Nostalgia for Pepe Mujica, or the Unsustainable Center
By Angry GenXer
HAVANA TIMES – In my opinion, reactions to the recent death of former Uruguayan President Pepe Mujica say a lot about current politics, both in the world and within Cuba. I’m not referring to the declarations and opinions of the government leaders or various public figures, but to the way that social media, for example, lets us look through the lens of the deceased charismatic political figure from the Southern Cone, and see the deepest tectonic cracks in the “really existing” political humans. Because, even in death, Mujica has become a “magnet” within that panorama which is normally ever more chaotic.
First of all, I’ve noted a nearly nonexistent reaction from the “First World” media. The global north and its citizens have their own troubles to resolve. Obviously, very few inhabitants of those planetary zones think that the solution to their ills could be found in the grey-haired figure of a South American ex-guerrilla who moved about in an old VW beetle. Trump, Putin, Netanyahu, Xi, Erdogan, the Pakistan-India ruckus, the new Pope and artificial intelligence are the most important issues today, the nerve endings of those territories accustomed to identifying themselves (their upper bureaucracies, anyway) as the “international community.”
However, given Mujica’s popularity in Latin America, obviously the large first-world media outlets and European news agencies like the BBC, offered chronicles and analyses of the life and political work of Mujica, almost always charged with sympathy towards the former president. The same can be said of the leftist world press, given the political tendency that the old guerrilla leader represented. But here in Cuba the focus was more diverse and often critical.
Generally, the media highlights Mujica as “the poorest president.” Indeed, he never gave up his relic of an automobile, he adopted a three-legged dog and expressed his desire to be buried in his tomb. He lived on a mere fraction of the presidential salary while donating the rest of his money to social causes. Both the standard media and individual bloggers and internet users posted some of the sayings for which the ex-president was famous in the Hispanic world.
What surprised me most, however, in terms of the Cuban perception, was the uniformity of the sympathy, and the way in which that sentiment crossed the lines that normally divide the various “organized” media outlets, and the opinions that individual Cuban internet users (also those in other countries who follow the Cuban situation) expressed on their social networks.
First, the criticism from the “extremes”
Among those we could deem on the “right”, Mujica is viewed darkly – painted as a former terrorist leader, irredeemable leftist, who managed to deceive the establishment and the citizens of his country, by passing himself off as a democratic leader. A sort of wolf in sheep’s clothing, whose material and moral humility during and after his mandate was nothing more than camouflage. A figure who not only implemented leftist policies in his country, but also acted in solidarity with regimes considered dictatorial, corrupt or questionable in their operations, such as Cuba, Venezuela and Brazil. It should be noted that I’m talking about those whose postures are simply “to the right of Mujica,” not necessarily Trumpists, fascists or libertarian neoconservatives.
Hence, the Havana designer and entrepreneur who goes by the pseudonym Luis Luisovich declared on his Facebook wall: “Mujica is a fraud,” and claimed that we were witnessing “ideological whitewashing,” “Soft Power effects,” and strategic “virtue signaling,” on the part of the same old leftists. Leopoldo Luis Garcia, a Cuban writer in Miami, sees in that “emblem of the democratic and honest left,” a concealed rejection of the Cuban regime. However, he recalls that (by Mujica’s own admission) it was pure coincidence that he never assassinated anyone. Garcia concludes that the guerrilla violence against the constitutional Uruguayan government led to military coup d’etat that took place there in 1973. (“There’s no left or right, only those above and those below. Open your eyes, we’re below,” he concludes.)
Journalist Fernando Ravsberg offers an interesting balance on such statements: as happened with Nelson Mandela, he notes, those who celebrate Mujica today are the same ones who previously condemned him as a terrorist. Activist Carlos Fuentes, based in the US, quotes Julio Herrera in recalling that the Tupamaro guerrillas were involved in kidnappings, assassinations, robberies, extorsions, and attacks with explosives, in which Mujica participated. His conclusion? “He wasn’t a hero, but part of a dark chapter for Latin America.”
On the “left” of the spectrum of opinions, the questioning centered on the fact that, once in power, Mujica remained permanently within that power structure. The most radical criticisms I’ve seen point to Mujica’s renunciation of the anti-capitalist project, which according to that view made him one more turncoat, but in this case one truly inserted into the establishment.
