Sean Penn With Raul Castro & Hugo Chavez

All,

Amiri Baraka sent this to me yesterday. Fascinating interviews by Sean Penn (!) with Fidel's brother and Cuba's president Raul Castro and Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez...

Kofi




Sean Penn Sits Down With Raul Castro for First Foreign Interview

http://www.thenation.com/doc/20081215/penn

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE -- November 25, 2008 Cuban President Raul
Castro Sits Down with Sean Penn & The Nation for First Foreign
Interview Castro Speaks About President-Elect Obama, Guantanamo and
Relations With the Pentagon; Hugo Chavez Interviewed As Well.

In the cover story of this week's Nation Magazine, actor/filmmaker Sean
Penn questions Cuban President Raul Castro in his first-ever
interview with the foreign press. In the wide-ranging, seven-hour
conversation, Castro discusses his views of President-elect Barack
Obama, reflects on his role during the Bay of Pigs invasion and the
Cuban missile crisis, and shares details of the secret but ongoing
military relationship between the Pentagon and Cuba over Guantanamo.

Penn, making his second trip to Cuba, spoke to Castro at the
Presidential Palace in Havana with the knowledge of Castro's
brother Fidel. In the interview, Castro:

* Expands on the secret military relationship between the Pentagon
and Cuba, detailing a remarkably structured series of monthly
meetings, formal response plans to crises on=2 0the base, and even a
hotline and collaborative emergency response exercises held jointly
between the two militaries. This cooperation belies the popular image
of two antagonistic nations on the brink of conflict.

* Offered his prediction about the (then) upcoming U.S. Presidential
election. "If he is not murdered before November 4," he says of
Obama, "he will be your next President."

* Describes the drama and unheard details about the Cuban missile
crisis and the Bay of Pigs invasion.

* Responds forcefully to allegations of human rights violations and
suppression of free speech, and defends criticism of Cuba as a haven
for the drug trade.

* Extends a surprising olive branch to the United States, proposing a
summit with President-elect Barack Obama.

Castro, sipping tea and discussing films as well as politics with
Penn, is at times defiant towards the United States. "Iraq is a
child's game," he tells Penn, "compared with what would happen if the
U.S. invaded Cuba." Largely, though, Castro is respectful towards the
United States and it's people, challenging policy ("a blockade is an
act of war, so Americans prefer the term embargo") but expressing
generosity towards Americans. "The American people are among our
closest neighbors," he says. "We should respect each other. We have
never held anything against the American people. Good relations would
be mutually advantageous.20Perhaps we cannot solve all of our
problems, but we can solve a good many of them."

In the article, Conversations with Chavez and Castro, Penn also
travels to Venezuela as well as to Cuba with journalist Christopher
Hitchens and historian Douglas Brinkley. In Venezuela, the group
interviewed President Hugo Chavez at length, discussing his view of a
potential relationship with President Obama, the Monroe Doctrine and
human rights and freedom of expression under his presidency.

The article is online now at:
[http://www.thenation.com/doc/20081215/penn], along with a
VideoNation interview with Sean Penn.

Conversations With Chavez and Castro
By Sean Penn

This article appeared in the December 15, 2008 edition of The Nation.
November 25, 2008

*
This article is an adapted excerpt of the essay/interview "A Mountain of
Snakes," which will appear in full December 1 at HuffingtonPost.
com.

Sean Penn: Conversations with Raul Castro about Obama, Guantánamo and the
Pentagon; and with Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez on human rights in his
country and the next US administration.

Soon to be Vice President-elect Joe Biden was rallying the troops: "We can
no longer be energy dependent on Saudi Arabia or a Venezuelan dictator."
Well, I know what Saudi Arabia is. But having been to Venezue la in 2006,
touring slums, mixing with the wealthy opposition and spending days and
hours at its president's side, I wondered, without wondering, to whom
Senator Biden was referring. Hugo Chávez Frías is the democratically elected
president of Venezuela (and by democratically elected I mean that he has
repeatedly stood before the voters in internationally sanctioned elections
and won large majorities, in a system that, despite flaws and
irregularities, has allowed his opponents to defeat him and win office, both
in a countrywide referendum last year and in regional elections in
November). And Biden's words were the kind of rhetoric that had recently led
us into a life-losing and monetarily costly war, which, while toppling a
shmuck in Iraq, had also toppled the most dynamic principles upon which the
United States was founded, enhanced recruitment for Al Qaeda and
deconstructed the US military.

