CONFLICT AND COMPETITION: The Latin American Church in a Changing Environment
edited by Edward L. Cleary / Hannah Stewart-GambinoCHAPTER 8 =================================
(Still) Waiting for John Paul II: The Church in Cuba
====================================== JOHN M. KIRKI believe we are in a process in which shortcuts are not easily taken, a process that must take its course.... [W]e go from situations that seem to be of rupture and misunderstanding ... and later, little by little, there is perhaps a long period in which there is an atmosphere of trust where we must try to eliminate all the previous prejudice.... I believe the period in which talks can begin and problems can be posed has arrived, and we get closer and closer to a situation in which Christians can assert themselves as such. I believe we are now in this progressive stage.... I believe that the steps have been gradual, but have been taken in the right direction.--Monsignor Jaime Ortega,
archbishop of Havana, August 1988The controversial and hotly debated visit of John Paul II to Cuba (proposed in 1989 and at the 6me of this writing, November 1991, postponed indefinitely) is a fascinating benchmark from which to examine the Catholic church in Cuba. It appears clear that both the country and its church are an anomaly in modern times and therefore present quite a different case history from the other cases presented in this book. For example, not only is Cuba one of only a handful of Marxist countries not to follow Poland's example in the giddy rejection of the communist system by the erstwhile Soviet bloc (Cuba's leader, Fidel Castro, has also joked about Cuba becoming the "Albania of the Caribbean"), but it is also very much a Latin country -- yet one with only approximately 2 percent of its population currently practicing their religion. The church too is a paradox: Unlike other churches in the mainland countries of Latin America, it was scarcely affected by the liberation theology that spread like wildfire in the 1970s (preferring instead to pursue a theology of reconciliation), and although there has been a form of institutionalized discrimination against practicing Christians since the advent of the revolution, the violence that has been directed against the church in other countries of Latin America has fortunately been missing. There have been no death squads or disappearances, but in Cuba -- unlike in other parts of the mainland -- the church has not needed to be the voice of the voiceless.
Cuba is a unique case, then. Its political leader is also a paradox: He is Latin America's only Marxist leader, yet he was educated by the Jesuits Or many years in their exclusive (and now nationalized) Belem school. Indeed, Fidel Castro is much given to showing his formidable knowledge of the New Testament and in 1985 sat down with Brazilian Dominican Frei Betto to talk for twenty-three hours about things religious. The end result, Fidel y la religion (published by the Council of State in 1985) is a tour de force, treating a plethora of church-related topics. For its part, the church has seen its "social acceptability" steadily increase over the last decade with an especially impressive increase in baptism rates -- though it is still regarded with some suspicion by the revolutionary government, particularly in the wake of events in Eastern Europe. Archbishop Jaime Ortega, who was imprisoned in the notorious labor camps (UMAP) in the 1960s, has emerged as an articulate and respected church leader-pushing firmly for an improvement in the church's status, yet seeking to avoid the triumphalism found in the church in Poland and Czechoslovakia, for example.
It is appropriate that this study of the Catholic church begin with a quotation from the archbishop of Havana, because it hints at both the unique situation of the church and the difficult balancing act that it has to perform in order to develop within Latin America's only Marxist-Leninist society. On the one hand, the church has to pursue its mission of evangelization and of seeking social justice; on the other, it must avoid alienating the government, which of course possesses tremendous influence and power. Moreover, the church must seek to extend its influence above and beyond the small nucleus of practicing Catholics (approximately 100,000-200,000), but it must remember that its radius of support is distinctly limited, in both financial and political matters. Finally, the church has to atone for its sins of omission in the past while projecting an image of relevance and pragmatism within Cuba's revolutionary society. As can be seen, this complex situation makes for parameters that are unique in Latin America. It has also provided some difficulties for the church in overcoming its identity crisis and determining precisely what its role is in this context. (And this challenge does not take into account the effect of the major political changes taking place in the erstwhile Soviet bloc, which obviously have had a major impact on the body politic of revolutionary Cuba.)
Speaking in 1988,(1) Archbishop Ortega explained well the current trajectory of church-state relations and referred to the strengthened position in which Christians currently find themselves in Cuba. Indeed, when compared with its situation of a decade or even five years ago, the church has made startling progress in reasserting itself within Cuban society. The visit of John Paul II, provided it can be realized in a constructive and harmonious fashion, will be an important culmination of this process, barely ten years in its development. Yet regardless of whether the pontiff visits Cuba, the church in Cuba will continue to seek its own aggiornamento and to demand that it be taken more seriously by the government.
Church and government representatives alike, when pressed for an assessment of the current rapprochement, are understandably diplomatic: Phrases often heard are "gradual period of normalization of relations," "beginnings of a meaningful dialogue," and the like. At the same time, however, hints are frequently dropped, particularly from church sources, that the pace of dialogue is not as swift as it should be, that a policy of token improvements has been emphasized, and that significant developments -- such as allowing church members to have guaranteed access to the media or to run their own schools -- are consistently neglected. (Often heard too throughout the 1980s was a demand that practicing Christians be allowed to participate actively in Cuba's only political party, the Communist Party. Traditionally, the revolutionary government politely ignored such demands, claiming that this would be desirable but in essence doing little about it. The Fourth Party Congress, however, which took place in October 1991, finally enacted legislation to allow this development, which was long overdue in Cuba).
