Businessmen from Canada and Europe have spent years in Cuban prisons under questionable charges. British businessman Stephen Purvis spent 15 months in a Cuban prison and in a letter to the Economist in 2013 raised some points that should concern investors.
I spent time with a number of foreign businessmen arrested during 2011 and 2012 from a variety of countries, although representatives from Brazil, Venezuela and China were conspicuous in the absence. Very few of my fellow sufferers have been reported in the press and there are many more in the system than is widely known. As they are all still either waiting for charges, trial or sentencing they will certainly not be talking to the press. Whilst a few of them are being charged with corruption many are not and the accusations range from sabotage, damage to the economy, tax avoidance and illegal economic activity. It is absolutely clear that the war against corruption may be a convenient political banner to hide behind and one that foreign governments and press will support. But the reasons for actively and aggressively pursuing foreign business are far more complicated. Why for example is the representative of Ericsson in jail for exactly the same activities as their Chinese competitor who is not? Why for example was one senior European engineer invited back to discuss a potential new project only to be arrested for paying technical workers five years ago when he was a temporary resident in Cuba?
This is not a story that the Associated Press, Reuters, and other news agencies in Havana will follow closely because the Cuban government has ejected other journalists, and news bureaus who did. The Chicago Tribune’s Gary Marx, the BBC’s Stephen Gibbs and Cesar Gonzalez-Calero of Mexico’s El Universal were all expelled in 2007 from Cuba for offering reporting, that although bending over backwards not to offend, still ran afoul of government censors. However, there is a story they did cover, but abruptly stopped.
The Council on Hemispheric Affairs (COHA) in their December 12, 2016 article, “Cuba, a Model of Sustainable Agriculture Towards Global Food Security,” blamed the lack of commerce in agricultural machinery on U.S. sanctions, but failed to mention Havana rejecting the opening of a tractor factory in November 2016.
President Obama shakes hands with Saul Berenthal at the Entrepreneurship Summit at La Cervecería in Havana, Cuba, on 3/21/16. Credit: Official White House Photo by Pete Souza.
In mid-February 2016, the Obama administration gave “its approval to the first American factory in Cuba in more than 50 years” and ABC News reported that “the move appears to have gained the support of the Cuban government as well.” Official communist publications, Granma and Juventud Rebelde, published stories praising the initiative. The US company, Cleber LLC, the first company with 100% North American capital, was going to set up operations in Mariel to assemble Oggún tractors, designed for small farmers to make land in Cuba more productive. Ten months later in November 2016 Havana said no.
It turned out that one of the owners of the company that would set up the factory, Saul Berenthal, was a Cuban American, and in his enthusiasm, Mr. Berenthal had reclaimed his Cuban citizenship. This exposed the reality of the Castro regime’s internal blockade. Average Cubans living on the island are not allowed to make large investments into businesses, and this led to the deal being rejected.
The first thing I want to say is that it is incredible we had to reach this point—this point of social misery, of sheer exhaustion in every sense, and of the destruction of the economic fabric—before measures were approved that had been demanded for decades, not just by economists and experts, but by the people themselves.A few years ago, simply mentioning some of these reforms and measures as a possibility could land you in jail.So, with their backs against the wall and under pressure from Washington—because all of this is happening due to pressure from the United States—they have finally authorized this package of measures, which I would describe as late—very late—insufficient, and limited.These are measures that exist entirely within the economic realm; there is no talk of political reform. There is no mention of amnesty for political prisoners, nor of allowing political forces other than the Communist Party, which currently holds a monopoly. That monopoly is the only legally permitted political organization in the country. There is no progress being made on that front.And to top it all off, the people pushing for this economic reform are the very same ones who led Cuba to disaster; they are the same ones who, until recently, denied that these measures were even necessary.When you read the list of liberalizations, you realize the extent—the layers upon layers—of absurd prohibitions under which we Cubans have lived for decades.It is clear evidence that the blockade—the *real* blockade—is *them*. Let me just get my bearings toward Revolution Square, which is over this way. Anyway, another shortcoming I see is that there is no discussion of how the major problems we face right now—such as the energy crisis—will be solved in the short, or very short, term.Is there anything—anything at all—in the works? Anything planned so we can enjoy at least a little energy? Anything