What Isn’t Broadcast on Cuba’s Radio Ciudad Del Mar
The sound engineer, apparently removed from all official propaganda, also receives requests not to broadcast certain “controversial opinions.”
By Julio Cesar Contreras (14ymedio)
HAVANA TIMNES – A few weeks ago Adriano resigned from Radio Ciudad del Mar, the local government station in Cienfuegos where he had worked as a sound engineer since his college graduation. The decision cost him, especially because of the uncertainty of not knowing if he was going to find another job that he would enjoy as much. But he tells this newspaper that he does not regret putting a stop to what was happening inside the station: “No one has the right to think for me or put words in my mouth.”
Working on the radio was not a dream he had as a child, but as a teenager, when he became interested in the work of Radio Ciudad del Mar, located in a two-story house in front of the Cienfuegos boardwalk. He was not so attracted to talking on the programs as to doing them himself, taking care of the music and sounds, and after graduating from Physical Culture he managed to sneak into the station.
However, with the work of a sound engineer, apparently far from all official propaganda, also came requests not to give certain “controversial opinions.” “The time came when it was impossible to broadcast one’s real thoughts or give opinions different from what is established on social networks and in the studio itself,” he says.
For Adriano the threshold of the door of Radio Ciudad del Mar marked the border between two different realities. Inside, the team and especially the announcers, “are continuously forced to broadcast news that is very distant from reality.” Outside, in the street, “we face criticism from listeners who call us liars or say we gloss over things that are serious. We find ourselves locked between what we’re supposed to say and what we experience daily as part of society.”
“It is very difficult to work in a place where anything that we do must have the approval of those from above. Creativity is subordinated to an institutional methodology, which in turn is subordinate to the orders from Havana,” explains the young Cienfuegan, who admits that, although surveillance is general, some people are more controlled than others. In the case of broadcasters, “the censorship is constant and comes from advisors, assistants and program directors. Whatever is minimally problematic is crushed by editorial policy, which is actually a straitjacket,” he says.
In recent years, with the intensification of the crisis, controls on the station’s employees have also increased. At the same time, Adriano adds, there are the practical problems: How do you broadcast without power? How do you record a program in a closed studio without air conditioning? How do you work without microphones, with old computers and sound equipment from decades ago?
“No one imagines how suffocating it is to work besieged by blackouts. The station’s generator does not support the equipment and air conditioners at the same time,” says the sound engineer, who reveals the tricks they used in the station to evade the suffocating heat. “While a program was running, we were bathed in sweat. Sometimes we played two or three songs in a row to have a few minutes to go out and catch the cool air that comes from the bay,” he confides.
When a complaint was addressed to the superiors about not being able to connect the air conditioners or because the equipment was already too old and needed replacement, “the response from the National Radio Directorate was always the same: there are no resources, and the country is facing a complex situation.”
This situation also negatively impacts the audience, which is already dwindling due to the rise of alternative media outlets that are more truthful, faster, and less time-consuming for the public. “If the station conducted serious surveys to evaluate audience levels, it would become evident that most people even prefer social media over the radio for staying informed. In theory, the programming is designed for different audiences, but in practice, it is far from satisfying popular tastes,” he evaluates.
According to his explanation, the station broadcasts live programs until ten at night. “After that time, everything that is aired is pre-recorded, and, to be honest, it does not meet the demands of the late-night hours. This results in the loss of a significant segment of the population, which requires programs capable of capturing the listeners’ attention,” he argues.
For a while, when Adriano saw several colleagues leaving the station to work in other state institutions or the private sector, he was troubled by the question of whether he should leave as well. The dilemma, he explains, was choosing between doing what he loves with a salary that does not even reach 4,000 pesos ($13 USD)—depending on the number of programs produced—and constant surveillance, or prioritizing his discomfort with censorship and seeking better financial compensation.
But a month ago, when he found out that his wife was pregnant again, the decision became clear. However, Adriano insists that he did not leave the station just to secure his family’s finances; the pregnancy was merely a catalyst. Between proposals rejected at the slightest hint of a “subversive tone” and the frustration of being unable to do his job with quality, leaving Radio Ciudad del Mar was “inevitable.”
Translated by Translating Cuba.