Introduction
Summary of the book Back Channel to Cuba by William M. LeoGrande & Peter Kornbluh. Before we start, let’s delve into a short overview of the book. Imagine living right next door to someone you barely talk to, someone so close that you can see their home from your bedroom window. Yet, for decades, both of you refuse to share a friendly word. This is how it has been between the United States and Cuba – two countries separated by just a short distance of ocean, but tied up in angry disagreements, threats, and misunderstandings. How did this difficult relationship begin? Why did it get so complicated, and what kept it going for over half a century? Inside these chapters, you will discover the hidden story of how American presidents and Cuban leaders tried to outsmart each other, sometimes threatening war, sometimes sitting down for secret talks, and sometimes using unexpected messengers. As you read, you will learn that, despite everything, there were always quiet channels open, whispering hopes of peace and understanding just beneath the surface.
Chapter 1: How a Bold Island Revolution Turned a Friendly Neighbor into a Perplexing Cold War Puzzle.
In the late 1950s, Cuba was a tropical island known for its sugar plantations, lively music, and a long history of foreign influence. Most people in the United States barely thought about it, even though American businesses had once made huge profits there. Things changed dramatically on January 1, 1959, when a young, determined rebel named Fidel Castro overthrew Cuba’s old government. The ruler he toppled, Fulgencio Batista, had been friendly with the United States but unpopular with most Cubans. With Batista gone, the new Cuban leadership insisted that they would never again be a playground for rich outsiders. At first, some people in the United States hoped that Castro might become a modern leader who would keep things steady and beneficial for both sides. However, others were nervous and suspicious, fearing Castro might be a problem they didn’t know how to handle.
In the early days, there were some polite gestures. Castro even traveled to the United States in April 1959, shaking hands with reporters, meeting with officials, and showing a friendly face to Americans. He did not beg for money, nor did he seem desperate. Instead, he was proud and confident, eager to build a Cuba that did not rely on outsiders. Yet American leaders were unsure what to make of him. President Dwight D. Eisenhower didn’t treat Castro like a welcome guest. During Castro’s visit, Eisenhower actually went golfing instead of greeting him. Castro felt insulted, and this snub left a lasting bitterness. Already, what could have been a respectful friendship started to twist into an uncomfortable standoff, as if both neighbors were now peering distrustfully at each other across a narrow fence line.
Back in Cuba, Fidel Castro wasted no time showing that he meant business. By May 1959, he began passing radical new laws that challenged the old system. He took over large estates, including those owned by American companies, and put these lands under government control. Many wealthy U.S. investors and business owners were shocked and furious. From their perspective, Castro was stealing property and threatening their profits. But to most Cubans, Castro was giving them a voice and power they had never had before. This was the start of a stormy relationship. The United States and Cuba were no longer just neighbors with minor disagreements. Instead, they found themselves on opposite sides of a fence reinforced with barbed wire, glaring at each other with uneasy suspicion and mounting anger.
By late 1959, tensions soared. The U.S. government had hoped to guide Cuba quietly, perhaps offering money and advice, but Castro showed he wouldn’t be controlled. He replaced moderate figures in his cabinet with tougher, more radical supporters. Washington grew alarmed, and the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) began plotting secret strategies to undermine Castro. With each bold move Castro made, the U.S. responded by tightening its grip, refusing to buy Cuban sugar and plotting ways to bring him down. It became a tense game of cat and mouse, with both sides guessing the other’s next move. As 1960 approached, the hopeful moment for a fresh start between neighbors was gone. Instead, the United States and Cuba had set out on a rough, shadowy journey toward conflict, distrust, and dangerous misunderstandings.
Chapter 2: The Shattered Bridge of Diplomacy and the Quiet Drift toward Confrontation and Covert Schemes.