By now, October 2008, I had digested my earlier visits to Venezuela and Cuba
and time spent with Chávez and Fidel Castro. I had grown increasingly
intolerant of the propaganda. Though Chávez himself has a penchant for
rhetoric, never has it been a cause for war. In hopes of demythologizing
this "dictator," I decided to pay him another visit. By this time I had come
to say to friends in private, "It's true, Chávez may not be a good man. But
he may well be a great one."

Among those to whom I said this were historian Douglas Brinkley and Vanity
Fair columnist Christopher Hitchens. These two were perfect complements.
Brinkley is a notably steady thinker whose historian's code of ethics
assures adherence to supremely reasoned evidence. Hitchens, a wily
wordsmith, ever too unpredictable for predisposition, is a wild card by any
measure who in a talk-show throwaway once referred to Chávez as an "oil-rich
clown." Though I believe Hitchens to be as principled as he is brilliant, he
can be combative to the point of bullying, as he once was in severe comments
made about saintly antiwar activist Cindy Sheehan. Brinkley and Hitchens
would balance any perceived bias in my writing. Also, these are a couple of
guys I have a lot of fun with and affection for.

So I called Fernando Sulichin, an old friend and well-connected independent
film producer from Argentina, and asked that he get them vetted and approved
to interview Chávez. In addition, we wanted to fly from Venezuela to Havana,
and I asked that Fernando request on our behalf interviews with the Castro
brothers, most urgently Raúl, who had taken over the reins of power from an
ailing Fidel in February--and who had never given a foreign interview. I had
traveled to Cuba in 2005, when I had the good fortune of meeting Fidel, and
was eager for an interview with the new president. The phone rang at 2
o'clock the following after noon. "Mi hermano," Fernando said. "It is done."

Our flight from Houston to Caracas was delayed due to mechanical problems.
It was 1 o'clock in the morning, and as we waited, Hitchens paced. "Very
rarely does only one thing go wrong," he said. He must have liked the way it
sounded, because he said it again. He was God's pessimist. I said, "Hitch,
it's gonna be fine. They'll get us another plane, and we'll be there on
time." But God's pessimist is actually God's atheistic pessimist. And I
would later be reminded of the clarity in his atheism. Something else would
indeed go wrong. Well, right and wrong, as you'll find out. Within two
hours, we were taking off.

When we landed at Caracas airport, Fernando was there to greet us. He guided
us to a private terminal, where we waited for the arrival of President
Chávez, who would take us on a stumping tour for gubernatorial candidates on
the beautiful Isla Margarita.

We spent the next two days in Chávez's constant company, with many hours of
private meetings among the four of us. In the private quarters of the
president's plane, I find that on the subject of baseball Chávez's command
of English soars. When Douglas asks if the Monroe Doctrine should be
abolished, Chávez, wanting to choose his words carefully, reverts to Spanish
to detail the nuances of his position against this doctrine, which has
justified US interv ention in Latin America for almost two centuries. "The
Monroe Doctrine has to be broken," he says. "We've been stuck with it for
over 200 years. It always gets back to the old confrontation of Monroe
versus Bolívar. Jefferson used to say that America should swallow, one by
one, the republics of the south. The country where you were born was based
on an imperialistic attitude."

Venezuelan intelligence tells him that the Pentagon has plans for invading
his country. "I know they are thinking about invading Venezuela," Chávez
says. It seems he sees killing the Monroe Doctrine as a yardstick for his
destiny. "Nobody again can come here and export our natural resources." Is
he concerned about the US reaction to his bold statements about the Monroe
Doctrine? He quotes Uruguayan freedom fighter José Gervasio Artigas: "With
the truth, I don't offend or fear."

Hitchens sits quietly, taking notes throughout the conversation. Chávez
recognizes a flicker of skepticism in his eye. "CREES-to-fer, ask me a
question. Ask me the hardest question." They share a smile. Hitchens asks,
"What's the difference between you and Fidel?" Chávez says, "Fidel is a
communist. I am not. I am a social democrat. Fidel is a Marxist-Leninist. I
am not. Fidel is an atheist. I am not. One day we discussed God and Christ.
I told Castro, I am a Christian. I believe in the Social Gospels of Christ.
He doesn't. Just doesn't. More than once, Castro told me that Venezuela is
not Cuba, and we are not in the 1960s.