On the other side of the ideological divide, concerns are aired by government representatives about according the church more authority than its membership warrants, while some party members refer to its traditionally conservative role in prerevolutionary Cuba and wonder aloud whether the progressive direction taken by the Cuban church is merely a tactical approach to attain greater political power. Indeed, in a major address to Brazilian Catholics in March 1990, Fidel Castro issued his strongest public criticism in recent years of the church leadership in Cuba:
The hierarchy of the U.S. Catholic Church wields a lot of authority over the hierarchy of the Cuban Church, while official government policy in the United States also influences the Church hierarchy there.... In Cuba the Catholic Church never identified itself with the revolutionary process. Instead it has been lying low, waiting for the Revolution to encounter difficulties in order to act against it.(2)Church and state thus have a somewhat uneasy relationship, one in which both sides have yet to develop mutual trust and respect but have established cordial and formal ties. (One has only to examine the conflictual nature of these ties throughout the 1960s to realize the nature of this progress.) This process of rapprochement is particularly difficult in the current international political climate generated by momentous events, such as the electoral defeat of Cuba's closest ally in Latin America, the Sandinista government in Nicaragua; the fall of the Berlin wall; the ouster of communist governments behind the iron curtain (which is now itself an anomaly); the virtual dismantling of the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (COMECON); and widespread division and polarization within the Soviet Union itself. This has led Cuba to question where its trade and aid will proceed from, an issue that has understandably become the revolutionary government's major preoccupation.This concern has acted as a filter through which the Castro government sees all important foreign policy decisions, including the planned visit of John Paul II to Cuba. The pope's visit to Czechoslovakia in April 1990 (where he spoke of the "tragic utopia" represented by communism and waxed eloquent at the way "communism had crumbled like the tower of Babel")(3) only served to underscore the Church's formidable political influence -- and thus its potential opposition. In the case of the papal visit to Cuba, this concern held by the government was accentuated when the pontiff's spokesman explained to media representatives (without first consulting with Cuban officials) that John Paul II might travel to Cuba earlier than expected, possibly by late 1990. Coming on the heels of what some government sectors perceived as an objectionable pastoral letter calling for greater openness and democratization in Cuba issued by the Cuban bishops, this unilateral suggestion by the Vatican was rebuffed immediately by Havana. It was interpreted as the pope rushing to pursue the impetus for change that was emanating from Eastern Europe and to seek to foment it actively in Cuba. Coupled with the rather triumphalist nature of his comments in Czechoslovakia on the demise of Marxism, it served to cool noticeably the incipient church-state dialogue. Truly, as the quotation by Archbishop Ortega at the beginning of this chapter highlights, shortcuts have not been a feature of this relationship: There are clearly limits to the desirability of rapprochement.
It is true that old prejudices (for the church and party alike) die hard, but it is also true that at the level of both hierarchies, a policy of incipient dialogue has been studiously developed, and has progressed significantly. Moreover, it is quite clear that in pursuing this accommodation with the revolutionary government, the church has also gained significant benefits, both in material terms (repair of church buildings, visas for foreign clergy to work in Cuba, access to telecommunication and printing facilities, travel abroad for Cuban clergy) and in intangible benefits (including far greater social prestige and respect, a remarkably favorable treatment in the government-controlled media, and occasional praise from President Fidel Castro). When viewed from a balanced perspective, it is a remarkable success story, particularly given the early stormy relationship between the church and the revolutionary government. And although there have been occasional incidents and confrontations-as seen in the planning around John Paul's visit to Cuba -- a broader historical interpretation would indicate that over the course of these three turbulent decades, significant progress has indeed been realized in setting the church-state relationship on something resembling a firm footing.
In this chapter I outline the nature of these gains and analyze their significance. My perspective is based upon a thesis that such gains, though limited in scope, are indeed important and have been extremely beneficial for the church, despite claims to the contrary from certain sectors of the Cuban community in exile. The objective, then, is to trace the development of this process over the last years and to present a portrait of the church as it awaits the pontiff's visit. First, however, it is crucially important to appreciate the departure point for this development because, as emphasized earlier, the Cuban case is unique.
The Historical Background As I have discussed elsewhere,(4) just over a decade ago the likelihood of any form of meaningful dialogue between the Communist Party of Cuba and the church was quite improbable, largely because of the extremely conservative ideological bent of the church in Cuba and its outspoken objections -- and at times strenuous opposition -- to the reforms enacted by the revolutionary government. It should be remembered that the islands of Cuba and Puerto Rico were bastions of avid españolismo, remaining as colonies nearly eighty years after the Latin American mainland was liberated. Add to this a church hierarchy that with very few exceptions traditionally supported the de facto rulers, including Fulgencio Batista, and that had clearly decided to support the prerevolutionary status quo.
On the eve of the Cuban revolution, a profile of the church was far from flattering. Admittedly, the private Catholic schools were highly regarded by the bourgeoisie (ironically, Fidel Castro and several Central Committee members attended them), and there were some 700 priests, yet beneath this superficial success lay grave problems and some disquieting statistics. A 1955 report of the hierarchy, for instance, showed that there was a disastrous rate of native vocations -- an excellent yardstick of the church's well-being -- in Cuba. Only 95 of the 200 priests belonging to dioceses and 30 of 461 priests belonging to religious communities were Cuban. Indeed, fully one third of all priests belonging to religious communities, 90 percent of the teaching brothers, and two-thirds of the nuns worked in Catholic schools.(5) The vast majority of the clergy were from Spain, trained -- significantly -- during the rise of General Francisco Franco, and were fearful of government attempts at any kind of liberal reform.
