Tuesday, 10 January 2017

TRANSFORMATIONS IN CUBAN AGRICULTURE AFTER 1959

By José Alvarez
On October 28, 2000, US President Bill Clinton signed the Trade Sanctions Reform and Export Enhancement Act (TSRA) which allowed US firms to sell food and agricultural products to Cuba and other countries. However, the Cuban government did not purchase any of these products until December of 2001 following the devastating damage caused by Hurricane Michelle to important agricultural areas in November of that year.

Cuban purchases from US firms amounted to $4.319 million in 2001, $138.635 million in 2002, and $256.9 million in 2003. Cuba became the 35th most important food and agricultural export market for the United States in 2003, up from last (226th) in 2000. Actual purchases and pending contracts in the first-half of 2004 are at a pace to move Cuba into the top 20 most important markets of US food and agricultural exports. Furthermore, because current US legislation requires that all Cuban purchases from the United States must be conducted on a cash basis, the lack of credit risk associated with these sales makes Cuba one of the most attractive export markets for US firms.

Anticipating changes in US–Cuba trade relations, the Food and Resource Economics Department at UF/IFAS initiated a research initiative on Cuba in 1990, including a 1993 collaborative agreement with the University of Havana, which has lasted to this day. (Most of the resulting publications can be found at http://www.cubanag.ifas.ufl.edu). We reiterate that our role as investigators is to provide the best available information and analyses from which rational decisions can be made. The reports included in this series intend to address the increasing level of interest in the Cuban market for food and agricultural products among US firms and to assist them in becoming more familiar with that market. The complete list of documents in this series can be found by conducting a topical search for “Cuba” at http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu, or under "Additional Information" at the end of this document.

Introduction
The Cuban government that took power on January 1, 1959, was going to drastically change rural Cuba. This fact sheet describes the most important agricultural policies during the 1959–1989 period, although in some instances it is necessary to mention events and policies before and after that period. A careful examination of the multitude of policies and agricultural organizations implemented during those 30 years provides an understanding of the confusion arising from the fact that Karl Marx did not leave an implementation blueprint to his followers.

Brief Historical Background
It was evident that, being the most important sector of the Cuban economy, agriculture was to experience drastic and continuing transformations under the leadership that took power on January 1, 1959. These transformations originated in the agrarian struggles that were supported by most sectors of Cuban society before the revolution.
Although most authors only cite the two agrarian reform laws of 1959 and 1963, the agrarian revolution in Cuba originated in the mountains of the Sierra Maestra when Law No. 3 of the Rebel Army was promulgated in October of 1958. The basic principle of the law was that the land should be given to those who tilled it. Thus, the 1958 law revolved around the idea of massive land distribution.

Domínguez (1978) states that prior to 1959, less than one-tenth of the Cuban peasants lacked legal claim to the land they tilled. These squatters were mainly concentrated in the province of Oriente, the focal point of Castro's guerrilla warfare. And Domínguez adds:

This more or less accidental event brought the leaders of the revolution in contact with what was essentially an atypical rural dweller. The revolutionary government's policies in 1959 and thereafter were influenced by this experience, a fact that explains why so much of their early legislation was devoted to solving the problems of Cuba's few squatters, while the many more peasants who were not squatters and the even more numerous agricultural workers received less government attention (pp. 423–424).
Law No. 3 was implemented in all territories occupied by the Rebel Army. Although free land was distributed among farmers who tilled up to 28 hectares, with the right to purchase up to 67 hectares, it did not proscribe the latifundia, leaving its elimination to a future government (Valdés Paz, 1997, p. 53).

The Agrarian Reform Law of 1959
Objectives and Articles
The first Agrarian Reform Law was enacted on May 17, 1959, by the revolutionary government. As a symbolic gesture, it was signed into law in the mountains of the Sierra Maestra. It proscribed latifundia (defined as estates larger than 402 hectares) and it initially distributed some land and encouraged the development of cooperatives on larger estates. It did not, however, break up the large sugarcane plantations and cattle ranches. Thomas (1971, pp. 1216–1217) explains that Castro had already changed his mind regarding distribution of land by the time of the 1959 Agrarian Reform Law. He believed that, rather than dividing latifundios into small plots (which would decrease production), they should maintain larger tracts of land under governmental control.

