Having spent first (and formative) 20 years of my life in freshly dealing with results of the grand communist  experiment Eastern Europe I’m always suspicious towards Western treatment of socialistic countries (there’s a huge difference between communism and socialism and modern social states in scandinavia; I suggest wikipedia). At best it tends to remind me of Pulp’s ‘Common people’ a song describing rich student of St Martins College (how appropriate to be an artist, when you come from upper class family!) meeting working class lad and proclaiming she ‘wants to live like common people’ – i.e. the ones poorer than her, to be ruthlessly exact.

Most of the time it smells of Michael Moore’s ‘Sico’ grandly revealing documentary revealing how much better medical care is in socialist Cuba, that US tends to demonise, than it is in the home land of all that’s free and drives a Ford itself. All this might be true, but what Moore conviniently forgot to mention is that there is no freedom of speach and expression in this dream land of Cuba. When was the last time any of us saw a cuban film about the realities of living there? Had Moore not been fat, successful, Oscar winning director from US about to make a glorifying pseudo-docmantary he woulndn’t have been permitted to enter the country with a camera. Try reading ‘Clandestine in Chile’ by Marquez, if you’re brave enough.

There is a lot of marxism-lenninism fans at my University. Funnily enough, they don’t seem to understand that a regimes under this ideological flag have been opening fire at students and forcing jewish academics into exile in 1968 (ask Zygmunt Bauman, if you’re in doubt), that that they would not be allowed to go to the theatre see a play unless it’s contend has been aped by state censorship or that they would not have beer in their students union (no beer, you were lucky to buy anything other than vinegar at times). And so on and so on.

Enough frustration, however. I’m writing this as I’m getting ready to watch second part of Che, Sodenberg’s impressive, and frankly slightly too long, biopic of the man in question. I have recently listened to Brand Cuba, in BBC Documentary Archive (one of the best podcasts from mainstream media) and started thinking about the dialectics of brand, which seem to be entering everywhere. Che, you should know, is the face of Cuban revolutionary brand.

Or even more so, is the famous photograph of Ernesto Che Guevara, taken by Alberto Korda. Story of this photograph is telling in itself. Castro’s government did not recognize Berne Convention, an international legislation on copyrights, thus Korda never received royalties for this image – which is probably partially why it is being used left and right. He did however sue Smirnoff for using the image to advertise vodka. A lot has been written about the image of revolutionary becoming part of popular culture and consumerist trends. I’ll spare you. What I would like to know is why this “revolutionary brand” is still so popular despite being over-used? How come a Che Guevara tshirt is still expected to be a statement even though we (possibly) all meet people who have very little idea what statement they’re making?

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

One, rather obvious reason, is that it shares universal appeal of revolutionary ideas. Most people dislike the system. This day and age – again, I’ll spare you the background social theory of individualized self and compulsive pursuit of choice – we like to break free, even if not sure what from. 

But there are other, less obvious, and less Euro-centric reasons. The image of Che represents revolutionary potential  and persistence of Cuba. Cuba is not only a symbol of a possibility of change for the poor and oppressed. It is also a modern personification of the David versus Goliath syndrome - specifically because it’s constant refusal to co-operate with the USA. 

Also, as one of the commentators in “Brand Cuba” observes, the 3rd world culture, specifically the Southern American one has a bigger appreciation for boldness and consequence, even if it results in cruelty. Having, dar a say, “balls” is an important think especially for a male icon. That’s probably why the more bloody aspects of Cuban revolution – and Che’s personal beliefs – doesn’t seem to bother any one much, even the ever humanitarian and tender Western Culture. (Forgive the usage of terms such as 3rd world and Western, but I am discussing stereotypes and perceptions here).

Cuba’s persistence in supporting revolutionary ideas is indeed impressive. The country risk its money and men to support communist revolutions abroad – namely in Congo and Boliwia, where Che Guevara died. Politically and culturally this consequence is the true foundation of popularity of Cuban revolutionary brand. To put it simply, they put their money where their mouth is, and in terms of political statements that is still worth a lot. With consequence such, as to support soviet Union’s invasion in Czechoslovakia in 1968 – but not many people know about that. Also, revolutionary ideas tend to attempt making people happy against their will.

Coming back to Che, one reason why he – and not for example Fidel Castro – remains the symbol of this revolutionary brand is that he died young, and Castro lives on to, admittedly, on occasion spoil his image. Che remains frozen in time, which allows him to symbolize the melancholy for the older days and ideals (that might have never exited in the first place)

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