Apostle of Cuban Independence: José Martí

I owe the country of Cuba a great deal. When I first started reading about politics and philosophy when I was about sixteen, I had a two-​year or so limbo phase. For some reason, no particular political label or ideology seemed to suit my preferences. Eventually, while chatting with a good friend, he mentioned libertarianism and explained some of its core tenets as we walked and chatted. I wasn’t particularly convinced, but I looked into it some more just to be sure. I watched videos of Milton Friedman and Frederich Hayek, finding them compelling but wondering just how much this quasi-​mythical free market brought billions out of poverty, all while promoting peace, cooperation, and cosmopolitanism. It sounded too idealistic.

Later that summer, my parents announced their curiosity about Cuba and how they intended to visit. I hopped on a plane to Cuba with my parents and sister, not really knowing much about Cuba or socialism. We touched down in Havana at Jose Martí International Airport, an unfamiliar yet imposing name. After hailing a cab, we drove to a hotel in the middle of the city. As I stared out of the window, I realized that all of the cars looked like they were from the 1950s. I didn’t see any stores, or at least nothing that looked like a store. After dropping my bags off, we headed out into the streets to find some grub. Everyone was warm and friendly, laughing, chatting, and drinking while admiring the coastal view. It was apparent to me then that Cuba is a natural paradise.

On the way home my dad explained to me that the state controlled the vast majority of the economy in Cuba. Private property and free enterprise, the institutions Friedman and Hayek had praised so highly, were nowhere to be seen. Nearly everyone worked for the state, their lives and work tightly regulated. Even though the law limits markets, reality does not. Huge numbers of Cubans make their living by selling goods on the black market or, as it is known, the bolsa negra. Normally black markets sound like they are for guns or drugs or something, but black markets provide cellphones and homemade pizzas in Cuba. Economists estimate that nearly everyone in Cuba is involved with the black market in one way or another.

My only experience of socialism was through left-​leaning friends, a few disparate Youtube videos, and a very half-​hearted read of the Communist Manifesto. Socialism promised so much in theory, but I was perplexed by socialism in actual practice. I decided to download Friedman’s Capitalism and Freedom on my kindle to read. This time, I was convinced. After my trip to Cuba, I became a libertarian. I had never appreciated how lucky I was to be born in Ireland. Freedom is a bit like air; you only think about it once you have none.

Fast forward to today. Seeing the protestors in Cuba stand up to the totalitarian regime they live under is so inspiring yet so heartbreaking at the same time. To give some love to Cuba, I thought I would talk about one of their national heroes. No, not Fidel Castro. I am talking about Jose Martí, the 19th-​century Cuban philosopher, journalist, translator, professor, and above all else, a true patriot of Cuba. So much so he has been dubbed the “Apostle of Cuban Independence.” Though Castro’s regime adopted Jose Martí as a symbol of the revolution, Martí is no communist.

José Julián Martí Pérez was born on January 28, 1853, in Havana. His parents were Spanish, his father from Valencia, and his mother hailing from the Canary Islands. At around the age of four, Martí and his family relocated to Valencia in Spain but, after a two-​year stint, returned to Cuba, where his father found work as a prison guard. Martí began his education and, from an early age, thrived at learning. Martí’s parents were not educated and were always on the brink of poverty. Because of his parents’ economic situation, Martí worked from the tender age of nine years old to help support his family. Martí, though young, excelled as a clerk working at Matanzas in western Cuba. His father hoped Martí’s budding intellect would help him build a secure career in a white-​collar job, unlike his own fate.

Martí grew up when Cuba and Puerto Rico were the only Spanish colonies left in Latin America.

By 1830, Peru, Argentina, Paraguay, Bolivia, Colombia, Venezuela, Chile, and Ecuador had all won their independence. Under Spanish rule, Cuba was a multi-​racial society, but slavery was rampant, with some estimates placing the slave population as one-​third of Cuba’s total population. Mostly of African heritage, slaves had no legal rights. The vast majority were forced to work the numerous profitable sugar mills throughout Cuba for seventeen hours a day. By 1860, Cuba was producing one-​third of the world’s supply of sugar, making slave labour a lucrative investment for those with wealth.

