Still a messiah?

Forty years after his death, Che Guevara has little to offer as a guide for making revolution. So wh

In 1968, when the photographer Don Honeyman was experimenting with Alberto Korda's iconic image of Che Guevara, he discovered something curious. Honeyman had been experimenting with a process of solarisation as a way of making fashion images more exciting and had been asked by a poster company to try the same thing with Korda's photograph of Che - said to be the most reproduced photo in the world. But he was having trouble duplicating the look of the image as it had first been published in Europe by the revolutionary press.

"I worked over the image for several days," Honeyman wrote, "but couldn't seem to get the same idealistic gleam in Che's eyes. I finally compared the first Che with the second, and discovered that some canny designer, presumably at [the original Italian printers], had made Che slimmer and his face longer, by about one-sixth. It was so effective that I, too, stretched him, and it worked like a charm. It doesn't really do to have a revolutionary who's too plump."

There is something fitting about the world's most iconic revolutionary image having been manipulated. Che's legacy, 40 years after his death in a failed attempt to ignite revolution in Bolivia, rests heavily on an image so powerful and so plastic that it still serves both as a generalised inspiration to rebel and as a vehicle for the sale of everything from ashtrays to T-shirts.

The photograph was taken in March 1960 at the funeral of the victims of an explosion on board the French freighter La Coubre in Havana harbour, in which 81 people had died. The Cuban leadership suspected sabotage by the CIA and the funeral, attended by Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre, among others, became an anti-American rally. Guevara did not speak, and came into view only briefly for Korda, who was recording images of the event from the crowd. Korda had started out as a fashion photographer, but was then Fidel's personal photographer. He managed two shots with his Leica before Guevara disappeared from view.

The pictures were not published in the reports of the event, but Korda pinned them up in his studio in Havana, and in 1967 gave two of them to the Italian publisher Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, who was planning to publish Che's Bolivian Diary. Within six months Che had been assassinated in Bolivia and both Feltrinelli and the Cuban government published the first posters.

Even in death, Che was lucky with his photographers. Freddy Alborta, the only professional photographer allowed to see his body shortly after his execution in Bolivia, wired a haunting photograph of the corpse, lying on a table, surrounded by military men. The image is Christ-like and has been compared both to Andrea Mantegna's Lamentation Over the Dead Christ and to Rembrandt's Anatomy Lecture of Dr Nicolaes Tulp. But it was Korda's lucky shots that ensured Che Guevara was not for gotten. Korda's photograph, suitably doctored, took on a life of its own, creating an irresistible combination of celebrity and rebel glamour that gave Che an influence in a world that had long forgotten the details of his exploits.

Through the image, the complexities of Che's life and thought are reprocessed into an abstraction that can serve any cause. It was later used in a fake Warhol, a fake that Warhol authenticated, on condition that the revenues go to him. Che's transformation from revolutionary martyr to pop celebrity, with all that it implied in ubiquity, was complete. Forty years on, it is still going strong: when the Victoria and Albert Museum in London mounted an exhibition last year of the history of the Korda image, the curators assembled objects from more than 30 countries, used in contexts as diverse as Madonna's album American Life and Ricky Gervais's Politics DVD to Jean-Paul Gaultier's sunglasses campaign. It has been painted as graffiti in Bethlehem, carried in demonstrations from Palestine to Mexico and borrowed by such artists as Pedro Meyer, Vik Muniz, Martin Parr and Annie Leibovitz. It has been used to represent causes as diverse as world trade, anti-Americanism, teenage rebellion and Latin American identity. It has sold dolls, French wine, model cars, cigarette packets, stamps, Swatch watches, Austrian skis, ashtrays, mugs, keyrings and nesting Russian dolls. Nor is it under capitalism only that Che's image stimulates sales: souvenir shops in Cuba are festooned with Che tourist tat, and in Bolivia, where the left-wing president, Evo Morales, has installed Che's image constructed from coca leaves in his presidential suite. Tourist agencies even offer package tours to the spot where he died.

