He was right, at first, History did absolve him. He seemed her favorite. His bold strokes were brilliant mistakes that opened, for a moment --against the overdetermined logic of colonialism, imperialism, and Stalinism-- the possibility of reconciling human freedom and creativity with socialism, of fast-forwarding through history, like a Star Trek wormhole, to give birth to new values, a new society. But then, in a bat of an eye, he was wrong. History found him guilty, after all, of shutting down dissent and change in effort to defend an eroding, ossified status quo. Of becoming the kind of leader who confuses willfulness for freedom in himself, and for corruption in others. He was Brezhnev with a sense of humor. A policeman who made six hour speeches. In the end, History just plain forgot him. Fidel once walked and fought with giants. His death, then, would have brought the world to a stop, for a moment. His death, now, was minor news. He had long since ceased to matter to the imagination and debates of our times.
