PLEASURE ISLAND: Tourism and Temptation in Cuba
by Rosalie Schwartz
University of Nebraska Press 1997

Chapter 13

Act 3 The Phoenix Rises

Cuban tourism ascended for a third cycle in the 1980s, thirty years after the second (1950s) and sixty years after the first (1920s). The current revival has endured longer than either of the others, even without casino gambling, and tourism is viewed—yet again—as the island's economic salvation. Because of its perceived centrality to Cuban well-being and its geographic reach throughout the island, the industry undoubtedly will have a more profound and lasting impact on the society this time than in previous incarnations. The government directs a large proportion of resources toward the tourist sector, trains a considerable cadre of citizens to be tourist employees, and promotes cultural programs of tourist value. The behind-the-scenes action — that is, a socialist leadership under ideological pressures in a changing world — is arguably even more dramatic than in the 1920s or 1950s.

THE LOGIC OF A TOURIST RESURGENCE

For more than a decade after the break with the United States, Cuba concentrated on sugar production while other Caribbean islands and neighboring Mexico welcomed vacation travelers. A new generation of working adults, with disposable income and paid holidays, fed a robust resort industry. The region drew five million international tourists in 1972, many of whom might have gone to Cuba had the United States lot imposed a travel ban along with its economic embargo. That year Cuba played host to about three thousand sun seekers, mostly from he Soviet Union.

Shortly thereafter, Cuba's economic planners recognized that the worldwide tourist industry had begun to outpace even manufacturing In annual growth rates, and the Castro government reentered the competition for tourists and hard currency. A decade later, in 1982, the island attracted two hundred thousand visitors, a significant increase but far behind neighbors who collectively reached the seven million nark. Two-thirds of Caribbean tourists came from the United States, Cuba's traditional market.

Although Castro disapproves of gambling, he wagered Cuba's future on tourism's success. Since the 1980s the government has dedicated considerable financial and human resources, as well as political capital, to the industry. As his government diverted concrete from housing to hotels, Castro exhorted the people to patience and reminded them, 'We are not ... an oil-producing country.... the sea, the climate, he sun, the moon, the palm trees ... are the natural wealth of our country, and we have to take advantage of them."

Careful cultivation has produced growth. More than half a million visitors arrived annually by the early 199os, and an ambitious goal was ;et for two and a half million entries by the year 2000. An end to U. S. ravel restrictions might add another million. At its first travel trade Show in 1982, the government signed twenty contracts with European and American (other than U.S.) travel agents. At Havana's fifteenth ourism convention, in 1995, more than one thousand delegates attended. European, Canadian, Central and South American, Caribbean, and Japanese tour, airline, and hotel company representatives arrived ready to negotiate agreements. The event also drew some two hundred journalists, an indication of interest in Castro's gamble.

If the tourism effort seemed worthwhile in 1982, it became imperative seven years later, with the breakup of the Soviet Union. In his annual 26 July speech in 1989, Castro warned the Cubans that they could anticipate a decline in Soviet economic aid, and he asserted that tourism would be the country's leading source of foreign exchange within a few years. That projection proved less farfetched than similar claims made by leaders in the 192os and 195os, but it acknowledged a grim reality. Cuba's Soviet partners had exchanged their goods for sugar priced above world market levels, a gesture of socialist solidarity. When the break came, the end of favorable trade terms left Cuba desperate for hard currency. Then sugar production plummeted, from 8.4 million tons in 1990 to 4.2 million in 1992-93, and even lower in 1994-95. 'Tourist revenues and tourist jobs became critical.

Tourism's 1994 earnings of $850 million did indeed surpass disappointing sugar revenues of $720 million, and 3o percent of tourist dollars bought imported food for a hungry population. At that, the number of visitors fell behind projections because of negative publicity. The August 1995 exodus of rafters fleeing economic hardship and political pressures probably cost Cuba between $8o million and $120 million. As in the past, resort tourism's fortunes depend on positive images and expectations of relaxation and good times.;

REWARDS AND RISKS

Ironically, in 1982 Castro confronted the same specter that had haunted Batista's tourism dreams in 1952: insufficient capital resources to build or refurbish the hotels needed to accommodate the desired number of visitors. Not only was construction money a problem in the 198os, but Cubans no longer knew how to build or run the kind of tourist-pleasing hotels and resorts that attracted vacationers to their Caribbean competition. Batista had been forced by lack of domestic capital investment and expertise to appeal to foreign interests; Castro did the same. In 1987 Cubanacán, SA, began to arrange joint ventures with foreign companies.