"You see," Chávez says, "Venezuela must have democratic socialism. Castro
has been a teacher for me. A master. Not on ideology but on strategy."
Perhaps ironically, John F. Kennedy is Chávez's favorite US president. "I
was a boy," he says. "Kennedy was the driving force of reform in America."
Surprised by Chávez's affinity for Kennedy, Hitch chimes in, referring to
Kennedy's counter-Cuba economic plan for Latin America: "The Alliance for
Progress was a good thing?" "Yes," says Chávez. "The Alliance for Progress
was a political proposal to improve conditions. It was aimed at lowering the
social difference between cultures."

Conversation among the four of us continues on buses, at rallies and at
dedications throughout Isla Margarita. Chávez is tireless. He addresses
every new group for hours on end under a blistering sun. At most he'll sleep
four hours at night, spending the first hour of his morning reading news of
the world. And once he's on his feet, he's unstoppable despite heat,
humidity and the two layers of revolutionary red shirts he wears.

I had three primary motivations for this trip: to include the voices of
Brinkley and Hitchens, to deepen my understanding of Chávez and Venezuela
and excite my writing hand, and to enlist Chávez's support in encouraging
=0 A the Castro brothers to meet with the three of us in Havana. While my
understanding through Fernando was that this third piece of the puzzle had
been approved and confirmed, somewhere in the cultural, language and
telephonic exchanges there had been a misunderstanding. Meanwhile, CBS News
was expecting a report from Brinkley, Vanity Fair was expecting one from
Hitchens and I was writing on behalf of The Nation.

On our third day in Venezuela, we thanked President Chávez for his time, the
four of us standing among security personnel and press at the Santiago
Marino Airport on Isla Margarita. Brinkley had a final question, and so did
I. "Mr. President," he said, "if Barack Obama is elected president of the
United States, would you accept an invitation to fly to Washington and meet
with him?" Chávez immediately answered, "Yes."

When it was my turn, I said, "Mr. President, it is very important for us to
meet with the Castros. It is impossible to tell the story of Venezuela
without including Cuba--and impossible to tell the story of Cuba without the
Castros." Chávez promised us that he would call President Castro the moment
he got on his plane and ask on our behalf but warned us that it was unlikely
big brother Fidel would be able to respond so quickly, as he was doing a lot
of writing and reflecting these days, not seeing a lot of people. He could
make no promises about Ra úl either. Chávez boarded his plane, and we watched
him fly away.

The next morning we took off for Havana. Full disclosure: we were loaned an
airplane through the Venezuelan Ministry of Energy and Petroleum. If someone
wants to refer to that as a payoff, be my guest. But when you read the next
report from a journalist flying on Air Force One, or hopping on board a US
military transport plane, be so kind as to dismiss that article as well. We
appreciated the ride in all its luxury, but our reporting remains
uninfluenced.

'Very Rarely Does Only One Thing Go Wrong'

For me the personal stakes were pretty high. Getting on the plane to Havana
shy of that guarantee of access to Raúl Castro was making me anxious.
Christopher had pulled out of a few important speaking engagements at the
last minute to make the trip. It was not his practice to leave others
holding the bag. So for him, it was buy or bust, and he was becoming
agitated. Douglas, a professor of history at Rice University, would have to
return imminently for lecture obligations. Fernando was feeling the weight
of our expectation that he'd be our battering ram. And me, well, I was
depending on the call to Castro from Chávez, both to get the interview and
to save my ass with my companions.

We landed in Havana around noon and were met on the tarmac by Omar Gonzalez
Jimenez, preside nt of the Cuban Film Institute, and Luis Alberto Notario,
head of the institute's international co-production wing. I'd spent time
with both of them on my earlier trip to Cuba. We started catching up on
personal matters on the walk to the customs office, until Hitch stepped
forward and unabashedly demanded of Omar, "Sir, we must see the president!"
"Yes," Omar said. "We are aware of the request, and word has been passed to
the president. We are still awaiting his response."

For the rest of that day and into the following afternoon, we tortured our
hosts with the incessant drumbeat: Raúl, Raúl, Raúl. I assumed if Fidel was
up to it and could make the time, he would call. And if not, I remained
appreciative of our prior meeting and said as much in a note I passed to him
through Omar. Raúl I only knew about through what I'd read, and I hadn't a
clue as to whether or not he'd see us.

