Orlando Zapata Tamayo was a simple man who possessed a simple dream: to secure the freedom of Cuban prisoners-of-conscience who were being placed alongside common criminals in Cuba’s prisons. That is all. No calls for violence. No calls for revolution. He recognized an injustice and spoke out against it by going on a hunger strike, which is the last form of protest that has been left to Cuba’s political prisoners. Unfortunately, in today’s Cuba, Tamayo was deserving of a 36 year prison sentence for denouncing the inhumane treatment of those whose only wish was to be treated as human beings. This should not be shocking to anyone, coming from a state that may arrest its citizens on charges of “dangerousness” or for “engaging in ideological diversionism.” Moreover, the Cuban state reserves the right to arrest and detain any citizen that it believes is likely to commit a crime in the future. As Orwellian and unjust as this law may seem, it is in full effect in this island 90 miles off the coast of the United States, where Amnesty International estimates that up to 5,000 individuals may be imprisoned on charges of “dangerousness.” Even more tragic is the February 23rd death of Orlando Zapata Tamayo, that brave soul who dared to speak up against an oppressive Castro government that, to this day, barely tolerates criticism or dissent of any kind. Tamayo died on the 86th day of his hunger strike. Guillermo Farinas, another dissident in Cuba, has since gone on a hunger strike and was recently rushed to a hospital after losing consciousness. There has even been a third dissident who has vowed to continue the chain if Farinas should die.

The few statistics related to Cuba’s human rights record that are available to the international community are frightening. Reporters Without Borders, a Paris-based NGO, states that 10% of the world’s imprisoned journalists reside in Cuba (a country with a population of roughly 11.5 million). However, it is quite difficult to obtain exact numbers with regard to Cuba’s human rights abuses, as the Cuban government routinely denies the International Committee of the Red Cross and other humanitarian organizations access to its prisons. Most of what the world knows about Cuba’s deplorable treatment of its political prisoners is thanks to the courageous effort of family members and friends who risk their safety in disseminating the abuse that their loved ones are suffering. In Cuba there is no freedom of assembly, no access to the internet, a state-controlled media, no freedom of expression, and no freedom of travel. Cubans are not at liberty to come and go as they please, for a Cuban who expresses a desire to leave the country is branded as a “counterrevolutionary.” In Cuba, to express a desire to travel is to make a political statement, as nearly everything in Cuba is viewed through the lens of an ideological filter. Furthermore, the Castro regime utilizes various psychological pressures against those who seek to leave the island or who speak out in favor of political or social reform, sending government-organized mobs to the homes of these dissidents to harass them and taunt them. These “actos de repudio,” or acts of repudiation, still occur in Cuba to this day. One needs only to search the names of Dr. Oscar Elias Biscet and Jorge Luis Garcia Perez, two peaceful human rights activists inspired by the example of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi, to come up with images of these mobs on the attack. There never seems to be an end in human rights abuses for Cuba, this island nation that has suffered for more than 51 years in the stranglehold of old regime elites consumed with an obsession for power.