foreseen to allow us to connect to the internet and drive the nation’s technological and economic development—something no country can achieve in the 21st century without access to the global network? These are all questions one asks regarding the glaring omissions in this reform package. Personally, I do not believe they have the capacity or efficiency—they have proven this—to carry out these measures.They cannot shake off their desire for control and implement each of these liberalizing steps—which, I reiterate, remain insufficient for everything the nation needs. Yet, even so, I do not think they will succeed.These measures come too late. The “national patient” is not merely in intensive care; one foot is already in the grave. Furthermore, they come without any guarantee or commitment to irreversibility. They do not state that this is permanent or that there is no turning back; instead, they keep talking about maintaining the model, about continuity, and framing these as measures they were forced to adopt given the circumstances.You know what those circumstances are: pressure from Washington.Pressure from us citizens, opposition groups, activists, and experts—yet they wouldn’t listen.It took the White House backing the Cuban regime into a corner to force them to move. So, forget about that rhetoric regarding sovereignty.Another issue—not among the omissions, but rather something that should concern us—is that this opens the door to crony capitalism. It paves the way for carving up what little remains of the national pie as state-run socialist enterprises are converted into commercial entities with private capital. They will likely stage something akin to the Sandinista “piñata,” tearing apart and dismantling the little that remains of the nation’s resources and productive infrastructure.That is deeply concerning. We ought to demand transparency, but of course, without political reform, what kind of transparency can there really be?It is clear that they are insulating themselves so that no one points the finger at them or levels accusations, all so they can greedily carve up what remains—what is left of this nation.Well, we will have to keep a close watch, but the economic reform package looks like an attempt to make us believe they have changed the cage, when in reality, they have reinforced the bars.Thank you for listening.
Economist on the regime’s alleged reforms: “There is little reason to view them with optimism.”
“For now, this looks like a belated, incomplete, and conditional opening,” he concluded. “I do not think there is much they can do to significantly improve the lives of Cubans while keeping intact the political and economic monopoly that caused the crisis.”
By ADNCUBA
Cuban dictator Miguel Díaz-Canel’s decision to create an advisory group—comprising both pro-government economists and experts who have long advocated for reforms from within academic circles and independent media—has raised alarms about a new attempt by Havana to cling to power. However, for economist Carlos Martínez, author of the *Cubanomics* newsletter, there is little reason to assume these announcements will lead to profound or sustainable changes.
Notable among the specialists convened are Omar Everleny Pérez Villanueva, Juan Triana Cordoví, and Julio Carranza Valdés—economists who have long championed greater economic openness, more room for the private sector, and a reduction in state-imposed barriers. Rounding out the group are former Minister of Economy José Luis Rodríguez García and the president of the National Association of Economists and Accountants (ANEC), José Carlos del Toro Ríos.
In exclusive statements to ADN Cuba, Martínez noted that while the announcement caught many observers—himself included—off guard, the lack of concrete details makes it impossible to seriously assess the scope of the measures.
“Although the announcement of these quasi-market reforms took many by surprise, myself included, I believe there is little reason to view them with optimism,” he maintained.
**Broad announcements and few certainties**
According to Martínez, the regime has so far only outlined general ideas regarding potential changes: greater autonomy for municipalities and state-owned enterprises, modifications to the foreign exchange market, more space for MSMEs, investment from the diaspora, the easing of foreign trade restrictions, and new measures to incentivize agricultural production.
However, he believes the most important details remain unknown.
“It all sounds significant, but the essentials are still unknown. We still need to know how it will be implemented, what specific rules will be approved, what guarantees will be in place, and just how much real control the State is willing to relinquish,” he pointed out. In his view, even the way the announcements were presented reflects improvisation and a sense of urgency.
“This looks like a desperate, improvised attempt,” he stated. Unlike previous processes—such as the *Tarea Ordenamiento* (Economic Reordering Task), which at least had a defined roadmap—Martínez believes Havana is now reacting under pressure caused by blackouts and the general deterioration of living conditions on the island.
The economist noted that many of the announced measures have long been recommended by Cuban specialists both inside and outside the country.
