Guángara Libertaria Memories

In the autumn of 1992 […], the anarchist review Guángara Libertaria brought out its final issue. Over the preceding thirteen years it had produced 52 issues in Miami without interruption. Quite apart from considerations about anniversaries, all of this suggests that the time has come for the most objective possible account and narration of that venture, or rather, its journey through deep uncharted seas and squally winds. It was certainly no easy task bringing out a number of quarterly editions, one after the other over more than a decade, given the problems and indeed the bad weather we ran into along the way – things like indifference or open hostility in a place as inhospitable as Miami was back then and in a country racked by inflation.

But it was mainly thanks to the doggedness and perseverance of a few that such continuity and creativity were made possible. Those were, to be sure, choppy waters to be navigating if we bear in mind the reactionary and violent climate by which we were surrounded at the time: the pressures and harassment coming from our enemies in Miami as well as in Havana; and the fact that our only funding came in the form of the voluntary contributions made by members of the MLC (Cuban Libertarian Movement) and our readers and sympathizers. But the most complicated aspect of all was producing a publication that was libertarian socialist in outlook and inevitably tagged as “anarchist” and with Cuban exiles and the rest of the anarchist world as its main intended audience.

As in every literary and human endeavour in the field of social and political discourse, there were, over that long interval, hits and misses.

Above all, we need to lay out the climate of violence and intolerance by which Miami was permeated during the 1980s and 1990s. Murders, robberies, rapes, race riots, drug dealing, arson, the use of explosives, corruption and outrages, Miami was, in short “the very model city of the American dream”. And, for the first time in history, the tourists passing through Miami were spies, pimps, killers and drug-dealers. Of course, not all of this criminality could be described as political, but the fact was that law-abiding, combative factions made up of anti-Castro Cubans lived cheek by jowl with gangs dedicated to extortion, bullet-and-bomb attacks and murder. The latter proliferated, sheltering behind their visceral anti-communism as they intimidated, extorted and, ultimately, attempted the lives of their victims, in which endeavours they were pretty successful. And, as inexorably was the case, those gangs mingled with drug-dealing, a successful business back then for the money-laundering bankers and the cocaine importers and salesmen. And to make matters even worse, there was the exodus via the port of Mariel of upwards of 125,000 Cubans, generating a crisis of cosmic proportions in Miami.

In November 1979 to be exact, at a gathering of the MLC, preoccupied with a few accusations directed by the printed and radio media – terrorized or funded by reactionary groups – at anarchists regarding the everyday violence and insinuating that the culprits were anarchists, the assembled libertarians, having concluded that “Miami has more fascists than they have in Spain”, we agreed to bring out a libertarian publication tasked, first with clarifying and then with establishing what our thinking and ideas were about and we committed ourselves to providing or looking around for the funding to begin publication of a platform in the shape of a quarterly, seasonal review.

That determination happened to coincide with an invitation that the Spanish comrades issued to the MLC to attended the V Congress of the National Confederation of Labour (CNT) and International Workers’ Association to be held in Madrid between 8 and 16 December 1979, by way of an acknowledgment of the Cuban anarchists after twenty years out in the cold. The Cuba delegation was warmly welcomed and old contacts were re-established with the Spanish Libertarian Movement (MLE) and the rest of the international anarchist representatives attending the Congress. This friendly welcome lifted the spirits of the Cuban anarchists who invested special effort into the publication of something rather more substantial than the older libertarian publications such as El Gastronómico and the Boletín de Información Libertaria, which had filled the gap since 1961, with propaganda meant for consumption within Cuba. And in January 1980 we weighed anchor, bringing out the very first issue, a 32-page quarterly entitled Guángara Libertaria, Winter 1980 edition, its sub-title being “Review of Eclectic Libertarian Thought”. 

In spite of the paucity of funds we could count upon for this ideological, propagandistic venture, everything that could be done was done, as the MLC was concerned not just to responding to and critiquing the anti-Castro leadership and propaganda that had dragged the exile community in Miami into a real quagmire, directionless sluggishness and stagnation by constantly looking out for its own interests and, instead, carving out a space for itself in the anarchist publications abroad which – sometimes maliciously – were championing the Cuban dictatorship, in defiance of their own libertarian interests. That was an old, protracted fight that was drawing to a close and Guángara Libertaria was determined to put paid to it. 

