Book Review: Exposing the Real Che Guevara, Humberto Fontova

A promising concept that suffers under the weight of the author’s prejudices

Fontova has a massive axe to grind. He clearly despises Che, Castro, American liberals, JFK, French intellectuals, Hollywood directors and, well, anyone who would portray the Cuban communist regime in a positive light. Being a Cuban exile with firsthand experience of the regime’s malfeasance, Fontova is probably justified in holding these positions. However in a book that purports to be an expose of history’s far-too-rosy depiction of Che Guevara, his complete lack of objectivity does this book no favours.

What could have been a compelling condemnation of how historians, journalists and contemporary thinkers have turned Che into a saint in spite of the truth, is instead an uncessarily biased diatribe on the ills of Che and communist Cuba. Fontova spares no opportunity to snidely ridicule Che wherever possible and flatly refuses to concede that Che may actually have had any talents. Instead, he insists that Che was a belligerent, bumbling, cowardly idiot with a penchant for merciless executions and no redeeming qualities whatsoever. This may be true, but it hardly explains how Che managed to go from unknown rebel to the top of Cuban politics (and worldwide fame / infamy). An exploration of Che the cunning statesman, dirty politician, obsequious schmoozer or whatever may be the case, would have been far more rewarding.

This book isn’t particularly well written either. The prose is stilted, at times lacks coherence and is haphazardly organised. Not to mention the use of the same quotes over and over again (the one from Time magazine was used more times than I can remember). Fontova is also a master at employing an obtuse turn of phrase. Exhibit A – the author talking about Cuban Communist Party “toadies” – “Special targets [of the toadies] were those who had somehow dissed them in the days prior to the glorious revolution, with its meteoric promotions of such worthies [sic] as themselves into positions of authority and eminence”. And this is by no means an isolated (or the most egregious) example.

Fontova barely bothers to follow up objective references – his primary sources are almost exclusively all Cuban exiles who have as large an axe to grind as Fontova himself. An attempt at bringing together other primary and secondary sources (such as perhaps declassified CIA files, Batista-era public records, etc) would have made his argument more convincing and reduced the bias. To make matters worse, the book is only intermittently referenced. The choice of which passages to reference is also somewhat baffling. A lengthy paragraph on Havana’s birds feasting on the flesh of the recently executed is given a citation. But on the same page, there is a quote from a Human Rights Commission report about Cuba extracting blood from condemned prisoners to sell on the open market, which Fontova obviously feels does not deserve a reference. This potluck approach to citations has the effect of making the whole book feel somewhat dubious and apocryphal.

Furthermore, it appears as if the book’s editor was just as lazy as Fontova. At one point in the book, there is mention of Castro’s 41,000 men outnumbering the 1,400 brave Cuban patriots at the Bay of Pigs invasion. The very next page, Castro’s army has inexplicably risen to 51,000. I wouldn’t at all be surprised to learn that Fontova is partial to hyperbole, but frankly, the editor should have spotted this before the book went to print.

In conclusion, this book has an intriguing premise and could be thoroughly convincing in the right hands, but Fontova just doesn’t have these hands. “Exposing the Real Che Guevara” reads like the rantings of a soapbox lunatic – passionate, one-eyed, but ultimately deserves to be ignored. The concept is promising, but there are just too many flaws to rescue this trainwreck.

Rating: 3 out of 10

Chemical Love Stories – Part 1

The deserted street leading up to the apartment block was beginning to fill up with billowing leaves. He was crying but wasn’t sure why it started. Shan reached the steps to the main foyer just as the wind picked up in strength. He’d choked back the tears by then, or the wind had sheared them off his face. It wasn’t too important – the vague and uneasy feeling inside him still lingered.

The doors slid open as he entered in the security code, and he headed up the staircase to the apartment. Kira would be waiting… the snapshot of her face in his mind involuntarily triggered something in him, and he bounded up the remaining steps to the fourth floor.

The apartment door was already open. Stepping into the darkened room, Shan felt familiar hands snake out and pull him into an embrace.

—————————–

They looked at each other silently across the dinner table. Her animated eyes glimmered, but all the words had been exhausted. In truth there hadn’t been many words to begin with.

“How was your day?” she asked. Only the perfunctory remained.

There was silence.