While still a boy, Martí’s father brought him to the countryside for work when the young Martí saw a slave ship unloading the brutalized survivors of the voyage while making a separate pile for those who died. What Martí saw shocked him to his core, but Martí did not falter. He clenched his hand into a first vowing to right the moral wrong of slavery. Later Martí would comment that this was the beginning of his lifelong battle for equality and justice for the inhabitants of Cuba.

Following the advice of his mother, in 1865, Martí was enrolled in a Escuela de Instrucción Primaria Superior Municipal de Varones headed by the poet and journalist Rafael María de Mendive. Martí did not get along well with his father, who was loyal to the Spanish government. While his father believed he was educated enough and urged him to return to work, seeing Martí’s potential, Mendive kept an eye out for Martí and almost became a sort of surrogate father. Martí regularly came over to Mendive’s home for meals and joked that he was part of the family. But besides companionship, Mendive helped nurture the young Martí’s political conscience. Mendive advocated for the abolition of slavery and the independence of Cuba from Spanish rule. Mendive said that his life’s goal was “furthering the advancement and improvement of society.” Amongst the Spanish authorities’ ranks, Mendive was speculated to be a dangerous traitor ready to pounce. Of course, this only made the young Martí idolized Mendives.

By 1868, the persistence of the slave trade, the silencing of the press, and sharp rises in taxes motivated Cubans enough to wage their first of three wars Cuba fought against Spain. Martí was fifteen when the war broke out. Inspired by the example of his mentor, Martí joined political clubs supporting Cuban Independence. Martí began writing his first political writings that vindicated Cuban revolutionaries. He even published his own newspaper La Patria Libre containing his story Abdala about a fictional country struggling for freedom. Patria was a word that resonated with Martí throughout his life. By Patria, Martí did not just mean one’s country or home, but a place they belonged to as a matter of deliberative choice. Though young, Martí was already establishing his future reputation as a passionate force of nature as well as a deft commentator on political affairs.

When Mendive was arrested in 1869 by Spanish authorities on trumped-​up charges, Martí took the helm of his school and helped support Mendive’s family. But it wouldn’t take long for Martí to follow in his mentor’s footsteps. Martí was arrested alongside his friend Fermín Valdés Domínguez for the charge of possessing writings that supported the revolution. The evidence the Spanish authorities produced was a singular letter Martí and Dominguez had written criticizing their fellow student for joining the Spanish army. Worse yet, the letter the pair had written was not even sent or published. Based on this unpublished and unsent letter, Martí was charged with treason.

At the age of 16, Martí was sentenced to jail in Havana. The poor conditions of prison led to Martí becoming ill while also suffering deep wounds that would permanently scar from the shackles placed on his legs. After four months of rotting in a cell, Mart confessed his so-​called crimes and was sentenced to six years in prison. Originally, Martí was sentenced to death, but as he was young, his sentence was changed to six years of hard labour. After being transferred to a new prison to help his ailing health, the authorities decided to exile Martí from Cuba, forcing him to move to Spain. Martí was allowed to continue his studies in Spain. Martí was a smart kid. Exile meant he would be away from Cuba, and while in Spain, he could train to become an asset to the Spanish. Hopefully, this young rebel would renew his loyalty to Spain. Though prison was hell, Martí wrote to his mother, “It has given me plenty of lessons for my life, which I foresee will be short.” After his release, Martí always wore a ring forged from a link on the chain he had worn in prison. Inside of the ring was engraved Cuba. There was no way Martí would ever be loyal to Spain while Cuba suffered under colonial oppression.

Martí traveled to Madrid and instantly established himself with fellow Cuban exiles. Taking advantage of his situation, Martí enrolled as a member of independent studies at the Central University of Madrid. Applying his studies, Martí openly debated the validity of Cuban independence while in the very midst of the colonial power he opposed. He also published articles on his time in prison as well as tracts detailing Spain’s brutal repression of the Cubans. Martí took every chance he could to extol the cause of Cuban Independence. Martí was even one of the first to fly the Cuban flag in Spain from his apartment balcony in 1873. By May of 1873, Martí relocated to Zaragoza to further his studies in law, all while publishing numerous articles on Cuba. In 1874, Martí completed his studies with a degree in both Civil and Canon law. Though Martí loathed the government of Spain, he loved the people as he could perceive the distinction between the state and civil society. While staying in the province of Aragon in quiet harmony, Martí came to admire the everyday honor and integrity of the Spanish, a stark contrast to the morally lax politicians of Spain.