The 1959 Agrarian Reform Law represented a drastic change from the 1958 Rebel Army's approach of massive land distribution. The main objectives of the law can be summarized as follows:
·         to ensure progress through growth and diversification (eliminating dependence on monoculture).
·         to make full use of natural and human resources.
·         to diversify agricultural and livestock production.
·         to stimulate industrial development through state and private means.
·         to augment and diversify agricultural production to expand exports, supply raw materials for the national industry, and satisfy domestic consumption.
·         to modify the agrarian structure by proscribing latifundia, eliminating certain forms of exploitation (e.g., sharecropping), and granting land ownership to those who worked it to ensure a greater use of land resources.
·         to substitute latifundia production with more technical and efficient production forms such as cooperatives.
·         to establish an agricultural organization capable of implementing the law and to create objectives of economic and social development that conform to the law.
·         to prevent future control by foreigners of the national rural patrimony.
According to Valdés Paz (1997, p. 63), the previous goals were intended to reconcile the interests of different social classes and groups interested in change (e.g., the rural and urban proletariat, the peasantry, the progressive rural and urban bourgeoisie, and the middle classes, among others). The only ones adversely affected were the sugar bourgeoisie; the importing bourgeoisie; and the holders of foreign capital invested in agriculture, sugar, and foreign trade.
The main body of the law was composed of nine chapters and 77 articles that proclaimed:
·         the proscription of latifundia (single owners could own up to 402 hectares; large farms with intensive production could own up to 1,340 hectares).
·         the proscription of “administration cane” (cane owned by natural or juridical persons for grinding in their own mill), and the expropriation of land owned by such plantations.
·         compensation for the properties affected by the law, with payments to be made in 20-year bonds bearing an annual interest of 4.5%.
·         the proscription of foreign ownership of rural property.
·         the distribution of land to those who till it, establishing priorities for the different lands as well as priorities among the beneficiaries.
·         a “vital minimum” size of parcels (the minimum amount of land needed for the support of a peasant family) of up to 27 hectares; parcels of this size were to be distributed to peasants (the parcels could only be transferred by inheritance and were not divisible).
·         the prohibition of land possession other than by ownership.
·         the recuperation of state lands, especially those that had not been properly registered by 1958.
·         the right to agrarian cooperation, including agricultural cooperatives, which, in the case of state lands, would be under the management of the National Institute of Agrarian Reform (Instituto Nacional de Reforma Agraria,INRA) and, in the case of private lands, would receive all support needed from INRA.
·         the establishment of Agricultural Development Zones that would act as administrative units of the agrarian reform and as centers of social, economic, and agrarian development activities.
·         the creation of institutions in charge of implementing the Law of Agrarian Reform (to incorporate it into the Fundamental Law of the Republic to give it the force of constitutional law), the establishment of INRA, and the creation of land tribunals to solve the juridical problems derived from the implementation of the law.
·         the conservation of forests and soils.
·         the enumeration of other dispositions (e.g., prohibiting farmers' evictions, suspending pending trials, establishing a two-year period to place all private lands into production, etc.).
Impact on Land Tenure and Structure
The impact of the 1959 Agrarian Reform Law on land tenure and structure was significant. All 9.1 million hectares of land in 1958 were in private hands and almost 43% of the land was in farms over 402 hectares. Two years after the first agrarian reform law, land in the private sector had declined to 58.4%, with the remaining 41.6% under state control. Farms over 402 hectares in size (i.e., 300 People's Farms, totaling 2,576,000 hectares) were under state control as proscribed by the 1959 Agrarian Reform Law. The previous classification by Mears (1962, p. 13) assumes that the 630 cooperatives established under the law were under state control and, for that reason, are classified as state-owned farms.

If the 630 agricultural cooperatives are considered as privately-owned farms, then in 1961, the private sector owned 72% and the state owned 28% of the agricultural land. This breakdown appears to be more appropriate. As a matter of fact, this disparity was one of the reasons leading to a second agrarian reform law four years after the enactment of the first one.

Even by western standards and despite its impacts on the structure of land tenure, Cuba's first agrarian reform was not a radical one. According to Thomas (1971, p. 1217), many of the Eastern European reforms of the 1920s went further than the Cuban agrarian ideas of 1959. For example, the maximum amount of land allowed by a single owner in Poland and Bulgaria was 20 hectares and 49 hectares, respectively.

A Two-Year Evaluation
The President of INRA conducted an evaluation of the general impact of the 1959 Agrarian Reform Law and its subsequent legislation at the time of its second anniversary (Núñez Jiménez, 1961). His findings are as follows:
·         The large sugarcane estates had been converted into 622 sugarcane cooperatives while the large cattle ranches and rice plantations had been converted into 263 People's farms.
·         31,425 title deeds to land parcels of 28 hectares or less had been handed over for free to the poorest peasants.
·         Law No. 851 of 1960 distributed 1,260,000 hectares of nationalized US properties in Cuba among 596 sugarcane farms while Law No. 890 of 1960 expropriated 2,533 sugarcane farms (909,200 hectares) owned by Cuban firms.
·         INRA's rural housing department built over 500 public buildings (e.g., schools, hospitals, stores, community centers, and theaters) in only one year.
·         There were 1,996 retail People's stores (selling a variety of items at subsidized prices), 25 large warehouses, and 58 subsidiary warehouses.
·         A variety of productive, social, and cultural services had been increased or had reached the peasants for the first time, including credit, machinery, schools, cultural centers, housing, medical services, and rural electrification.
A Four-Year Evaluation
This evaluation was conducted by the new President of INRA, Carlos Rafael Rodríguez (1963). Not much is contained in this new assessment. Rodríguez repeats many of the success stories and background material of the first evaluation.

Of particular interest, however, is his explanation of the circumstances causing the food shortage in 1962, leading to the establishment of a rationing system (EDIS FE482) that still exists today. Despite the explanations given, he also states that, “as Fidel Castro has said, this is the only agrarian reform in which production did not drop with the reform. This is true until the end of 1961, and it is true for agricultural-livestock production as a whole, except for sugarcane, until 1962” (1963, p. 26).