Cubans are a particularly warm and hospitable people. As our hosts took us
around the city, I noticed that the number of American 1950s cars had
diminished even in the few years since my last trip, giving way to smaller
Russian designs. On a sweep by the invasive-looking US Interests Section on
the Malecón, where waves breaking against the sea wall shower passing cars,
I noticed something almost indescribable about the atmosphere in Cuba. It is
the palpable presence of architectura l and living human history on a small
plot of land surrounded by water. Even the visitor feels the spirit of a
culture that proclaims, in various ways, "This is our special place."

We snaked through Old Havana, and in a glass-encased display outside the
Museum of the Revolution we saw the Granma, the boat used to transport Cuban
revolutionaries from Mexico in 1956. We moved on to the Palace of Fine Arts,
with its collection of passionate and political pieces from a cross section
of Cuba's deep talent pool. We then toured the Higher Institute of Arts and
later went to dinner with National Assembly President Ricardo Alarcón and
Roberto Fabelo, a painter they had invited after I'd expressed appreciation
of his work at the art museum that afternoon. By midnight there had still
been no word from Raúl Castro. After that we were taken to the protocol
house, where we would lay our heads till dawn.

By noon of the following day, the clock was ticking loudly in our ears. We
had sixteen hours left in Havana before we would have to head to the airport
to catch our flights back home. We were sitting around a table at La
Castellana, an upscale Old Havana eatery, with a large group of artists and
musicians who, led by the famed Cuban painter Kcho, had established Brigada
Martha Machado, an organization of volunteers aiding victims of Hurricanes
Ike and Gustav on the Isle of Youth. The brigade has the full support of
government dollars, airplanes and staff that would be the envy of our Gulf
Coast volunteers after Hurricane Katrina. Also joining us for lunch was
Antonio Castro Soto del Valle, a handsome young man of humble character who
is the 39-year-old son of Fidel Castro. Antonio is a doctor and chief medic
for the Cuban national baseball team. I had a brief but pleasant chat with
him and re-emphasized our Raúl agenda.

The clock was no longer ticking. It was pounding. Omar told me we would be
hearing the decision of the president quite soon. Fingers crossed, Douglas,
Hitch, Fernando and I went back to the protocol house to get our bags packed
in advance. By 6 pm, we were on a ten-hour countdown. I was sitting
downstairs in the living room, reading in the hazy late-afternoon light.
Hitch and Douglas were in their upstairs quarters, I assumed napping to
offset anxiety. And on the couch beside me was Fernando, snoring away.

Then Luis appeared at our open front door. I glanced over the top of my
glasses as he gave me a very direct nod. Without words, I pointed
questioningly up the stairs to where my companions lay. But Luis shook his
head apologetically. "Only you," he said. The president had made his
decision.

I could hear Hitch's words of doubt echo in my head, "Very rarely does only
one thing go wrong." Was he talking about me? Et mi, Br ute? Nonetheless, I
grabbed at my back pocket to make sure I had my pad of Venezuela notes,
checked for my pen, pocketed my specs and headed out with Luis. Just before
I shut the door of the waiting car, I heard Fernando's voice calling after
me. "Sean!" We drove away.

I'm Off to See the Wizard

Stateside, Cuban President Raúl Castro, the island's former minister of the
Armed Forces, has been branded a "cold militarist" and a "puppet" of Fidel.
But the once ponytailed young revolutionary of the Sierra Maestra is proving
the snakes wrong. Indeed, "Raulism" is on the rise alongside a recent
industrial and agricultural economic boom. Fidel's legacy, like that of
Chávez, will depend upon the sustainability of a flexible revolution, one
that could survive its leader's departure by death or resignation. Fidel has
once again been underestimated by the North. In the selection of his brother
Raúl, he has put the day-to-day policy-making of his country into formidable
hands. In a report by the Council on Hemispheric Affairs, US State
Department spokesman John Casey acknowledges that Raulism could lead to
"greater openness and freedom for the Cuban people."