Even the much-vaunted private schools could be taken as reflecting the church's imbalance in its evangelical priorities. Indeed, fully a third of all religiosos sacerdotes, 90 percent of religiosos laicales, and two-thirds of nuns worked in 200 Catholic schools, almost all of which were private. As a result, the church was held in high esteem by the urban middle classes who sent their children to church schools, but in rural areas the minds and the souls of Cubans were deliberately neglected.(6) By comparison with the other churches of Latin America, the Cuban church was clearly among the weakest and most conservative. Remarkably few Catholics attended mass on a regular basis, and the rural sector received little attention.
The two decades between the victory of the barbudos (revolutionaries) in 1959 and that of the Sandinistas in Nicaragua in 1979 witnessed great changes in the church throughout the world. Landmark developments emanating from Vatican II (1962-1965) and the CELAM meetings of 1968 in Medellín (and, to a lesser extent, Puebla in 1979) as well as a host of spin-off developments (including liberation theology, the concept of comunidades de base, the increasingly vocal political role played by the church in the face of right-wing state terrorism, and the church's revived preferential option for the poor) all converted the Latin American church of the last decade into a progressive force for change. This did not happen in Cuba, where the church leadership was slow to grasp -- much less appreciate -- the momentous changes of Vatican II. The tragedy for the church in Cuba was quite simply that there the revolution took place fully nine years before the concept of the preferential option for the poor was widely accepted at Medellín. Had the Cuban revolution taken place after the Second Vatican Council or the CELAM meetings, perhaps the bitter invective of the early 1960s could have been avoided. For most of Cuba's Catholics, Vatican II arrived too late.
Unfortunately, the first two formative years of the church's role in revolutionary Cuba were marred by a forceful opposition to the government's reforms, culminating in the involvement of three Spanish priests in the April 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion. The invasion itself was presented among many Cubans as a religious crusade, complete with a cross as the official insignia and a religious proclamation composed by one of the priests involved in the invasion, Father Ismael de Lugo. In the wake of protests at me May 1, 1961, nationalization of all private schools -- which of course destroyed the very raison d'être of many clergy -- the government moved, deporting in September some 135 priests (estimated at about one-half the remaining clergy). This stormy year of confrontation was followed by a period of withdrawal and reflection by the church (1962-1969) and an eventual coming to terms with its mission in a socialist society (1969-1979). During this time, the church's constituency steadily decreased as the Cuban bourgeoisie, the principal supporters of church activities, headed increasingly for life in exile. Reduced to approximately one-quarter of its clergy, stripped of its private schools, and with its supporters increasingly in Miami, Caracas, and Madrid, the church slowly -- and not without great pain and introspection -- came to terms with its situation. When seen in this light, it is no exaggeration to claim that the church in Cuba saw itself decimated within three short years, with the vast majority of its members living in exile and only a fraction of its supporters left on the island.
The decade between 1969 and 1979 was extremely important in the development of the church's mission in Cuba. Two key pastoral letters released in 1969 -- after several years of self-imposed silence -- set the tone for the need to reassess the church's role in a revolutionary society, a task admirably assisted by the Medellín conference. Of particular importance was the contribution of papal emissary Monsignor Cesare Zacchi, who struggled for many years to bring about the necessary aggiornamento within the church. Increasingly, church officials sought to show the relevance of the church to Cuba's development, and although they were rewarded by words of encouragement from Fidel Castro (particularly in talks given in Chile, 1971 and Jamaica, 1977), little benefit accrued to the church as an institution.
A major influence on the Cuban revolutionary process occurred in 1979. The impact of the Nicaraguan revolution in Cuba was quite profound, not only because of the substantial economic, social, and military aid Havana gave but also because of the moral example provided by Managua. The experience rekindled memories of the barbudos' own revolutionary struggle against apparently invincible odds and won the imagination and support of Cubans in all walks of life. This psychological impact was also felt in religious matters because many respected Nicaraguan revolutionaries showed they could also pursue an active religious life-a fact underlined by the inclusion of four Catholic priests in the Nicaraguan cabinet. This in turn strengthened the church's conviction to accompany the people in their daily toil and to show skeptical party cadres that revolutionary and Christian ideals could happily coexist.
This was a lesson some Cuban church leaders had gradually been coming to terms with since 1961 Nodded by Monsignor Cesare Zacchi and encouraged by Fidel Castro's comments on the need for a strategic alliance between the church and the revolutionary government, the leadership of the church in Cuba came to terms with its limitations and its potential and has been gradually transforming the role and the nature of the church. This process has been particularly apparent during the last decade.
Changes in the Church, 1979-1991 The most significant development during this period is that the "church in Cuba" has gradually become the "Cuban church." This interpretation is not meant as some bizarre linguistic game; rather it is intended to underline the effective manner in which the transformation into a distinctive church body has taken place, with the institution reflecting an effective national identity and truly Cuban concerns. This can be seen most clearly in official pronouncements on international questions (on which church statements largely coincide with those of the government), in the nature of constructive cri6cism leveled at government policies, and perhaps most important, in developments within the church itself.