The Process of Socialization Continues
On August 6, 1960, President Dorticós and Premier Castro signed Resolution No. 1 which, in retaliation for the suspension of the US Cuban sugar quota, expropriated US enterprises, including 21 sugar mills and their lands. On October 13, 1960, Law No. 890 responded to the US embargo by expropriating, among others, the remaining 105 sugar mills and 16 rice mills with their lands. On October 24, 1960, Resolution No. 3, signed by President Dorticós and Premier Castro, nationalized the remaining US enterprises (Alvarez, 1990, pp. 103, 121). Numerous resolutions, signed by the Ministry for the Recovery of Misappropriated Property since early January of 1959, had confiscated the assets (including numerous farms) of members of the previous government (who had acquired them with public funds). Total land affected under the different measures amounted to over 4.4 million hectares (Valdés Paz, 1997, p. 81). The nationalization of US properties eliminated the foreign presence in Cuba's countryside, consistent with the 1959 Agrarian Reform Law.

Establishment of ANAP and Agricultural Associations
The process of reform and power consolidation in the rural areas continued with the establishment of the National Association of Small Farmers (Asociación Nacional de Agricultores Pequeños, ANAP) in May of 1961, with membership restricted to farmers with fewer than 67 hectares and to larger farmers who had demonstrated allegiance to the revolution. Its membership surpassed 200,000, accounting for almost one-third of the economically-active rural population.

Aranda (1968) reports that the results of the (July) 1965 Agricultural Census found around 2.7 million hectares among 200,000 farms in what he calls the private sector (nonstate sector). The labor force in this sector included 290,000 men and women and their family members plus 36,000 permanent workers and seasonal workers (pp. 147–148). These figures changed afterwards, however. Agricultural Production Cooperatives (CPAs) were established 10 years after the 1965 Agricultural Census and became part of what was called the socialist sector. Meanwhile, the number of peasants with small parcels (conucos) producing for family consumption, bartering, or sales in the black market is not known. Deere et al. (1995) acknowledge that the 1987 Census of private sector land revealed that the amount of land held by the non-peasant sector was not insignificant and that it had been previously underestimated in official data.

At the same time that the ANAP was established, the Cuban government began a widespread campaign to encourage “agricultural associations” (Asociaciones Campesinas) in the nonstate sector. Small farmers not in the vicinity of large farms and cooperatives were urged to pool their land and other resources with their neighbors to form agricultural associations. Some of these units were to be small (in the range of 40 to 53.6 hectares). Apparently, the term "association" was used instead of cooperative because of the farmers' reluctance to become cooperative members (Mears, 1962, p. 13). Castro reported that nearly 300 of these associations had been created by 1963 (Castro, 1963, p. 12).

Also, by 1963, the armed struggle initiated in the rural areas in 1959 had been reduced to a minimum. It was time to continue with the process of socialization in the countryside. The government was ready for its second agrarian reform law.

The Agrarian Reform Law of 1963
A second Agrarian Reform Law was enacted in October of 1963. It expropriated the land of most farmers with more than 67 hectares, bringing 70% of the lands under government control. The only exceptions on the limit were farms worked by several brothers together, each with a per capita area below the 67 hectare limit, and cases considered by INRA as exceptional (high productivity and a willingness to cooperate with the state agricultural plans).

The reasons behind this new law were twofold: (1) socialist property ownership had advanced farther in other sectors of the economy, although limits on land ownership were considered unacceptable; and (2) the rural bourgeoisie was in conflict with the revolutionary process, helping armed groups fighting the government (Aranda, 1968, p. 189).
The first drastic measure of the agrarian revolution (1959 Agrarian Reform Law) only affected land belonging to foreign companies and large Cuban owners while the 1963 Agrarian Reform Law only impacted medium-size Cuban farmers.

Farmers anticipated the 1963 law and “distributed” their lands among members of their immediate and extended families (a process whereby the peasant economy is a “refuge” whereby common law anticipates statute law). Forster (1989) described this attitude in the following way:

During the early years of the revolution as they faced expropriation, large farmers decapitalized their holdings, failed to maintain irrigation and machinery, slaughtered their animal herds, and otherwise adversely affected production for years to come. Even after the 1963 Agrarian Reform, it is likely that farmers in the remaining private sector were hesitant to invest heavily until they were sure that they, too, would not be expropriated (p. 239).

After the 1963 Agrarian Reform Law, the Cuban leadership was in a constant search for the best ways to organize production along socialist lines and the type of incentive system that would better correspond to each type of organization. The following sections describe that process for the period ending in 1993.

Types of Agricultural Organizations
Agricultural Production Cooperatives (CPAs)
During the 1960s and early 1970s, the Cuban leadership did not emphasize the establishment of agricultural cooperatives. On May 17, 1974, during his speech on the 15th anniversary of the 1959 (first) Agrarian Reform Law, Castro expressed the view that it was about time for private farmers to put their 1.5 million hectares into superior forms of production for land socialization (Pampín Balado and Trujillo Rodríguez, n.d.). He also stated that the process of socializing the lands of independent farmers would be a long one, culminating in the day when there would no longer be any independent peasants.