Martí left Spain and traveled through France. While in Paris, he met Victor Hugo, today is known for his authorship of Les Miserables. Hugo and Martí were kindred spirits both held great sympathy for the downtrodden and oppressed. Martí progressed to England and hopped on a steamship heading towards Mexico, where his family had relocated.

In 1875, Martí began living in Mexico City and quickly as always integrated himself into the local political scene writing for various newspapers before joining the editorial staff of a paper named Revista Universal, a broadsheet that covered politics, literature, and financial affairs. After a few years in Mexico, in 1877, Martí initiated his plan to relocate to Cuba alongside his family under cover of a fake name. But Martí quickly vacated Cuba and moved to Guatemala, where he lived amongst the intellectuals of Guatemala City. Impressed by his passion and intellect, Martí was appointed head of the Department of French, English, Italian and German Literature, History, and Philosophy in the Universidad Nacional.

In 1878 the Pact of Zanjon was signed, ending the ten-​year Cuban struggle for Independence from the Spanish. Though not the outcome he hoped for, there was a bright side. The pact granted a general amnesty for all political offenses since 1868, meaning Martí could now finally return home after his nomadic exile. Upon his return to Cuba, Martí married​He married Carmen Zayas Bazán in Havana. With extensive education, Martí confidently applied to practice law in Cuba but was rebuffed by authorities. With no other outlet, Martí began to seek out fellow supporters of independence.

When the Spanish government refused to honor their promises outlined in the Pact of Zanjon, Cubans were not only left betrayed but furious. Martí exclaimed boldly that Cuba belonged to the Cubans and that “Rights are to be taken, not requested; seized, not begged for.” Discontented Cubans rioted and attacked a Spanish stronghold triggering the beginning of what is called the Little War for Independence. The Spanish government reacted by massively restricting freedom of speech, the press, and assembly. Because of Martí’s obvious leanings towards the cause of independence, he was arrested and deported to Spain yet again. Martí would not return to Cuba for 16 years.

After a few months in Spain, Martí simply left without asking for anyone’s permission. He stayed in France and then sailed for New York, where he arrived in 1880, and like every other place he stayed, Martí quickly began pumping out articles about all sorts of topics but always looping back around to the great cause of his life, the independence of Cuba. In 1881, Martí was offered a teaching position in Venezuela. A few months into his new job, Martí started a magazine named La Revista Venezolana (The Venezuelan Review). Though Martí did not stay long after he managed to get on the bad side of the Venezuelan president, Antonio Guzmán Blanco.

Returning to New York, Martí joined General Calixto García’s Cuban revolutionary committee, composed of Cuban exiles advocating independence. Martí did not see eye to eye with his more militarily minded compatriots. Martí feared following a successful revolution, the victors were likely to establish a military dictatorship over Cuba. After witnessing firsthand the military dictatorships of Venezuela and Guatemala, Martí concluded that a government headed by force would ruin Cuba, Martí believed that “The power enjoyed by republics should only be in the hands of civilians.” Martí advised waiting to return to Cuba instead rallying support from exiled Cubans and raising the necessary funds

Over the next decade, Martí was an active participant in Spanish American literary and intellectual circles. When not tirelessly advocating for Cuban Independence, Martí lectured, undertook contract translations, taught at schools, and even helped found his own school in 1890 named La Liga (the league), where white and black students studied alongside one another. Martí was a charismatic character; one observer noted that “someone who has not spoken intimately with Martí cannot know the fascinating power that human speech can hold.” But this charisma did not affect his wife Carmen, who did not share her husband’s zeal for independence, something Martí felt was a personal betrayal. Carmen returned to Cuba in 1880 with her and Martí’s son. He would never see them again.