Among these, he cited the liberalization of the agricultural sector, the reduction of barriers to acquiring inputs, and the possibility for producers to freely sell their harvests at prices that incentivize production.
“Now there is talk of idle land, input markets, foreign currency accounts, and greater autonomy for producers. The obvious question is why it took reaching this level of economic destruction to admit something so basic,” he questioned.
Martínez also expressed skepticism regarding the potential impact of the announced changes for state-owned enterprises.
The government has proposed granting them greater decision-making power over wages, profits, suppliers, customers, imports, and exports, as well as streamlining bureaucratic structures and even reorganizing ministries.
However, the economist believes these measures come too late and lack guarantees of permanence.
“Let’s put it this way: if some of these measures had been implemented ten years ago, the country’s situation might be better. Implementing them now—with companies stripped of capital, and a lack of fuel, inputs, and confidence—greatly diminishes their potential impact,” he warned.
Betting on the diaspora they once dismissed
One of the most notable announcements was the regime’s stated intention to facilitate investment by Cubans living abroad.
Martínez considers it unlikely that this proposal will inspire confidence among potential investors, given the Cuban state’s track record. “I don’t know many businesspeople willing to stick their necks out in that hornet’s nest, knowing the Cuban regime’s track record of breaking promises, changing the rules, confiscating property, and subordinating the justice system to political power,” he stated.
In his view, the initiative also appears aimed at signaling openness to international players, including the U.S. administration.
The notable absentee: GAESA
For Martínez, one of the most revealing aspects of the announcements is what they leave out. The economist highlighted the absence of any reference to GAESA, the military conglomerate that controls vast sectors of the Cuban economy and a significant portion of the country’s main sources of foreign currency.
“Where is GAESA?” he asked. “That military-business behemoth controls key channels of foreign exchange, tourism, trade, infrastructure, and many of the economy’s most profitable sectors.”
In his view, any serious attempt at economic opening should begin by dismantling the monopolies and privileges that sustain that corporate network.
Unresolved structural problems
Martínez also believes that the announced reforms fail to address some of the Cuban economy’s major structural problems. Among these, he cited the lack of credible monetary institutions, the currency exchange crisis, persistent fiscal deficits, and the depreciation of the national currency.
“Cuba lacks conventional, credible central banking mechanisms to tackle inflation. The foreign exchange market remains broken,” he noted.
He explained that as long as these problems remain unresolved, measures such as greater business autonomy or new investment incentives will have limited impact.
While acknowledging that the announcements could be seen as an implicit admission that previous policies failed, Martínez insists that the true yardstick for evaluating any reform will be its implementation and results.
“If we are to evaluate these reforms, we must do so based on their consequences rather than their intentions,” he stated.
The economist recalled that, for decades, the regime has announced processes of “rectification,” “updating,” and partial openings during times of crisis, only to reverse many of those changes once it regained some room to maneuver.
“For now, this looks like a belated, incomplete, and conditional opening,” he concluded. “I don’t think there is much they can do to significantly improve the lives of Cubans as long as they keep intact the political and economic monopoly that created the crisis.”
The embargo and internal obstacles
Martínez also challenged the official narrative that attributes Cuba’s economic crisis primarily to the U.S. embargo. As he explained, the most recent academic research suggests that sanctions account for between 3 and 8 percent of the island’s poor economic growth, but they are far from being the primary cause of its decline.
Based on this data, the economist concludes that the greatest share of responsibility lies with the economic model implemented by the regime itself.
“In other words, the embargo comes at a cost, but it does not appear to be the main explanation. Most of the economic lag is attributable to nationalizations and, more generally, to the centralized planning system adopted by the Communist Party of Cuba,” he stated.
Martínez believes that the main barriers to economic recovery today lie within the country itself, particularly regarding restrictions on production and price setting.
“I believe the internal barriers we can point to today are, above all, the restrictions on freedom of pricing and freedom of production,” he explained.
In his view, greater autonomy for agricultural producers could contribute significantly to alleviating the food shortages faced by Cubans.
“Many goods essential to daily life in Cuba could become more abundant—and likely more reasonably priced—if farmers were allowed much greater sovereignty over their production and sales decisions,” he maintained.