The Agricultural Production Cooperatives (CPA) are defined as “a superior form of collective production of social property which were started after the farmers' decision to join their lands and other fundamental means of production” (CEE, 1989, p. 178).
Although Agricultural Production Cooperatives (CPAs) began in 1975, Law No. 36 of Agricultural Cooperatives was not enacted until August 24, 1982. It is important to point out that the law referred to two types of cooperatives: Agricultural Production Cooperatives (CPAs) and Cooperatives of Credit and Services (CCSs), which are discussed below. Pollitt explains the reasons for the establishment of CPAs in the following manner:

The CPAs had come about for reasons familiar to historians of socialist agriculture. By pooling their holdings in larger enterprises, it was argued that individual farmers achieved economies of scale through rational, specialized use of land and labor combined with modern means and methods of production. Socially, the concentration of dispersed peasant households simplified the provision of electricity; sanitation; and better housing, schools and medical care (1996, p. 23).
In terms of the CPAs, the law described the main goals of this type of organization as follows:
·         to develop agricultural and livestock production within the social goals and interests of the cooperative.
·         to consolidate and increase the social exploitation of the cooperative's assets.
·         to increase labor productivity and the efficiency of social production.
·         to increase production and sales of agricultural products to the state.
·         to foster the best application of technology and science within a socialist form of production.
·         to help in the fulfillment of the growing material and cultural needs of the cooperatives and their families, to stimulate their participation in the different aspects of social life, and to contribute to increase the standard of living and the establishment of socialist living relations among its members.
·         to advance socialist emulation.
·         to develop the participation of the cooperative members and their families in the economic, political, and social tasks of the country.
Material incentives for CPA members involved profit sharing of net returns (Meurs, 1990, p. 120):
·         40–50%: distributed at the end of the year among members according to the amount of work performed.
·         25–30%: paid to members for the land and equipment contributed when the cooperative was created.
·         10%: placed in a investment fund.
·         5%: put into "cultural” development (e.g., establishing daycare facilities).
The 1,378 CPAs that were established by 1985, including 63% of independent farmers, controlled slightly over one million hectares. Also, by 1985, about 19,156 individual houses had been built and 882 cooperatives had received electricity. As a result, the agricultural associations disappeared.

In 1993, the number of CPAs had decreased to 1,219 and their area to 772,500 hectares. There were 60,266 cooperative members, with an average of 50 members per cooperative (CEE, 1998, p. 179).

CPAs were praised by the government as examples of “good management” until the advent of Cuba's economic crisis in the 1990s. A summary report (ISCAH, n.d.) shows sugarcane and non-sugarcane cooperatives with positive returns over long periods of time. The report also exhibits a decreasing number of CPAs until the 1990s.

Cooperatives of Credit and Services (CCSs)
The Cooperatives of Credit and Services (CCSs) are “primary organizations of a collective nature that allow the public use of irrigation, some facilities, services and other means, as well as the transacting of their credits although the property of each farm, its equipment and resulting production remains private” (CEE, 1989, p. 178).
Although this type of agricultural organization was part of the law that established the CPAs, some had already been created, mainly in the tobacco region of the Pinar del Río province, after the enactment of the first Agrarian Reform Law in 1959 and the creation of ANAP in 1961. In fact, by mid-1963, there were 527 CCSs with over 46,000 members and 433,000 hectares. Just one year later, their number had grown to 899 cooperatives with close to 56,000 members and 527,000 hectares. By 1967, the numbers had increased to 1,119 cooperatives with almost 78,000 members and 697,000 hectares. Until 1976, ANAP devoted most of its efforts to the consolidation of the CCS movement and subsequently shifted its emphasis to the CPAs. As a result, the CCSs lost momentum. By1982, their number had declined to 2,181. In 1998, there were 2,781 cooperatives with 163,800 members and 962,300 hectares (CEE, 1998).

CCSs are mainly established to share the use of credit and some inputs and services (e.g., seed, fertilizer, and chemical products). Occasionally, they also acquire tractors, trucks, pumps, and other types of machinery and equipment. They can also devote themselves to the building of collective projects such as dams and warehouses.
The demise of the old agricultural production model at the end of 1993 prevented CCSs from continuing to obtain the services frequently offered by state enterprises. New means to guarantee their existence had to be found. The CCSs were authorized to purchase the means of production for collective use and to hire permanent laborers for the benefit of the collective. Their organization was later changed to adapt to the strict scarcity situation that developed at the beginning of the 1990s (Arias Guevara and Hernández Benítez, 1998, p. 30).

Independent (Dispersed)Farmers
Independent (dispersed) small private producers are those who farm their own land with family labor and establish commitments with the state to sell their agricultural products to the state collection agency, Acopio. In return, the state sells them agricultural inputs. Although there were more than 200,000 independent farmers in the mid-1960s (Aranda, 1968), their numbers declined after the establishment of the CPAs in the mid-1970s and, by the time the reform process started in 1993, they only controlled 9% of the agricultural land.

There are numerous examples that reflect the doctrinal preference of the Cuban leadership for collective farms (state control) over cooperative farms (social or community control) or private ownership of the agricultural means of production. That preference appeared in the early 1960s and was not based on relative performance efficiency by types of enterprises but on purely ideological grounds (Dumont, 1971, pp. 29–31, 50–51). Research has shown that the relative order of priorities to receive inputs and assistance from the state was state farms, CPAs, CCSs, and finally independent farmers (Alvarez and Puerta, 1994).

Concluding Observations
It should be noted that state farms, CPAs, and CCSs, let alone independent (dispersed) farmers, have not typically had the freedom to select what crops or commodities to produce. Consistent with Cuba's centrally planned economic system such decisions are made by government bureaucrats after discussions with the interested party. Also, the government establishes production quotas that each farm is obligated to sell to the state collection agency, Acopio (EDIS FE484), at prices established by the government, which are typically quite low. It is readily apparent that such a system provided little incentive for expanded agricultural production throughout the first 30 years following the revolution.

