Cuba: An American History

“If Columbus begins US history as written, that is partly because, consciously or unconsciously, imperial ambitions have shaped US history from the beginning, too. And Cuba—where Columbus did land—is a critical presence in that American history.”

As the title suggests, Cuba: An American History focuses on the connections between US and Cuban history. Ferrer’s description of how Christopher Columbus’s arrival impacted both the history of the US and Cuba emphasizes the ties between the two nations. Here, she foreshadows her argument that American “imperial ambitions” shaped Cuba’s history, which she builds throughout the work.

“For almost three centuries, Spanish treasure fleets carrying dizzying amounts of gold and silver would follow that same route. The great quantities of precious minerals of Mexico and Peru, and the existence in both places of massive Native empires capable of providing the labor to mine them, soon transformed Spain into the wealthiest and most powerful place on earth. And the discovery of the Gulf Stream that guided treasure ships to Spain turned Havana into ‘Key to the New World.’”

This passage illustrates the lyrical quality of Ferrer’s narrative. She uses hyperbolic language like “dizzying amounts” and “the wealthiest and most powerful place on earth” to vividly depict Spain’s imperial prowess. The phrase “Key to the New World” also emphasizes Cuba’s important position during this time of colonial power and trade.

“It is perhaps for this reason—the impetus to sugar and slavery—that the British occupation of Havana is often accorded enormous importance in Cuban history. The British occupation did not create Cuba’s sugar industry, but it did give it a commanding boost. It was a harbinger of a new Cuba—and a lasting one. The island’s reliance on sugar as the basis of its economy would expand significantly in the decades after British rule; indeed, it would endure for more than two centuries.”

Ferrer describes Britain’s brief occupation of Cuba (from March to August 1762) as a turning point in Cuban history, saying that it highlighted the importance of sugar production in Cuba’s economy. The word “harbinger” implies that it also foreshadowed a history of colonization and economic dependency that would exist “for more than two centuries.”

“On a fundamental level, Cuba’s sugar revolution consolidated an economic system based overwhelmingly on the export of a single crop, produced on large plantations by a fast-growing number of enslaved Africans. Sugar was king, and by 1830, the island of Cuba was producing more of it than any other place on earth.”

Ferrer emphasizes The Historical Impacts of Enslavement and Racial Politics in Cuban history throughout the work. Here, she lays out the economic and human impacts of enslavement, showing that the foundations of Cuba’s economy were built on racialized exploitation. Her description of the enslavement economy in Cuba reflects language used to describe the economy of the American South, drawing parallels between the two.

“Cuba’s master, then, had the potential to cripple American commerce. For the statesmen of the early nineteenth century, there was no room for doubt: to guarantee the success and permanence of the young American republic, the acquisition of Cuba was, as [John Quincy] Adams had said, ‘indispensable.’”

Ferrer uses the word “master” to characterize the relationship between Cuba and its imperial rulers and evoke the metaphor of domination. This word choice mirrors the dynamics of enslavement, drawing a connection between Cuba’s enslavement economy and the nation as a whole as a being subordinate to imperial interests.

“In recent years, it has become commonplace to point out that slavery—as the beating heart of an economic system that linked the U.S. North and South—built capitalism. But neither slavery nor capitalism was ever circumscribed by national boundaries. Slave-grown cotton from the U.S. South fed the textile mills and factories of the Industrial Revolution in England and the U.S. North. Slave-grown sugar from Cuba helped kill the hunger of their workers, and its profits fueled the growth of American industries. Cuba—its sugar, its slavery, its slave trade—is part of the history of American capitalism.”

In this passage, Ferrer builds her argument about The Consequences of US Policy on Cuba. She particularly identifies the close connections between capitalism, enslavement, and the political economies of both Cuba and the US. This shows how Cuba’s history is an intrinsic part of the rise of American capitalism.

“The Civil War was a conflict over the future of slavery in the United States, but powerful southerners had long believed that preserving slavery in the South was also about preserving it in Cuba. They feared that abolition followed by the establishment of a majority-Black republic on the island would doom white supremacy on their own home ground. For abolitionists, meanwhile, challenging and destroying slavery at home was also about destroying it abroad. As historian Gregory Downs tells us, ‘The Civil War was fought over the future of slavery inside and outside the United States.’”

American readers are likely familiar with the history of the American Civil War from a domestic perspective. Here, Ferrer emphasizes the international ramifications of the American Civil War. By quoting historian Gregory Downs, she builds support for her argument that US conflicts over enslavement extended beyond its borders. This emphasis clarifies the consequences of US policy on Cuba.

 “Wasn’t Cuban independence a foregone conclusion? [General Calixto] García grew pensive. Perhaps he furrowed his brow, which bore a deep scar from a bullet wound he had inflicted upon himself in 1874, attempting suicide to avoid capture by the Spanish. He replied candidly: independence was ‘by no means an easy enterprise.’ The principal obstacle, he said, was white anxiety. ‘[Among] the whites…some [were] eternally wavering on account of the risks of the enterprise, and others hesitating out of a fear of a servile war with the negroes and mulattoes if Cuba became free.’ While Garcia’s words were meant to explain the recent defeat of the Cuban cause, they also revealed something about the momentous challenge that lay ahead. To succeed, the independence movement would have to change the way people thought about race.”