He also noted that 2024 and 2025 saw a setback in the potential for the private business sector to expand, further limiting the country’s productive capacity.
For Martínez, economic recovery requires transformations far deeper than those announced by the regime this week.
“That entails looking toward privatization or opening up sectors like electricity and telecommunications to competition. It also means giving farmers greater freedom to decide what to produce, how to produce it, to whom to sell, and under what conditions. Without that internal freedom, any reform falls far short,” he concluded.
The Guardian, June 18, 2026
Cuban economy needs ‘urgent changes’ as US blockade deepens crisis, says president
Agence France-Press in Havana
Thu 18 Jun 2026 10.46 EDTLast modified on Thu 18 Jun 2026 11.12 EDT
Cuba’s economy needs urgent changes to overcome a crisis intensified by a US oil blockade, the president, Miguel Díaz-Canel, has said in a speech to Communist party leaders.
“The situation calls for urgent and necessary changes,” Díaz-Canel told the party’s politburo in his frankest admission yet of the need to overhaul the country’s communist model.
In the remarks, broadcast on Thursday, he cited China and Vietnam as possible models for opening Cuba’s economy to the world in order to “create economic wealth and distribute it equally”.
Díaz-Canel made the remarks at a meeting called to fast-track changes aimed at boosting the growing private sector as the island, under pressure from Washington, undergoes an economic crisis.
Some of the changes “will not have absolute consensus but cannot be postponed,” Díaz-Canel stressed.
“When people’s lives become this hard,” he said, the Communist party and government had a responsibility to “change what needs to be changed” rather than try to explain away the crisis.
The oil blockade imposed by Donald Trump in January has brought Cuba’s already moribund economy to the brink of collapse, marked by power cuts sometimes lasting more than 30 hours and shortages of food, fuel, drinking water and medicine.
decade US trade embargo and the blockade, Díaz-Canel acknowledged there were “obstacles that don’t come from outside, nor the blockade.”
He pointed to “slowness, bureaucracy and norms that impede those who want to produce” as well as “decisions that we have put off”.
The changes, widely seen as a desperate, 11th-hour bid to stave off economic collapse, have won the backing of the influential former president Raul Castro.
Castro, who was recently indicted by the US over the downing of two civilian planes three decades ago, backed the proposals as being “the most beneficial to the revolution at this time”.
It is unclear whether the changes will satisfy Trump, who is pushing for a change in Cuba’s economic model, if not its leaders.
Miami Herald, June 18, 2026
Cuba rushes to pass Chinese-style reforms in last-ditch effort to survive U.S. pressure
By Nora Gámez Torres
June 18, 2026 3:55 PM
In a speech published Thursday on state media, Díaz-Canel expanded on the measures he teased in remarks to reporters last week that he described as an “emergency economic and social agenda.”
https://www.miamiherald.com/
‘From now on you have no name. You are prisoner 217’: life in a Cuban jail
A brutal high-security prison was the last place Stephen Purvis expected to end up when he moved to Havana. Stephen Gibbs tells his story
If you happened to go to a British embassy reception in Havana in the early 2000s, you would likely have met Stephen Purvis. You could not miss him. Six foot four, cropped grey hair, rum in hand, a broad smile and no shortage of good stories.
Purvis loved Cuba. Escaping what he saw as the risk of a “pre-ordained suburban middle-class life” in Wimbledon, the architect and his wife seized the opportunity to move to the island 17 years ago. He had been offered a job as development director with Coral Capital, an investment and trading company. It was one of several small foreign firms – almost all led by maverick, adventurous individuals – that were setting up in Cuba as the country sought international partners following the collapse of the Soviet Union. Purvis’s job was to look for joint venture opportunities with the Cuban government. The planned projects included the first golf course to be constructed there since the 1959 revolution, and the revamp of a formerly glamorous hotel, the Saratoga.
