Has Immigration Reform Changed?

From its announcement to its implementation

Haroldo Dilla Alfonso

HAVANA TIMES — When I heard that passports were going to be given to some opposition figures who had described the island as a prison, and later when a friend told me how easy it was for doctors to get permission to travel, I went back to my computer to read what I had been written on the subject since the Cuban president announced immigration reform.

I wanted to contrast what he said with what was going on and see how far off I had been.

I’ve always said that improvements were being hatched (reductions in costs and paperwork, the extension of allowed work contact periods, etc.) for Cubans on both sides, which was something good.

But this didn’t mean substantial progress in the establishment of the rule of law, because there was no recognition of the right to travel, only a greater permissiveness. According to the reform, a passport is not an obligation of the state to the citizen, but a privilege that’s granted – one that can ultimately be revoked. This is still true.

Likewise, it always seemed monstrous that nothing was said about the right of Cuban emigrants to return to their home country with full citizenship rights. Nor was there talk about the need to promote a constitutional reform that recognizes dual citizenship for what’s effectively a transnational society. I think this is the case.

Later I said that no immigration reform would be complete without addressing the situation of internal migrants who are subjected to a system of sub-citizenship. There’s nothing more true.

I also wrote that what was discussed was fundamentally an internal conflict within the elite, with the rentier bureaucratic faction on one side and the technocrats and the military on the other. This conflict was over how to take better economic advantage of emigration, on the one hand; and how to restore the areas of internal consensus, on the other.

Let’s not forget that most of the architects of the transitions are not gods of love consecrated to democracy but figures of the old regime, committed to the past through and through, and convinced that something had to be changed so that everything would stay the same…

I continue to maintain this, only that I couldn’t suspect how important this whole matter was. Nor did I imagine how altering of its variables could affect their own decisions.

Let me explain:

There are perceptible distances between the strident tone of the rhetoric that accompanied the announcement of the “updating of immigration policy” in August 2011, the language of the legislation in October 2012, and what was subsequently explained to the public when the new measures were implemented last month.

In August 2011, the general/president stressed that this involved a “relaxation of Cuban immigration policy [that would] take into account the right of the revolutionary state to defend itself against the interventionist and subversive plans of the US government and its allies.”

He stressed that this “would include measures to preserve human capital created by the revolution [the government] against the brain drain practiced by powerful nations.”

He emphasized that the entire “revolutionary” immigration policy had been one of openness and emigrant friendly. If that was open and amiable, there was reason to completely doubt the loving intentions of Cuba’s leaders.

Later, the tone of the regulations published in October 2012 became — with respect to Cubans on the island — more moderate than the initial line, but new restrictive features were presented that were repeated in two articles (23 and 25), marking the limits of permissiveness.

The first article concerns the limitations on obtaining a passport, while the second relates to limitations on leaving the country (as if it was necessary to reinforce the idea that there are two independent filters where the intention of traveling could be suffocated: one in the office for requesting a passport and the other at the airport itself – and for the same reasons).

Some of the sections of the two articles would be reasonable if they were restrictions in the face of a liberty (which isn’t the case), but three of them are crippling: Section D, which argues “defense and security reasons”; Section F, which speaks of “measures aimed at preserving the skilled workforce”; and Section H, which mentions ineligibility due to some amorphous and zigzagging “public interest.”

Obviously this article wasn’t designed for the few thousand people called “regulated” (a name that reminds me of “augmented ground beef”) who will not be allowed to travel.

The Cuban state, like any other government, can resolve exceptionalities through contractual administrative agreements, without recourse to the law. Maintaining these restrictive and diffuse articles is evidently an effective padlock against some opponents and (what’s even more important) a warning against any “misuse” that can take place in the future, which is nothing other than permission.

Preventing individual access to other sources of income enhances the innate tendency of people to disobedience. This is, let’s say, no more than a preemptive admonition to the defiant.

But then came the application of the law and the announcements by Cuban officials indicating that doctors would be able to travel, “deserters” could return to the island, some notorious opponents could organize their political tours, while the eternal cheerleaders argued that the law deserved applause and cheers despite its “imperfections.”

I don’t think there’s only one reason to explain this development. Like any system, this one has to take better care of its political appearances and achieve domestic support. It’s always better to have people thinking about how to travel and make money than how to subvert the government.

But I think there’s a crucial reason: the deteriorating economy, the evaporation of the oil in the Gulf and the inevitable reduction of the Venezuelan cash flow with the likely death of Hugo Chavez.

There are perceptible distances between the strident tone of the rhetoric that accompanied the announcement of the “updating of immigration policy” in August 2011, the language of the legislation in October 2012, and what was subsequently explained to the public when the new measures were implemented last month.

Necessity, more than virtue, is pushing Cuban policy toward greater economic openness at the hand of its technocratic/military sector. This requires a better international situation and a more fluid relationship with the émigré community.

Some aspects of the “updating of immigration policy” are likely designed to encourage scrutiny of the Helms Burton Act and eventually the relaxation or elimination of the blockade/embargo.

I repeat, access to the US market is vital for an economy that is planning marinas, cruise terminals, free trade zones and golf course just 100 miles south of the booming American coast. I don’t think these facilities are designed for Norwegian visitors or the Mexican market.

The “updating of immigration policy” isn’t a political opening towards the rule of law, which isn’t explicit agenda of anyone in the Cuban elite.

But undoubtedly this will generate new areas of social autonomy. With all its horn blowing, reform is making Cuban society less subjugated, especially its most dynamic part: the emerging middle class that can best take advantage of this opportunity.

Whether the autonomy generated by permissiveness turns into freedom is another story, it’s a question that depends on the action of all actors, including the opposition (internal and émigré), from all political angles.

It will also depend on actors within the Cuban state. Finally, let’s not forget that most of the architects of the transitions are not gods of love consecrated to democracy but figures of the old regime, committed to the past through and through, and convinced that something had to be changed so that everything would stay the same – or at least to conserve their proprietorship.