Are you a communist?
The first time I visited Cuba I was in my early twenties. It was the only country outside of the US I had ever visited as a Canadian.
The country was as beautiful as it was strange. Pristine beaches. Long empty highways which were surprisingly well kept in areas. The smell of the thick heat in the air just short of electrified my young soul.
My uni friends and I had discovered an awesome deal for a 1-week all-inclusive stay at a resort somewhere in the middle-northern part of the country. All the food, drinks, and shows a young partier would ever want to see.
On one of these sunny hot days, we were walking around. I pointed at a shirt and made a joke about Fidel Castro, much to my friends’ shock and amazement. Initially, I thought I made a gaffe by saying something even more inappropriate than my usual repertoire of humor.
But no, this was the other kind of embarrassment—a lack of knowledge.
It wasn’t Fidel on the shirt, but Ernesto Guevara. Or as I was kindly instructed at the time, the Cuban revolutionary named Che.
Being the type of nerd that always prided himself in useless knowledge, I couldn’t let this mortal sin persist. So when I got back, I picked myself up a copy of the most in-depth biography on Che ever written: Che Guevara: A Revolutionary Life.
Turns out, my friends were wrong too.
The book was intense and well written. It covered his life growing up in Argentina and seeing the effects of Imperialism on South America.
It showed how his views slowly changed from a happy young boy afflicted with asthma to a solemn dark communist who viewed the world as against him and all impoverished people.
It told the stories of how he got his first taste of war in a failed Gautamalen revolution. How he became friends with the Cuban Castro brothers and earned the nickname ‘Che’—Spanish for ‘hey’—because he said it all the time.
It showed how this small group eventually succeeded in taking over an entire country with only 82 people at one point.
It detailed his excessive brutalism, murder, and rigidifying of his ideals. The book shows interviews all along the journey, of his lost loves, photographs, and monstrosities committed.
More importantly, it gives a glimpse as to why he felt the need to perform these acts, as insidious as many of them were.
The author then follows Che throughout the rest of his life. His journeys of education in socialism, his attempts to spread this idealism to the Congo and later on to Bolivia where he almost starved to death and was eventually executed.
The author, Jon Lee Anderson, even helped locate what is believed to be his grave, which was hidden for years.
It is without a doubt one of the most interesting biographies I’ve ever read.
But not everyone feels that way.
In my later travels throughout the world, I often reflect on this novel. Not for the qualities of communism, which is a proven ineffectual system, but for the understanding of what drove Che as a person.
In many conversations I’ve had about politics, discourse, and governments, his name pops up. I occasionally get a strong sense that I’m discussing these things with that same 20-year-old J.J.
When I discuss these topics and encounter vitriol, I’m always reminded of that book.
Che was a man of action and passion. He had good parts as well as many bad, if not terrible parts.
Yet, many times when his name comes up, he is spoken of as the devil incarnate, pure evil. Stop.
When I mention the craziness of his life and how in his own mind, he was actually helping his people with a brutalist version of sympathy—I don’t get rebuffed.
I get called every atrocious name under the sun.
“I can’t believe you’re a fucking communist.”
If I dare to think people can exist not only in an absolute evil or absolute good, then surely I must be the former. And the conversations quickly devolve into this assumption.
From ignorance comes assumptions. From assumptions comes combativeness. From combativeness comes extremes.
Whenever I encounter my younger self in these conversations, I try to educate. I try to remind people that absolutism is how people like Che end up murdering thousands of people (or more).
I try to remind them that discussion is the source of knowledge and exchanging of ideas. After all, you can always reject an idea—but only if you’ve listened to it first.
To only project and never to receive is the act of the ignorant. And these days I pride myself on not being 100% ignorant—even if I’m probably high up there.
This is how I choose to remember this biography. It taught me the meaning of the in-between and the danger of assumptions.
“Any fool can know. The point is to understand.”—Albert Einstein
Or as I prefer to interpret this quote:
“You know what happens when you assume things, right?
You make an ass out of u and me.”
PS. I’m not a communist. Unless I were to be defined by Fox News.
Thanks for reading, as always.
J.J. Pryor
FYI: My heart goes out to anyone that clicks the heart button!
There are worst things than being a communist - like being a warmongering capitalist. As an old friend of mine used to remind me, "It makes no difference if you are shot by someone on the left or on the right. You are equally dead." Whenever discourse degenerates into threats of violence and name-calling, I realize that I am dealing with people of limited intellect and I just walk away. All economic systems have good points and bad points. Bad people can misuse any system and commit horrible crimes. America's involvement in Yemen is a perfect example - good intentions turning into horrible actions. If our system is good, why are we afraid of a little island called Cuba.
I know I would really enjoy having a beer with you, but the likelihood of that happening is very remote. In the meantime, I will content myself with reading your writings while I have a beer.