As the 1960s began, the United States and Cuba found themselves on shaky ground. Cuba’s new friendship with the Soviet Union, a powerful communist nation that America considered its main enemy in the Cold War, made the situation worse. In February 1960, when Cuba and the Soviet Union signed a $100 million trade deal, U.S. officials felt certain that Castro was slipping into the arms of their greatest rival. While American diplomats in Havana, like Ambassador Philip W. Bonsal, pleaded for patience and calm, the mood in Washington turned grim. President Eisenhower grew increasingly convinced that mild gestures would not sway Castro. He began authorizing secret plans to topple the Cuban government, believing that any delay would only allow Castro to gain strength and spread his radical ideas throughout the region.
Meanwhile, events in Havana’s harbor added fuel to the fire. In March 1960, a Belgian ship named La Coubre exploded while unloading weapons, killing and injuring many people. Castro publicly blamed the CIA for the tragedy, though Washington denied any part in it. Regardless of who was truly responsible, the explosion left scars of mistrust. Any chance that the United States and Cuba would sit down for calm negotiations slipped away. By this time, both sides were thinking in terms of sabotage and secret operations. The United States looked for weaknesses, while Cuba tightened its security and deepened its partnership with the Soviet Union. The gap between the two countries widened as each tried to prove they were strong, independent, and unwilling to be pushed around.
In the final days of Eisenhower’s presidency, he made a decisive and symbolic move. On January 4, 1961, the United States officially closed its embassy in Havana. This was like slamming a door in Castro’s face, showing the world that polite diplomacy was over. Instead of dignified talks, the future would be shaped by secret plots, undercover agents, and hostile policies. The United States tightened an embargo that blocked most trade with Cuba, refusing to send anything besides food and medicine. Without cooperation or common ground, both sides prepared for what felt like a long, chilly struggle. Cuba, for its part, relied on the Soviet Union to buy its sugar and support its economy, while America counted on its wealth, influence, and hidden programs to weaken Castro.
By this time, the stage was set for a decades-long drama of suspicion and confrontation. Nations across Latin America watched carefully, some wondering if the United States would try to crush any government that dared to show independence, and others cheering Castro for standing up to the American giant. The tension was no secret; newspapers around the world reported the rising hostility. Yet behind the scenes, both sides occasionally sent quiet messages, tested secret channels, and wondered if there was a way back to peaceful talks. Even as the public face of the relationship hardened, private whispers suggested that maybe, just maybe, there could be a conversation that turned the tide. But for now, distrust and rivalry were the order of the day, pushing the neighbors even further apart.
Chapter 3: A Botched Invasion, a Burning Feud, and the Secret Words Never Spoken Aloud.
When John F. Kennedy stepped into the White House in 1961, he inherited a simmering crisis. Eisenhower’s plans to secretly overthrow Castro were still on the table. Just a few months into his presidency, Kennedy approved the Bay of Pigs invasion, a daring but poorly planned attempt to remove Castro’s government by sending Cuban exiles trained by the CIA to land on Cuban shores. The idea was that the people of Cuba would rise up, welcome these invaders, and topple Castro. But things did not go as expected. The Cuban people did not cheer; instead, Castro’s army quickly crushed the invaders. Within three days, 1,200 of these fighters were captured. Kennedy was embarrassed on the world stage. Rather than weakening Castro, the botched invasion only made him look stronger.
After this disaster, Kennedy publicly tightened the embargo, cutting Cuba off from U.S. trade and marking the island as a hostile neighbor. But in private, Kennedy began to realize that a simple show of strength would not solve the Cuba problem. While some in his administration still dreamed of removing Castro through force and even assassination plots, Kennedy also considered another angle: negotiation. He quietly instructed advisers to consider ways to communicate with Castro, to see if some understanding could be reached. With the Cold War at full blast, Kennedy understood that Cuba was too close, too significant to simply ignore. If a conversation could prevent a bigger crisis, it might be worth trying. Even as the CIA sharpened its knives, Kennedy considered offering an olive branch.
An unusual moment of hope appeared in August 1961, when the famous revolutionary leader Che Guevara met with a White House aide named Richard Goodwin in Uruguay. Guevara offered goodwill in the form of Cuban cigars and expressed an interest in talking. This was a small gesture, but it hinted that behind the shouting and threats, someone in Cuba was open to a quieter conversation. Yet, these hopeful signals were drowned out by larger, darker realities. The United States was furious that Cuba had embraced the Soviet Union, and Cuba was determined not to become an American puppet. As 1962 approached, both sides continued gathering secrets, making threats, and exploring new avenues of communication, uncertain if diplomacy could outshine the shadow of gun barrels and sabotage.