But there was a palpable need and trickiness to making headway into media that boasted a solid conservative and backward-looking tradition. That meant that we needed to produce a publication that was different and creative and, to be honest, we had very little experience in the field. Aside from Abelardo Iglesias, Casto Moscú and Luis Dulzades (Dulzaides passed away when Guángara was in its infancy), the rest of us who were committed were just a bunch of greenhorns when it came to producing a review. According to the definition offered by Iglesias, who came up with the title, guángara means “… to Cubans, something between a racket and squabble … In short, squabble, racket and guángara can be taken as synonymous with chaos and disorder …” We set up our first Collective, that being the term used in anarchist circles back in those days, dispensing with any editor-in-chief or managing editor, as a libertarian approach to working together. Let me take this opportunity to clarify that, in site of reports to the contrary, no one – let alone the writer of this article – was  “managing editor” of Guángara Libertaria. The original line-up of the Collective included Santiago Cobo, Omar Diegues, Luis Dulzaides, Frank Fernández, Abelardo Iglesias and Casto Moscú. During that initial phase we had contributions from Manuel Ferro, Agustín Souchy and a few other anarchists abroad. The administrative side of things, independent of the editorial, was handled by J R Álvarez, Agustín Castro, Manuel González and Arístides Vázquez.

During those first tentative stages, the articles published came from the review’s own editors, or articles sent in by committed collaborators abroad and pieces taken from other anarchist publications in Spain, Mexico and Argentina. We had historical profiles of past anarchists, carried book reviews and there were news and comment from within and without Cuba. Guángara editorials were the voice of the MLC in all of our 52 issues. We were all conscious that we could not produce an exclusively anarchist review, and none would be too warmly received – no matter how anti-communists – in Miami circles, for the reasons already explained: and so, during that initial phase, we tried to cope with whatever poisonous atmosphere and ideological sewage there was.

Up until the summer of 1981, Guángara was a modestly presented review with a print-run of 1,000 copies, publishing every three months and circulated free of charge and without any paid advertising.

The toughest task was getting it distributed around various parts of the city, except for around 80 copies that were sent abroad. By the autumn of 1981, phase two started as the review began to adopt a different tack: its graphics were overhauled, the print-run was boosted to 1,500 copies and a few names in the Collective’s line-up were traded for other names that were not necessarily all anarchists. The sub-title was now “A cry of freedom in black and white”. We were greatly helped by the fact that the exodus from Mariel meant that a lot of writers had now arrived on the scene and they started contributing articles, poems and their experiences in Cuba. Some of these new exiles joined the Collective – people such as Benjamín Ferrera and Miguel A Sánchez – and other writers living in Miami did the same – people like Benito García, who successfully redesigned Guángara, and Ricardo Pareja and Sergio Magarolas. Articles in Guángara Libertaria began to take a more polemical tone and the review was broken up into different sections: editorials, history, economics, books, stories, poetry and general commentary on Cuba. The cover was afforded primary importance. 

The main target was the marxist Cuban state, but we were the first to step away from erroneously describing the Cuban government as “communist”: we felt it was better dialectics and more appropriate to describe it as “Castroist”, because in actual fact, Cuba was not communist and not even socialist, but a totalitarian dictatorship run by a single individual. This semantic approach, which endured throughout, drew the attention to us of some Marxists outside of and inside Cuba and they began to take us seriously. By then our distribution covered the entirety of the USA via the postal service: we had deliveries to Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, New Jersey, San Juan, etc. And over 200 copies were going out to pretty much every country in the world. Our circulation abroad was also boosted especially by our contributing writers, like-minded publications and sympathizers in Asia, Australia, Latin America and Europe. The print-run of Guángara grew to 2,500. 