Reality and the capitalist nose entered the pragmatic socialists' tent. By 1994 foreign investment in Cuba's hotels, beach resorts, and other attractions reached about five hundred million dollars. Since profit motivated investors, Cuba made adjustments and permitted foreign partners to control the labor force and to repatriate théir half of the gain. "Cuba's tourism potential is obvious," explained Abraham Maciques, Cubanacan's president, but the "pearl of the Caribbean" requires help to fulfill its promise. Cubanacán handles its own marketing, publicity, supplies, and sales, is expected to turn a profit, and does.

More surprising than Cubanacan's profits, perhaps, has been the involvement of Cuba's military in tourism. Gaviota, SA, responsible to the Armed Forces Ministry (M i N FAR) since 1988, operates hotels, resorts, marinas, weight reduction camps, and game preserves. Its workers are members of the armed forces, and its profits upgrade tourist facilities, not weaponry!'

Many hotels with familiar names from earlier tourist eras — Nacional, Hilton (Havana Libre), Riviera, Capri, Sevilla (Biltmore), Inglaterra, Plaza, Presidente, Comodoro, Varadero Internacional — have been brought up to acceptable standards. Spanish companies are pouring hundreds of millions of dollars into Cuba, and the French Accor group plans to build and manage several hotels. A Spanish hotel firm spent forty million dollars on renovations to the reopened Havana Libre–Guitart. The five-star, twenty-two-story Hotel Melia Cohiba occupies a seaside space adjacent to the Havana Riviera. Lavish jointly owned and foreign-operated resort facilities enliven Varadero Beach and tourist enclaves located on small, exclusive offshore keys. The Melia Las Américas, next to the old DuPont estate in Varadero, will have an eighteen-hole golf course. Jamaica's SuperClub built a luxury resort at Varadero also, and Club Med will enter the competition in the late 199os. Canadian companies are prepared to build resort facilities and already manage seven government-owned properties. Meanwhile, willing U.S. firms remain sidelined.'

Havana is not yet the bright jewel that awed visitors in the 1920s and 195os, but the stone is being polished. For example, the Tropicana features long-legged showgirls in skimpy costumes with elaborate headdresses. The music pulsates, and rum and cola fill the glasses. But the style is dated, and at times, the show has the feel of a nostalgic museum piece or a time warp. On the other hand, on Camaguey province's northern coast, far east of Havana, the Santa Lucía resort boasts sand, sea, and sunshine—and three- and four-star hotels, tennis courts, swimming pools, open-air theater, and snorkeling and scuba facilities. "Santa Lucía is a temptation," croons the inviting brochure, a place for "happiness and pleasure." It sounds familiar. Tiny Cayo Largo ("isolated, unspoiled, yours") permits topless bathing.

Plans for eleven major tourist enclaves include ecological preserves, beach resorts, yacht harbors, and several golf courses. Sol y Son, the colorful magazine given to Cubana Airlines passengers, and Sol de Cuba, a tourist industry publication, recommend backpacking in the Sierra Maestra, visits to a variety of unique museums and historic cities, and health cures. Tourists can combine treatment for skin problems and hair loss, or ophthalmic and plastic surgery, with recuperative relaxation on the beach.

The current tourist bureaucracy exploits Cuban culture for profit, as did its predecessors. After two decades in which the government downplayed ethnic distinctions for ideological reasons, it once again emphasizes Cuba's African and Indian heritage and, like other tourist destinations, capitalizes on folklore—authentic or manufactured—as entertainment. Afro-Cuban shows and the shadowy, mysterious religious rituals of African-based santería amuse the tourists. A beach resort outside Havana offers "direct contact" with rituals and magic during its Noche Afrocubana. A typical itinerary for visitors includes a rumba show performed by a national folkloric group and visits to the Havana suburb of Guanabacoa to see a folk history museum devoted to Afro-Cuban religion and to the village of Taina to see a replica of a Cuban aboriginal community. Galleries featuring the work of local artists and sellers of antique and rare books proliferate along with street fairs that showcase domestic arts and crafts.