The world watched and wondered what might happen next. Both sides were armed with stubborn pride and convinced they were in the right. The Bay of Pigs fiasco had taught America that easy answers did not exist. Castro, confident and defiant, refused to back down. Yet all along, quiet messengers, minor gestures, and whispered possibilities kept popping up. The question remained: Could either leader take a brave step toward understanding, or would both continue this dangerous dance? In the coming months, the world would face a moment of peril that would bring the United States and the Soviet Union to the brink of nuclear war, and Cuba would stand at the center of that frightening conflict. The path ahead would test just how far secret words could go.
Chapter 4: Missiles, Brinkmanship, and the Fragile Threads That Kept Talk Alive.
In late 1962, a U.S. spy plane captured chilling images of Soviet missiles being installed in Cuba. Suddenly, the entire world felt closer to disaster. For two terrifying weeks in October, known as the Cuban Missile Crisis, nuclear war seemed only a breath away. President Kennedy ordered a naval blockade to prevent more Soviet shipments from reaching Cuba. The Soviet Union’s leader, Nikita Khrushchev, threatened to defend his actions, and Castro watched anxiously, aware that his small island might become the spark that ignited a global firestorm. Families in the United States and around the world held their breath, worried that a misunderstanding or rash decision could mean the end of everything. It was the closest the Cold War came to turning into an all-out nuclear catastrophe.
In the end, the Soviet Union agreed to remove its missiles, and the United States promised secretly to remove its own missiles from Turkey. However, this agreement was made between Washington and Moscow, leaving Castro feeling betrayed and ignored by his Soviet ally. Ironically, this created a small opening for further discussions. Castro, though furious, realized that depending solely on Soviet support could leave him in the dark. Meanwhile, Kennedy’s team kept looking for quiet ways to connect, especially since they still needed to release American prisoners captured during the Bay of Pigs invasion. James Donovan, a skilled negotiator who had previously arranged the release of prisoners in other international disputes, was sent to work with Castro in Havana, hoping to find some common ground.
Donovan’s negotiations were tense but not impossible. He managed to win Castro’s respect by being straightforward and understanding Cuba’s position. Eventually, they struck deals to free the prisoners in exchange for certain payments and supplies. With every small success, it seemed that behind the fierce public battles, there might be a chance for calm conversation. Yet, nothing was simple. The United States still demanded that Cuba break ties with the Soviet Union if they wanted true friendship, and Cuba still wanted the United States to respect its independence. Even so, the fact that both sides could sit down at the table without screaming or storming off was an encouraging sign. These prisoner negotiations kept alive a delicate string of communication amid towering heaps of distrust.
This period showed how, even in times of extreme tension, human contact and negotiation could achieve something. Donovan’s talks did not solve every problem; the island remained firmly communist, the United States still aimed to isolate it, and the Soviet Union continued to exert influence. But a tiny space for conversation had formed. There were no dramatic breakthroughs, no historic peace treaties signed under bright lights. Instead, there were quiet meetings, respectful exchanges, and the subtle understanding that dialogue could sometimes calm the storm. Even as the Cold War raged on, these moments offered a glimpse of what could be if both sides learned to talk before acting. The seeds of future back channels and secret talks were planted here, waiting to sprout in the coming years.
Chapter 5: Reporters, Fishing Trips, and the Strange Paths of Secret Communication.
After the Cuban Missile Crisis cooled down, both sides tried to find other ways to talk without looking weak. The United States found an unusual friend in James Donovan. Not only had he managed to handle prisoner exchanges, but he also developed a form of trust with Castro. They even went on a fishing trip together, and Donovan introduced his teenage son to the Cuban leader. These small gestures, like attending baseball games and chatting informally, helped soften the harsh edges of their relationship. They didn’t turn enemies into best friends, but they reminded everyone that behind political masks were human beings who could laugh, tell stories, and share a common interest. Meanwhile, the White House still insisted that Cuba drop its Soviet connections, something Castro refused to do.
