Cuban sees window for nation to change

An activist patiently teaches countrymen to think beyond the ingrained authoritarianism. `The secret is... freedom,' he says.

By Gary Marx
Chicago Tribune
January 21, 2007

HAVANA -- Many Cuba watchers were shocked to see that there were no protests, not even a peep of public dissent, in the months following the announcement that Fidel Castro had undergone surgery and ceded power to his younger brother, Defense Minister Raul Castro.

But to Dagoberto Valdes, a 51-year-old Roman Catholic layman who has spent more than a decade quietly working to change Cuba, the collective silence came as no surprise.

"The art of thinking has been damaged tremendously [among Cubans]. During this half-century, we have been forced to think like one person," said Valdes, referring to Fidel Castro. "Now we are teaching people again to think with their own head."

While experts focus on whether Cuba is poised for large-scale economic and political changes, Valdes believes that change must start with the average Cuban citizen.

Working out of a cramped office in the Catholic Archdiocese in the western city of Pinar del Rio, Valdes conducts workshops and publishes a magazine aimed at introducing Cubans to such alien concepts as free speech and freedom of association.

On a recent evening, 11 Cubans ranging from a high school student to a middle-age taxi driver sat in a room listening to Valdes explain how a society functions when the government is not all-powerful.

"A civil society is not only a group of people," Valdes told his audience with the enthusiasm of an evangelical preacher. "It is also a public space. We could not form a civil society in the air. We need this hall, these chairs. All of this is public space."

Valdes' point may seem obvious, but most residents of Cuba cannot conceive of gathering to discuss important social issues outside government control.

Known by his nickname "Dago," Valdes believes small steps lead to big changes. In another workshop, he asks students to list their values and priorities as a way of encouraging individual choice and providing participants with "their first experience with democracy and freedom."

The process can be difficult. Valdes tells the story of a workshop student who came to his home one night in tears.

"He told me, `Dago, I have a great conflict inside of me,'" Valdes recalled. "`I have discovered freedom, a freedom that thrusts me forward as a person. And I think it's a freedom that I'd like for my two daughters.'"

"That's great," Valdes answered. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I don't have the strength to walk this road [in Cuba],'" Valdes said his friend responded. "I have a lot of fear."

The friend later emigrated to the U.S.

About 5,200 Cubans have participated in the workshops since 1993, including professionals, workers, Catholics and, on two occasions, Communist Party militants.

Unlike many Cuban dissidents, Valdes has never been imprisoned. Analysts say it's because he's worked under the protection of Jose Siro Gonzalez, the archbishop of Pinar del Rio. Gonzalez, a social progressive, retired last month, and it's unclear whether his replacement will support Valdes' work.

Valdes frames his radical ideas in spiritual rather than political language, much like liberation theologians fighting authoritarianism in Latin America did three decades ago.

He is careful not to attack any Cuban leader by name and asserts that Cubans must decide their own fate without outside intervention. Nonetheless, Cuban authorities vilified Valdes on national television in 2000 after he met with two U.S. diplomats. Officials called him a traitor, an agent of the Americans.

Ten years ago, Valdes said, his boss at a state-run tobacco farm told him to choose between his job and his civic work. When Valdes chose the latter, he was demoted from a supervisory post to the menial task of collecting palm stalks. But Valdes has never thought of leaving Cuba, which he compares to a giant corral.

"Two million [exiles] believe the fence was around the island and the only way to jump the fence was to leave the country," he said. "A small number of us have freely decided to jump the fence inside the country--something that is not easy."

Valdes keeps a low profile, and knowledge of his work spreads via word of mouth and through his magazine, Vitral, one of the few publications in Cuba not controlled by the government.

Produced on six photocopiers and distributed to 10,000 subscribers, the magazine delivers a mix of news, editorials, essays and poetry that challenges every aspect of Cuba's economic and political system.

"Why is it in Cuba a `serious problem' to listen to radio and television stations from outside?" Valdes wrote in June. "Who closes these doors and puts up these walls? . . . Why is it that [Cuban authorities] don't trust and even prevent exchanges between persons and groups of people that think differently?

"We believe at the bottom of all these limitations, isolations and closures, there is fear," he wrote. "A fear of the truth, a fear of debate . . . a fear of losing control."

While toiling in relative anonymity in Cuba, Valdes has received international recognition. He has met with Pope John Paul II and lunched with former U.S. President Jimmy Carter.

"It was remarkable when we heard about his work, and it's even more remarkable that it has continued," said Robert Pastor, Carter's former national security adviser on Latin America.

Valdes says his efforts are like "a drop in the ocean," but he is optimistic about Cuba's future given the recent change in leadership and what he describes as the resilience of the human spirit.

"I believe in the capacity of the Cuban people to recover," he said. "The secret is . . . freedom."