There is snippet taken from a declassified U.S. Government document, a memorandum to then President Lyndon Johnson from a presidential advisor, Walt Rostow, dated Oct.11, 1967, that details some of the events surrounding the capture and execution of Che Guevara. My reaction upon reading this and dozens of other declassified Government and CIA documents was a kind of numbness followed by a sense of having been correct in our collective assumption regarding the level of involvement of the U.S. Government and the CIA in foreign affairs, despite their strong denials to the contrary at that time. There came later, a retro anger, and the past and present blurred into a vision of George W. Bush stood before a firing squad of gaunt fierce-eyed men dressed in olive drab fatigues. Where had this come from? My revolutionary years seemed behind me – memories of tangling with the police in the streets during the 1968 Democratic Convention – hearing the news of the four students at Kent State University shot down by the National Guard during a peaceful demonstration – sitting in SDS and early Weather Underground meetings – associations with the Black Panthers.

It has been coming on – the imperialist invasion of Iraq so like the Viet Nam years. The gradual repression and erosion of our hard won civil rights in the wake of 9/11 and the demonization of the Islamic community, merely replacing African-Americans some forty years earlier. The government lies again – Iraq had no nuclear weapons, nor any discernable connection to Al-Quaeda.

It was a little gem of a film, ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’, that I had just seen. It’s about Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, or Che Guevara before he became the Cuban revolutionary, later martyr and ultimately, revolutionary icon. The film’s title refers to a cross-country motorcycle trip that the 23 year old Ernesto Guevara took with his close friend, 29 year old Alberto Granado, in 1952, across a part of the South American continent. The trip began in Buenos Aires, Argentina and passed through Chile and Peru, covering some 8,000 miles before ending up at a leper colony where the two men did a brief volunteer stint. Essentially, what Brazilian director, Walter Salles, was trying to show was that the experiences that Che underwent during this journey may have impacted him in such a way as to influence the course of his later life.

Three things seemed to be emphasized. First, he saw, at close range, the unfair and abusive treatment of various indigenous peoples at the hands of a small but wealthy ruling body. Second, he became aware of the fact that without weapons, the oppressed of the world had no chance of correcting the power imbalance. Third, and most important in his personal growth; he developed an overview of Latin America that transcended borders and nationalism. He saw all of South America (Mexico and Cuba, also) as one race, which was why he ultimately saw the overthrow of the Bolivian government as his mission, after his own personal failure in Cuba. Whether historically accurate or not, the film’s director, Salles, tries to make the point that certain experiences can shape who one will become. It was in that spirit that ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’ really caused me to think about who Guevara ultimately became and why I and countless others, gravitated to the cult of Che.

Malcolm X was probably my first revolutionary hero. I had had numerous encounters with Black Muslims on the streets of Chicago and became familiar with the movement. While I ultimately felt that some of what was preached was off the wall and ridiculous, I understood and supported the movement. I read Malcolm’s autobiography and became fascinated with who he had been and what he had become. Then, on Feb.21, 1965 he was assassinated by fellow Muslims during a speech he was giving. I had heard of the internal troubles and schism with the head of the movement, the Hon. Elijah Muhammad, but also rumors that the government may have lent a helping hand. Those rumors were filed away but would re-surface later.

On October 9th, 1967, Ernesto "Che" Guevara was put to death by Bolivian soldiers, trained, equipped and guided by U.S. Green Beret and CIA operatives.

(Kornbluh,The Death of Che Guevara: Declassified)

I was 15 at the time, still developing and forming theories and philosophies about how a just and fair world was supposed to work. I can remember being aware of the event but I would not feel its impact until a couple of years later. Things began to accelerate – we began to plan and then take to the streets to protest U.S. involvement in Viet Nam and the country’s treatment of African-Americans. There was also the early cynicism. Within my close cohort, we prided ourselves on the fact that we knew what was really happening – that we knew what the level of government involvement was and we also were no romantic idealists. We knew that Fidel’s Cuba was not the egalitarian utopia that it had been made out to be. I had friends who went to Cuba (through Canada) as part of the Venceramos Brigade, a leftist group that went to commune with the Cuban workers, cutting sugar cane in the fields and so forth. At the time, I thought this was beyond ridiculous – after all, what were middle class white kids going to accomplish by doing that. We did feel, however, that there had to ultimately be a violent upheaval. I supported Huey Newton and the Black Panthers – I respected the fact that they had dispensed with the peaceful approach (of the NAACP) and decided that the humiliation was over. They were armed and ready.

Then it hit close to home for me, on a local level. Dec.4, 1969, there was a raid conducted by the Chicago Police force (again, with mysterious assistance) in the early morning hours on an apartment where several members of the Chicago Black Panthers were known to be living. It was a surprise raid that resulted in the deaths of Fred Hampton and Mark Clark, the two main heads of the Chicago chapter. It was documented later that of the 83 bullets fired in the apartment, only one came from a Black Panther weapon. At this point, it was on for us. At that time, I also remember being aware of the classic Che image that graced countless posters and t-shirts. It was the beginning of Che as revolutionary icon. From the same Oct. 11, 1967 memorandum cited above:

The death of Guevara carries these significant implications:

- It marks the passing of another of the aggressive, romantic revolutionaries like Sukarno, Nkrumah, Ben Bella – and reinforces this trend.

