Rebel's Rousing Return

Castro calls for peace but lashes U.S.

I have not come here as a prophet of revolution, nor have I come here to ask that the world be violently convulsed . . . I speak on behalf of the children of the world who don't even have a piece of bread."

Thus spoke Fidel Castro. Stabbing at the air, leaning dramatically against the lectern, the bearded Cuban President addressed the United Nations General Assembly for more than two hours. It was his first visit to the U.S. in 19 years, and Castro marked the occasion by larding his speech with anti-American gibes. He began by insisting that he did not intend "to use unnecessary adjectives to wound a powerful neighbor in his own house." But then he went on to accuse the U.S. of "hostile acts, pressures and threats" against Cuba.

He denounced America's "occupation" of Guantanamo and condemned the "unjust blockade with which the United States Government continues its efforts to isolate the Cuban revolution." He called on the U.S. to desist from its "repressive maneuvers" aimed at perpetuating Puerto Rico's "colonial status." Shouts of "Fidel! Fidel!" echoed through the hall when Castro finished his stemwinder, and he reveled in a 1 1/2-min. standing ovation. Among less enthusiastic spectators: U.S. Ambassador Donald McHenry, who listened impassively through the diatribe.

The speech was yet another masterly performance by one of the world's premier political orators, even though it contained little that Castro had not said before. In Washington's view, the speech was primarily intended to enhance Castro's prestige as a senior statesman of the Third World. When he first addressed the U.N., in 1960, the 33-year-old Castro was a fledgling revolutionary, overshadowed by such neutralist giants as Yugoslavia's Josip Broz Tito, then 68, and India's Jawaharlal Nehru, 70. Castro has now survived for 20 years as Cuba's "maximum leader." He is also riding a wave of international prestige as chairman of the nonaligned nations, whose conference he was host for--and dominated--in Havana last month.

Castro's dramatic return to the U.N., moreover, came at a time when Cuba is capturing unusual attention. In addition to its continuing military role as a Soviet proxy in Africa, it has lately become a source of renewed concern for American security in this hemisphere. The controversy over the Soviet brigade stationed on the island is only part of it. Equally perturbing is Cuba's role in the midst of the political unrest now brewing in the Caribbean, which has long ceased to be an "American lake." It is not "Havana's pond," either, but Cuba is clearly seeking to take advantage of targets of opportunity in an area that is of strategic importance to the U.S. (see following story).

Throughout his speech, however, Castro ensured that he spoke not as Cuban leader but as chairman of the nonaligned movement; most of his swipes at the U.S., judged relatively mild by many U.N. observers, were paraphrases of the movement's Havana communique. In that context he echoed the by now familiar Third World attacks on neocolonialism, imperialism and Zionism. Castro recalled the "merciless persecution" that Hitler's Germany had imposed on the Jews, but went on to accuse Israel of committing "the most terrible crime of our era"--its "dispossession, persecution and genocide" of the Palestinians. That line drew a rousing round of applause, as did his charge that the U.S. had collaborated in "the maintenance of South Africa's racist oppression."

Castro found his rhetorical groove in discussing economic questions, which constituted the bulk of his address. He charged that the world's wealth was "concentrated in the hands of a few powers" that had "plundered" and "exploited" the Third World. "Why should some be miserably poor so that others may be exaggeratedly rich?" demanded Castro. It was the "historic and moral obligation" of rich nations--including "the oil-producing developing countries"--to assist the development of poor nations. Specifically, he called on the world community to increase its economic aid to the undeveloped countries by $300 billion over the next decade, with the distribution of these resources to be entrusted to the U.N.

For his finale, the revolutionary fighter voiced an eloquent and uncharacteristic plea for international harmony: "I have come to speak of peace and cooperation among peoples, and to warn that if we do not eliminate our present injustices and inequalities peacefully and wisely, the future will be apocalyptic. The sound of weapons, threatening language and arrogance in the international scene must cease . . . Let us say farewell to arms."

There was an irony in that plea. Even as he spoke, some 2,000 demonstrators stood vigil outside the heavily guarded U.N. Assembly Hall; many of the protesters were anti-Castro Cuban exiles carrying FIDEL GO HOME posters. Meanwhile, a four-block area of Manhattan was in a state of virtual armed siege as hundrds of New York City policemen, Secret Service men and machine gun-toting Cuban security guards patrolled a tightly sealed zone around Cuba's U.N. mission, Castro's home during his visit. Later that afternoon, several thousand jeering anti-Cuban demonstrators pressed against the barricades, separated by police from Castro supporters on the opposite side of the "frozen zone."

The tight security contrasted sharply with Castro's 1960 visit, when he and his aides roamed freely through the streets and stayed in a Harlem hotel, where they were rumored to have plucked and cooked their own chickens. This time the Cuban leader seemed almost to enjoy the commotion. At week's end he was hinting expansively that he might want to stay on in the U.S. for five days or more. Despite those hints, Fidel slipped away before dawn on Sunday and flew back to Havana. New York police, still weary from the extra security measures taken to protect Pope John Paul II, could only be grateful.

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