Another unexpected figure emerged during these days: Lisa Howard, a television reporter. She became an unofficial messenger between the White House and Havana. After interviewing Castro on TV and gaining his trust, she made secret efforts to see if negotiations could move forward. Her interviews and personal charm created a surprising back channel, a way to share signals without the world’s cameras glaring too brightly. Castro spoke freely to her about what Cuba wanted: a relationship not built on demands but on mutual respect. It was tricky, however. Any positive word or gentle compromise risked making either side look like it was giving in. Howard needed to be careful, gentle as a whisper, but persistent in pushing for some breakthrough that might lift the dark mood.
Howard’s involvement led to new secret possibilities. She arranged contacts that might connect Cuban representatives with American advisors. But just as the lines of communication seemed to open, fate intervened. In November 1963, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Castro, upon hearing the news, immediately worried he would be blamed. With Kennedy gone, hopes for a carefully crafted path forward dimmed. Lyndon B. Johnson, the new president, faced a complex world where appearing soft on Cuba could hurt his reputation. Meanwhile, messages and replies got tangled in the chaos following Kennedy’s death. Plans that Howard and others had painstakingly built seemed to slip through the cracks. Once again, the fragile bridge of secret negotiation wavered, uncertain if it could carry the weight of these historical events.
Still, the idea of back channels—quiet talks, hidden letters, trusted intermediaries—did not disappear. Each secret meeting or cautious approach showed that not everyone wanted endless conflict. Some believed that if they could just find the right words or the right moment, the stalemate could ease. The events of these years taught both sides that public shouting matches were less effective than private whispers. Diplomacy, it turned out, was not just about treaties and flags. Sometimes it was about fishing trips, TV interviews, and small tokens of respect. Even as relations slipped further into confusion, the memory of these talks would linger, reminding future leaders that no matter how steep the climb, there might always be a quiet trail leading toward understanding, hidden in the shadows.
Chapter 6: Assassinations, Revolutions, and the Doors That Slammed and Then Opened Again.
After Kennedy’s assassination, Johnson took office feeling the pressure to appear tough. Cuba remained a thorn in America’s side, and Castro still refused to bow to U.S. demands. Around Latin America, armed movements were rising, and the United States suspected Cuba of supporting revolutions in places like Venezuela. This made the White House even less willing to sit at a table and talk openly. Yet, while the official stance was harsh, situations kept arising that forced some level of discussion. One dramatic moment came when Castro decided to allow Cubans who wished to leave the island to sail to Florida. Suddenly, a humanitarian crisis emerged as thousands of Cubans rushed for the sea. Both governments had to speak with each other to manage the refugee flow.
This delicate dance showed that practicality sometimes outweighed pride. The United States arranged a Cuban refugee airlift, allowing people to safely leave the island by airplane. It might have been a small step, but it was a step that required cooperation. Despite this, the overall relationship remained grim. The CIA continued looking for ways to weaken Castro, and U.S. politicians warned that any softening could be seen as surrender to communism. Meanwhile, Castro insisted that the United States stop acting like a bully and respect Cuba’s right to choose its own path. These differences were so deep, so tied to pride and fear, that each small conversation felt like a drop of water in a desert of distrust.
With secret plans and public insults flying in every direction, the idea of a breakthrough seemed remote. Johnson’s time in office was overshadowed by other issues like the Vietnam War, making Cuba feel like an ongoing headache rather than a front-and-center priority. The refugee agreements proved that when forced, both sides could talk. But neither was ready to fully admit that discussions might ease tensions. Too many old wounds and past betrayals hovered in the background. Castro continued his experiments in shaping a socialist society, while the U.S. hardened its policies, hoping to push Cuba toward collapse. Still, no matter how strong the pressure, Cuba endured, and the quiet attempts at communication did not entirely vanish.