Soon enough I'm sitting at a small polished table in a government office
with President Castro and a translator. "Fidel called me moments ago," he
tells me. "He wants me to call him after we have spoken." There is a humor
i n Raúl's voice that recalls a lifetime of affectionate tolerance for his
big brother's watchful eye. "He wants to know everything we speak about," he
says with the chuckle of the wise. "I never liked the idea of giving
interviews," he says. "One says many things, but when they are published,
they become shortened, condensed. The ideas lose their meaning. I was told
you make long movies. Maybe you will make long journalism as well." I
promise him I'll write as fast as I can, and print as much as I write. He
tells me he's informally promised his first interview as president
elsewhere, and not wanting to multiply what could be construed as an insult,
he singled me out from my companions.

Castro and I share a cup of tea. "Forty-six years ago today, at exactly this
time of day, we mobilized troops, Alameda in the West, Fidel in Havana, me
in Areda. It had been announced at noon in Washington that President Kennedy
would give a speech. This was during the missile crisis. We anticipated that
the speech would be a declaration of war. After his humiliation at the Bay
of Pigs, the pressure of the missiles [which Castro claims were strictly
defensive] would represent a great defeat to Kennedy. Kennedy would not
stand with that defeat. Today we study US candidates very carefully,
focusing on McCain and Obama. We look at all the old speeches. Particularly
those made in Florida, where opposing Cuba=2 0has become a for-profit business
for many. In Cuba we have one party, but in the US there is very little
difference. Both parties are an expression of the ruling class." He says
today's Miami Cuban lobby members are descendants of Batista-era wealth, or
international landowners "who'd only paid pennies for their land" while Cuba
had been under absolute US rule for sixty years.

"The 1959 land reform was the Rubicon of our revolution. A death sentence
for our US relations." Castro seems to be sizing me up as he takes another
sip of his tea. "At that moment, there was no discussion about socialism, or
Cuba dealing with Russia. But the die was cast."

After the Eisenhower administration bombed two vessel-loads of guns headed
for Cuba, Fidel reached out to old allies. Raúl says, "We asked Italy. No!
We asked Czechoslovakia. No! Nobody would give us weapons to defend
ourselves because Eisenhower had put pressure on them. So by the time we got
weapons from Russia, we had no time to learn how to use them before the US
attacked at the Bay of Pigs!" He laughs and excuses himself to an adjacent
restroom, briefly disappearing behind a wall, only to immediately pop back
into the room, joking, "At 77, this is the fault of the tea."

Joking aside, Castro moves with the agility of a young man. He exercises
every day, his eyes are bright and his voice is strong. He picks up where he
left off. "You know, Sean, there was a famous picture of Fidel from the Bay
of Pigs invasion. He is standing in front of a Russian tank. We did not yet
know even how to put those tanks in reverse. So," he jokes, "retreat was no
option!" So much for the "cold militarist." Raúl Castro was warm, open,
energetic and sharp of wit.

I return to the subject of US elections by repeating the question Brinkley
had asked Chávez: Would Castro accept an invitation to Washington to meet
with a President Obama, assuming he won in the polling, only a few weeks
away? Castro becomes reflective. "This is an interesting question," he says,
followed by a rather long, awkward silence. Until: "The US has the most
complicated election process in the world. There are practiced election
stealers in the Cuban-American lobby in Florida..." I chime in, "I think
that lobby is fracturing." And then, with the certainty of a die-hard
optimist, I say, "Obama will be our next president." Castro smiles,
seemingly at my naïveté, but the smile disappears as he says, "If he is not
murdered before November 4, he'll be your next president." I note that he
had still not answered my question about meeting in Washington. "You know,"
he says, "I have read the statements Obama has made, that he would preserve
the blockade." I interject, "His term was embargo." "Yes," Castro says,
"blockade is an act of war, so A mericans prefer the term embargo, a word
that is used in legal proceedings...but in either case, we know that this is
pre-election talk, and that he has also said he is open to discussion with
anyone."

Raúl interrupts himself: "You are probably thinking, Oh, the brother talks
as much as Fidel!" We laugh. "It is not usually so, but you know,
Fidel--once he had a delegation here, in this room, from China. Several
diplomats and a young translator. I think it was the translator's first time
with a head of state. They'd all had a very long flight and were jet-lagged.
Fidel, of course, knew this, but still he talked for hours. Soon, one near
the end of the table, just there [pointing to a nearby chair], his eyes
begin to get heavy. Then another, then another. But Fidel, he continued to
talk. Soon all, including the highest-ranking of them, to whom Fidel had
been directly addressing his words, fell sound asleep in their chairs. So
Fidel, he turns his eyes to the only one awake, the young translator, and
kept him in conversation till dawn." By this time in the story, both Raúl
and I were in stitches. I'd only had the one meeting with Fidel, whose
astonishing mind and passion bleed words. But it was enough to get the
picture. Only our translator was not laughing, as Castro returned to the
point.