Emotional appeal

Che's durability owes little to his revolutionary achievements, though his revolutionary credentials are authentic. He was radicalised as a young man by the US-backed coup in Guatemala that overthrew the elected government of Jacobo Árbenz and he played a central part in the Cuban revolutionary struggle. After the revolution he served as finance minister, but grew increasingly alienated from the Castro brothers. He went to the Congo to support revolution there before setting out on the fatal Bolivian adventure, hoping to spread revolution across the subcontinent. Ernesto Guevara was certainly a revolutionary, but so were many others whose names have long been forgotten and whose records inspire more critical assessment.

Che's appeal is emotional. His death in Bolivia as a relatively young man created Che as secular Christ, the man who took upon himself the sins of the world and gave his life for the cause of the oppressed. His memory remains available to the oppressed; his image continues to inspire the hope of change and the virtue of rebellion, enhanced rather than diminished by his defeat. Christ, too, was defeated on earth and, again like Christ, Che's death conveys a promise of redemption through inspiration. He is the rock-hero biker revolutionary, the martyr to idealism, a James Dean in fatigues. When Pope John Paul II celebrated mass in Havana's Revolution Square, the giant image of Che that hangs there served as a revolutionary counterpoint.

But beyond his quality of universal icon of rebellion, what survives of Che's life's work? The promotion of Marxism and violent revolution? Forty years after his death, it is hard to imagine what an octogenarian Che would have felt about his younger self or about the world that he did not live to see. Would his personal and political asceticism have survived in an age in which rampant consumerism has captured the mass imagination? Would he have been distressed or gratified that the USSR, embraced by Fidel Castro against his objections, had collapsed? In 1964 he called Russia a "pigsty" because of the conditions in which it kept the workers. Would he have been any more gratified by the conditions of Cuban workers, nearly 50 years after the revolution? Would he have been encouraged by the rise of China, whose revolution he praised, or appalled at China's new character as a state-managed market economy?

In Cuba his image serves the mythology of the revolution that is used to glamorise a sclerotic state structure: old men in freshly laundered fatigues preside over a dollarised economy, heavily dependent on tourism, in which young women turn to prostitution to buy the consumer goods their counterparts in Miami take for granted.

In wider Latin America, his legacy is mixed. The perceived failure of the neoliberal reforms of the 1990s has intensified opposition to the Washington consensus and produced a series of left-wing victories at the ballot box that guarantee his name is honoured - as in 2006, when Daniel Ortega's Sandinista movement, now a party of dubious revolutionary credentials, was elected to power and the party faithful wore Guevara T-shirts to the victory party. Hugo Chávez, the populist leader of Venezuela, who is known for his eagerness to wear the clothes of the Cuban revolution, often dons a Che T-shirt. Some of his ideas, too, are back in vogue with Latin America's new left: pan-Americanism, support for the region's popular movements, nationalisation and centralisation of government. The various "expressions of the popular will" that he favoured over ballot-box democracy - neighbourhood courts and the Committees for the Defence of the Revolution - have found new expression in Venezuela and Bolivia.

But even here, Che might have felt a little unease. He was critical of much of the Latin American left for its rejection of the armed struggle, and grafted his Stalinism on to the tradition of revolutionary petit bourgeois nationalism in Cuba exemplified by José Martí, much as the Sandinistas were to use Sandino as an inspiration in Nicaragua. Yet many of those now most enthusiastic about his memory came to power through the ballot box. Only in Colombia, where he remains an inspirational figure for the dissident Farc, would he recognise true heirs.

Politically, there is no movement that could be called Guevarist. In Peru, Fidelistas and Guevarists are in opposing camps, as they are in Panama and Mexico. For contemporary intellectuals of the left, Che's legacy, with its romanticism and heroisation of the guerrilla, is problematic. For instance, Jorge Castañeda, the Mexican writer and sociologist, wrote in his biography of Che that Che's ideas had nothing to offer present generations. For Castañeda, his "refusal of ambivalence" and his unwillingness to understand life's contradictions were relics of a damaging era in Latin America. In an age in which the absolutes of Marxism and market capitalism were judged to have failed, Che had nothing to say.