Speaking to me from Myanmar (more about that later) Purvis recalls his early Havana years. “It felt like another era,” he says. “No internet. No TV. No shopping.” The family adapted well to their new life. Home was a handsome 1950s villa, soon full with their four children. Saturdays would be spent by the pool at the beach club. The son of a theatrical designer, Purvis also dabbled in theatre himself, producing the Cuban dance show Havana Rakatan, which performed successfully for several years in London. No one, of course, imagined that those halcyon days would end so abruptly, with Purvis imprisoned in what he describes as a “zoo” for enemies of the state. But that is how it turned out. The title of his powerful memoir, Close but No Cigar, is his own admission of just how badly life can go wrong.
I last saw Purvis in Havana in 2011, a few weeks before his arrest, at a New Year’s Eve party (I had been the BBC’s correspondent in Cuba between 2002 and 2007). The arrival of the New Year is a big deal in Cuba, partly because it coincides with the anniversary of Fidel Castro’s revolution. Two of President Raúl Castro’s daughters were at the event.
By then, the mood among the expats doing business on the island had notably soured. Many were whispering that this would likely be their last fin de año in Cuba. All knew someone who had been caught up in a mysterious but ever-widening series of arrests. Two prominent Canadians, Sarkis Yacoubian and Cy Tokmakjian, had been detained since the summer. A well-known Chilean entrepreneur, who used to boast he was a friend of Fidel Castro, had been convicted in absentia to 20 years in jail. And Purvis’s boss, Amado Fakhre, the British-Lebanese CEO of Coral Capital, had been imprisoned in October.
“The sense of an impending doom was growing day by day,” recalls Purvis. He says he’d be the first to admit he was “an idiot” not to leave the country when he still could. But he was convinced he had done nothing wrong.
None of the imprisoned foreigners had at that stage been formally charged with anything, but the assumption was they were caught up in Raúl Castro’s pledge to root out corruption. The younger Castro had formally taken over from the ailing Fidel in 2008. In 2009, he established a comptroller’s office, tasked with investigating evidence of misdeeds among communist party officials, managers and state company employees. It was turning out to be a never-ending task. Cuban state salaries are all around $20 a month. To varying degrees, everyone does something technically illegal to survive. By 2010, hundreds of Cubans, including ministers and senior executives, had been detained or dismissed. The net was widening to the foreigners, who were also breaking the law by paying their employees any bonus on the side, or even buying them lunch.
Purvis, who admits paying a small pension to one ex-employee, is convinced that the mass arrests were not in fact about corruption, but instead the clumsy purge of Fidel Castro’s old guard, which was being replaced with a new (mainly ex-military) clique, allied to Raúl.
On 8 March 2012 they came for him. Shortly after dawn, a fleet of unmarked Ladas drew up outside his home. The Purvis children were hastily packed off to school, told by their mother that the commotion was because “Dad needs to answer some questions about work.”
Purvis was taken away, handcuffed, his head forced between his knees, to an anonymous art deco house close to the airport. There, he was provisionally charged with being an “enemy of the state”. He was advised not to hire a lawyer and to co-operate immediately. Agreeing to that, he was then taken to the notorious Cuban state security prison known as Villa Marista, for what was described, euphemistically, as “further instruction”.
“The villa”, as it is known by Cuban dissidents, is a former Catholic seminary on the outskirts of Havana. Since 1963 it has been an interrogation centre, using techniques perfected by the KGB. Eventually, they say, everyone “sings” at the villa. Purvis believes he and his boss (who had been transferred to a military hospital by the time his co-director arrived) are the only Englishmen ever to have been held there. For months, he became “Prisoner 217”. His life was entirely controlled by a man known as “the instructor”. He spent almost every hour of the day in a cell the size of a double mattress, with three other inmates (one of whom he believes was a government informant). The four shared an open latrine.
The appalling conditions were only alleviated by the “psychological games” of interrogation that took place day and night. Purvis says he was questioned for hours, often about the details of the lives of other foreigners on the island. The intent was to get him to inform on anyone who might have done something illegal, however minor. Purvis says he refused to do so, probably sparing other expats (some of whom still live and work in Cuba) a similar fate to his own. He does not deny the temptation was there. “You can see why in the end people just go, ‘Oh give a dog a bone. Throw them some names just to get out of there,’” he says.