“It was alright” he eventually mumbled, “Yours?”

“Not bad” came the automatic reply.

More silence. Shan glanced down at his plate and his half-eaten food.

“Kira, I think we should…” his voice trailed off, coming back almost inaudibly moments later, “I don’t think this is going to work….”

Kira stared at him intently, but his gaze never wavered from the plate. She knew that no other words were necessary, but wanted them anyway. When they didn’t come, she sighed,

“Sure okay” she knew the deal, even understood at a gut level that he was right. There was no point fighting it.

Shan stood up slowly, stepped away and tucked his chair back under the table. He made his way wordlessly to the doorway, picked up his backpack and opened the door. He stood there for a moment, then said over his shoulder,

“I’ll get my things later.”

He threw a quick glance at Kira sitting silently at the table. Her expression was that of acceptance, which came as a slight surprise. Looking back, Shan didn’t know why he’d expected anything else.

——————————–

The staff lunchroom was decorated like all the other classrooms. Shan suspected it was converted from one. It was drab of course, the school never really did do anything with much panache. Shan sipped his coffee and scanned the newspaper commercials. It was all he could do to keep his mind busy. After all, the mind at rest is a dreadfully nostalgic one. A mug dropped down onto the coffee table next to him and a voice followed,

“Do you ever teach? I swear I always see you in here.”

Shan looked up.

“Oh hi Heather, how are you?”

Heather was the personal assistant to the principal. He was inclined to do his own clerical work so she was more or less free to wander around the staff rooms most of the day. It was a wonder they didn’t fire her after all these years; she really didn’t have much to do. Shan had always thought they had a clandestine relationship, but in plain view, they ostensibly disliked each other.

“Fine I suppose,” she replied “But the real question is – whats happening with you? I overhead Geoff talking about you today… and not in a good way either.” She was always the provocateur and a good one at that, the comment completely dispelled Shan from his daydream.

“Yeah? What was he saying?”

“Well…” she sat down next to him, “One of the kids must’ve said something, because apparently you’ve been away in the clouds.”

Shan was astonished, he hadn’t seen that one coming.

“I’ve been a bit under the weather lately you know, I should have taken a few days…”

Heather held up her hand and made an exaggerated gesture at ignoring him, “Shan, you don’t need to lie to me. Tell me what’s going on, is it Kira?”

He could never work out how she knew so much about the relationships of the staff or why she even cared, but he figured it was just her hobby. He couldn’t even remember telling her about Kira.

“Listen, I don’t really want to get into this.” he muttered.

Heather pressed a little closer, she’d made a profession out of gleaning information from people who didn’t want to talk. It was the only thing that kept her job interesting.

“Hey I’m just trying to help out here. I’m sure you don’t want to lose your job as well”

“I broke up with her…”

She didn’t reply and the sentence hung in the air unfinished. She always felt that there was a justification around the corner to fill incomplete silences like these.

“I don’t love her.” Shan continued, “For that matter, I don’t think she loves me either. It was just all so… well… hollow”

“Then why were you together for so long?”

Shan shrugged. “Convenience I suppose.” he offered half heartedly.

At that moment, there was a sense of tension in his voice and Heather noticed it immediately. She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned in closer.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I can tell there’s something else bothering you.”, she said softly.

Shan looked at her. Her smug, knowing smile was beginning to irritate him, but he thought what the hell, he needed to unload his thoughts. She was harmless after all.

“Do you know what Oxytone is?”

Heather gasped, “You didn’t!! Did you?”

He nodded. She pegged him with a string of questions, “When did you do it? Where did you even get it from? Why?” The last question had quite an absurd tone, somewhere between incredulity and disapproval. For some reason, Shan almost laughed.

“The relationship was on the rocks… this was probably about two years ago.” he had composed himself and spoke slowly, “A mutual friend of ours offered to help. He had something that would make it all better, a love potion he called it. Except they were pills.”

“This was before Oxytone had gotten any attention in the media, so I hadn’t heard of it. We both thought there was nothing to lose. Our friend even offered to pay for it.”

“At first it was great. We were infatuated with each other, it was like the honeymoon period all over again. But after a couple months, it became obvious to both of us that it was all superficial; there was nothing deeper.”