Another fact sheet in this series entitled, Antecedents of the Cuban Agricultural Policies of the 1990s (EDIS FE485), discusses more recent and, in some cases, significant modifications to the form and function of Cuba's agricultural organizations.

References
Alvarez, José. 1990. A Chronology of Three Decades of Centralized Economic Planning in Cuba." Communist Economies 2: 101–125.
Alvarez, José. 2004. Cuba's Agricultural Sector. Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida.
Alvarez, José, and Ricardo A. Puerta. 1994. State Intervention in Cuban Agriculture: Impact on Organization and Performance. World Development 12 (11): 1663–1675.
Aranda, Sergio. 1968. La Revolución Agraria en Cuba. Mexico, DF: Editorial Siglo XXI.
Arias Guevara, María de los A. and Raciel Hernández Benítez. 1998. "Tendencias Actuales en las CCS. Visión Desde un Estudio de Caso (CCS "Pedro Blanco" Holguín)." In Campesinado y Participación Social, complied by Niurka Pérez Rojas, Ernel González Mastrapa and Miriam García Aguiar, pp. 30–38. La Habana: Universidad de la Habana.
Castro, Fidel.1963. Cuba's Agrarian Reform: A Speech by Dr. Fidel Castro. Toronto, Canada: Fair Play for Cuba Committee (January).
CEE. Comité Estatal de Estadística. Annual Issues. Anuario Estadístico de Cuba. La Habana: Editorial Estadística.
Deere, Carmen Diana, Ernel González, Niurka Pérez, and Gustavo Rodríguez.1995. The View From Below: Cuban Agriculture in the 'Special Period in Peacetime.' Journal of Peasant Studies 21 (2, January): 194–234.
Domínguez, Jorge I. 1978. Cuba - Order and Revolution. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Dumont, Rene. 1971. Cuba, ¿Es Socialista?, 2d edition. Caracas, Venezuela: Editorial Tiempo Nuevo.
Forster, Nancy. 1989. Cuban Agricultural Productivity. In Cuban Communism, edited by I.L. Horowitz, pp. 235–255. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers.
ISCAH. Instituto Superior de Ciencias Agropecuarias de la Habana. n.d. Informe Sobre Cooperativas y sus Resultados Económicos. Polo Científico de Humanidades, Grupo de Estudios Socio-económicos de Producción Cooperativa y Campesina. La Habana.
Mears, Leon G. 1962. Agriculture and Food Situation in Cuba. ERS-Foreign 28, Economic Research Service, United States Department of Agriculture, Washington, D.C. (May).
Meurs, Mieke.1990. Agricultural Production Cooperatives and Cuban Socialism: New Approaches to Agricultural Development. In Transformation and Struggle - Cuba Faces the 1990s, edited by Sandor Halebsky and John M. Kirk, pp. 115–130. New York, NY: Praeger.
Núñez Jiménez, Antonio. 1961. In the 2nd Year of the Cuban Agrarian Reform. La Habana: Editorial En Marcha.
Pampín Balado, Blanca Rosa and Clara María Trujillo Rodríguez. n.d. Los Cambios Estructurales en la Agricultura Cubana. La Habana: Asociación Nacional de Economistas de Cuba.
Pollit, Brian H. 1996. Collapse, Reform and Recovery Prospects of the Cuban Sugar Economy. Occasional Paper No. 62–1996, Institute of Latin American Studies, University of Glasgow.
Rodríguez, Carlos Rafael. 1963. Four Years of Agrarian Reform. La Habana: Ministry of Foreign Relations.
Thomas, Hugh. 1971. Cuba: The Pursuit of Freedom. New York, NY: Harper & Row.
Valdés Paz, Juan. 1997. Procesos Agrarios en Cuba, 1959-1995. La Habana: Editorial de Ciencias Sociales.
Additional Information
Below is a list of the fact sheets in this series on Cuban Agriculture. They can be accessed by clicking on the highlighted links:
FE479 — Cuban Agriculture Before 1959: The Political and Economic Situations
FE480 — Cuban Agriculture Before 1959: The Social Situation
FE481 — Transformations in Cuban Agriculture After 1959
FE482 — Overview of Cuba's Food Rationing System
FE483 — The Issue of Food Security in Cuba
FE484 — Acopio: Cuba's State Procurement and Distribution Agency
FE485 — Antecedents of the Cuban Agricultural Policies of the 1990s
FE486 — Chronology of Cuban Reform Policies with Emphasis on Agriculture, 1993-1995
FE487 — Cuba's Basic Units of Cooperative Production
FE488 — Cuba's Agricultural Markets
FE489 — Environmental Deterioration and Conservation in Cuban Agriculture
FE490 — The Potential Correlation between Natural Disasters and Cuba's Agricultural Performance
Footnotes
1. 
This is EDIS document FE481, a publication of the Department of Food and Resource Economics, UF/IFAS Extension. Published July 2004. Reviewed August 2009, June 2013 and April 2016. Please visit the EDIS website at http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu.
2. 
José Alvarez, Professor, Department of Food and Resource Economics, Everglades Research and Education Center, Belle Glade, FL, UF/IFAS Extension, Gainesville, FL 32611.
The author would like to thank the University Press of Florida (http://www.upf.com) for permission to reproduce material from the book Cuba's Agricultural Sector (Alvarez, 2004).



AWUKU WARNS: NPP Can Go Into Opposition in Four Years

Sammy Awuku
Mr Sammy Awuku, the New Patriotic Party’s (NPP) firebrand National Youth Organiser has warned that the party can find its way back into opposition in only four years.

