The author of this article, a graduate of the class of '56, is a Harvard Law School student, currently on a leave of absence. He was in Cuba from January 13 through January 21, shortly after the present government came into power. The photographs of alleged Batista atrocities which were released by members of the present regime, are supplied by the author in order to help illuminate the motivations which lie behind the revolutionary trials. The CRIMSON does not necessarily agree with the editorial opinions expressed by the author.

There is an exhilarating air in Cuba today. One can sense the new-born optimism and joy in the atmosphere of the carabets. As more than one bar-tender told me, it was taboo in recent years to discuss matters of politics in public, for one never knew when his remarks might be overheard by a chivato (informer) and construed as being unfavorable to the ruling dictatorship of Juan Batista. Life was short and the end unpleasant for the few bold Cubans who dared to be so outspoken. But now the carabets are alive with gay music and singing.

Business, for the most part, is nearly back to normal in Havana. The tourists are slowly returning to the suffering hotels, as they realize that the fighting and danger are over. The exotic Cuban climate is as alluring as ever, the ubiquitous busses driven by mad geniuses called guageros zoom miraculously through narrow city streets, and the colorful street vendors tirelessly ply their wares upon bargain-hunting Americanos.

Viva Fidel

"Viva 26, "Viva Fidel," and "Viva Castro" are boldly scrawled everywhere, on doors, windows, automobiles, and lampposts. Even if there are no rebel soldiers present, which is seldom the case, the conversation on street corners seldom strays far from the topic of revolutionary movement, as it has not for the past several months. But the subject is different now; in the past the talk was of battles and raids, while now it concerns the latest developments in the slowly evolving democratic government, the trials, and the executions.

The center of political activity in Havana today is the head-quarters of Fidel Castro on the 23rd floor of the luxurious Havana Hilton. The spacious, plushly-furnished lobby of the swank hotel presents the observer with a curious and incongruous sight. It seems strange to see the bearded rebel soldiers, armed to the teeth, rubbing shoulders and sometimes tolerantly conversing with the Hilton's exclusive clientele, who come from all over the world. But after a while no one seems out-of-place in the crowd; not even the pretty young Cuban bobby-soxers who come with their cameras and autograph books and wait for hours for a glimpse of their new national hero, Fidel Castro.

Interview with Castro

I managed to get an appointment for an interview with Castro. At the appointment hour I duly appeared, presented my pass and was admitted. Fidel (He is never addresed anything but "Fidel" (to his face) bade me make myself comfortable "for a few minutes" in the wide hall. When the "few minutes" dragged into two and a half hours the picture had changed considerably. I was no longer waiting alone in the vestibule. With me were no less than 17 other visitors, all more important than I. So I decided to try a desparate strategem. I entered the bedroom, closed the door behind me, and stalked into the inner chamber. "Fidel," I declared, in a voice that I hope sounded convincing, "my plane back to the states leaves in exactly one hour. (It actually was to leave the next morning.) May I have just five minutes of your time:

"Why of course," he answered, and to the friend in the room, "Won't you excuse me?" And so it was that I got my interview.

It has been said that there are two kinds of people--those who think and those who feel. If Fidel Castro had to be listed under one of these categories it would have to be the latter. A man of tremendous physical stamina, he seems to put all of his energies into persuading his listeners of the truth of what he says. It is impossible to talk with Castro and come away unconvinced of his honesty, sincerity, and heartfelt conviction in his own beliefs.

On the question of Communism it is high time that a frequently recurring ghost be laid low. Fidel Castro himself is neither a Communist nor a communist sympathizer. Moreover, he sees no real danger of Communism coming into power as results of the recent re-birth of the strength of the labor unions. Although many of his soldiers have confided to me their willingness to attack the Dominican Republic in a two-pronged blow at Batista and Trujillo, Castro himself professes no knowledge of any such plans. His manner, moreover, suggested that Batista's threat to return to Cuba at the head of 10,000 troops need not even be taken seriously.

Castro's most eloquent remarks, however, came when he was asked about the trials and executions under way. He spoke in understandable, though imperfect English:

"I am a man of the people. Not aristocratic not military, but a man of the people . . . If 51 per cent of the people didn't want the executions there would be none. But when 90 per cent of Cuba want them, I would be a dictator if I stopped them." He referred here to a public opinion poll conducted last week in Havana by radio station CMQ, which found that 93 per cent of those polled were in favor of continuing executions.

In talking about United States congressmen who had protested the executions, he said, "What country are they living in? The Moon? If we delay now in Cuba, people will assault the prison and take justice into their own hands. The accounts of the past must be settled before the people can concentrate their attention on the future." He went on to repeat the arguments he had previously advanced to the effect that only those concerning whose guilt there could be no doubt were being executed now; that an extraordinary situation like a revolution demanded extraordinary measures like military tribunals, that Cuba had nothing to hide and that every trial would continue to be made public, that the world might sit in judgment.

As I thanked him, upon leaving, for giving me some of his valuable time, he placed his hand upon my shoulder, and ushered me out with this parting shot: "Do you love the truth? I love the truth."