- In the Latin American context, it will have a strong impact in discouraging would-be guerrillas.

- It shows the soundness of our ‘preventative medicine’ assistance to countries facing incipient insurgency – it was the Bolivian 2nd Ranger Battalion trained by our Green Berets from June – September of this year, that cornered him and got him.

‘Aggressive, romantic revolutionaries’. It had begun – this was apparently how his detractors saw him but was also how he was seen by the disenfranchised, which included me at the time. His intense, bearded face, topped by the requisite beret with a red Communist star in the front. Berets were really de rigueur for the revolutionary. The Black Panthers wore them also, but with an urban flavor - black clothes and black leather cabretta jackets. Huey Newton, the head of the national Black Panther party was photographed sitting in a rattan king chair, dressed in black, holding a high-powered rifle in one hand and an African spear in the other. For a young man fed up with the system, the lies and the oppression of the under-classes, this provided a symbol to rally around. So it was also with Che Guevara as icon.

Martyrdom in the course of resistance against oppression, in Catholic societies, is one of the highest honors that can be conferred upon someone. It’s not surprising then, that Che was unofficially accorded that honor after his death. It’s beside the point that he was captured and executed in Bolivia while trying to instigate a rebellion among the peasants there, one in which the peasants themselves did not believe. It’s beside the point that he had personally been responsible for hundreds of deaths in Cuba after he and Fidel took over. It’s also beside the point that he was a restless, adventure-seeking soul, who after falling out with Fidel in Cuba, seemed to be looking for a new cause or conflict in which to get involved. What we are really examining here is what Che represented, not who he really was. Taken in the context of the times, it makes sense. What Che’s image offered was a type of truth, not reality. Reality then was incomprehensible – not so today. At that time, the picture of Che on those posters symbolized armed resistance to the oppression that we felt to be occurring at the time.

We desperately needed icons and symbols. Like Malcolm X’s face on posters with the caption, ‘By any means necessary’, we also rallied round Che’s staunch gaze – looking to some point far beyond with a burning intensity. We were not naïve – we knew what was really going on in Cuba. We didn’t deify Che or Fidel, for that matter, but when the local cops are kicking doors in and harassing dissidents, and the bodies keep coming back from Viet Nam, then the face on the poster becomes something to focus on. This occurs on so many levels – one’s local sports team or athlete, a musician or performer.

As far as the film, ‘Motorcycle Diaries’ – there are many liberties taken with the portrayal of the younger Che. Anthony Daniels, in an essay in ‘The New Criterion’, takes apart the actual text of the Motorcycle Diaries journals, the film, and the cult of Che.

The film clearly intends to suggest that Guevara was a youthful idealist, and that his idealism—so generous, so disarming—was the source of his later opinions and activities, such as his liberal and open-handed signing of death sentences after perfunctory trials, his support of regimes that had killed millions and scores of millions, and his wish that much of the population of the world should be immolated in a nuclear war for the sake of an alleged point of principle. The film is thus the cinematic equivalent of the Che Guevara T-shirt; it is morally monstrous and emotionally trivial.

I have no argument with his piece, in fact, it’s quite well written and thorough, and I recommend reading it for a balanced assessment. I also tend to agree with it because I prefer to see people as they really are – flawed and complicated. I had my own thoughts on the film, which I felt portrayed Che as a bit too Christ-like at times. I’m still not sure why I liked the film as much as I did, however. Perhaps it spoke to me of a time in my past, when I took to the road with friends and revolutionary fervor was rampant. Maybe in the same way I gravitated to the faces of Malcolm X and Che when I was young, I was touched by the film’s backward look at an important moment in time for a still somewhat innocent young man.

Had Che lived, he probably would’ve become obsolete and maybe pathetic. He may have grown past the desire for violent confrontation – not due to squeamishness, but more for reasons of impracticality. You’ll just end up getting yourself killed and martyrs now are a dime a dozen It also sometimes crosses the line into terrorism and how do you really get a handle on that one? To those that continue to maintain that Che was a killer with the soul of a tyrant, I would offer the response that he paid the price. He lived by the sword, and his end, in a ramshackle little room in the middle of nowhere in Bolivia was hardly a noble one. Still – I find myself inexplicably stirred by the portrait of Che at times, and in the film, although I know better, look for an innocence that really doesn’t exist except in my own construct. Perhaps sometimes, that’s all that matters.

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Marc Goldin currently lives in Chicago, with three cats, each one more long-haired than the last. Interests have ranged from medieval monasticism to discontinued stations on the London Underground – literary likes too diverse (some would say schizo) to list here although the last several years have been witness to an intimacy with Scottish and Irish literature. American Southern and Beat era lit also account for some of the ‘missing years’. Music tastes run the gamut from Cuban Danzon to Ska (all three waves but having a specific attachment to the second, two-tone period) to the Tuvan throat singers. Has written book reviews for a now defunct Irish literature site and has several short stories in various stages of development. Mad for black and white photography and aspires to someday have a complete collection of photos documenting every close in the Grassmarket area of Edinburgh. Works in the IT dept. of a French company in the current political climate. In football, supports Chelsea, Hibs, and for the sake of employment security, Marseille.

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© 2004 Laura Hird All rights reserved.