Speaking on “Peace FM” Mr Awuku said the NPP risks going back into opposition after only one term of Akufo-Addo’s government if arrogance drives the actions of his appointees”.

“Let’s learn a lesson from the arrogance of the NDC appointees for which they were punished during the elections.

“NPP should be modest even in government, Ghanaians have shown that no matter the number of projects a particular government implements, if its appointees act arrogantly, the party would be voted out of power” he said.

According to him display of arrogance by Nana Akufo-Addo’s appointees would only incur the wrath of the people.

In the last election, Nana Akufo-Addo of the NPP polled 5,716,026 votes as against his closet rival, President John Mahama who got 4,713,277 votes.

There is growing speculation that President Mahama will throw his hat into the ring again for the 2020 presidential.

He might be contested by a host of others in his government who believe that their time has come.

Prominent amongst such personalities is Mr Ekow Spio-Gabrah, the current Minister of Trade.

FORUM ON 2016 ELECTION
Kyeretwie Opoku, Convener of the SFG

By Joseph Badu
Comrades and progressive forces will gather at the Freedom centre in Accra this evening to discuss the 2016 elections and its impact on the left movement in Ghana.

The discussions will be led by Comrade Barzini Tandoh a long standing socialist activist who currently works with the Third World Network.

Barzini is expected to focus considerable attention on the current economic conditions in the country and how they impact on the working people.
The Economic Partnership Agreement (EPA) entered into by the Mahama administration will also be reviewed.

Although the forum is organised by the Socialist Forum of Ghana (SFG) the views expressed will be Barzinis and comrades are invited to examine them critically.

It is believed that this forum will provide a basis for shaping some collective response and appreciation of the 2016 elections.

The discussion will be chaired by Comrade Kyeretwie Opoku, Convener of the SFG

Neoliberal Globalization, The White Working Class And American Exceptionalism

By Moses E. Ochonu, Nov 24, 2016
Much of the whining about the American working class falling victim to neoliberal globalization is rooted in American exceptionalism. Everyone else has supposedly reaped a windfall from neoliberal free trade. It is a narrative with very little sympathy for, or solidarity with, the victims of globalization around the world - particularly in Africa.

In the aftermath of the US presidential election, I have been trying to re-understand this country that I have adopted as my own. Shocked and humbled by the outcome of the election, and as a lifelong student of the human condition, I've been trying to better understand the economic and cultural anxieties of the white working class, a group that assumed a mythical factor in pre- and post-election political conversations.

For six years, I lived in Michigan, a state whose working class has arguably suffered more than any other from the outsourcing of American manufacturing. I was therefore not entirely uninformed about this reality of a socioeconomic demographic that has been left behind by the unbridled transition from a localized industrial economy to a globalized, de-territorialized one. I returned to Michigan last summer and toured Detroit and its suburb to confirm for myself the media hype about a so-called Detroit comeback.

On the same trip, I drove through the rust belt state of Ohio and beheld the lingering post-industrial economic blight. I returned from the trip disappointed at the seemingly intensifying postindustrial meltdown, and by the deteriorating conditions of those displaced by the forces of global recession and globalized and automated manufacturing. So even before the election, I had been reflecting on whether or how the Midwestern white working class could regain its economic place in America. What I didn’t realize was the depth and breadth of the working class resentment and sense of alienation.

Since the election, I have sought reeducation on the frustrations of this mythical class in America. To this end, I have enjoyed reading the treatise of some of my colleagues and friends on the blind spot of progressive politics, on how progressives living and acting in a bubble have missed the growing disconnect between Democratic politics and the working class. Some of these arguments strike me as overly lionizing white working class and as excusing the xenophobic scapegoating of some of its members. Nonetheless, as a non-native born American, I have learnt a lot from these commentaries. I now realize that there is and has been a groundswell of white working class discontent, which the euphoria of progressive accomplishments has obscured or dismissed.

Much as I’m in general agreement with the need to recognize the American working class victims of globalization and to reinsert them into Democratic politics, I have two enduring, unresolved quibbles with the current discourse of white working class animus.

1. American working class exceptionalism?
Much of this narrative of American working class victimhood in the orbit of globalization is rooted in American exceptionalism, the idea that the American working class in the industrial belt of the country has been peculiarly victimized by globalization. Much of this claim rests on the notion that the American working class is the only loser of globalization, and that everyone else — non-working class Americans and citizens of countries that function as cheap labor reservoirs — has reaped a windfall from neoliberal free trade. This is another facet of American exceptionalism, the exceptionalism of victimhood, if you will. In this narrative, there is very little sympathy for, or solidarity with, the victims of globalization in the decimated industrial centers of Ilupeju, Kaduna, and Kano, in Nigeria. There is very little self-reflexivity, and much navel-gazing.

I conduct much of my academic research in Nigeria. I travel almost every summer to Northern Nigeria, where I see the ruins of industrial complexes and textile factories that used to employ hundreds of thousands of low-skill workers. In the last 15 years, free trade globalization in the form of a flood of cheap Asian manufactured goods has caused the factories to close, taking with it the livelihoods and dignities of many working families. Several of my own relatives who used to work in the textile factories of Kaduna and Kano were victims of this massive economic displacement. Some have died of hardship, shame, and heartbreak.