“A revolution is not a bed of roses,” so claimed Fidel Castro. Indeed, it is a bed of nails, human excrement, dirt floors, and endless suffering for all those who protest Cuba’s continual violation of human rights. After consolidating his hold on various Cuban civil and political institutions, by late 1961 Fidel Castro had declared that he was a Marxist-Leninist and that Cuba would become a Communist nation, despite his repeated promises to the Cuban people of restoring the Constitution of 1940 that dictator Fulgencio Batista had completely disregarded throughout the 1950s. Gone in a moment was the dream of a return to a democratic, pluralistic Cuban society. Yet, to point out Castro’s obvious betrayal of the ideals of the Cuban Revolution (which had nothing to do with communism and everything to do with democratic pluralism) was to instantaneously brand oneself as a “mercenary” of the United States who was an enemy of the state. Huber Matos, one of the first participants of the 26th of July Movement who happened to fight alongside Castro in the Sierra Maestra mountains, was also one of the earliest to become discontented with Castro’s betrayal of the revolution. In late 1959 he was sentenced to 20 years in prison for “sedition and treason.” So began Castro’s personal vendetta against all those who questioned his infinite wisdom and/or who posed as potential threats to his power. By the mid 1960s nearly all sectors of Cuban society had been purged of undesired elements and replaced with comrades loyal to Castro’s dictations. Cuba’s already sad state of human rights that had existed prior to Castro’s ascension would come to take an even more tragic turn decade after decade of El Comandante’s  relentless assault on civil society. Furthermore, Soviet influence in Cuba’s socialist development most definitely did not bode well for the opposition in Cuba. Cuba’s secret police, trained in its methods by the notorious East German Stasi, had infiltrated many of the few remaining civil organizations that were against Castro’s agenda for Cuba. Further, members of the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) were placed on every street corner, meant to spy on their neighbors and make sure that their thinking fell in line with official Party doctrine. Cubans no longer had the luxury of independent thought, for Big Brother would be watching them.

In 2006 the world witnessed in awe as, after 47 years of ruling, power was transferred in Cuba from Fidel Castro to his younger brother Raul. Many expressed that this would be a positive development in the arena of human rights, as Raul was perceived by many to be a reformer, someone less rigid in his ways. Within Cuba, Cubans also shared a great hope that Raul would take charge in making many necessary and long overdue changes to this ailing system. Among other things, Raul legalized the use and purchase of cell phones for Cubans, lifted the law that effectively barred Cubans from attending the same hotels and beaches as tourists, and recently scrapped the ration books that Cubans long relied on for a small but steady supply of rice and other staples (this ‘reform’ actually increased the economic distress many Cubans are in as a result of living on less than $1 day). Yet, with regards to the right to organize politically and voice opposition, Raul has not signaled a shift in Cuba’s approach to human rights. Some have theorized that Raul has had to prove himself as uncompromising as his big brother in his handling of dissent. It is most likely for this reason that Raul Castro has not relented in his assault on the opposition. Raul’s problem, aside from having to rule over an increasingly restless society that is being strangled economically, partly stems from his insecurity that the Cuban military and Cuban society will not be loyal to him, for he is no Fidel. Hence, the state of human rights in Cuba remains largely static. To begin with, getting the Cuban government to even admit that there are political prisoners in Cuba was a big enough challenge. In a rare statement released in Granma, Cuba’s official Communist Party newspaper, Raul Castro expressed that Orlando Zapata Tamayo’s death was ‘lamentable.’ This statement was most likely made as a result of the international outrage that was directed at the Cuban government for not heeding earlier calls and treating Zapata Tamayo with the medical help he needed. Yet, it is also remarkable for a Cuban official to comment on the death of an activist, as Cuban government officials routinely label these activists as “mercenaries” of the United States so as to wash their hands of the problem. Following the election of Barack Obama as President of the United States in 2008, Cuba had again played the part of wanting to engage in dialogue with the Americans. It is quite fair to say that President Obama had engaged in a good faith effort to make some small concessions to the Cuban government by allowing Cuban-Americans to travel in an unrestricted fashion to Cuba (this is a concession to the Cuban government, as they are the beneficiaries of all the American dollars that come with the travel and remittances that Cuban-Americans send to their family members). However, Cuba’s overtures for dialogue were once again not backed up with significant action that would have proven their willingness in engaging with the United States. Recent reports of abuse against Cuban prisoners-of-conscience and of continued assault on those who seek to peacefully organize tarnished any chance Cuba might have had. It seems that this is a pattern that the Cuban government engages in, particularly when the United States extends its hand to Cuba, whether it be under the administration of Carter, Clinton, or Obama. One thing is for sure, and it is that time is running out for those who languish in Cuban prisons whose stories are yet to be told. As far as Zapata Tamayo’s mother is concerned, there are simply no more excuses for the Cuban government. “They managed to do what they wanted,” she stated. “They ended the life of a fighter for human rights.”

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