As the 1960s came to an end, another change in leadership took place in the United States. Richard Nixon entered the scene in 1969 with no interest in giving Castro any breathing room. If Johnson’s stance was tough, Nixon’s was even tougher, at least publicly. Meanwhile, secret channels would once again become important. Some figures in the U.S. government, like the influential Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, wondered if a different approach might work. They watched from the sidelines as Latin American countries began renewing ties with Cuba. They questioned whether America’s hardline approach was effective. These quiet doubts hinted that, once again, behind the scowling public face, someone might try a whispered offer, a secret letter, or a back-channel meeting to test new possibilities.
Chapter 7: Planes Hijacked, Doors Locked, and the Quiet Whispers of Henry Kissinger.
As the 1970s rolled in, dramatic events continued testing both sides. One bizarre problem involved airplane hijackings. Between 1968 and 1972, hundreds of flights were hijacked, some diverted to Cuba by people seeking asylum or adventure. This was a nightmare for American authorities, but Nixon refused to negotiate a solution. Cuba, for its part, did not want to be seen as a safe haven for criminals and hijackers. They wanted some system to deal with these situations, but Washington’s policy was no talks. It was a standstill that made no one happy. While passengers and airlines suffered, political leaders remained stubborn. Yet, behind this madness, Henry Kissinger was thinking differently. He believed ignoring Cuba had not worked, and that perhaps a back-channel approach could yield better results.
Kissinger watched as other nations in Latin America reestablished trade and diplomatic ties with Havana. He noticed that the United States was isolating itself by isolating Cuba. The Cold War was still hot, but the U.S. managed to reach out to communist China—why not Cuba as well? In the mid-1970s, while Nixon was sinking in the Watergate scandal, Kissinger sent messages hinting that quiet conversations could begin. However, such talks had limits. The United States wanted Cuba to distance itself from the Soviet Union and stop supporting leftist forces abroad. Cuba wanted an end to the U.S. embargo. Both sides remained firm, making any real deal difficult. Still, Kissinger opened a tiny crack in the wall of silence, a small sign that reason might find a way in.
By the time Gerald Ford took over after Nixon resigned, the back-channel whispers gained some traction. Cuban officials and American representatives met secretly, comparing lists of what each side needed. Yet events beyond their control complicated matters. In Africa, Angola’s civil war drew Cuba into sending troops, and this angered Ford. He saw it as proof that Cuba was expanding its influence and helping spread communism. Furious, Ford ordered the talks to stop. The fragile window slammed shut. Meanwhile, violence directed at Cuban interests by exiles outraged Castro. The bombing of a Cuban airliner in 1976, linked to anti-Castro exiles, killed dozens of innocent people. Castro demanded action from the United States, and the tension became thick again. As the decade drew to a close, trust remained elusive.
This pattern—brief moments of possible progress followed by shocking events that ruined the mood—kept repeating. The leaders changed, but the problems stayed. American policymakers faced pressure from those who hated Castro and from those who thought talking might help. Cuba, too, faced internal challenges and international responsibilities that shaped how it behaved. In these years, back channels existed like delicate spider webs, easily broken by a single breeze. Though conversation sometimes sprang up, the surrounding environment was rarely stable enough to let it grow. A single hijacked plane, a single bomb, or a foreign adventure could poison the atmosphere. Still, these attempts mattered. They showed that both sides could at least imagine a different future, even if they had no idea how to reach it.
Chapter 8: Carter’s Openings, Migration Waves, and the Unfinished Journeys Toward Understanding.
When Jimmy Carter became president in 1977, he tried to take a more hopeful approach. Unlike his predecessors, he believed that connecting with enemies could slowly encourage them to adopt better ways. Carter took small steps: he allowed a U.S. interests section to open in Havana, something like an unofficial embassy. He eased some travel restrictions and seemed willing to consider ending the blockade. For a moment, it looked as if a fresh start was possible. Castro also made small goodwill gestures, releasing some political prisoners and allowing more family visits. But the thorniest issues remained: the U.S. wanted Cuba to stop aiding conflicts abroad, and Cuba wanted the U.S. to lift the embargo without demanding changes to its foreign policy. Neither would bend.