And yet, when the plight of the American working class is discussed, there is little mention of these Other victims of free trade globalization, those victims located in the Global South. Instead, the discussion is cast in the binary of American losers and third world winners.

Everyone outside the American industrial heartland, including my displaced working class cousins in Kaduna, is portrayed as a beneficiary of globalization, as a zero-sum profiteer from the destruction of the American industrial working class. Citizens in the countries of the Global South are posited as undifferentiated, monolithic members of an evil cabal ripping off the American worker and benefitting from his dispossession. Whether they are in Mexico, India, China, or Nigeria, they are categorized uniformly as the beneficiaries of outsourcing, as “those who are taking our jobs.” There is no effort to differentiate the outsourcing hubs of India and the outsourced factories of China and Mexico from the countries of Africa, where neoliberal globalization has arguably done the most damage.

Poor infrastructure and the paucity of skilled manpower prevented and continue to prevent the relocation of factories and offshore technology jobs to Africa, exposing the continent to globalization’s worst impact and robbing it of its benefits. This reality of deindustrialization without the offset of technology outsourcing of the type that India and other countries have enjoyed is the crux of the African encounter with neoliberal globalization. Yet, there is little recognition of this far-flung non-white victimhood in lamentations of the American white working class about others benefitting at its expense. There is no distinction between African countries, which have not “stolen” American jobs and have had multiple industries destroyed by the same forces of free trade globalization that decimated the American rust belt, and countries hosting offshore factories.

In the lexicon of white working class victimhood, everyone outside America is a winner while the American factory worker is a loser. It is an adversarial interpretation of a neoliberal free trade ideology that has left a trail of victims across the world. It is a righteous, self-absorbed victimhood that fails to reckon with the entwinement of the fates of the world’s many working peoples, including exploited factory workers in China, Mexico, Bangladesh, and the Philippines. Across the world, many peoples struggle, like members of the American working class, to maintain some dignity amidst the ravages of neoliberal globalization.

Because of its foundation in insular ignorance, unreflective American working class victimhood fails to inspire empathy among many progressives, who see in it echoes of American arrogance and white American entitlement. In seeing the globalized economy solely in zero-sum terms and in refusing to entertain the fact that those portrayed as “taking American jobs” are victims of the vast neoliberal restructuring of the global economy, the American working class commits the same isolationist error as Americans who presume that American interests are synonymous and coterminous with global interests, and that others always gain when Americans lose.

Thinking only in terms of one’s narrow, localized interest stems from American exceptionalism, an arrogant postulation that is unintelligible to many of us with roots elsewhere. It is also foreign to many native-born Americans of color who are better able to recognize non-Western victims of globalization and to thus develop a more nuanced articulation of American working class discontent.

2. You can’t have it all
The other puzzle for me pertains to the expectational universe of the American working class. Whatever you think of the ongoing restructuring of the global economy away from unskilled to skilled and automated labor, it is something that everyone has to come to terms with, and adjust to.

With a new knowledge economy bearing down upon us, and with industrial automation all but eliminating the stabilities of working class industrial life, is it still realistic to hold on to the old working class dream of forging a respectable middle class and pensionable factory career on the strength of a high school diploma? This is a question that working class Americans who dream of a return to the dignified factory workforce of their fathers’ era have to confront without emotion.

In the wake of the textile factory closures in Kaduna in the early 2000s, and seeing my relatives lose their jobs, I remember thinking about whether their lack of a college education or specialized skills hadn’t already rendered them vulnerable to the vagaries of an increasingly interconnected economy. I considered whether this failure to keep pace with the educational and vocational requirements of a new economy, rather than globalization itself, was the main causal factor in my relatives’ sudden loss of livelihood and their inability to find alternative economic pathways.

Most people don’t like the direction of the knowledge-based, postindustrial economy but they have adapted to it in order to survive. A failure to adapt and an angry desire to return to an elusive industrial economy of the past may open the door to politicians who promise to “bring back the manufacturing jobs,” but a realistic approach will have to reckon with the reality that an industrial economy of the type that provided millions of Americans with middle class employment security in the past may never be fully recovered. The bleeding can be halted and productive transitions to alternative economies pursued, but a complete reversal of the impact of neoliberal globalization seems unlikely. Working class Americans, like the displaced industrial workers of Nigeria, have to make peace with this reality.

A second aspect of this point is that there is a fundamental contradiction at the heart of working class narratives against globalized free trade. In exchange for job losses and factory relocations, Americans, including the working class, have enjoyed the benefit of cheap, foreign-manufactured goods. Whether this is a fair exchange for destroyed livelihoods and the lost dignity of the working man is a legitimate debate to have. But, like most things in life, you cannot have it both ways. You cannot love the cheap goods from China and Mexico, which have helped sustain the consumerist predilections and lifestyles of poor and middle class Americans and then rail against the factory relocations that make the goods cheap. You cannot insist on the inward flow of foreign-made cheap goods while demanding the dismantling of the global economic infrastructure that makes the flow possible. Doing what you desire will undermine the availability of and access to cheap goods made in labor-cheap countries. This tradeoff may be hard, but working class Americans have to accept the necessity for it.

Nigerian President Moihammed Buhari
This is a contradiction that also plagues globalization’s losers in Nigeria. As Nigeria’s textile factories closed under the weight of free trade globalization, the country was flooded with cheap Asian textiles. Access to cheap textiles may not compensate for the closure of factories and lost income but Nigerians love the cheap goods from Asia and, unfortunately for them, no realistic nationalistic economic program can reverse industrialization in Nigeria without harming access to cheap Asian goods. A difficult tradeoff is a necessary outcome of any ameliorative economic configuration.

