Fidel Castro is dead. Finally. For years, there were rumors regarding the Cuban leader’s declining health. His public appearances had become scarce since he transferred power to his brother Raúl in 2006. But late last Friday, news broke that the 90-year-old had passed away.
Word of his death quickly spread around the world. This particular news was welcomed with jubilation in my hometown of Miami, which has a considerable Cuban population. People danced in the streets. They waved the Cuban flag, played salsa music and banged pots and pans. In my neighborhood, fireworks thundered in the night sky.
It was a celebration more than a half-century in the making, one that’s been on hold since the dictator assumed power in Cuba in 1959.
Yet while Castro’s death reverberated through national headlines, the rest of the country did not echo the same passionate sentiments as my city, albeit through no inherent fault of their own. To most of America and the world, Cuba is nothing but a small, economically oppressed Caribbean island that is irrelevant on the global stage. But Miami is only 228 miles from Havana. That’s more than 100 miles closer than it is to Gainesville.
According to The Economist, there were 1.2 million Cuban-Americans living in the Miami metropolitan area as of 2012. A few of them are old enough to remember a time before Castro. Many left behind painful memories, personal belongings and family members in order to escape oppression and build a better life in South Florida. Their influence on the city’s thriving and diverse cultural identity cannot be understated.
I couldn’t help but think of these people as I read press releases from world leaders, including President Obama, in the wake of Castro’s death. The president issued a statement the following day. It was 226 words. But it might as well have been zero. Obama’s statement on Castro was hollow and lacking empathy, dull and uninspired.
Now, I’ve heard a lot of criticism over the last few days incorrectly arguing that his remarks praised Castro. They didn’t. Obama’s words were not as eye-opening as those from Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, who painted a rosy and romantic portrait of Castro by calling him a “remarkable leader,” and stating, “While a controversial figure, both Mr. Castro’s supporters and detractors recognized his tremendous dedication and love for the Cuban people who had a deep and lasting affection for ‘el Comandante.’”
No, Obama didn’t say anything like that. In fact, he didn’t really say much of anything at all. And that’s the problem. He wrote of his sympathy for the Cuban people and the common connections between our countries, which will hopefully lead to an improved relationship in the future. That’s fine. But as a president who prides himself on fighting for social justice, Obama had an opportunity to condemn Castro for what he truly was: a tyrant; someone who jailed those who dared to oppose him, murdered his own people and allowed Cuba to deteriorate to economic ruin.
Instead, when speaking of Castro’s legacy, he said, “History will record and judge the enormous impact of this singular figure on the people and world around him.” He took a soft stance on an issue that didn’t require neutrality.
I can’t imagine the kind of oppression that made people feel that boarding a makeshift raft constructed of old tires and inner tubes was the only way out. There was no guarantee they would make it to America. They risked imprisonment if they were captured, and death if they weren’t. All of this resulted from the rule of one man.
Obama failed to denounce the despotism and dictatorship that has caused countless human rights violations. And in doing this, he failed to acknowledge the suffering of an entire group of people.
Brian Lee is a UF English senior. His column appears on Thursdays.