In comparison with the fiery broadsides of the early 1960s condemning the social reforms introduced and Cuba's reopening of diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union, official pronouncements in recent years by church representatives have changed dramatically. Now, rather than show support for Washington (as the former archbishop of Santiago de Cuba, Enrique Perez Serantes, had been prone to do in the early 1960s), the church is often critical. A series of official documents roundly criticized the Reagan administration for its policies toward Central America and the Caribbean, condemning the invasion of Grenada, calling for the US blockade of Cuba to be lifted, and condemning the development of the neutron bomb. Bishops have taken part in official meetings to condemn the international debt crisis.(7) have negotiated the release of political prisoners, and have rarely adopted a position in international affairs that is different from that of the government. Significantly, whereas bishops counseled Cuban Catholics to leave the island in the early 1960s, they now encourage Cubans to stay and work for the development of their church and their country. It is a remarkable about-face, unprecedented in recent church history in Latin America. To appreciate the extent of this shift in policy, one would need to imagine something akin to Nicaragua's Cardinal Obando y Bravo condemning US funding of the contras, agreeing with the Sandinistas' attempts at social reform, and urging Nicaraguan Catholics to work within the socialist revolutionary process.
Lest it be thought that the church has been co-opted by the Communist Party of Cuba-bought off for a handful of permits to import a handful of automobiles or have a church roof repaired -- it is worth remembering that official church documents and pronouncements have also contained clear criticism of government policies. One can cite, for example, the criticism of current Cuban society issued by the vicar-general of Havana, the highly regarded Carlos Manuel de Céspedes. Speaking in November 1988 at a service to celebrate the second centenary of the birth of Cuban nationalist (and priest) Felix Varcla, de Céspedes pronounced a detailed critical analysis of the current situation in Cuba:
Our present situation is not an easy one, and indeed is full of ambiguity -- both in regard to its immediate future and subsequent developments.... We are going through a difficult economic period, and the predictions are not encouraging. The apparently monolithic socio-political structure here cannot conceal tensions, actual and potential divisions, and frustrations.... Of course these many complex problems cannot be resolved by simply ignoring them, or by repeating slogans and rhetorical phrases, or by proposing goals that meant something twenty years ago, but which now say little to the new generations -- and not much more to those who accepted them as valid two decades ago.(8)In the landmark church conference of 1986 known as the Encuentro Nacional Eclesial Cubano (ENEC), it was clear that the nearly 200 delegates meeting shared common concerns about some of Cuba's more pressing social problems. Although extremely complimentary about many of the social benefits that had resulted from the socialist revolution,(9) the extensive (more than 200 legal-size pages) final report also criticized several aspects of contemporary Cuban society. A certain moral stagnation was noted(10) in a manner that is particularly relevant in light of the tragic Ochoa Case, in which one of Cuba's war heroes, a top general, was connected to narcotics smuggling with Colombian drug interests in 1989; the decline of the family unit and personal relations -- largely because of the demands on members' time -- received particular attention;(11) and the continued discrimination against practicing Christians (who are still in effect denied membership in Cuba's Communist Party) was also noted.(12) The ENEC document also criticized the dogmatic educational system (and requested the opportunity to participate in Cuban schools)(13) and state control of the media.(14) Castro's negative reaction to the report -- "In other words, the years went by, they produced a light self-criticism, and that's all"(15) -- is rather unfair because the document clearly outlined, openly and objectively, the strengths and weaknesses of both the church and of Cuban society.It is clearly within the church itself, however, that truly remarkable developments have taken place. A series of visits to the United States by Cuban bishops (including a retreat for Hispanic priests conducted in 1984 by Havana's Archbishop Jaime Ortega), closely paralleled by various visits to Cuba in recent years of US church leaders (a trend initiated in 1985 by the visit of the president of the US Bishops' Conference, James Malone), helped bring Cuba within the mainstream of international church currents. Other North American church representatives, including Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston, who visited the island twice; Archbishop Patrick Flores of San Antonio; Monsignor Daniel Hoye (general secretary of the US Catholic Conference); Cardinal John O'Connor of New York; Archbishop Theodore McCarrick of Newark, New Jersey; and Archbishop James Hayes of Halifax (president of the Canadian Bishops' Conference), traveled to Cuba on official church business during this time. Also extremely important was the visit of Reverend Jesse Jackson, which helped to prepare the way for visits by higher-ranking Catholic clergy, Moreover, many other highly influential church leaders from around the globe have visited Cuba in recent years, often meeting with Fidel Castro. Among these have been Bishop Jean Vilnet (president of the French Episcopal Conference), Reverend Hans Peter Kolvenbach (superior general of the Jesuits), Archbishop Fiorenzo Angelini (co-president of the Pontifical Commission on Health), Bishop Karl Lehmann of Mainz (president of the West German Episcopal Conference), Cardinal Roger Etchegaray (president of the Pontifical Commission on Justice and Peace), Archbishop Adolfo Suárez (president of the Mexican Bishops' Conference), and Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who has opened four missions in Cuba.