The American working class has to abandon the expectation that factory jobs can come back in the form in which they left without sacrificing access to cheap foreign-made goods. Perhaps, in this regard, it can take a cue from displaced working classes in Nigeria and other African countries, which have made pragmatic, if painful, adjustments to the new global economic order.

The American working class can learn from countries like Nigeria, where anger at neoliberal globalization’s damages has neither generated knee-jerk isolationist and protectionist sentiments nor inspired economic xenophobia.

It is obviously not the responsibility of the American working class to give voice to the grievances of victims of neoliberal globalization in other parts of the world, but an awareness of the global spread of neoliberalism’s damage will temper the current rhetoric of reactionary, aggressive victimhood. It may also open the door to forging transracial and transnational solidarities to defeat neoliberalism’s broader global agenda. For if this agenda is going to be thwarted, it’s going to take a transracial solidarity of global working classes to do so, not a localized nationalist and insular economic reaction.
* Moses E. Ochonu, PhD, is Professor of African History, Department of History, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tennessee, USA.

Jimmy Carter: America Must Recognize Palestine
Jimmy Carter
By Jimmy Carter
We do not yet know the policy of the next administration toward Israel and Palestine, but we do know the policy of this administration. It has been President Obama’s aim to support a negotiated end to the conflict based on two states, living side by side in peace.

That prospect is now in grave doubt. I am convinced that the United States can still shape the future of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict before a change in presidents, but time is very short. The simple but vital step this administration must take before its term expires on Jan. 20 is to grant American diplomatic recognition to the state of Palestine, as 137 countries have already done, and help it achieve full United Nations membership.

Back in 1978, during my administration, Israel’s prime minister, Menachem Begin, and Egypt’s president, Anwar Sadat, signed the Camp David Accords. That agreement was based on the United Nations Security Council Resolution 242, which was passed in the aftermath of the 1967 war. The key words of that resolution were “the inadmissibility of the acquisition of territory by war and the need to work for a just and lasting peace in the Middle East in which every state in the area can live in security,” and the “withdrawal of Israel armed forces from territories occupied in the recent conflict.”

The agreement was ratified overwhelmingly by the Parliaments of Egypt and Israel. And those two foundational concepts have been the basis for the policy of the United States government and the international community ever since.

This was why, in 2009, at the beginning of his first administration, Mr. Obama reaffirmed the crucial elements of the Camp David agreement and Resolution 242 by calling for a complete freeze on the building of settlements, constructed illegally by Israel on Palestinian territory. Later, in 2011, the president made clear that “the borders of Israel and Palestine should be based on the 1967 lines,” and added, “negotiations should result in two states, with permanent Palestinian borders with Israel, Jordan and Egypt, and permanent Israeli borders with Palestine.”

Today, however, 38 years after Camp David, the commitment to peace is in danger of abrogation. Israel is building more and more settlements, displacing Palestinians and entrenching its occupation of Palestinian lands. Over 4.5 million Palestinians live in these occupied territories, but are not citizens of Israel. Most live largely under Israeli military rule, and do not vote in Israel’s national elections.

Meanwhile, about 600,000 Israeli settlers in Palestine enjoy the benefits of Israeli citizenship and laws. This process is hastening a one-state reality that could destroy Israeli democracy and will result in intensifying international condemnation of Israel.

The Carter Center has continued to support a two-state solution by hosting discussions this month with Israeli and Palestinian representatives, searching for an avenue toward peace. Based on the positive feedback from those talks, I am certain that United States recognition of a Palestinian state would make it easier for other countries that have not recognized Palestine to do so, and would clear the way for a Security Council resolution on the future of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

The Security Council should pass a resolution laying out the parameters for resolving the conflict. It should reaffirm the illegality of all Israeli settlements beyond the 1967 borders, while leaving open the possibility that the parties could negotiate modifications. Security guarantees for both Israel and Palestine are imperative, and the resolution must acknowledge the right of both the states of Israel and Palestine to live in peace and security. Further measures should include the demilitarization of the Palestinian state, and a possible peacekeeping force under the auspices of the United Nations.

A strong Security Council resolution would underscore that the Geneva Conventions and other human rights protections apply to all parties at all times. It would also support any agreement reached by the parties regarding Palestinian refugees.

The combined weight of United States recognition, United Nations membership and a Security Council resolution solidly grounded in international law would lay the foundation for future diplomacy. These steps would bolster moderate Palestinian leadership, while sending a clear assurance to the Israeli public of the worldwide recognition of Israel and its security.

This is the best — now, perhaps, the only — means of countering the one-state reality that Israel is imposing on itself and the Palestinian people. Recognition of Palestine and a new Security Council resolution are not radical new measures, but a natural outgrowth of America’s support for a two-state solution.

The primary foreign policy goal of my life has been to help bring peace to Israel and its neighbors. That September in 1978, I was proud to say to a joint sessionof Congress, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.” As Mr. Begin and Mr. Sadat sat in the balcony above us, the members of Congress stood and applauded the two heroic peacemakers.

I fear for the spirit of Camp David. We must not squander this chance.
 Jimmy Carter, the founder of the Carter Center, was the 39th president of the United States.
This text was originally published in the New York Times.