Annexation and Gravitation in Cuban History

Vicente Morin Aguado

HAVANA TIMES — “The annexation of Cuba is publicly and widely discussed here as an inevitable fact, as the outcome of what is referred to as ‘gravitation.’” – Spanish Consul in New York, December of 1867.

On February 24, the online journal Diario de Cuba published a note reporting that “Berta Soler has accused Raul Castro’s government of undertaking a ‘vigorous’ campaign to do away with the Ladies in White and with her in particular, owing to her stance against the lifting of the US embargo and her criticisms of how Havana and Washington are conducting negotiations to normalize relations.”

The embargo/blockade has been firmly tethered to the US Congress since March 12, 1996, when the Helms-Burton Act was approved.

Will the apple finally fall from the tree, in accordance with the laws discovered by Newton? The tree of our nation’s undertakings is many hundred years old and has born many fruits. It remains to be seen whether the laws of physics also apply to history.

Let us go back in time some, if you please:

On May 19, 1850, former Spanish army general Narciso Lopez hoisted Cuba’s one-starred flag in the city of Cardenas for the first time. Born in Venezuela, he had come from New Orleans, backed by numerous southern slave-holders and a large number of Cuban patriots. His ultimate aim was to turn Cuba into a state of the Union.

Will the apple finally fall from the tree, in accordance with the laws discovered by Newton? The tree of our nation’s undertakings is many hundred years old and has born many fruits. It remains to be seen whether the laws of physics also apply to history.

This seemingly ambiguous political aim has an explanation: at the time, it seemed as though defeating the Spanish throne required strong foreign support. The island’s economy was also dependent on slavery and local land-owners opportunistically intertwined their economic interests with anti-Spanish sentiments (commonly referred to as “patriotic”).

The creator of our national emblem and coat of arms, Miguel Teurbe Tolon, was a poet who belonged, not to the aristocracy then giving out the orders, but to the humble majority who did the fighting. His stance against Spanish monarchic despotism was a case of authentic patriotism.

Since then, we have been under the permanent influence of that “gravitational force” referred to by the alarmed Spanish consul in New York, what has been termed the “ripe fruit doctrine” (which envisages Cuba as a coveted delicacy about to drop from the tree, in passing allusion to the classic Newtonian experience).

In its proverbial obstinacy, Spain was determined not to let go and polarized opinions in Cuba. On the one hand, we had the Spartan proponents of independence; on the other, the reformists who aspired to autonomy, something akin to a form of federalism under the tutelage of Madrid. The annexationists hid in both camps, invoking the indispensable nature of northern aid as an excuse for their stance.

The autonomists and annexationists were the heads of a political hydra that spoke of avoiding great sacrifices, the way US intervention would save the island from a protracted struggle and of opportunities that would swell new fortunes from the high steps of the coming republic (under the watchful protection of the White House, of course).

At the close of the 19^th century, the north’s gravitational pull was being felt all the more strongly owing to the asymmetry that existed between the humble, fighting majority (which had no means of materializing their ideals) and the aristocratic minority in command. Jose Marti and Antonio Maceo had fallen in combat and, leading a frank political minority, generals Maximo Gomez and Calixto Garcia bore the weight of the “proven ingratitude of men,” a beautiful line by Marti, addressed to Gomez in a letter inviting him to take command of the independence forces once again.

Obama y Raúl cosechan aplausos al demostrar que la voluntad humana puede desafiar las ineludibles leyes de la gravitación universal.

Sensibly, the generals welcomed Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders in the spring of 1898. Following the mass killings during Weyler’s murderous campaigns on the island, and in view of the 25 to 1 numerical superiority of the Spanish forces, US military aid had become crucial.

The star-spangled banner was hoisted in Santiago de Cuba on July 17, but Cuban combatants were not accorded the same privilege. They didn’t even honor the 30 years of struggle of general Garcia, the brilliant strategist behind the last battle fought for Cuban independence. Allusions to possible Cuban reprisals against the enemy were made. Immediately, the second-in-command of Cuba’s Liberation Army sent a letter to his counterpart, Gen. Shafter:

“We are part of a poor, tattered army, as poor and as tattered as the army of your ancestors, who led a noble war of independence, but, like the heroes of Saratoga and New York, we have too much respect for our cause to see it besmirched by barbarism and cowardice.”

Calixto Garcia died in Washington on December 11 that year, while trying to secure the money needed to grant his humble soldiers official retirement.

On March 3, 1901, William McKinley would sign the Platt Amendment, a document that authorized the US president to intervene in Cuba’s internal affairs. The agreement was amended to the constitution of the nascent republic. Any resemblance to another piece of US bicameral legislation, approved on the same month 95 years later by a President of the same first name, is not a mere coincidence.

Today, the new pro-imperialist annexationists are known as “Plattists.” This political stance has not disappeared, neither in Cuba nor the United States.

Barack Obama and Raul Castro receive applause by demonstrating that human will can challenge the unavoidable laws of gravitation. Neil Armstrong was able to pronounce his famous statement after reaching the speed needed to break out of the Earth’s gravitational pull: “One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.”

Before his public execution, Cuban patriot and annexationist Narciso Lopez said: “My death won’t change Cuba’s destiny.”
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Vicente Morín Aguado: morfamily@correodecuba.cu