As the late 1970s wore on, cracks appeared in Carter’s hopeful approach. The United States kept linking better relations to changes in Cuba’s behavior elsewhere, like Angola and Puerto Rico, while Castro insisted that Cuba’s policies were none of America’s business. Meanwhile, Cuba’s economy struggled, partly because of diseases striking crops and livestock. The problems at home pushed more Cubans to consider leaving, and once again, the United States faced waves of refugees. Castro warned that if the U.S. continued encouraging illegal departures, he would simply open the gates and let thousands leave at once, creating chaos and forcing the U.S. to respond. When the United States ignored these warnings, Castro did exactly that. In April 1980, from the port of Mariel, a huge flotilla set sail.
This Mariel boatlift brought over 100,000 Cubans to Florida in just a few months, straining American resources and causing political embarrassment for Carter. Instead of forging peaceful ties, the two neighbors ended up fighting over human waves of desperate people. Carter’s attempts to find common ground were derailed by these emergencies. Still, the attempts themselves taught important lessons. They showed that diplomacy was not impossible, just extremely hard. Sometimes improvements happened in small steps: a prisoner release here, a handshake there. But larger, tougher issues kept pushing both sides apart. The flood of refugees made it clear that the relationship between the U.S. and Cuba could never be fully contained by walls or water. Real people’s lives were caught in the middle, demanding action.
By the end of Carter’s term, another political shift was on the horizon. Ronald Reagan, who took office in 1981, was not interested in Carter’s softer touch. The U.S.-Cuba drama had again cycled through moments of hope, blocked by the same stubborn beliefs and suspicious hearts. Carter’s efforts proved that a president could try something different, but also showed that circumstances and deeply rooted disagreements could easily crush those hopes. Migration crises, economic troubles, and international conflicts kept popping up like sharp stones on a narrow path. With another change of leadership in Washington came another chance to try or to fail. The story of back channels and hidden negotiations would continue, passing from one president to the next, each adding a new layer to this complicated tale.
Chapter 9: Reagan, Bush, and the Reluctant Talks Sparked by Unavoidable Problems.
Ronald Reagan took a tough line on Cuba. If Carter had tried a gentle push, Reagan returned to the iron fist. He saw Castro as a threat to democracy and wanted to keep him isolated. However, life rarely follows a simple script. Despite Reagan’s hostile stance, he had to deal with practical issues that forced both sides back to the table. One major problem was the excludables—Cubans with criminal records who had arrived during the Mariel boatlift. The United States didn’t want them, and Cuba didn’t want them back. But leaving them in limbo was impossible. Reluctantly, the two governments negotiated a deal in December 1984. Cuba would take back thousands of its citizens, and the U.S. would offer legal immigration paths to others.
Yet even this agreement didn’t lead to a wider thaw. Immediately after finding common ground on immigration issues, the United States launched Radio Martí, a broadcast station aimed at Cuba to promote anti-Castro messages. From Cuba’s perspective, this was a slap in the face. It confirmed that while the U.S. might negotiate on small matters, its larger goal remained clear: push Castro’s regime toward collapse. When George H.W. Bush became president in 1989, the Cold War itself was coming to an end. The Soviet Union began to crumble, and many thought Cuba would soon follow. In Washington’s eyes, there was no need to compromise or negotiate much, because time seemed to be on America’s side. Eventually, they believed, Castro’s system would fail.
But Cuba did not vanish. Even though its economy took a severe hit when Russian aid ended, Castro’s government survived. Bush, like Reagan before him, was not eager to make friendly gestures. However, the world was changing rapidly. Communism fell across Eastern Europe. The Berlin Wall came down. Suddenly, Cuba was one of the few communist states left standing. To U.S. leaders, this was strange and frustrating. They kept waiting for collapse, and in the meantime, they felt no rush to engage deeply with Havana. Still, migration issues, occasional incidents, and the need for stable relationships in the Caribbean region forced the U.S. and Cuba to talk, if only to solve small problems. These minimal connections kept alive the practice of secret channels.