Without any doubt, though, the single most important development within the Cuban church since 1959 has been the February of 1986 ENEC conference. The objective of this extraordinary meeting was to define the church's role in its unique, revolutionary reality, to provide a "Puebla in Cuba," as organizers noted. Cognizant of the church's traditional shortcomings (summed up concisely in what was termed a "worrisome severing of connections between religious practice and our reality"),(16) the church delegates also prepared an outline for the nature of the church they needed to develop. In his opening address, Monsignor Adolfo Rodríguez, president of the Cuban Episcopal Conference at that time, explained the goals church members had to so themselves. Above all, he emphasized, was the need for the church to insert itself into the "real world," and he therefore called for
a Church that wants to be a missionary Church, since otherwise it would be merely a sect heading directly for a hypocritical cult, it would cease to be the Church. . . . The Cuban Church has to be, of necessity, the Church of openness, of dialogue, the Church of participation, the Church with its hand extended and its doors opened.(17)At the level of church leadership there have also been some noteworthy changes. The old-guard members of the church hierarchy have gradually been replaced by a younger generation of bishops, educated in state schools, who are infinitely more attuned to the realities of revolutionary Cuba. (Conversely, most of the leaders of the Communist Party were educated in private Catholic schools.) The Vatican's role should of course not be underestimated. Since the departure of Vatican nuncio Zacchi in 1974, after more than a decade of extremely successful service at a critical time for the church, some extremely able nuncios have worked in Cuba. It is too early to say how the appointment in early 1989 of the new pronuncio, Faustino Sáinz, will affect the church, but it is clear that with his wide range of diplomatic experience and comparatively young age (he is in his early fifties), his influence will be great.(18)Church-State Relations Over the course of the past decade, remarkable changes in the church-state relationship have taken place. These of course are the result, in no small degree, of changes within the church itself. From sending seminarians to cut sugarcane alongside members of the Unión de Jóvenes Comunistas(19) to praising educational and health reforms enacted by the government, the church has clearly sought to establish that it in no way represents a threat to the Communist Party of Cuba or to the socialist revolution. At the same time, it is worth mentioning that in pursuing such a course, the church has also caught up with the magisterium of Vatican II and Medellín. If friction has occasionally occurred between leaders of the revolutionary government and the church, this perhaps stems more from the international context -- and its worrisome impact upon Cuba's future prospects -- than from any deliberate attempt by the church to seek to overturn the revolutionary process.
One must also recognize the efforts made by the revolutionary government to reciprocate these gestures of goodwill and in some cases to take diplomatic initiatives. The flurry of meetings between Fidel Castro and church leaders in the mid-1980s (after more than a decade of his studiously ignoring their requests to meet) are but one manifestation of an enlightened government policy toward the church. It is unfortunate that in recent years, these meetings have once again been dropped, apparently because of government disinterest. Also important is the extremely positive media treatment accorded the church in the government-controlled media. Compared with the early 1960s -- when an extremely negative approach to these "thugs in priest's dress" was commonplace -- it is now virtually impossible to encounter a negative interpretation.
Similarly, official pronouncements on the church in various party congresses have shifted in tone dramatically since the mid-1970s(20) as a distinctly more conciliatory tone has been steadily emphasized by the party leadership. Significantly, the "Convocatoria" for the 1991 Fourth Congress of the Communist Party of Cuba referred to the need to struggle for a more just and open society and to eradicate all vestiges of discrimination, including in religious matters.(21) Speaking to the Cuban Ecumenical Council two weeks later (in a significant meeting that was subsequently broadcast on state television), Fidel Castro again emphasized the need to end religious discrimination and hinted that Christians might soon be able to become members of the Communist Party -- both concepts being conditional, he explained on a position of allegiance from the Christian sector. The 1985 inauguration of an Office of Religious Affairs attached to the secretariat of the party's Central Committee under the able leadership of José Felipe Carneado was a further step in that direction .(22) Carneado is close to retirement, though, and much will hinge upon the approach of his successor.
Other important gestures are worth noting, among them the authorization in 1988 to import 30,000 Bibles (after 20,000 were authorized in 1986) and to import both a large printing press (funded largely from Germany and the United States) and a telex system to connect the seven dioceses with abroad. A further new development was the government's permission in 1988 to thirty priests and fifty religious to come to Cuba. Between 1985 and 1988, by comparison, only seven priests were authorized to enter Cuba. Indeed, Fidel Castro, who on several occasions has held up the dedication and commitment of women religious as a model for "socialist emulation," recently offered to grant as many as 10,000 visas to religious -- so much does he respect their contribution to society.
A final development -- in its own way as important as the 1986 ENEC -- should be noted, because in many ways the role played by President Fidel Castro has been the major catalyst for this change in climate. His excellent working relationship with Vatican envoy Zacchi from the early 1960s to 1974 set the tone for subsequent pronouncements on religion. In particular, the publication by the Council of State in 1985 of Fidel y la religión was a major event in signaling government determination to coexist fraternally with the church. Immediately a best-seller (the first runs of 200,000 copies were sold out, and now more than a million copies have been sold in Cuba alone), the book's central theme revolves around the compatibility of Christianity and Marxism.(23) Its publication signified the official imprimatur on the policy of dialogue that has evolved in recent years. Moreover, despite the occasional frustration Castro has expressed (as in his angry address to Brazilian Catholics), the dominant note has been one of seeking a constructive commitment with the Christian sector.
The Cuban Church in the 1990s In light of these recent developments, one question still remains to be answered: Precisely what type of church can one expect to encounter in the Cuba of the 1990s? From the perspective of the Vatican, the situation of the Cuban church must appear encouraging on various levels. From the perspective of what could be called the macrocosm -- as the pope expressed with great exuberance in Czechoslovakia -- it must be pleasing to see the fall of communist governments in Eastern Europe. Moreover, it must be a logical conclusion for the pontiff to hope (and to pray) that Cuba would follow a similar fate, bringing in a Western-style multiparty democracy, mixed economy, and increased role for the church.
