Before there was Castro, before Batista, before the ’58 Revolution and all that’s conspired since then, there was Martí.
When they first emerged out of the jungle early that morning, New Year’s Day 1994, it seemed at first that the Zapatistas materialized out of nowhere.
Centered around the deregulation of all corporate laws, Neoliberalism views the whims of the market, even with its rollercoaster-like fluctuations, as the highest aspiration of the human spirit.
And yet, despite this miracle that gave humanity refuge in the freezing vacuum of space, we have turned our planet into a ticking time bomb.
“We don’t hate our country. But we’ve never seen anything outside of it.”
I’m going to Cuba not because it’s another pre-planned, cushioned, soul-crushing tourist trap; I want to go precisely because it’s the opposite.
We’re too swamped within our own narcissism, posting pictures on Facebook and Instagram, hyper-obsessing over “Brangelina” and other voyeuristic celebrity gossip.
“Even if we may not be immortal in the end, we should nonetheless live as if we deserve to be.”
I do not write about politics because I want to. I write about politics because it is my responsibility as a human being.
I read a quote a few years back that seems increasingly relevant in our confused moral times. It went, “If you see fraud and don’t say fraud, you are a fraud.” Trump is a fraud.