After months in Villa Marista, he says he felt himself “drifting away”. Sleeping only fitfully, he had constant tinnitus and was losing his vision. About once a month he says he would hear a suicide attempt nearby. The strain on his family, allowed to see him for less than half an hour every week, was enormous. His wife had a breakdown and had to be hospitalised. Purvis’s elderly mother came to Cuba to look after the children before finally the decision was taken that the family should leave.
In his book, Purvis is scathing about the lack of help the UK foreign office offered him and his family for much of the ordeal. While one British ambassador, Dianna Melrose, comes across as exceptionally kind in the early weeks of his imprisonment, the new embassy team appears to have shown scant interest in the case. No consular escort was offered to Purvis’s wife and children the day they left Cuba.
“As a British passport holder,” he tells me, “you have this sort of warm, fuzzy feeling that HM Government will look after your back. And then you find it doesn’t.” He suspects that someone within the FCO had made a decision not to “rock the boat” with the Cuban authorities, focusing instead on what was seen as the bigger prize of a potential rapprochement between all EU governments and Raúl Castro.
Finally, after the authorities gave up trying to tease information from him, the enemy of the state charges were dropped and Purvis was moved to La Condesa, a maximum security prison for foreigners. He describes his fellow inmates there as a “mixed bunch” of the innocent, as well as murderers, rapists, drug smugglers and hit men. He overlapped with multimillionaire Canadian businessman Cy Tokmakjian, who was earning respect for his obstreperous approach towards his jailers.
La Condesa may have been less psychologically traumatic than the villa, but it was brutal. The depravity Purvis vividly describes was in part aided by a network of corrupt prison guards, bullying prisoners while profiting from a prostitute ring, supplied from the local village. Purvis eventually formed his own gang, one made up of “complete losers”, with the sole intent of “preventing unpleasantness”.
In June 2013 a trial date was arranged, a process which would ultimately lead to Purvis’s freedom, while convincing him of the farcical nature of Cuban justice. As the trial was secret he was not shown any evidence ahead of it, so never had any chance to know what he was being accused of, or prepare a defence. Instead, in the hours before his closed court appearance, he was asked by the prosecutor to run through what he might say to the judge, as a form of dress rehearsal. Purvis was found guilty of illegal foreign currency transactions. He says all were entirely routine and had been authorised by the country’s central bank. His sentence was a two-and-a-half-year non-custodial term. He was set free.
The experience, he says, has had a “catastrophic spin-off” to every aspect of his life. All his assets in Cuba have been lost. The golf course project he worked on has been taken over by a Chinese company; construction has not begun. The Saratoga is now considered the best hotel in Cuba. Madonna celebrated her 58th birthday there last year. Coral Capital investors are still trying to recover their outlay on the property. Purvis has no desire to see it again.
After he returned to London he says he became “aggressive and volatile”. Prison habits were hard to shake. He would often ring the Condesa jail to speak to his friends there. “I needed to wean myself off the brutality,” he says. That, and the lack of alternative options, is one reason he has chosen to work abroad once more, away from his family but visiting them in London regularly. A friend helped arrange a new job for him in Myanmar, where he is overseeing a city redevelopment project.
Purvis says he is “recovered now”, and the process of writing this powerful book, which has been nominated for a Gold Dagger award, has helped that process. Gone, however, is much of his cheerful optimism. He is certain the Cuban authorities realise they made a mistake by imprisoning him. But he expects no apology. And the damage is done.
An extract from Close but No Cigar by Stephen Purvis
I am now in a dimly lit room. The ceiling is made of tiles with a great section missing, collapsed and never replaced. There are some random fluorescent strip lights. The capacitor of one is on the blink, so it clicks on and off. The walls are covered in a dark timber-effect panelling that is coming off in places. A few derelict brown vinyl sofas are pushed against one wall and a timber bench screwed to the other. The air seems to be full of plaster or cement dust. It looks like a ransacked government building in post-invasion Baghdad. I am sitting on the bench and the guards slouch on the sofas.