On the level of the microcosm, there are many encouraging signals Or the church. In addition to the newly arrived clergy, there has been a noticeable increase in native vocations: More than half the clergy are young Cubans ordained since the revolution. Between 1970 and 1984, some 102 new priests were ordained. Unofficial figures given in November 1991 indicated 35 students at the Havana seminary, and another 10 seminarians joining. Although the numbers represent a decrease from prerevolutionary times, it is nevertheless clear that there is a solid, if relatively small, body of competent native clergy on whom the church's future rests. The average age of seminarians increased from 21.4 (1971) to 26.5 (1982), and many of them have brought a solid professional background to their theological studies. The low dropout rate of 15 percent must also be encouraging.(24) It is of course important to bear in mind that this has transpired in an atypically Latin American environment, where educational opportunities for young Cubans are extensive and where the chances for social mobility and advancement through church membership are limited indeed. Moreover, in light of traditional skepticism toward religious life and of Cuba's unique political context, the statistics represent a comparatively high level of priestly vocations.
With regard to the actual number of practicing Catholics, most reliable estimates indicate 1-2 percent, compared with an average of 5-8 percent in prerevolutionary times. Official church figures of nominal Catholics are highly inflated and need to be treated with great care. Popular religiosity, however -- particularly when seen in the various blends of Catholicism and Afro-Cuban religions -- has always been deeply rooted and continues to be an underappreciated phenomenon. Its influence can be seen in the annual procession to the San Lázaro shrine outside Havana, in which some 100,000 persons participate. The importance of this mestizaje (blending of popular religious influences) is extremely great, and although it was referred to briefly in the 1986 ENEC, it needs to be addressed more deeply by church leaders, who often tend to ignore the problem and seem notably wary of dealing with it.
The numbers of Cubans attending and participating in religious ceremonies has been increasing over the past fifteen years and particularly during the last decade. It is claimed, for example, that approximately 50 percent of Cubans request a religious ceremony to accompany burials at Havana's Colón cemetery -- a remarkable number in a society where religious education is strictly limited to the church buildings.(25) The most promising figure for church leaders, though, has to be the growth in baptism. The rates for those baptized actually doubled between 1979 and 26 1985 (when 15,000 people were baptized).(26) Unofficial figures given in fall 1991 indicate that this trend continued to grow in subsequent years. Moreover, compared with births nationwide, the percentage of infants baptized increased from 15-20 percent in the late 1970s to 25-30 percent in the mid-1980s, clearly an encouraging trend for church members.(27)
This growth of course has taken place in a society where being a practicing Christian is accompanied by traditional skepticism and some distrust. Institutionalized discrimination in certain professions continues to exist against Christians, membership in Cuba's only political party was denied practicing Christians until October 1991, and promulgation of the Christian message at schools and through popular media is not permitted. These factors should in no way be glossed over, because for thee decades active Christians were essentially denied access to educational and employment possibilities solely on account of their religious preferences. Unable to specialize in certain areas, forbidden membership in the only political party on the island, and clearly limited in regard to employment opportunities because they were regarded as some sort of security risk, Christians were -- despite Fidel Castro's consistent admonitions to party members -- victims of a widespread form of institutionalized discrimination. When seen in this light, the growth rates in religious practice are quite noteworthy.
As the economic difficulties and potential for political insecurity grow (particularly in light of the widespread political instability in the former Soviet Union), the church can expect to see an increase in its membership. The manifest economic problems facing the island and -- for the first time in three decades -- the shortage of food will also add to the growing social unrest. The church must be careful, however, to avoid being perceived as a bulwark for anticommunism and by extension as the de facto political opposition. This occurred in the ear, 1960s and was largely the reason why the church became marginalized from the sociopolitical mainstream. Indeed, although significant progress was made in developing a warming trend between the government and church hierarchies in the mid-l 980s, it is clear that in the 1989-1991 period this relationship cooled quite noticeably-a development that probably resulted in no small measure from the government feeling increasingly beleaguered.
As the effect of the stringent economic measures introduced by the government in the wake of the disintegration of the Soviet Union is felt in Cuba, and as the "special period" of shared adversity outlined by Fidel Castro is introduced, it clearly behooves the church to maintain a low political profile in this difficult period. To do otherwise would be to court political disaster, particularly because the government will be increasingly aware of where its allies are to be found. Indeed, it may well lie in the church's best interests to come down from its somewhat distant perch and declare its support for some of the government's attempts at reform, a policy the church largely overlooked in 1991.
The Cuban church, when compared with other Latin American bodies, is in many ways a fledgling institution; it has only recently discovered its identity and has learned to pursue its mission in a revolutionary socialist society with some difficulty. Much progress has been made in the past decade, however, particularly in terms of determining its specific goals in a unique setting. Without the context of the international crisis affecting Marxism-Leninism, it is quite likely that the church would have continued to experience slow, if unspectacular, growth in Cuba. Regardless of the political crisis in Cuba, the church will gradually build up a base of popular support and slowly develop the unquestionable popular religiosity that exists in Cuba. Yet the church needs to pursue its goals slowly and at all costs must avoid falling into the trap of believing itself to be more powerful and influential than it actually is. Its potential for growth is thus difficult to assess, largely because of political uncertainty throughout the world and of a range of variables on both national and international levels. The church needs to articulate its position on these difficulties more definitively and to make its voice heard because it basically refrained from commenting in 1990 and 1991.