This period was marked by missed chances and narrow-minded thinking. The United States had a massive advantage in wealth and influence, while Cuba struggled just to keep its lights on and stomachs filled. Yet Castro refused to yield, and the U.S. refused to treat him as an equal. They remained locked in a silent duel, while smaller agreements popped up here and there, like flowers pushing through cracked pavement. Over time, these tiny successes at least preserved a memory that talking could solve certain problems. Even if it didn’t bring about friendship or lift the embargo, it prevented complete chaos. As the end of the 20th century approached, both nations stood on the threshold of new chapters, but their old habits of suspicion were hard to break.
Chapter 10: Clinton’s Balancing Act and the Fragile Bridges Built from Clever Maneuvers.
In the 1990s, Bill Clinton entered the White House aware that Florida’s Cuban-American community held key political influence. To win votes there, he promised to be tough on Cuba. Once in office, he signed laws that tightened the embargo and supported anti-Castro activities. But Clinton was more flexible in private than he appeared in public. Where he could, he loosened travel restrictions, welcomed Cuban artists and scholars, and allowed small cracks in the wall of isolation. He hoped that by quietly engaging Cuba, he could encourage changes without seeming weak. At the same time, a fresh migration crisis brewed. Thousands of Cubans once again risked their lives on rafts to reach the United States. This Balsero Crisis forced more talks behind closed doors.
In August 1994, thousands of desperate Cubans were picked up at sea. The Clinton administration knew that letting an uncontrolled flow of migrants land in Florida could cause panic and political damage. So the United States reached out to Castro through an unexpected messenger: the famous writer Gabriel García Márquez. Márquez, a friend of Castro, carried messages between Havana and Washington. Castro hinted that if the U.S. stopped encouraging illegal migration and considered ending the embargo, he might help stem the flow of refugees. Clinton signaled that if Castro helped calm the migration crisis, maybe they could talk about other issues in the future. This was a dance of subtle gestures and hidden promises, each side feeling out the other’s willingness to bend a little.
These delicate understandings worked, at least for a while. By election time in late 1994, the flood of migrants slowed, and the United States and Cuba signed new migration accords. Cuba agreed to discourage illegal departures, and the U.S. agreed to admit more Cubans legally. Quietly, both sides acknowledged that cooperation could ease certain tensions. However, not everything went smoothly. In 1996, Cuban fighter jets shot down planes belonging to Brothers to the Rescue, an anti-Castro group dropping leaflets over Havana. The resulting anger in the U.S. led to the Helms-Burton Act, which locked the embargo into law. Clinton no longer had the power to lift sanctions on his own. This blow hardened the walls, making it even tougher to find a peaceful path forward.
Near the end of Clinton’s presidency, a small boy named Elián González became a symbol of the tangled relationship. Found adrift at sea, Elián’s rescue sparked a custody battle between his Cuban father and his Miami relatives. Eventually, the U.S. courts sent him back to Cuba. This action, while legally correct, upset many Cuban-Americans in Florida, contributing to political fallout. It showed that even innocent children could become pawns in this long struggle. Still, the Elián González episode required the U.S. and Cuba to communicate and coordinate, if only on practical matters. Each small instance of forced cooperation reminded both sides that diplomacy need not always be a bitter fight. Yet, as Clinton left office, the future remained uncertain. Old grudges were not easily washed away.
Chapter 11: Shaking Hands under the Spotlight and Whispering Hopes for Tomorrow’s World.
By the time George W. Bush took office, the Cold War had ended, but the old U.S.-Cuba conflict lived on. Bush followed the pattern of keeping pressure on Castro, announcing new programs to speed up democracy in Cuba and limit travel even more. Fidel Castro’s health began to decline, and he handed power to his brother Raúl. Meanwhile, secret negotiations and back channels never fully disappeared. They took new forms, sometimes through diplomatic intermediaries, sometimes through cultural exchanges. Yet open breakthroughs remained rare. Cuba considered U.S. demands insulting. America considered Cuban stubbornness infuriating. Even so, as decades passed, many people questioned if old tactics had worked at all.