There is a high desk, also in dark timber. Behind it is a big dirty glass window into some kind of control room. Banks of CCTV screens flicker in the gloom. A fat old uniform with a row of decorations waddles out from the back, chewing a cigar. He looks at me briefly and waves me over. Then he sticks his one hand out in the direction of the guys that brought me here. No love lost between them, they heave themselves upright and slap the transfer documents into his hand. He signs various papers, gives them a receipt and they unlock me. They leave saying nothing. Fatty coughs, picks his nose and then asks me to empty my pockets and hand over my watch and shoelaces. I sign a chit for them but he keeps both copies so maybe it’s the last I’ll see of my watch.
Then two very young guards in olive fatigues take me off to a side room. Another boy, earnest yet nervous, is waiting at a desk. Stumbling over the words he explains that I have to fill in a form. I can feel his fear of me. They must tell them we are dangerous monsters. Another man enters and what little confidence the boy has now evaporates.
About my age, he is a handsome man who introduces himself in perfect American English. He is a major. He asks me about my family. “How do you think they are coping with the situation?” Is this a genuine question or some kind of threat? His face gives nothing away. Then he explains the rules. They are pretty simple. “From now on you have no name. You are prisoner 217.”
My lucky number.
“When you are out of the cell you walk on the left-hand side with your head facing down and hands behind your back. You never look at anyone. At each door or staircase you face the wall until told to proceed. You will obey the officials. If you do not, you will be punished. If you are ill, then call for the nurse. You will be fed in your cell three times a day. Any questions?”
“Can I call my wife?”
“No, we will arrange for her to visit.”
“When will the embassy visit?”
“These things take time.”
I feel a lump forming in my throat. I concentrate hard not to tear up. “Can I have something to read?”
‘That depends on your instructor. Your instructor decides on your conditions and safety. This depends on your conduct.”
“Do I have a lawyer?”
He laughs. “This also takes a long time. Take my advice, don’t wait.”
I am then led off to a succession of dingy rooms where I am fingerprinted, photographed and have blood taken to test for hepatitis, Aids and TB. Then I am pushed into a musty laundry and told to strip while they issue me with a second-hand uniform. It’s a washed-out slate-blue number in scratchy nylon. Very me. I get shorts, long trousers and two shirts with a stinky towel thrown in, plus two sheets and a pillow case. In a bit of a daze, all sounds scrambled and muffled, I am prodded along a tiny corridor that feels subterranean.
This place was originally meant to have been a seminary but there is no sign of any heavenly inspiration now. God has deserted the place and it is in the hands of the dark side.
This is where captured suspected CIA guys are brought, where purged officials repent and where all Cubans fear to tread. This is where American pensioner Alan Gross was interrogated for months on end to try to prove that he was a spy and not some deluded Jewish activist. This is their Lubyanka, their Gestapo headquarters. These crude, hulking green blocks are designed to extract confessions, real or fantasy, and then mentally cripple the enemies of state. It has a fearsome reputation for psychological torture.
We pop out into a broad corridor. It’s the cell block. No time to look as the rules now kick in, so head down I shuffle along as instructed. I am pushed into a side room and told to put all my things on top of a disgustingly filthy, shit-stained, one-inch foam mattress. A pillow mottled with bloodstains is chucked on the top. I stare at the blood in disbelief, a wave of despair building inside me. They cannot be serious. I am told to pick up the entire load and walk down through the gates.
I shuffle along, now almost catatonic. The guard in front has a long chain looping around him and a huge wobbly rubber baton that bangs against the wall as he marches. All is silent except for the dripping of water, the squeaking of the guards’ boots and a man sobbing in a cell.
I count 32 doors. I am told to stop
and face the wall while Mr Rubber Baton fumbles with his key chain.
My nose is six inches from the
wall. I read the guards’ obscene graffiti, scrawled in childish pencil. And then the true significance of what has happened hits me. It isn’t going to go away and it isn’t going to get better for a long time. The gate and then the door clang open with a foul rush of stale air, revealing a tiny cave with three pale faces blinking like moles in the light. I step into my new life. My dungeon.
Close but No Cigar by Stephen Purvis is out on 23 March, priced £18.99. To order a copy for £16.14, go to bookshop.theguardian.com
https://www.theguardian.com/global/2017/mar/19/life-in-a-cuban-jail-for-a-british-man
Watching the Reporters
“In reality, I give thanks to the reporter, Gary Ma–” Fidel hesitated. Then he continued with surprise in his voice. “His name is Marx! Compadre, even more respect for the reporter. His name is Gary Marx, and in reality this newspaper is an organ that at least tries to say some things.”
