prisoners were released. Scores of petty offenses were decriminalized, albeit not the affront of dangerousness, a state of mind that predisposes an individual to “endanger” the state’s security.

The year 1989 was a momentous one. One by one the dominoes fell in Eastern Europe, helped no doubt by Mikhail Gorbachev’s spring travels in the region when ordinary citizens welcomed him with flowers and their leaders were told that never again would the Red Army come to their rescue.

In 1989, Cuba was also shaken by the arrest and execution of Army General Arnaldo Ochoa and State Security Colonel Antonio de la Guardia. Arrested and given a 20-year sentence, Interior Minister José Abrantes died in prison in 1991.

To this day, we don’t know the exact extent of their crimes, that is, whether these officers committed political offenses besides the charges of corruption and narcotrafficking that led to their downfall.

In 1992, the Commission on Human Rights first rebuked Havana. Never again would the regime allow U.N. special envoys or any other foreign delegations to visit the island to address matters of human rights and prison conditions.

And so we fast-forward to current developments. Havana, in effect, canceled a visit by U.N. Special Rapporteur Manfred Nowak. Prison conditions are likely worse than in 1988 when physical abuse and credible allegations of torture were reported. The regime claims never to have tortured prisoners, but the international community doesn’t take official claims anywhere at face value.

Still, the dialogue between Raúl Castro and Cuba’s Catholic bishops has rendered fruits — meager in the larger scheme of things, but real for the prisoners moved to prisons closer to their families and for a physically diminished Ariel Sigler, who was released to his family. Hunger striker Guillermo Fariñas, however, has taken a turn for the worse, and 200 political prisoners still languish in jail.

Even if all political prisoners were freed, nothing whatsoever stands in the way of another 200 citizens being arrested, tried and condemned for “dangerousness.” There’s always the hope of another reform of the penal code. That is, nonetheless, unlikely unless Cuban leaders modify their state of mind and face reality.

All the same, should all political prisoners be released, let’s not deny ourselves the joy of their freedom.