By 1892, Martí attended a reunion of emigration representatives at the Cuban community of Key West and began the arduous task of organizing the newly founded revolutionary party. Importantly, Martí inoculated the party with a system of democratic organization that placed the will of the people over the military’s authority. Martí tirelessly gave speeches, wrote pamphlets, and had articles published in newspapers to raise political and financial support. He founded his own newspaper named Patria, supporting Cuban Independence. After being chosen as a delegate of the Cuban Revolution Party, Martí traveled through Florida, Washington, D.C, Philadelphia, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, and Jamaica, visiting exiled Cubans and garnering valuable support. In 1893, Martí extensively travelled again throughout the United States and Central America, visiting Cuban clubs, which gleefully received the budding national hero of Cuba. Throughout his speeches, he articulated his vision of Cuba as a constitutional republic that governs for the benefit of all people regardless of religion, race, or class.

In April 1894, Martí and General Máximo Gómez convened in New York and began to plan their revolution. Their plan was to muster a small group of trained soldiers to infiltrate Ciba and start a popular uprising that would quickly overturn Spanish rule. Martí moved yet again to Montecristi in the Dominican Republic alongside Gomez to plan the upcoming revolution.

The Revolution began on February 24th, 1895, and quickly after Martí and Gomez published the Manifesto de Montecristi, which outlined the reasoning behind the revolution and the principles that informed its supporters. But when Martí arrived with his fellow freedom fighters, the masses did not come to their aid as planned.

On May 19th, 1895, the Spanish army attacked the Cuban forces. Those in command ordered Martí to the rear guard to keep him safe as he had little training as a soldier and was an incredibly valuable asset to the revolution. But as Martí heard the sounds of gunfire, he could not bear to listen to other men die for the cause he had vindicated for his whole life. Taking a horse, Martí galloped into battle right into the Spanish line of fire. Martí was shot and killed, dying at the age of 42. Some accuse Martí of intentionally sacrificing himself either as a way to ensure his legacy or as martyrdom to inspire beleaguered revolutionaries.

Today José Martí is an unambiguous national hero in Cuba. His image has become ubiquitous, with numerous busts, paintings, and statues are strewn throughout Cuba. And just in case you forgot who Jose Martí is, his name is on the one peso note, so you can’t miss him. When you fly into Havana today, you fly into José Martí airport, and then if you do some sightseeing around Havana, you will surely find a central square named after Martí alongside a plethora of other streets, parks, squares, and libraries bearing his name. From what I have read, despite dying in 1895, Cubans view José as almost an old relative to every person in Cuba.

However, José Martí’s fame and prestige grew exponentially under the Communist Leader Fidel Castro’s reign, an opponent to both liberalism and capitalism. Castro has consistently claimed Martí as inspiration for his Communist revolution and subsequent drastic reforms. So how could Martí possibly be a liberal hero if one of his biggest fans was the architect behind a one-​party communist state that makes a mockery out of the word freedom? Martí did a lot in his life. He was a poet, a teacher, a journalist, a revolutionary, and now, a national hero. When he died, Marti left behind 27 volumes of collected works filled with articles, essays, speeches, poetry, literary criticism, observations on life in America, the list goes on. With such a colossal corpus written in such an unsystematic way, it is at times hard to parse exactly what Martí was politically besides a patriotic Cuban.

There exist two José Martí’s, one held by the communists in Cuba and another held by today’s Cuban exiles, unfortunately mirroring the life of their hero José. Communists like Castro love to claim Martí as their own, but the evidence is scant. Martí wrote briefly about Marx in 1883, praising him for taking the side of the weak but rejecting Marx’s theory of class conflict as divisive and ultimately fruitless. Marx, who proposed a material view of history, is at odds with Martí, who believed ideas above all else were the driving force of history. Martí wrote that “Trenches made of ideas are worth more than trenches made of stone”… “No ship’s prow can cleave a cloud of ideas” So despite writing 27 volumes of essays, outside of this essay, Martí mentions Marx only a handful of times, all while the two disagree on fundamental matters.

So what exactly is Martí politically? This is a tough question, but we can find some answers by when we take a look at three areas of Martí’s thought: the value of freedom, anti-​racism, and his views on the United States.