By the summer of 1983 we could count upon the collaboration of poets like Luis Esteban Cárdenas and Alfredo Leiseca, fiction writers such as Enrique Labrador Ruiz and Celedonio González, essayists like Carlos M Luis, Miguel Correa, Roberto Valero and even Reinaldo Arenas, and journalists such as Daniel Morcate, Miguel Sales and Pedro Leyva. From Puerto Rico, Leví Marrero was sending us friendly greetings. A start was made on translations of articles and essays from the English, French and Italian, thanks to the efforts and commitment of María Teresa Fernández; we appointed Stephan Baciu our correspondent in Hawai’i; in Chile we had Cosme Paules; in Mexico, Ricardo Mestre; in Spain, Abraham Guillén; in Australia, Alfredo Jiménez; and in Venezuela we had Víctor García. In January 1984, with funding from the Art and Culture Collective, Benito García’s premises became one of the first galleries in Miami to stage an exhibition of Cuban paintings, entitled Nanas y Meigas, where painters of the new cohort such as Ricardo Viera, Carmen Díaz Oñate, Gilberto Ruiz, Valerio, Balmaseda, Hortensia Gronlier, Gainza, Katie and Humberto Figueras and Luis Vega – to name but a few – had the chance to display their work. The most recent exhibition featured erotic art and was very well attended. As for Jose Maria Mijares, renowned for his painting but little known as a libertarian, he gifted the review several engravings that were used for the cover of our Autumn 1983 edition. In April that year, the Art and Culture Collective staged a Simposium a Salinas at the Kouvec Center in memory of the anarchist writer, poet and playwright Marcelo Salinas.

Our own comrades queried us over turning Guángara into a review that was more “literary” than “libertarian” and there was a good deal of truth to that. We took the criticism very much to heart. At the same time and almost without our realizing it, we were dipping a toe into arts and culture in Miami under the very noses of our enemies on both sides of the Strait. Of course, as it only natural, nobody gave us the credit or publicity that we deserved: instead, there was a fair amount of insult, calumny and verbal and written attacks coming from the radio or in print and anonymously. As our stance was still anarchist, and anarchism being ideas that most exiles could not fathom or were confused about, we started to come under an onslaught from the most reactionary and right-wing factions, who happened to be in step, on that score with the Castroist agents who were thriving in Miami. But we were able to give them all the answer they deserved: to that end we used a page set aside for that very purpose; It started off with Abel, under the heading “Bitter Aloes”; then came Benenito with his “Horrorscope”; later on there was Guangarito with “There is no name for this”; and, lastly, E.L. Fermo with “Cold Cyanide”. Their critique hit the target and their style matched the meaning of the title Guángara. 

Come 1985, we marked our fifth birthday, which a lot of people saw as a miracle and which we saw as having sailed through some choppy waters. A lunch was organized, bringing together the Collective. Members of the MLC and the review’s sympathizers. We arranged to bring out a 40-page special edition with a colour cover and a record print-run of 4,000 copies.

This drained us of all our funds and we were forced to fall back to 2,500 copies again. For upwards of a decade we had been attending the Book Fair in a rented kiosk where were displayed and sold anarchist books brought in from Mexico, Argentina and Spain. Our profits were meagre but they helped cover the review’s costs as it carried on appearing regularly, in spite of our “never-ending bankruptcy”. The funding needed to print was raised, the review’s costs and postal expenses were covered and it was the same story when the next issue fell due: not one member of the Collective was paid a penny for his efforts.

But, as inevitably occurs, and it is part and parcel of being human, differences of intellectual or personal opinion cropped up inside the Collective. The failure to preserve the unity of the initial Collective over a long period, nor actually that of any of its successors, was one of the reasons why some people threw in the towel and moved on to pastures new. Irreconcilable difference between some of us, differences that were personal, paternalistic and sometimes irrational or egocentric, caused ructions, albeit not rifts and there was some fall-out: in addition there were political or rhetorical differences from which splits and resignations ensued. Most of the time, with the Collective assembled around the work-table, there was endless discussion and palaver and it did not end well. But in spite of all these issues, Guángara carried on with its voyage without stopping and always had able seamen to carry on with the job.