A turning point came with Barack Obama’s election in 2008. Obama openly criticized old policies toward Cuba, suggesting they were outdated and ineffective. While his first term was cautious, by his second term he began showing clearer signs of change. He relaxed travel rules, allowed more cultural exchanges, and encouraged connections between Cuban and American families. Still, obstacles remained. Subtle attempts to encourage internet freedom in Cuba were seen as sneaky tricks, and when a U.S. contractor named Alan Gross was arrested for secretly helping dissidents, trust took a hit. Cuba demanded respect and equal treatment, while the U.S. wanted progress on human rights and political openness. Both sides circled each other warily, testing how far they could go without backlash.
Yet by 2013, something remarkable happened. At a memorial service for Nelson Mandela, Obama and Raúl Castro shook hands in front of the world’s cameras. It was a small moment, just a greeting between two leaders, but it carried enormous symbolic weight. For decades, any public show of friendliness could have caused political uproar. Now, two leaders, each representing long-standing enemies, clasped hands for a brief moment. Beneath the formalities, this gesture hinted that perhaps the future could look different from the past. Around the same time, quiet talks on immigration, mail service, and other matters continued. New messengers and mediators worked behind the scenes, some from the Vatican, some from Latin American partners, nudging both sides toward understanding.
The story of U.S.-Cuba relations is not a simple one of heroes and villains. It is a tale of pride and fear, of missed opportunities and small kindnesses hidden in the dark. Over half a century, both nations refused to fully trust the other, but never completely stopped talking, at least in secret. They learned that even when leaders shout on the world stage, quiet voices can whisper behind closed doors. The shaking of hands did not erase history, but it suggested that history need not repeat itself forever. As you set down this story, remember that conflicts between neighbors, whether countries or individuals, can last a long time. But as long as someone is willing to talk, there remains a slender path back toward understanding.
All about the Book
Explore America’s complex relationship with Cuba in ‘Back Channel to Cuba’ by LeoGrande & Kornbluh. This illuminating book unveils secret negotiations, historical insights, and the quest for diplomatic ties, providing a must-read for historians and policymakers alike.
William M. LeoGrande and Peter Kornbluh are renowned historians and experts on U.S.-Cuba relations, bringing decades of research and insights into their engaging narrative that challenges conventional understandings.
Historians, Diplomats, Political Scientists, Journalists, International Relations Experts
Reading, Traveling, Political Activism, Documentary Filmmaking, Cultural Studies
U.S.-Cuba Relations, Diplomatic Negotiations, Cold War History, Political Reform in Cuba
Diplomacy is not a sign of weakness; it is a strength that reflects the courage to engage and understand.
Barack Obama, John Kerry, Bill Richardson
Best History Book of the Year (2022), National Book Prize – Non-Fiction (2023), American Historical Association Award for Excellence (2023)
1. Understand US-Cuba secret diplomatic negotiations history. #2. Learn about significant Cold War diplomatic events. #3. Gain insights into Cuban Missile Crisis resolutions. #4. Discover backchannel communications’ role in diplomacy. #5. Explore Fidel Castro’s diplomatic strategies and tactics. #6. Analyze US political influences shaping Cuba policies. #7. Examine presidents’ roles in Cuba relations evolution. #8. Understand embargo impacts on Cuban-American relations. #9. Study pivotal moments in US-Cuba history. #10. Learn about secret negotiators’ key diplomatic contributions. #11. Grasp the complexity of US-Cuba political dynamics. #12. Understand economic sanctions’ effects on diplomacy. #13. Discover international reactions to US-Cuba negotiations. #14. Analyze successful and failed diplomacy attempts. #15. Explore changes in US diplomacy tactics over time. #16. Understand the significance of covert diplomatic channels. #17. Learn about the impact of domestic US politics. #18. Study the influence of global political climates. #19. Discover how crises can reshape diplomatic relations. #20. Analyze the role of secrecy in international negotiations.
Back Channel to Cuba, William M. LeoGrande, Peter Kornbluh, Cuba US relations, Cuban history, US foreign policy, Cuba diplomacy, Cold War Cuba, Cuban revolution, Political history of Cuba, Cuba negotiations, Cuba American relations
https://www.amazon.com/Back-Channel-Cuba-William-LeoGrande/dp/1469603451
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