"In my first statement after Fidel fell ill, I said we are willing to<> discuss our relationship with the US on equal footing. Later, in 2006, I
said it again in an address at the Revolutionary Square. I was laughed at by
the US media--that I was applying cosmetics over dictatorship." I offer him
another opportunity to speak to the American people. He answers, "The
American people are among our closest neighbors. We should respect each
other. We have never held anything against the American people. Good
relations would be mutually advantageous. Perhaps we cannot solve all of our
problems, but we can solve a good many of them."

He paused now, slowly considering a thought. "I'll tell you something, and
I've never said it publicly before. It had been leaked, at some point, by
someone in the US State Department, but was quickly hushed up because of
concern about the Florida electorate, though now, as I tell you this, the
Pentagon will think me indiscreet."

I wait with bated breath. "We've had permanent contact with the US military,
by secret agreement, since 1994," Castro tells me. "It is based on the
premise that we would discuss issues only related to Guantánamo. On February
17, 1993, following a request by the United States to discuss issues related
to buoy locators for ship navigations into the bay, was the first contact in
the history of the revolution. Between March 4 and July 1, the Rafters
Crisis took place. A military-to-military hot line was established, and on
May 9, 1995, we agreed to monthly meetings with primaries from both
governments. To this day, there have been 157 meetings, and there is a taped
record of every meeting. The meetings are conducted on the third Friday of
every month. We alternate locations between the American base at Guantánamo
and in Cuban-held territory. We conduct joint emergency-response exercises.
For example, we set a fire, and American helicopters bring water from the
bay, in concert with Cuban helicopters. [Before this] the American base at
Guantánamo had created chaos. We had lost border guards, and have graphic
evidence of it. The US had encouraged illegal and dangerous emigration, with
US Coast Guard ships intercepting Cubans who tried to leave the island. They
would bring them to Guantánamo, and a minimal cooperation began. But we
would no longer play guard to our coast. If someone wanted to leave, we
said, Go ahead. And so, with the navigation issues came the beginning of
this collaboration. Now at the Friday meetings there is always a
representative of the US State Department." No name given. He continues,
"The State Department tends to be less reasonable than the Pentagon. But no
one raises their voice because...I don't take part. Because I talk loud. It
is the only place in the world where these two militaries meet in peace."

"What about Guantánamo?" I ask. "I'll tell you the truth,"=2 0Castro says. "The
base is our hostage. As a president, I say the US should go. As a military
man, I say let them stay." Inside, I'm wondering, Have I got a big story to
break here? Or is this of little relevance? It should be no surprise that
enemies speak behind the scenes. What is a surprise is that he's talking to
me about it. And with that, I circle back to the question of a meeting with
Obama. "Should a meeting take place between you and our next president, what
would be Cuba's first priority?" Without a beat, Castro answers, "Normalize
trade." The indecency of the US embargo on Cuba has never been more evident
than now, in the wake of three devastating hurricanes. The Cuban people's
needs have never been more desperate. The embargo is simply inhumane and
entirely unproductive. Raúl continues, "The only reason for the blockade is
to hurt us. Nothing can deter the revolution. Let Cubans come to visit with
their families. Let Americans come to Cuba." It seems he's saying, Let them
come see this terrible Communist dictatorship they keep hearing about in the
press, where even representatives of the State Department and prominent
dissidents acknowledge that in a free and open election in Cuba today, the
ruling Communist Party would win 80 percent of the electorate. I list
several US conservatives who have been critical of the embargo, from the
late economist Milton Friedman, to Colin Powell, to20even Texas Republican
Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison, who said, "I have believed for a while that we
should be looking for a new strategy for Cuba. And that is, opening more
trade, especially food trade, especially if we can give the people more
contact with the outside world. If we can build up the economy, that might
make the people more able to fight the dictatorship." Castro, ignoring the
slight, responds boldly, "We welcome the challenge."