Between 1988 and 1989, as we entered our third phase, or, rather, after weathering further storms, we used the review to mark the first centenary of the First of May, the Spanish war and revolution of 1936 and the centenary of the anarchist El Productor newspaper and Enrique Roig de San Martín were marked by serialization over three consecutive issues. We stuck with the same set-up and presentation, with enthusiastic assistance from Enrique G. Morato, Lucy Ibrahim and the occasional other political commentator who had been shunned by the local media, as in the case of Luis Ortega. Times had changed a lot in Miami and there was greater tolerance and patience around: plus which there had been a considerable decline in the violence. At the time we were championing Cuban political prisoners and the then incipient dissent within Cuba which, like ourselves, were looking forward to a future Cuba with a free, civil society. 

Guángara was enjoying good distribution and was being better received: Manuel Salvat’s Universal bookstore was taking 200 copies of every issue and the review was still going out in the mail inside and outside of the USA. From time to time, through friendly channels or simply as a spontaneous gesture on the part of some readers who packed a copy into their pockets, cashing in on the relaxation of restrictions and the toing and froing of Cubans across the Strait, and the odd Spanish or Mexican comrade on a tourist visit, the review was also getting into Cuba. Anarchist comrades in Paris, Brussels, London or Madrid were ensuring that copies were posted to Cuban embassies there. The Cuban Interests Office in Washington was also on the mailing list. As to the material published, it is a fact that we emphasized socio-historical matters, but it needs to be borne in mind that there had to be more than criticism on offer and, consistent with our rationale, we were also looking forward to the future in three basic areas: economics, politics and society. With regard to the first, we put the case for self-management: with the means of production in the workers’ hands; the factories and workshops would have to be removed from State ownership and become workers’ property. In political terms, we lobbied for a complete de-centralization of the administration and elections at grassroots, municipal and provincial level, with an assembly representative of all Cubans. And in terms of society, the establishment of every one of our people’s inherent rights and a fair system of justice. We wanted to go beyond democracy.

The marxist-leninist system prevailing in the USSR collapsed after protracted death throes and ended up in the “dustbin of history”, from which it ought never to have emerged. Guángara, with its subtitle “To Freedom Through Freedom” was entering its final stages. We jubilantly welcomed the news of the Soviet implosion and, by the way, incorrectly predicted in an editorial that the Castroist system would shortly be gone. Our forecast was not borne out. We held modest 10th birthday celebrations and made it as far as the Autumn of 1992 and Issue No 52, Year XIII, but by then weariness, internal squabbles and, above all, the physical demise of many of our colleagues, like Dulzaides, Cobo, Ferro, Pareja, Castro and González – comrades that had not only physically helped out with editorial tasks and the publication of the review, but also sustained it financially – left gaps that could never be filled. 

On that long journey, mistakes had also been made that were avoidable, articles made it into print that should never have seen the light of day, enemies were made of liberal and anarchist Cubans and friendships broke down. But Guángara went down in the history of Cuban letters, priding itself on having implanted a different point of view in hostile territory where there had been a toleration of the prevailing reactionary rightists and had poked holes in the trenches of coarse, mercenary anti-communism. As a result, the right of a lot of other publications and differently-minded radio shows to query this consumerist society might have stayed in the catacombs, had Guángara never existed. It would be an exaggeration to claim that it won half the world over to its anti-Castroist truth and its libertarian announcements. And it would not be true to say that this anarchist publication provided correct guidance to the scattered exile community. And it would be a lie to argue that from its columns Castroism’s social and ideological foundations were undermined. But what we can be certain of is that Guángara Libertaria had an impact on thoughtful minds that entertained mistaken pro-Castroist, conservative or hard right notions, and that our arguments opened the eyes of many, outside and inside Cuba, to the truly terrifying and horrifying predicament of our people. 

At all times, Guángara championed the ideals of freedom. 

From Revista Encuentro de la cultura cubana, No 40 (Spring 2006), Dossier: Revistas Cubanas del Exilio, pp. 145-151

See https://www.cubaencuentro.com/revista/revista-encuentro/archivo/40-primavera-de-2006/memorias-de-guangara-libertaria-29667 

Translated by: Paul Sharkey.