What is quite clear is that Cuba is at the most difficult point of its national development since the missile crisis of October 1962.The "special period" to which Fidel Castro has consistently alluded will undoubtedly mean much hardship for the Cuban people; more depressing than anything Or Cubans is the set that there is no apparent end in sight. ("Opinion zero" -- the next stage should the "special period" fail -- must at this juncture appear a most disturbing development indeed.) What is abundantly dear in light of the demise of the Soviet Union and the continuing conflicts in the Commonwealth of Independent States is that Cuba is now totally alone in world politics. The Cuban revolutionary process is thus at a major crossroads, and it is uncertain which direction it will pursue.
Given the ongoing climate of uncertainty in Cuba and the sweeping social measures that will be undertaken by the government to keep the revolutionary process afloat, the church too is faced with difficult decisions. One possible course of action would be to support the joyful, triumphalist approach of John Paul II in singing the praises of the liberation of the East and the downfall of communism. Another possibility would be to continue its present course -- straddling an ever-widening chasm between support for the (revolutionary) status quo and an increasing frustration that it is not taken seriously enough. A third course -- of openly supporting the Castro government, and pledging church support for the revolutionary process -- will almost certainly be discounted, although a vocal minority of church members would certainly support such a step. Ironically, the mainstream Protestant churches, which are members of the Consejo Ecumenico Cubano, have consistently been more supportive of the revolutionary government and as a result have frequently been promoted by Fidel Castro as the models for Catholic leaders. Understandably, this is not appreciated by some Catholic clergy, who believe their Protestant counterparts are engaging in unbridled opportunism.
This chapter was originally intended as a piece that would assess the nature of the church awaiting Pope John Paul II on his planned trip to Cuba. The visit was discussed by Vatican and Cuban diplomats at some length, and despite a last-ditch attempt to save it, the trip is clearly now postponed indefinitely. This unfortunate development provides abundant evidence of the intransigence to be found on both sides of the ideological divide. The depths of the crisis affecting Cuba in the wake of the Soviet Union's awesome difficulties, combined with a lack of sensitivity on the part of Rome, make the trip an unlikely development for the foreseeable future-until the crisis is resolved in some fashion. There are at present simply too many uncertainties on the political chessboard for either side to force the issue of a papal visit a this time; as a result, procrastination would appear to benefit both protagonists.
Yet the pope will, sooner or later, arrive in Cuba. This of course begs the question of how the pontiff's visit will impact both the church and the body politic of Cuba. The record shows that in the wake of the fanfare and show-business nature of John Paul II's frequent international sorties, comparatively little changes: There is neither generally any major upsurge in religious conversions nor any massive return to the faith of lapsed Catholics, for example. This will probably be the case in Cuba; John Paul II and Fidel Castro -- both of them consummate world-class political leaders -- are fully aware of the potential and limitations for organized religion there. A slow, steady growth in religious life will of course continue (particularly in light of government support and church initiatives), the outcome of the church's consistent efforts to come to terms with its unique reality and to seek to develop within that reality. Should economic difficulties continue to increase, however, it is more than likely that a significant -- albeit somewhat superficial -- growth in religious interest will occur. Already in fall 1991 the increased number of crosses and crucifixes being worn by people in Havana was noticeable.
Within the context of revolutionary Cuba, then, it is unfortunate that the visit of John Paul will not be made for the foreseeable future. This is a disturbing development because the trip would have helped to solidify the gains made by the church (not without much soul-searching and some difficulty) over the past three decades. Nevertheless, the future for this unique church remains bright, in no small measure because it has steadily come to appreciate more practically its own limitations and potential for growth. It is therefore all the sadder that the pope's visit, which would have brought spiritual joy to many and a clear identity resulting from the necessary government recognition, was postponed. Speaking in July 1989, Carlos Manuel de Céspedes, vicar-general of Havana, emphasized that the visit of a statesman of the caliber of the pope should have benefits for all Cubans: "I think it will be a positive visit for all, leading to greater unity and understanding, a step towards dialogue to help resolve any differing views and rejecting all forms of confrontation and rifts among the people."(28)
That "greater unity and understanding" will have to wait, however, for happier times. The church will continue its process of slow but steady growth -- and the gradual steps "taken in the right direction" (Archbishop Ortega's phrase noted at the beginning of the chapter) will thus continue for many more years -- as the Cuban church rejoins the mainstream of the Latin American church and in so doing discovers its true mission.
Notes The author gratefully recognizes the advice provided him by Carlos Manuel de Céspedes, vicar-general of Havana, and by Thomas Quigley, Department of Social Development and World Peace of the US Catholic Conference. There are areas of basic disagreement between the author and these two church representatives, yet their contribution and interpretation have been much appreciated and have been the source of a more rigorous questioning. Their assistance is gratefully acknowledged.
All translations from the Spanish are by the author, who assumes full responsibility for their accuracy.
1. See Mireya Castañeda, "Cuba's Seven Bishops Go to Rome," Granma Weekly, August 21,1988, p. 5.
2. See "Respuesta de Fidel en torno a la posibilidad de que los creyentes puedan ingresar al partido," Granma Resumen Semanal, March 25,1990, p. 11.
3. See Clyde Haberman, "Pope, on SweepThrough Prague, Sees a United Europe," New York Times, April 22, 1990. This might be a somewhat simplistic interpretation of the pope's talk. For the complete text, see "Overcoming the Tower of Babel," Origins, vol.19, no. 48 (May 3,1990), pp. 797-799.