In this vein, the Cuban activist for cooperative socialism known on social media as Miquito Lleday stated that even though Mujica was an austere and incorruptible president, politicians such as Mujica “don’t pose any dangers to capitalists.” As a result, the radical left has a right to attack him critically, and defenders of the former guerrilla shouldn’t see that attitude as lack of tact.
For his part, visual artist, and pro-Palestine gay rights activist Robertiko Ramos Mori uncovered Mujica’s sympathy for Zionism, through a prize he received from the Zionist organization of his country. (These are times when a significant, if not most, of the critical Cuban left identifies with Gaza in the face of the Israeli attacks.) In the more radical international left, even within Uruguay itself, they accuse Mujica of betraying the cause, nothing less.
An anarchist labor leader, who writes in Russian and Spanish and identifies themself with three Chinese characters, wrote that it’s a shame that a president should be lifted up as a hero of the left merely for being “humble,” while all the time maintaining essentially capitalist policies and renouncing in a traitorous way his revolutionary past.
The Italian Franco Senia sees Mujica’s death as a symbol of the left’s moral bankruptcy, since he never destabilized the capitalist order; justified this with bucolic metaphors and wishy-washy speeches; justified the police repression; sympathized with the US and Israel; and silenced the genocide in Gaza. Harsh accusations launched by this author of the Boina Libertaria blog include: “the importance of burying his legacy;” “domesticated rebellion that serves the system;” “a pleasant costume worn by power;” “he didn’t break with the exploitation, nor with the government’s repressive apparatus.”
The same thoughts can be seen in various posts coming out of Uruguay. To Andrea Benitez from Jubilados Solidarios, Mujica died decades ago, when he trampled on his past banners, dreams and journeys, for which he’s a traitor to other guerrillas and martyrs, who today have been left out of the eulogies.
YouTuber Gatito reverde has posted a reel showing Mujica advocating strongly for the privatization of the Atlantic Coast (“of course we’re going to privatize it!”), and in favor of capitalist tour operators, while coarsely mocking the ecological movements attempting to defend the ecosystems and local productive practices, which would be condemned to disappear.
Russian socialist and Latin American scholar Oleg Yassinski sympathizes with the former Tupamaro’s personality, his intellectual spark, and his humility, but laments that they’re the only arguments left in favor of one who ended up as one more agent of the US Democratic Party here in our America.
We can learn from these extreme criteria to remain on our guard against “comfortable” and “unquestionable” leaders. The healthiest stance towards any politician is skepticism.
The “center,” starting from Cuba
Amilcar Perez Riverol, notable biologist of the Cuban diaspora and moderate critic of the regime, regarded Mujica as “president of one of the healthiest democracies in Latin America” (Author’s note: at one time, according to Mujica, the Tupamaros wanted to heal it with bullets). “The dwarfs can’t forgive him for having been a leftist… the other rage doesn’t forgive him for turning a blind eye to the left, for remaining consistent [with his principles],” the very consistency that’s questioned outside the Center’s borders. The renowned journalist Monica Baro, who’s lived outside Cuba until relatively recently, is proud of having dared to ask permission to interview Mujica in her apprenticeship. She was granted it, and she interviewed him during the CELAC summit in Havana. That event was a rite of passage in her profession.
Philanthropist and blogger Lara Crofs, who lives in Havana and is very critical of the Cuban system, recalls being present during one of Mujica’s addresses to the universities; she celebrates his gift with words and his honesty, despite ideological differences.
Valia Rodriguez, a Cuban philanthropist and animal rights activist living in England who usually assumes a friendly posture towards the Cuban government, gave homage to Mujica, reproducing a number of laudatory and nostalgic posts. Many government-allied journalists did the same. The internet users who oppose the government repeated the well-known compliments, although some of them especially emphasized Pepe’s “evolution” from supporter of the Cuban revolution to the lapidary dictum thrown at the Cuban regime: “THAT DOESN’T WORK.”
Leisam Rubio contrasted Mujica’s “evolution” to the stagnated posture of singer-songwriter Silvio Rodriguez, whose song El Necio embodies the immobility of his political credo. To Javier Perez Capdevila, Mujica’s example is eternal in terms of “life as a struggle for the collective dignity.” Perez also admired his austerity, his anti-consumerism, his humility and his moral commitment. The renowned Cuban psychologist Carolina de la Torre was pleased to “see the social networks flooded with his face,” and émigré Enrique Karell stressed the legalization of marijuana in his country and called him “the tribe’s elder wiseman.”
