Soviet Influence on Cuban Culture, 1961-1987
by Isabel Story
(Lexington Books, £65)

ISABEL STORY’S meticulous analysis of the Soviet influence on Cuban culture from 1961 to 1987 in this book vividly brings to life a turbulent period in the history of the island.

She leaves no stone unturned in her dialectical investigation of a complex time, when two contrasting

socialist developments had become intertwined as much by global politics as by  ideological affinity.

In the process, Story surgically debunks many of the intellectually lazy and politically motivated assertions of hostile Western academics.

On the eve of the victory of the revolution in 1959, almost a quarter of Cubans were illiterate and many more functionally so.

In that context, Jose Marti’s postulate that “being culturally educated is the only way to be free,” implies far more than just knowing your alphabet.

The Sierra Maestra revolutionaries understood that premise only too well. Che Guevara’s concept of “el hombre nuevo” (new human being) encapsulated a vision of an educated individual at the service of the revolution who is selfless, a patriot and an internationalist.

The new Cuba and its cultural institutions became a hive of often heated polemics about recovering national cultural identity, its content and how to develop it and put it at the service of the revolution in all its rich manifestations in music, visual arts, cinema and theatre.

Decentralisation of decision-making, the setting up of a nationwide network of Casas de Cultura  (cultural centres) and the “aficionado” movement for engaging the population, particularly in creative activities in rural areas, all fed on the historic examples of Bauhaus, Soviet Constructivism or the New Deal, where art and culture were symbiotically linked to the economy and industry.

The omnipresent threat of US military intervention and its economic blockade, along with incessant covert meddling, hung in the air like the sword of Damocles, sharpening and widening political awareness among the people.

Not surprisingly, Soviet novelist Alexander Bek’s WWII classic The Volokolamsk Highway was a must-read among those tasked with defending the revolution’s progress.

Nationalism and internationalism became the bricks and mortar of all socialist constructs and the commitment to anti-colonialism was informed by what Marti termed “Our America,” aimed at tackling crippling underdevelopment at home and elsewhere first and foremost.

Hence the aim was to multiply activism by specifically engaging the population of rural hamlets and small townships and this took many of its cues from the Bolsheviks in the early days of the Russian Revolution, with whom the guerillas felt a deep affinity.

As an example Story cites — among many — Teatro Escambray. Based in the provinces, it epitomised the revolutionary approach of addressing local and regional concerns and rejecting the still cosmopolitan theatres of Havana with their repertoire of European plays.

Like the Bolsheviks, Escambray workers perceived theatre not just as sphere of public recreation but rather an engine for social reconstruction.

Soviet technical expertise, particularly in architecture, was especially useful in addressing the dire housing reality of sprawling slums that had to be remedied rapidly, nowhere more spectacularly than in Eastern Havana.

Yet, as Story points out, while the USSR was perceived pragmatically as a source of education and considerable inspiration, it simultaneously was also seen, in a never-ending duality, as a potentially dogmatic, insular and domineering entity.

The degree of separation increased with the time as “Cubanismo” — the Cuban way — defined ever more emphatically not just the internal path to socialism, with its accentuation of the indigenous in cultural practice, but also the deepening ties to Latin America, the Caribbean and Africa.

Ultimately, it was the USSR which succumbed to debilitating internal contradictions. Cuba, on the other hand, drew strength from creatively solving its own. Yet, like some kind of hark back to a previous era and much to the world’s consternation, Russia’s President Vladimir Putin publicly wrote off Cuba’s entire debt of £27 billion while visiting the island in 2017.

Warts and all, Story’s book offers fascinating insights into an unprecedented democratising transformation ushered in by a revolutionary cultural practice conceived, from its inception, for the many not the few.

Its cover price is hefty but it’s definitely one to ask your library to stock.