By now, we have moved on from the tea to red wine and dinner. "Let me tell
you something," he says. "We have newly advanced research that strongly
suggests deepwater offshore oil reserves, which US companies can come and
drill. We can negotiate. The US is protected by the same Cuban trade laws as
anyone else. Perhaps there can be some reciprocity. There are 110,000 square
kilometers of sea in the divided area. God would be unfair not to give some
oil to us. I don't believe he would deprive us this way." Indeed, the US
Geological Survey speculates something in the area of 9 billion barrels of
oil and 21 trillion cubic feet of natural gas reserves in the North Cuba
Basin. Now that he's improved recently rocky relations with Mexico, Castro
is looking at also improving prospects with the European Union. "EU
relations should improve with Bush's exit," he states confidently. "And the
US?" I ask. "Listen," he says, "we are as patient as the Chinese. Seven ty
percent of our population was born under the blockade. I am the
longest-standing minister of Armed Forces in history. Forty-eight and a half
years until last October. That's why I'm in this uniform and continue to
work from my old office. In Fidel's office, nothing has been touched. At the
Warsaw Pact military exercises, I was the youngest, and the one who had been
there the longest. Then, I was the oldest, and still the one who had been
there the longest. Iraq is a child's game compared with what would happen if
the US invaded Cuba." After another sip of wine, Castro says, "Preventing a
war is tantamount to winning a war. This is in our doctrine."

With our dinner finished, I walk with the president through the sliding
glass doors onto a greenhouse-like terrace with tropical plants and birds.
As we sip more wine, he says, "There is an American movie--the elite are
sitting around a table, trying to decide who will be their next president.
They look outside the window, where they see the gardener. Do you know the
movie I'm talking about?" "Being There," I say. "Yes!" Castro responds
excitedly, "Being There. I like this movie very much. With the United
States, every objective possibility exists. The Chinese say: 'On the longest
path, you start with the first step.' The US president should take this step
on his own, but with no threat to our sovereignty. That is not negotiable.
We ca n make demands without telling each other what to do within our
borders."

"Mr. President," I say, "watching the last presidential debate in the United
States, we heard John McCain encouraging the free-trade agreement with
Colombia, a country where death squads are notorious and assassinations of
labor leaders have been occurring, and yet relations with the United States
continue to get closer, as the Bush administration is currently attempting
to push that agreement through Congress. As you know, I've just come from
Venezuela, which, like Cuba, the Bush administration considers an enemy
nation, though of course we buy a lot of oil from them. It occurred to me
that Colombia may reasonably become our geographically strategic partner in
South America, as Israel is in the Middle East. Would you comment on that?"

He considers the question with caution, speaking in a slow and metered tone.
"Right now," he says, "we have good relations with Colombia. But I will say
that if there is a country in South America where an environment exists that
is vulnerable to that...it is Colombia." Thinking of Chávez's suspicion of
US intentions to intervene in Venezuela, I take a deep breath.

The hour was getting late, but I didn't want to leave without asking Castro
about allegations of human rights violations and alleged narco-trafficking
facilitated by the Cuban government. A 2007 report by Human Rights Watch
states that Cuba "remains the one country in Latin America that represses
nearly all forms of political dissent." Furthermore, there are about 200
political prisoners in Cuba today, approximately 4 percent of whom are
convicted of crimes of nonviolent dissent. As I await Castro's comments, I
can't help but think of the nearby US prison at Guantánamo and the
horrendous US offenses against human rights there.

"No country is 100 percent free of human rights abuses," Castro tells me.
But, he insists, "reports in the US media are highly exaggerated and
hypocritical." Indeed, even high-profile Cuban dissidents, such as Eloy
Gutiérrez Menoyo, acknowledge the manipulations, accusing the US Interests
Section of gaining dissident testimony through cash payoffs. Ironically, in
1992 and '94, Human Rights Watch also described lawlessness and intimidation
by anti-Castro groups in Miami as what author/journalist Reese Erlich termed
"violations normally associated with Latin American dictatorships."

Having said that, I'm a proud American and infinitely aware that if I were a
Cuban citizen and were to write an article such as this about the Cuban
leadership, I could be jailed. Furthermore, I'm proud that the system set up
by our founding fathers, while not exactly intact today, was never dependent
on just one great leader per epoch. These things remain in question for the
romantic heroes of Cuba and Venezuela. I consider20mentioning this, and
perhaps should have, but I've got something else on my mind.