4. See John M. Kirk, "Ano el volcán: La iglesia en la Cuba prerevolucionaria," Revista Latinoamericana de Teologia, año V, 13 (April 1988), pp. 67-84; and Kirk, Between God and the Party: Religion and Politics in Revolutionary Cuba (Gainesville: University Presses of Florida, 1989), ch. 2.
5. See "Resumen de las respuestas del episcopado de Cuba al cuestionario de la S. Congregación Consitorial para la Conferencia de Latinoamérica en Río de Janeiro," March 30,1955, Havana, mimeo, p. 8.
6. See Kirk, "Ante el volcán," pp. 74-80; and Mateo Jover's insightful analysis, "The Church," in Carmelo Mesa-Lago, ed., Revolutionary Change in Cuba (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1974), pp. 399-426. Two well-publicized studies undertaken in 1954 and 1957 by the Agrupación Católica Universitaria in Cuba pointed out substantial differences between rural and urban Catholics. In the first survey, for instance, although 72.5 percent of those interviewed claimed to be Catholic, in the countryside this fell to 52 percent (there, 41 percent claimed indifference to any religious affiliation). The 1957 survey -- taken in the countryside -- confirmed these impressions; indeed, some 53 percent claimed they had never even seen a priest. See Kirk, Between God and the Party, pp. 45-47.
7. In summer 1985, for example, at a meeting held in Havana to discuss international debt issues, more than 100 religious figures from Cuba (including representatives of the Cuban Episcopal Conference) and abroad participated.
8. See his sermon, reproduced in La religión en Cuba, no. 14 (1988), pp. 13-14.
9. Among the benefits noted in the report were the following items:
See the Documento final, Encuentro Nacional Eclesial Cubano (Havana: Conferencia Episcopal Cubana, 1986), pp. 118-119.
- Socialist society has taught us to:
- -possess a greater appreciation of our fellow humans;
- -acquire a greater awareness of the social dimension of sin, especially with regards to different forms of injustice and inequality (such as racial and economic). It has taught us how to give out of a sense of justice, when before we gave because of charity;
- -better appreciate the role of labor, not only as a means of production, but also as a means of developing oneself;
- -understand the need for structural change in order to bring about a better distribution of wealth and services such as education and health care;
- -to give more of oneself in order to show solidarity with others.
15. See "Respuesta de Fidel," p. 11.
18. When interviewed by Enrique López Oliva in early 1989, he summarized the Cuban church as "a Church that is alive, and would like to contribute more, with all its members serving the common good, to the social fabric of the nation ... a Church that loves this country and wants to collaborate in its progress." La religión en Cuba, año 2, no. 3 (March 1989), pp. 7-8.
19. It is significant that the Cuban media have treated these developments so favorably. See, for instance, the articles in Granma Weekly Review by Carlos Cabrera, "In Praise of Work," July 17,1988, p. 3; and by Milagros Oliva, "Catholic Seminary Students Help Build Polyclinic," August 6,1989, p. 7.
20. For a further analysis of this development, see Kirk, Between God and the Party, pp. 135-137, 155-157.
21. The text of that address contained the following:
In order to promote these objectives, the Party has to be a consistent, enlightened ally in the struggle to weed out the remains of inequality and discrimination for reasons of sex, gender, or any other kind. This means, among other matters, the need for sincere communication with social sectors possessing specific interests -- among them those believers with religious credos who share our life and assume our project in favor of social justice and meaningful development -- even though in some matters their ideology may be different from ours.See the Convocatoria, "El futuro de nuestra patria será un eterno baraguá!" Granma, March 16, 1990, p. 5.
22. French religious journalist Stanislas Maillard has also noted recently that in each province, offices directly responsible to provincial party leaders will be set up with the specific obligation to evaluate claims concerning religious discrimination by practicing Christians. See Stanislas Maillard, "La fin de l'exil intérieure," in Maurice Lemoine, ed, Cuba: 30 Año de Révolution (Paris: Autrement Revue, 1990), p. 124.
23. The following is an example:
From a strictly political viewpoint ... I think that one can be both a Marxist and a Christian, and work together with the Marxist Communist to change the world. The important facet of both sets of beliefs is that we all seek to suppress the exploitation of workers by their fellow human beings, and that we all struggle for a just distribution of social wealth, as well as the provision of equality, fraternity, and dignity for all people.Frei Betto, Fidel y la religión (Havana: Consejo de Estado, 1985), p. 333.24. José Fé1ix Pérez Ricra, "Un signe d'espérance: La relève sacerdotale et religieuse," Missions Etrangères, vol. 21, no. 7 (February 1984), pp. 19-20. It has proved difficult to obtain more updated figures, although it is generally admitted that the level of religious vocations in Cuba has slowly decreased in the last five years.
25. Interview with Archbishop Jaime Ortega Alamino, Havana, January 1985.
26. Stanislas Maillard notes similar figures: from 7,000 for all of Cuba in 1976 to 20,000 in Havana alone in 1986, most of whom -- he claims -- were between twenty and thirty years of age. See Maillard, "La fin de l'exil," p. 129.
27. Jorge I. Domínguez, "International and National Aspects of the Experience of the Roman Catholic Church in Cuba," mimeo, May 1987, p. 16.
28. See Gabriel Molina, "The Popes Have Never Encouraged Confrontation with Cuba," Granma Weekly Review, July 9, 1989, p. 4.
INDEX