Interreligious Conflicts in Cuba?
HAVANA TIMES – At the end of last August, the well-known Havana priest Father Lester Zayas protested a Yoruba ritual performed in front of his church. The practitioners placed dead and agonizing animals (jicotea turtles and roosters) under some palm trees, even though they had previously spoken with the parish priest, promising they would not leave remains of the ceremony.
“I will never be able to normalize what cannot be normalized,” Zayas declared on his Facebook page. The priest questioned the legality of the slaughter under the Animal Cruelty Decree-Law, and he “threatened” to hold a Novena to the Virgin of Charity of Cobre, placing her image under the same palms—an act that supposedly requires permission from Communist Party and municipal authorities. It was the eve of the Virgin’s feast day, Patron Saint of Cuba among Catholics, but syncretized by many Yoruba practitioners with the deity of sexual love, Oshun. The priest’s post unleashed a flood of passionate comments.
Cuba has historically been perceived as a land of religious peace. But are there, perhaps, seeds of conflict?
Animal Sacrifices, Human Remains, and Holy Water
In Cuba, there are several Afro-ancestral religions, often confused by outsiders. Most of them can be practiced simultaneously by the same person—something impossible between Christianity and Islam, for example. Many adherents of these latter faiths call African-derived religious practices “witchcraft,” a view I consider mistaken.
In the Yoruba religion, for instance, sacrifice to a deity (Orisha) may be prescribed by a babalawo (priest practicing the Ifá oracle) in specific situations, or it may form part of regular Santería worship. Some sacrifices are prepared foods, but animals are also killed: chickens, jicoteas, doves. Some sources even claim that the notorious giant African snail, an invasive species, was introduced to Cuba for sacrificial purposes.
The late Tato Quiñones, a notable babalawo, recalled that no precept of this religion commands leaving a sacrificed animal exposed. The sacrifice is valid because of the ceremony, not its remains, he would say—remains that may even be consumed as ordinary food.
Very few babalawos have called for suspending animal sacrifices and replacing them with other ways of “concentrating vital energy.” The vast majority of Cuba’s Yoruba practitioners believe that “the Orishas are not vegetarians.”
Animal sacrifices stir rejection among many people outside that religion—not only for humanitarian reasons but also because they feel their public spaces are invaded when animal carcasses are dumped there, raising ecological, health, pedagogical, and aesthetic concerns.
Yoruba practitioners also often throw plastic bags into soil or water (when sacrificing to marine or river Orishas). Many Cubans are still ecologically insensitive, completely unaware of the damage caused by microplastics.
The pro-government Yoruba Association of Cuba, to which many—including Father Lester—have appealed, does not promote awareness campaigns to address these conflicts. Nor does it wield unquestionable authority among Yoruba practitioners comparable to that of the Bishops’ Conference for the Catholic Church.
Animal sacrifice also exists in other Cuban Afro-ancestral religions: the male Abakuá society, Vodou, and the so-called Palo Monte, Conga, or Bantu Rule. The latter contains something even more shocking to outsiders: its principal ritual object, the Nganga, a cauldron that—among other elements—contains human remains. There are urban legends about paleros and cemeteries, with boundaries too faint between uncanny fantasy, slander, and reality.
Abakuá, for its part, is rejected by many for alleged machismo, homophobia, and criminal involvement or “antisocial behavior” among its followers. Vodou is stigmatized for its hermetic secrecy and supposed “black magic.” Like Palo, it is difficult to draw a line between fiction and fact in these cases. Only Spiritism of African influences seems free of negative labels: it uses holy water, candles, and similar objects.
Followers of other religions often criticize Afro-ancestral ones as “primitive” or “satanic.” They are particularly offended when the State promotes them in official media and cultural projects as “part of our national identity” (as if unendorsed religions were not). These faiths are not proselytizing, but their practices scandalize animal-rights advocates, Christians, and radical materialists (who call them “obscurantism”).
“They Proselytize”
Evangelical Christianity is not free from conflict either. Many charismatic evangelical churches coexist relatively well with the State and the Communist Party, but they are very active in street preaching, publicly opposing LGBTIQ+ causes, popular religiosity, Afro-ancestral faiths, Catholicism, and some government measures. Many people feel that such preaching violates private spaces and personal dignity. These Christians with loudspeakers are pejoratively called “aleluyos” and are also labeled “obscurantists” for their creationism.
The government expressly banned evangelical groups from “taking to the streets” against same-sex marriage during the public debates over the Constitution and the Family Code. A significant portion of Cuba’s “historic Protestantism” is loyal to the government and even “gay-friendly.” Some Christian communities preach “gender equality” almost as their raison d’être.
Still, the establishment makes little mention of evangelical Christianity’s contribution to “national identity,” though books and studies have been published on the subject.
Too Much Politics?
The Catholic Church is frequently a focus of conflict because of its stances toward officialdom. It has many buildings and centers providing educational and social services, but historically its legal status has been unclear. Every Cuban schoolchild knows Fathers Bartolomé de las Casas and Felix Varela from history class. Numerous books discuss how Catholicism shaped national cultural development.
Yet Catholic–Communist Party relations remain tense. Catholics suffer crossfire “from below”: evangelicals accuse them of “idolatry,” while Afro-religious practitioners denounce “discrimination” from some priests during sacramental rites. Paradoxically, in those same Afro religions, Catholic baptism is often required for initiation.
Catholic temples are sacred places for Afro-ancestral cults and popular religiosity; disputes arise over their spaces. These tensions also show up in the difficulty of organizing public Catholic processions, which may be prohibited.
“They’re Not From Here”
“Another religion”—someone captioned under a Facebook photo of Havana’s Russian Orthodox Cathedral. Commenters pointed out they are also Christians. Orthodox Christian, Buddhist, and Islamic presences provoke rejection among some for “not being part of our identity,” though they have no conflicts with the government.
Muslims, in particular, stand out for their traditional dress, which can provoke stereotypical comments. They are not mostly “Arabs,” but Cubans. In fact, most Arab immigrants who came to Cuba in the 20th century were Christians. Still, there is more: my sources testify that around 2012 recruiters for DAESH (the Arabic acronym for the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant) visited Cuba. The Havana Islamic community shut them out, but in the provinces, they managed to recruit a few followers, who were sent to fight in the Levant.
“Are They All Zionists?”
The Cuban Jewish Community is accused of complicity in Israel’s genocide of Palestinians, both by some pro-government representatives and by “alternative” leftists—a sensitive topic that would require detailed analysis.
Conclusions
I believe there are no serious interreligious conflicts here, but there is some tension. The main reasons: differing government attitudes toward different religions, provoking jealousy and protests; and perceptions that certain religious practices invade rights (including the enjoyment of “clean” public spaces) and private spaces.
Hopefully (inshallah), Cuba will move toward greater peace among diverse beliefs.