"Can we talk about drugs?" I ask Castro. He responds, "The United States is
the largest consumer of narcotics in the world. Cuba sits directly between
the United States and its suppliers. It is a big problem for us.... With the
expansion of tourism, a new market has developed, and we struggle with it.
It is also said that we allow narco-traffickers to travel through Cuban
airspace. We allow no such thing. I'm sure some of these planes get by us.
It is simply due to economic restrictions that we no longer have functioning
low-altitude radar."

While this may sound like tall-tale telling, not so, according to Col.
Lawrence Wilkerson, a former adviser to Colin Powell. Wilkerson told Reese
Erlich in a January interview, "The Cubans are our best partners in the
counter-drug and counter-terror war in the Caribbean. Even better than
Mexico. The military looked at Cuba as a very cooperative partner."

I want to ask Castro my unanswered question a final time, as our mutual body
language suggests we've hit the witching hour. It is after 1 am, but he
initiates. "Now," he says, "you asked if I would accept to meet with [Obama]
in Washington. I would have to think about it. I would discuss it with all
my comrades in the leadership. Personally, I think it would not be fair that
I be the first to visi t, because it is always the Latin American presidents
who go to the United States first. But it would also be unfair to expect the
president of the United States to come to Cuba. We should meet in a neutral
place."

He pauses, putting down his empty wine glass. "Perhaps we could meet at
Guantánamo. We must meet and begin to solve our problems, and at the end of
the meeting, we could give the president a gift...we could send him home
with the American flag that waves over Guantánamo Bay."

As we exit his office, we are followed by staff as President Castro takes me
down the elevator to the lobby and walks me to my waiting car. I thank him
for the generosity of his time. As my driver puts the car in gear, the
president taps on the window beside me. I roll it down as the president
checks his watch, realizing that seven hours have passed since we began the
interview. Smiling, he says, "I will call Fidel now. I can promise you this.
When Fidel finds I have spoken to you for seven hours, he will be sure to
give you seven and a half when you return to Cuba." We share a laugh and a
last handshake.

It had rained earlier in the night. In this early-hour darkness, our tires
streaming over the wet pavement on a quiet Havana morning, it strikes me
that the most basic questions of sovereignty offer substantial insight into
the complexities of US antagon ism toward Cuba and Venezuela, as well as
those countries' policies. They've only ever had two choices: to be
imperfectly ours, or imperfectly their own.

Viva Cuba. Viva Venezuela. Viva USA.

When I got back to the protocol house, it was nearly 2 am. My old friend
Fernando, looking much the worse for wear, had waited up. My companions had
had quite a night. Poor Fernando had taken the brunt of their frustration.
They hadn't known where I'd gone, nor why I had left them behind. And the
remaining Cuban officials they'd been able to contact had insisted they stay
put, should either of the Castro brothers spontaneously offer an audience.
So they had also missed out on a last Cuban night on the town. After filling
me in, Fernando went to get a couple hours' sleep. I stayed up reviewing my
notes and was first at the breakfast table, at 4:45 am. When Douglas and
Hitch ambled down the stairs, I put the edge of the tablecloth over my head
in mock shame. I guess, under the circumstances, it was a bit early (in more
than just the hour) to be testing their humor. The joke didn't play. While
Fernando took a separate flight to Buenos Aires, we had a quiet breakfast
and a quiet flight back to home sweet home.

When we arrived in Houston, I realized I'd underestimated the thick skin of
these two road-worn professionals. Whatever ice I'd perceived earlier had
melted. We said ou r goodbyes, celebrating what had been a thrilling several
days. Neither had been so catty as to inquire into the content of my
interview, but Christopher headed to his eastbound connection with a parting
word, "Well...I guess we'll read about it."

¡Sí, Se Puede!

I sat on the edge of my bed with my wife, son and daughter, tears streaming
down my face, as Barack Obama spoke for the first time as the
president-elect of the United States of America. I closed my eyes and
started to see a film in my head. I could hear the music too, appropriately
the Dixie Chicks covering a Fleetwood Mac song over slow-motion images in
montage. There they were: Bush, Hannity, Cheney, McCain, Limbaugh and
Robertson. I saw them all. And the song was rising as the image of Sarah
Palin took over the screen. Natalie Maines sweetly sang,

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
till the landslide brought me down.
Landslide brought me down...


About Sean Penn:

Actor/filmmaker Sean Penn's pieces have appeared in the San Francisco
Chronicle, Time, Rolling Stone and at HuffingtonPost.com, among others.