This quote from General García of the Liberation Army is an example of how Ferrer uses primary sources to analyze the historical impacts of enslavement and racial politics in Cuba. This passage highlights how Cubans feared Black participation in their government, and this was an obstacle in their freedom movement. Ferrer includes rhetorical flourishes, speculation, and imagery to paint a human portrait of this historical figure, as when she writes that “[p]erhaps he furrowed his brow” or characterizes his response as “candid[]”; this humanizes him.

“In one way, the outcome of the war was already certain. No one expected Spain to win. But other mysteries loomed large. What would happen when an ever more rigid racial system in the United States encountered in Cuba a popular multiracial mobilization that had consciously challenged racial injustice? And, bluntly, as José Martí had asked a few years earlier, once the Americans arrived, would anyone be able to make them leave?”

This passage is an illustrative example of how US policy and US racism interacted with Cuban policy and racial politics. Ferrer juxtaposes the certainty of Spanish defeat with the unpredictability of US intentions in Cuba. In both countries, race and politics were closely intertwined.

“At five minutes before noon on May 20, 1902, in the old Spanish Palace of the Captains-General, Leonard Wood entered the great hall from the left, and the new president of Cuba, Tomas Estrada Palma, entered from the right. They met in the middle, shook hands, and Wood relinquished the reins of government to Estrada Palma. Cuba had a president, and he was Cuban.”

This opening sentence from Chapter 15 is an example of how Ferrer uses anecdotes to introduce historical turning points. The symmetry of the two men entering from opposite sides adds symbolic weight to the transfer of power, representing their contrasting backgrounds. Ferrer’s descriptive approach draws readers in.

“The story of 1912 is an ugly one, as stories of racial violence always are. Indeed, it may be the ugliest chapter in the history of the Cuban Republic. Thousands of citizens—mostly Black and unarmed—were murdered by their white compatriots. The charge of ‘race war’ was a familiar one in Cuba. Historically, the term was meant to invoke the specter of Black violence against whites; just as fear of race war tended to suggest white fear of that violence. Yet, here, as perhaps in most cases, the violence was that of the state and the white civilians it deputized. And whatever fear white citizens felt in the midst of the race war rumors, it would have paled in intensity, and certainly in reasonableness, when compared to Black fear of white violence.”

Ferrer’s use of stark words, like “ugly” and “murdered,” emphasizes her subjectivity and moral position in the historical narrative. She criticizes the common understanding of “race war” as a war started by a minority against a white majority and reframes it to mean a state-sanctioned attack on a minority population. This intervention indicates Ferrer’s antiracist sentiments.

“Even as the president sent his secret police for them, other Cubans joined the cause of the protestors. Sumner Welles and the Cuban army may have issued the final strikes against Machado, but the force of mass politics had served as the constant and irresistible drumbeat for years. It was the general strike that ultimately defeated the president. The fact that the public played so pivotal a role in forcing out the old regime is why Cubans—and historians—refer to the events of 1933 not as a coup, but as a revolution.”

As a people’s history, Cuba: An American History focuses on The Role of Mass Movements in Shaping Historical Events. This framing comes to the fore in this passage, where Ferrer describes how “mass politics” created the conditions for overthrowing the corrupt Machado regime. She highlights the power of revolutions or popular movements in shaping history.

“No country is ever just one thing.”

Part of Ferrer’s project in this book is to counter simplistic views held by Americans about Cuba. Thus, when she describes aspects of Cuba’s cultural history, she uses this line to make it clear that Cuba is not just the political pawn that Americans assume it is. This concise statement emphasizes the richness and plurality of Cuban identity.

“By different means, Fidel Castro preached a political program thoroughly familiar and appealing to a wide swath of Cuban society. And that program reflected a consensus in favor of democratic principles and social justice.

Consensus, however, did not save him. Castro ended what became arguably his most famous speech with certainly his most famous line: ‘Condemn me. It does not matter. History will absolve me.’”

Ferrer’s emphasis on the role of mass movements in shaping historical events is most clear when she discusses the rise of Fidel Castro. Even as she describes his “most famous speech,” she notes that the content of that speech was “thoroughly familiar and appealing to a wide swath of Cuban society.” In other words, his ideas were not new or groundbreaking—he was only reflecting popular sentiments of the time.

“Having witnessed U.S.-supplied rockets hit the house of a friend, Castro wrote, ‘I have sworn to myself that the Americans are going to pay dearly for what they are doing. When this war ends, another, much longer and bigger war will begin for me: the war I will wage against them. I realize that will be my true destiny.’ His true destiny—or, to paraphrase Martí, the object of everything he would do.”