Ernest Hemingway met Fidel Castro for the first and only time at the tenth annual Hemingway fishing tournament in 1960. Now Hemingway's and Cuba's years-long mutual affection anchors part of Castro's tourist effort. The author's house in San Francisco de Paula is on the circuit. Visitors walk around the outside of the house under the watchful eyes of museum guards and view Hemingway memorabilia through open windows. The Hemingway Marina is a departure point for deep-sea fishing, playing on the association with The Old Man and the Sea and memories of the yearly competitions. Hangouts in Havana, such as the Bodeguita del Medio and restored Floridita restaurants, are always noted as places where the author drank ruin-laced mojitos and daiquiri's. Travel writers frequently mention the Ambos Mundos hotel in downtown Havana, where Hemingway wrote For  Whom the Bell Tolls. They like to stay in his room, which the government has preserved, and commune with his ghost.

Revolutionary Cuba also exploits the appeal of event tourism and sports spectaculars. For example, the government announced the 1991 Pan American games, to be held in Havana, with great fanfare. Participation in the games by athletes from the United States ensured media attention in that desirable market. North Americans saw Cuba on television, and Castro no doubt hoped that they would pressure their leaders to let them see the real thing.

Not by accident, either, a sophisticated promotional campaign timed a thirty-page spread in the August 1991 National Geographic to coincide with the games. For more than a century, the magazine has made its readers feel at home in foreign countries and has invited them to travel. The underlying message always has been that the natives are friendly. An estimated thirty-seven million people worldwide see each issue, and the National Geographic Society has recently gone into the package-tour business. The Geographic piece begins familiarly enough: "Midnight in Santiago de Cuba, carnival is in the air. Trumpeters, drummers, costumed revelers by the score." Below a photo of a young woman dressed in white, her hands flung above her head, the caption reads, "Slow, fast, and then faster, sacred bata drum rhythms seize a dancer in Santiago de Cuba seeking communion with the Afro-Cuban divinity Babalú Aye." Uncannily similar descriptions tempted tourists in the 1920s and 1950s. Cuba also reaffirmed the tourist appeal of beautiful women when a 1991 Playboy article featured voluptuous, seminude Cuban women.6 Some readers no doubt wondered whether the more things changed in Cuba, the more some habits stayed the same.

Tourism industry employment has become both reward and risk during Cuba's "special period" of economic travail. Drastic retrenchment in other state-supported industries has decreased the total number of available positions, while tourism produces jobs. Moreover, access to dollars (as tips) imparts additional value to these jobs. Potential employees undergo rigorous screening, and they can be dismissed without recourse for any shortcomings in performance. The industry's continued expansion offers hope of future opportunities to currently unemployed workers and to those who expect to enter the work force in the near future.

On the other hand, the influx of foreigners whose own standard of living and convertible currency permit them to travel abroad and enjoy Cuba's hotels and beaches, transportation, and food takes its toll on the morale of Cubans who experience scarcity and hardships. Many taxis are reserved for tourists, while Cubans rely on bicycles and overcrowded, infrequent buses. Electricity runs hotel elevators when factory machinery is idled. Whispers about favoritism sometimes turn into shouts. Cubans have complained of a "tourist apartheid," because tourist police have turned them away from hotel lobbies and beach resorts where foreign guests enter freely. Hard-pressed Cubans understandably envy well-fed visitors and also might like to share the scarce soap and toilet paper that hotels furnish to guests.

Complaints are endless and justified. Even Castro loyalists who accept tourism as necessary for Cuba's survival bristle at the inequities. Party members with years of service devoted to social ideals may enjoy positions of power or nonmaterial satisfactions, but many peso-earning professionals cannot afford items purchased by taxi drivers and waiters who are tipped in dollars.