That was then. Two months ago, Marx was called into the Cuban International Press Center (CPI) and told his five-year stint as a correspondent in Cuba had come to an end. “The bottom line was basically this,” Marx told me. “[CPI director José Luis Ponce] said to me, ‘This is nothing personal, this is business. Our overseas image is very important to us. We weighed your positive stories against your negative stories. There are too many negative stories. We think we can do better with someone else.'”
Just like that. Marx’s expired accreditation would not be renewed, and as of that moment he could no longer write about Cuba. No specific stories were mentioned, although Marx had sensed he was in trouble for some time as it became harder and harder to get interviews with Cuban officials.
“They were very nice about it,” he said. He wasn’t being expelled. He could stay in Cuba until his visa expires in June, and his two children would be able to finish the school year.
Just as Marx was politely muzzled, the BBC’s Stephen Gibbs and a freelancer for the Mexican newspaper El Universal, César González Calero, were also told they no longer had credentials to work as journalists in Cuba. Their stories were likewise too negative; González Calero was told his reporting was “not the most convenient for the Cuban government.”
The question is, Why now? Cuba’s domestic media have always been tightly controlled by the government and the Communist Party. In 2003 there was a draconian crackdown. Seventy-five dissident writers and intellectuals, some of whom were trying to create samizdat newsletters with firsthand reports from inside Cuba, were imprisoned with sentences of up to twenty-seven years.
But reporting by foreign correspondents has been encouraged in recent years. Starting in the late 1990s, for the first time in decades, four US news organizations were allowed to open bureaus in Cuba: CNN and the AP, as well as two Tribune Company newspapers, the Chicago Tribune and the South Florida Sun Sentinel. The Cuban government seemed to see coverage from inside the country as an antidote to the relentless attacks on it by the US government, especially the Bush Administration. With Fidel’s illness and the prospect that Cuba is on the eve of historic change, Cuba is again a big story, and news organizations are jockeying to be in position to cover the transition from Fidel to what comes after.
Reading Gary Marx’s voluminous catalogue of stories from his five years living and writing in Cuba, one is struck–as Fidel once was–that this is a tremendously thorough journalist who not only understands a lot about Cuba but has a good deal of affection for the country.
There are negative stories, to be sure–but no cheap shots or the kind of condescension that characterizes much of public comment about Cuba in US political and media circles. His stories about the plight of the imprisoned dissidents and the struggling pro-democracy movement probably irritated the government. His poignant tales of Cubans obsessed with escaping the island and medical doctors lured into defection by US government enticements painted unfavorable but hardly new images of discontent. In the bulk of his reporting, Marx analyzed with authority the evolving changes inside the government since Fidel stepped aside in favor of his brother Raul.
Some of Marx’s strongest work was a series of almost a dozen reports a year ago on the lavishly financed but ham-handed US propaganda efforts to promote regime change in Cuba. He documented the midnight distribution in Havana neighborhoods of pamphlets with translations of a speech by President Bush and the elaborate effort to smuggle into Cuba DVD recordings of pro-US television programs–pointing out that DVD players are all but nonexistent on the island. Tens of millions of dollars were wasted, he wrote, based on a Government Accountability Office report, on no-bid contracts for anti-Castro groups in Miami and to buy items–Sony PlayStations, cashmere sweaters and Godiva chocolates–presumably to be smuggled into Cuba.
“Gary Marx is a very balanced reporter,” said Marie Sanz, Agence France-Presse’s correspondent for four years in Havana. “He went everywhere on the island. He’s not an arrogant American. He is unusual in that he is full of empathy for the Cuban common man.” That depth of reporting may be part of the problem. Sanz says the Cuban government may prefer neophytes–she calls them “starry-eyed reporters”–who haven’t had a chance to develop the kinds of sources correspondents like Marx have accumulated over the years.
https://web.archive.org/web/20140210075827/https://www.thenation.com/article/watching-reporters