“I don’t love Kira. I don’t even like her, but its like I’m physically obsessed with her. The slightest thought makes me want to see her face. It’s killing me Heather.”

Shan slumped his head disconsolately as he finished. Heather gently rubbed his shoulder.

“You’ll be alright”, that was all the consolation she could think of.

He looked up at her with a mirthless smile, “They say the effects last a lifetime.”

——————————–

It’d been three weeks since he’d spoken to Heather, and it wasn’t getting any easier. He’d developed an increasingly haggard appearance, and had taken a leave of absence at the insistence of the principal. There wasn’t a hint of genuine concern for Shan, the principal was simply protecting the image of the school, and he had bluntly said as much.

“We can’t have a teacher who looks like a homeless man. It would set the wrong example for the kids. They look up to us, Shan. They are aspirational, and we certainly want them to aspire to great things. I understand that you are going through a rough period, Heather told me you’ve recently split with your partner. I sympathise with you, but you must understand that my obligations are to the children, first and foremost…”

Shan had sat silently through the principal’s monologue. There was no stopping the man when he was pounding out the rhetoric. He sounded like an automatic typewriter, metronomically punching out the words without any change in rhythm or tone. When he had finished, Shan looked at him curiously for a moment, nodded with as much earnestness as he could muster, then left without a word.

Since then, he had alternated between walking the streets around his new flat, and watching daytime television. His friends had provided no respite from his obssessive thoughts, despite their best efforts at distraction. They were quick in urging him to pursue other women, but he couldn’t summon the interest. She was all he wanted, but consciously, he didn’t want her at all.

Shan’s conflict in desire was beginning to manifest in physical pain. He was struck with a lingering virus that confined him to his sofa, to a prison of television. In the end, he just slept the day away. But still he thought of nothing except Kira.

——————————–

Shan stood on the fourth floor in front of the apartment door. He’d been there for several minutes, stationary, unable to knock on the door, or leave. He felt an odd sensation, somewhere between anticipation and regret, but the pain had vanished.

The door creaked open, and Kira stood holding the handle, dressed like she was about to go out. She appeared emaciated, and her eyes had the sunken look of a drug addict. She stood still in the doorway with a wry grin.

“Hi, you look like shit.”

“Thanks”, he managed a chuckle, “You about to go someplace?”

“I was just about to look for you.

The Road to Serfdom

Friedrich von Hayek’s book “The Road to Serfdom” is one hell of a repetitive book, though the central argument (which is relentlessly drilled into the head) is a compelling one. Restated briefly – essentially all collective systems / planned economies will end in totalitarianism and is an assault on individual liberty, despite the best intentions of the planners.

This has been discussed at length by others, however Hayek’s arguments are especially convincing, eg. the master controller of a centrally planned economy has practically unlimited powers, and while he may have the best of intentions, he will not work in the best interests of EVERYONE. It will inevitably come to a point where only the sycophants and cronies will be looked after (at the expense of everyone else).

Ayn Rand touched on the same thing – Atlas Shrugged was among other things an overly long condemnation of cronyism and the “power of pull”.

What is particularly interesting about this book is Hayek’s cautionary discussions on the abuses of power, which have a somewhat contemporary resonance in the way modern politics is conducted. Hayek probably never intended it, but his ideas have been co-opted for less than noble ends. Two examples:

On propaganda (p221) – “The first prerequisite for success in propaganda directed to other people is the proud acknowledgement of the characteristic values and distinguishing traits for which the country attempting it is known to the other peoples.”

On values and words (p161) – “The most effective way of making people accept the validity of the values they are to serve is to persuade them that they are really the same as those which they, or at least the best among them, have always held, but which were not properly understood or recognised before. … And the most efficient technique to this end is to use the old words but change their meaning.”

Linguists George Lakoff and Geoff Nunberg have written extensively about how innocuous words have been framed in new ways so as to change their meaning, eg. words like family values, freedom, class, liberty, etc. Orwell explored this issue in his writings as well, though Hayek did precede him.

Contrasts

I’ve walked on the edge of light and shadow
Where the ceiling surface is bare
Metal and concrete and grey speckled paint
And hands that made them long forgotten

The calmness abandons me
As conscious minds and conscious feeling
Erase the perception of what it was
To be nurtured by ghosts
That breathe a sigh
When we turn away from them