HISTORY LESSONS

A tourist industry necessarily changes work patterns, relationships, and expectations. It also often brings unintended consequences. When Machado and Batista encouraged tourism and involved foreigners in the development process, antigovernment forces connected tourism to political and social corruption and used the connection as a weapon. For a more apropos example, consider the former Soviet Union. A decade before glasnost and perestroika, Turner and Ash concluded in The Golden Hordes, in a chapter titled "The Marketing of Moscow," that tourism would be a major destabilizing force in Eastern Europe. Prefiguring Cuba's dilemma, the need for hard currency had pushed communist states toward tourism after a Soviet study had calculated the profits from tourism in equivalencies of traditional exports such as coal, oil, and grain. Westerners had hardly begun to visit the Soviet Union in large numbers on package tours, however, when the strains began to show. They wanted to venture beyond Intourist's tightly controlled venues, and their presence threatened to arouse dangerous expectations among the Soviet peoples.

Recent Cuban debates over tourism policy have disclosed intriguingly similar evidence of tourism-induced threats and adjustments. Tourists needed to change their money for pesos. Cuban citizens were willing to defy the law. Currency black markets became commonplace and forced Castro to end restrictions on the possession of U.S. dollars. The government also extended the availability of consumer goods to more people and permitted a measure of self-employment. For example, government-authorized, privately owned household restaurants now serve both visitors and residents. Most new entrepreneurs expect payment in dollars; some will accommodate their peso-earning compatriots.

The potential for individualism evident in self-employment has become an issue of great concern for the Communist Party. In March 1996 the Central Committee examined the impact of the new policies on revolutionary ideology in a closed-door session, then expressed its apprehensions publicly and warned against profiteering and corruption. The committee criticized the "humiliating" reality of prostitution and the changed values brought about by access to dollars, specifically citing the case of Cubans leaving important jobs to take up less skilled work in the tourist industry.

Another galling fact of life is increased prostitution, mostly amateurs who trade sexual favors for a restaurant meal, an evening in a nightclub, a shopping spree, or a weekend at a beach resort. Although foreign men arrive every day to be with Cuban women, the practice has little in common with Cuba's prerevolutionary institutionalized sex shows and brothels. Nor does the market begin to compare in scope or intent with the chartered flights of men who buy their tickets for "sex without guilt" in Asia and Africa. Nevertheless, purchased sex is troublesome for a government that has spent decades inculcating the values of nonexploitation of fellow humans and gender parity. After the government legalized the possession of dollars, prostitution acquired a structure, that is, networks among those selling sex and procurers (taxi drivers, bartenders). In June 1996 the authorities moved to clean up the scandalous situation in Varadero Beach and Havana.

Clearly, Castro confronts a conflict. His country needs hard currency. Tourism is flourishing and is more profitable than sugar. Travelers from capitalist countries do generate expectations among Cubans, but the government cannot risk the internal upheavals that unavoidably diminish the number of visitors. It must be flexible to avoid negative publicity and disaffection but strict to sustain socialist ideals. In the meantime, Cuba moves ahead with plans for cruise ship terminals and airport expansion, restaurants and entertainment facilities.

The phoenix may not reach spectacular heights until the United States ends its travel restrictions. U.S. policy, in fact, affords Cuba time to control the evolution and impact of mass tourism and to learn from the experience of its Caribbean neighbors, as well as its own. If and when the ban against spending money in Cuba is reversed, the revolution itself most likely will attract curious visitors from the United States who grew up with anticommunism, a repeat of the opening of China in the 1970s. Enforced isolation has enhanced the island's mystique. Many U.S. tourists no doubt also would like to see the places where Americans fought during Cuba's independence war, or where they or their parents romped (or lived) in the 1950s. Or they might be motivated by the opening scene of the film Godfather II to want to explore Meyer Lansky's gambling empire. If a gangster tour attracts customers, will Cuba's socialist promoters, like their capitalist predecessors, package it to tempt a new generation of curious pleasure seekers? Given the nature of tourism, they probably will not pass up a unique opportunity.