In his collection of poetry Versos sensillos, Martí stated that slavery is the world’s greatest crime. Traumatised by the brutal treatment of slaves as well as the torture of imprisonment forced Martí at a very young age to contemplate the value of freedom. While in Europe, Martí studied the German philosopher Karl Christian Friedrich Krause, an obscure name today but a vital thinker in the Latin American tradition of philosophical thinking. From Krause, Martí inherited a disdain for any form of authoritarian state. Martí always had great sympathy and faith in ordinary folk, they did not need to be led like cattle. Instead, they are let loose to figure out the world for themselves. Martí never lost his faith in the inherent decency of mankind, and he wrote that “Man is organized and good”, he wrote, “and in the end always saves himself.” For Martí, “Liberty the essence of life. Whatever is done without it is imperfect. A life without freedom would be incomplete and inhuman,

But how do we best protect freedom? Ideally, Martí believed that the state ought to be a democratic affair with laws based upon natural law supported by a written constitution and a separation of powers to stop influence accumulating to one individual. With an idealistic zeal, Martí adopted the political ideals of the Enlightenment and the French revolution as a blueprint for how Cuba ought to be. Equality, liberty, fraternity.

Usually, when I cover thinkers in the past, it is often only a matter of time before you uncover their often unsavory beliefs on other races. However, with Martí, there is no trace of bigotry. Martí loathed any form of racism, viewing it as both repugnant and antithetical to a healthy democracy. Martí went so far as to argue that race was merely a category created to divide and oppress people. In his famous essay My Race, Martí condemns all forms of racism, writing, “Everything that divides men, everything that sorts them, separates them and categorizes them, is a sin against humanity.” Martí believed that for a peaceful society to exist, we all must recognize the rights of others. But if there are those who believe on faulty grounds that huge portions of people based on race ought to be excluded from political life, then peace was unachievable. Marti explained that “Men have no special rights simply because they belong to one race or another. When you say “men,” you have already imbued them with all their rights.” Marti was one of the earliest champions of a fully comprehensive anti-​racist ideology. Above all, he believed that the revolution in Cuba ought to be won with “white hands.” By white, Martí did not mean by the hands of white people but instead using the word white to denote purity. Martí believed that racial prejudice, whatever forms it might take, has no place in a democracy.

Perplexingly, for Marti, America was both a danger to keep an eye on and a model to follow. America was a looming power looking to expand its influence. The issue of race in America deeply troubled Marti, who believed racism was thriving, threatening the delicate state of democracy. Marti feared that if Cuba followed America’s example of race relations, Cuba would remain hopelessly divided and never muster the strength to become a democratic republic.

But America was not all bad by any means. Marti found much to admire. For example, Marti greatly admired how immigrants in America worked so industriously when compared to Europeans. New York impressed Marti and made him contemplate that if America could become wealthy so fast, then why couldn’t Cuba in the future? What Marti admired most about America was the value Americans placed upon free speech. Marti was consistently amazed that America tolerated parties that openly called for the destruction of capitalism and suffered no government interference.

Familiar to classical liberals, Marti endorsed the values of the Enlightenment while also improving upon them by staunchly committing himself to anti-​racism. While Marti justifiably feared America as a possible new colonial oppressor, he also admired the American ethos of hard work and the fundamental value of free speech. José Martí could be considered some form of liberal in many ways, but I don’t want to put labels on such a complicated man. Martí never just gave simple answers. Instead, he continually challenged the conscience of his readers, urging them towards action to bring about a more just world. While some might call Martí a utopian or idealist, Martí always firmly believed “What mattered was not man as he was, but as he should be.”

I have only touched the very tip of the José Martí iceberg. His life and writings ooze a kind of passion that raises Martí to the level of a mythical figure. I have a little theory. I believe that the reason why Castro put up so many statues and monuments dedicated to José Martíi is an attempt to trick Cubans that the revolution is over. If there are statues of such a revolutionary hero everywhere, surely there is nothing left to rebel against? Sadly this is mistaken. As brave Cubans have shown us, there is still much to rebel against, and there is still much work to be done by those who take up the legacy of José Martí today.