Cuba So Long, Amigos

By Susan Tifft

The Bay of Pigs invasion. The Cuban missile crisis. Communist adventurism in Africa and Central America. Some of the hottest moments of the cold war were the result of the Soviet Union's three-decade-long military presence in Cuba. But with the superpower face-off a fading memory and postcoup Moscow desperate for Western aid, it seemed well past time to say goodbye to all that -- which is what Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev finally did last week. Flanked by ^ Secretary of State James Baker, who was in Moscow on a fact-finding mission, Gorbachev announced that thousands of Soviet servicemen stationed in Cuba would soon be coming home. He also vowed to put economic ties with Cuba, which has long enjoyed Soviet subsidies, on a free-trade basis. "We will remove elements from that relationship that were born in a different era," he said.

Moscow's gesture, which Baker hailed as "very substantial," is a critical first step toward terminating a relationship that has bedeviled the U.S. since 1960, when Nikita Khrushchev first sent Soviet advisers to Cuba to shore up the communist government of Fidel Castro. If fully carried out, it will also help smooth the way for broader U.S. aid, which Washington has tied to an exodus of the Soviet contingent. Coupled with a U.S.-Soviet agreement announced late last week to halt arms shipments to the warring factions in Afghanistan, the Cuban pullout signaled Moscow's desire to disengage from costly commitments abroad and concentrate on more urgent priorities at home.

Although Gorbachev gave no timetable for the Cuban withdrawal, he indicated it should not take "many months" to complete. Less certain is the number of troops involved. In his statement the Soviet leader referred to a "training brigade" of 11,000. But the State Department estimates the entire Soviet military presence in Cuba to be no more than 7,600, including 2,800 soldiers, 1,200 civilian technical advisers, 1,500 military advisers and 2,100 technicians assigned to the huge Lourdes facility outside Havana, which eavesdrops on U.S. telecommunications. Moscow did make apparent, however, that it expects Washington to match its retreat from Cuba by withdrawing from Guantanamo Bay naval base on the island's southeast shore, which the U.S. has occupied since 1903.

Havana's reaction was predictable: outrage. In a sharply worded statement, Cuba's Foreign Ministry criticized Moscow for "inappropriate behavior" in failing to consult with its ally before announcing the pullout. The breach of protocol aside, Havana acknowledged that the Soviet military presence had become largely symbolic. The number of Soviet troops on the island peaked at more than 42,000 in 1962, and has been in decline ever since. Far more worrisome to Havana is Moscow's planned change in its conduct of trade, which promises to intensify Cuba's political isolation and economic deprivation.

The Soviets now supply more than 85% of the island's imports, including most of its oil, which Moscow swaps for Cuban sugar at such high valuations that it amounts to an effective annual subsidy worth millions. Putting this arrangement on a free-market basis, as Gorbachev promised to do, will knock out one of the few remaining pillars of the crumbling Cuban economy.

That support had been shrinking for some time. Gorbachev began distancing himself from Castro's orthodox regime in 1989. Last year Moscow started removing special trade terms for Cuba and pared back its subsidy of sugar, citrus and other Cuban goods from $5 billion annually to about $3.5 billion. Oil shipments dipped 25%, prompting Cuba to adopt draconian energy-saving measures. Bicycles imported from China now supplement gas-guzzling public transit, and oxen are gradually substituting for farm machinery. With dwindling foreign-exchange reserves, Cuba has few alternatives if trade with the Soviets dries up altogether.

Most of the 1 million Cuban exiles in the U.S. were gleefully certain that discontent over worsening economic conditions would soon unhorse the 64-year- old Castro. But in the short term, that seems unlikely. His regime is kept firmly in place with the help of a battle-tested 180,000-man armed forces headed by his brother Raul, and the slightest gesture of opposition is swiftly put down.

Moreover, Washington, which has been obsessed with scuttling Castro ever since the 1962 Cuban missile crisis brought the superpowers to the brink of nuclear war, now seems oddly reluctant to hasten his fall by tightening the 31-year-old U.S. embargo. But that is understandable: the White House does not want to risk disrupting U.S.-Soviet relations or angering its Latin American allies. Besides, with communism in eclipse worldwide and the economic noose rapidly tightening around the aging Castro's neck, it may only be a matter of time before one of the hemisphere's most notorious dictators tumbles of his own weight -- or dies.

With reporting by Cathy Booth/Miami and Yuri Zarakhovich/Moscow