Ferrer uses this quote to build her argument that Castro’s ideology was predominantly characterized by his drive to counter American imperialism rather than by a dogmatic attachment to communism. She connects his beliefs to those of the figurehead of Cuban nationalism, José Martí, who was not a Marxist and likewise emphasized anti-imperialism. Her reference to Martí here also connects Castro to a long line of Cuban independence advocates.

“Simply put, the story of how Cubans ousted Fulgencio Batista from power on January 1, 1959, is always a story in the plural. Only if we read history backward can we image that the revolution was Fidel Castro’s from the start.”

This passage articulates Ferrer’s people-centered approach to history or, in her words here, “a story in the plural.” She contrasts this approach with a “great man of history” historiography, which would characterize the revolution as “Castro’s from the start.”

“In the moment of victory, on the cusp of power, that was Fidel Castro’s first promise: the revolution would be unprecedented, it would do many things for the very first time.”

Ferrer’s description of the Cuban Revolution characterizes it as both continuity and change. Although she frequently notes its basis in past movements, here, she acknowledges its novelty and how it represented a break from past trends. Her focus on Castro’s “first promise” and his claim that he would do things “for the very first time” emphasizes his desire to break precedent.

“Such sentiments exemplified the long-standing impasse in Cubans’ and Americans’ understanding of their shared history. And the two interpretations could not have been more at odds. What Americans saw as an act of selfless benevolence, Cubans saw as an act of colonial imposition. That antagonism mattered now more than ever, for it was precisely the colonial relationship between the United States and Cuba that the revolution was beginning to challenge. Unable to perceive that relationship as a colonial one, Americans were at a loss to understand what was happening in Cuba and quick to perceive all of it as naive ingratitude, at best, and outright communism, at worst.”

Ferrer argues that the American imperial mindset led Americans to misunderstand the causes and effects of the Cuban Revolution. The phrases “selfless benevolence” and “colonial imposition” highlight the extent of their misunderstanding. This framing of the US-Cuban relationship highlights the imperial quality of the consequences of US policy on Cuba.

“Geography has given the place a remarkable resistance to change. Located about eighty-five miles southeast and worlds away from Havana, the vast Zapata Peninsula houses living species as old as the brontosaurus and the pterodactyl. Reeds rise up from a vast expanse of thick water, underneath which lies a dense, tangled forest of hardwood timber many thousands of years old. In the rivers and lakes of the peninsula still swims the Cuban gar, a species so old and unchanged that scientists categorize it as a living fossil.”

Ferrer’s writing in Cuba: An American History often has a poetic, literary quality. This is illustrated in her description of the Zapata Peninsula, in which she uses a romantic technique known as “local color,” emphasizing the distinctive qualities of the place. Her use of imagery, like “living fossil” and “tangled forest,” highlights the unchanging quality of this part of Cuba. The descriptions are both factual and symbolic, reflecting rural Cuba’s detachment from the nation’s political history.

“Power is in part about the right to speak; it is, even more so, about who gets to be heard. And in that moment, Kennedy and Khrushchev had little intention of hearing Fidel Castro.”

Ferrer’s analysis of geopolitics is closely tied to an analysis of power relations. Throughout, she emphasizes Cuba’s relative powerlessness in the face of its imperial powers, whether Spain, Britain, or the US. In this passage, she gestures to how the Soviet Union under Nikita Khruschev likewise excluded Cuba from meaningful participation in political discussions.

“Real revolutions aim to sweep away the time of the past—to pulverize it, in the words of one historian of the French Revolution. In many ways, the Cuban Revolution appeared to be doing just that.”

In this quote, Ferrer paraphrases Lynn Hunt’s 2016 article about the French Revolution, “Revolutionary Time and Regeneration.” The word “pulverize” emphasizes a violent break from the past. In connecting the Cuban Revolution to the French Revolution in this manner, Ferrer places it within the genealogy of political revolutions throughout history and throughout the world. It also suggests that Castro was applying what he had learned about the French Revolution while studying works like Karl Marx’s The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte in prison.

“In so many ways, big and small, each place depends on the other. But two facts are clear: it is impossible to understand the Cuban Revolution without understanding Miami, and it is impossible to understand Miami without understanding the Cuban Revolution.”

The political and cultural connections between Miami and Cuba are an important valence for the consequences of US policy on Cuba. Her statement that “each place depends on the other” shows that the influence goes both ways: Cuban politics influenced Miami just as Miami influenced Cuban politics.

“But the more the United States tried to isolate Cuba internationally, the more Cuba sought connections with the rest of the world—and not just any connections. Fomenting revolution abroad—usually on the side opposite the Americans—was a powerful way to give substance to both its newfound role in the world and its deep-seated enmity with the United States. ‘They internationalized the blockade,’ recalled Castro years later. ‘We internationalized guerrilla warfare.’”

Ferrer describes Cuba’s international revolutionary efforts as being driven by Cuba’s desire to fight US-enforced isolation, like the US embargo on Cuba. It highlights Ferrer’s argument that American policy toward Cuba was something of a failure on its own terms, as it failed to retake Cuba as a colonial subject that it could treat like Puerto Rico or Guam.