In the independent media outlet Cuba x Cuba, Jesus Arencibia offered an itinerary of how an “impossible president,” “the poorest in the world,” an inveterate farmer, evolved from daring gunman in the Tupamaro urban guerilla, to a fugitive fleeing jail via a tunnel from his cell; to a tortured prisoner, accustomed to talking to himself in solitary confinement; to a figure defended by the phrase: “you don’t seem like a politician;” and finally a man who defended tooth and nail the State and democracy, which he called imperfect but indispensable instruments.
Mujica refused to bring his repressors to justice. He praised Cuba and other traditional leftist regimes at first, then later simply avoided criticizing Cuban officialdom – that bastard inheritor of his beloved revolution – in public. Finally, towards the end of his life he proclaimed: “THAT DOESN’T WORK,” a phrase that was greeted with enthusiasm by the centrist Cuban opposition.
In El Pais, Martin Caparros viewed him as ‘guerrilla, hostage, president, philosopher.” Yania Suarez notes that the Cuban government TV totally ignored his critiques of this system we’re barely surviving. The leftist contrarian, professor and attorney Rene Fidel wrote that in in Cuba [when Mujica died], those ”for whom his humility was unbearable” breathed a sigh of relief. Meanwhile, the journalist and former State Security agent Manuel Orrio posted on his Facebook wall an article from El Clarin. The Center has spoken.
In Cuba, in contrast to the controversial and polarizing figure of Trump, Mujica was widely viewed as a person who represents a desirable cross-section consensus. He’s seen as a consistent leader in the Center of the political spectrum, and the people in Cuba were attracted by his personality. Something similar, despite the distance, had already occurred with Obama, a personality very distinct and far away from Mujica. However, their actions bear a certain “family resemblance,” that fits into what British political analyst Tariq Ali calls the “extreme center.”
The image of the now-deceased leader of the Uruguayan Broad Front also succeeded in generating fascination among a large part of the world that knew of him. To a certain extent, it could be a product of the nostalgias the leftist world felt at given moments for the processes attempted in Nicaragua, in Chile under Salvador Allende, and in Cuba, although Mujica’s government was never marked by the radicalism of these – rather, his attraction stemmed from his past in the urban guerrilla and his peculiar charisma.
To those critical of the left, Mujica offered a personal model of a leader who came from this but who acted as a “pluralist” and “inclusively;” a leader with whom you could dialogue, in the style of Mikhail Gorbachev or Nelson Mandela. That fascination always returns. In the end, we long to see the wished-for leader-ruler become the NORM, even though we all know what “normal” politics is usually like in reality: corrupt, exclusionary, violent. And here’s where the paradox enters.
That concept of the NORM, the “normal,” which probably stopped existing a long time ago in politics, if there ever was such a thing. The mourning for Mujica ended up becoming a touchstone for the people’s feelings regarding “normality” in politics, revealing much consensus around our desires, but also a willingness to accept that reality has turned out to be insurmountable. “Resilience,” is what the UN now calls this.
The affectionate farewells that different people within and outside of Cuba dedicated to Mujica on their social media are evidence that their authors aren’t apathetic – excellent news in itself – but at the same time, they feel impotent – which is extremely worrisome – about any real possibility of changing the world. This is a topic that the former guerrilla referred to many times in public. Impotence isn’t the same thing as skepticism, the perspective with which the majority of his critics viewed Mujica.
It’s a tense balance, since our common future depends precisely on our ability to shake off our apathy and impotence.
The political center in Cuba tends to appear silenced, exactly like the voices on social media have silenced Gen X, but more violently. Where there’s silence, myths of consensus emerge, frequently around the dead; Mujica’s death brought into play his justifying myth, as immemorial as Jose Marti’s. Myth replaces silences, and the nostalgia for futures that don’t exist gravitates strongly towards the Center.
A Facebook user thanked providence because Raul Torres, recently given the nickname of the necro-minstrel in Cuba for his propensity to sing about the dead, hasn’t dedicated any songs to Mujica.