Nor has his popularity in the west translated into any coherent politics. Che's image is still carried by the left, but is also adopted by thousands who have only the vaguest idea of his life, beyond the Hollywood version of The Motor cycle Diaries. In London, a small torchlit rally held in Trafalgar Square to commemorate the 35th anniversary of his death gave a flavour of the portmanteau character of Che's image. In the heroic prose of the participants, "banners and placards were held high" and "chants and speeches rang out from the megaphone across Trafalgar Square to the listening ears of the demonstrators and the passing public and readings from Che's writings were read out". Speakers came from Rock Around the Blockade, Fight Racism! Fight Imperialism!, Victory to the Intifada, the Colombia Solidarity Campaign, the Africa Liberation Support Campaign and the people's movement of the Philippines.

To this assorted list, as to oppressed peoples elsewhere, Che has little to offer as a guide to making revolution. What he does have is the messianic image of sacrifice for the sins - or sufferings - of others. Regardless of his failures and contradictions, or the obsolescence of his methods and ideology, the potency of that image, with its symbolic, religious quality, continues to inspire.

As the Portuguese writer José Saramago wrote, in characteristically mystical terms: "Because the photo of Che Guevara was, before the eyes of millions of people, the image of the supreme dignity of the human being. Because Che Guevara is only the other name of what is more just and dignified in the human spirit.

"He represents what sometimes is asleep in us. It represents what we have to wake up to know and to learn to know even ourselves, to add the humble step of each one of us to the common road of all of us."

This article first appeared in the 08 October 2007 issue of the New Statesman, Election fever

MILES COLE FOR NEW STATESMAN
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The Tory civil war

Even if David Cameron clears the fence marked Brexit, he will find a very deep ditch on the other side.

We all know families who fight and argue in the privacy of their own homes but put on a flawless display in public. So it was, for a few days at least, with the Conservative Party when the campaign for the EU referendum began. Both sides were keen to keep it that way, in the long-term interests of their party. Last month, one MP dressed down Norman Smith, the BBC political reporter, for going on the airwaves and talking about “the Tory civil war”. At that stage, he was perhaps right to do so.

Tempers are, however, beginning to fray. Members of White’s, the St James’s Street club and a foremost lair of the Tory grandee, were recently alarmed to see two of that species, Nicholas Soames MP and David
Heathcoat-Amory, an MP until 2010 and a former Europe minister, going at it hammer and tongs about the European question during the lunch hour. Anyone familiar with Soames’s entertaining Twitter feed, which is currently devoted mainly to savaging fellow Tories in Vote Leave, will know that he is no stranger to technicolor vituperation.

It was, according to the account doing the rounds, a ferocious argument, though no blows were struck. “Nicholas and David have known each other since school,” a friend of both men told me. “They have more in common than separates them. It just shows how fraught things are.” That is certainly true. I well remember Soames, a lifelong pro-European, expressing his genuine dismay that Heathcoat-Amory was defeated in 2010 because a Ukip candidate, standing ironically against a devoutly Eurosceptic Tory, split the vote in his Wells constituency and let in a Lib Dem.

Another MP, using an appropriate public school metaphor for a gentlemen’s club packed with Old Etonians, likened them to boys who are friends but who, once on opposite sides of the sports field, let all hell loose at each other. One does not doubt that Soames’s and Heathcoat-Amory’s regard for each other will survive the referendum. Whether the same can be said for the two sides of the Conservative Party – unequal sides at that – come 24 June is quite a different matter.

The way David Cameron has conducted his wing of the Remain campaign in recent weeks has horrified many Tory MPs, even some who are or were notionally on his side. “The personal attacks and crude propaganda have really upset the party and I don’t think he understands how badly this has gone down in the constituencies,” a Remainer told me.

The personal attacks are certainly out in force. Downing Street has started to brief the media about those in particular disfavour. The Sunday Times reported on 15 May that Priti Patel, the employment minister, had behaved “appallingly” (her crime seemed to have been pointing out the government’s failure to supply enough school places to cope with the recent influx of eastern European immigrants). It also claimed that Cameron was especially angry with Michael Gove – which, since Gove has behaved with politeness and a complete lack of hysteria towards the Prime Minister, suggests that the latter must have a very thin skin indeed. Gove does annoy Cameron and his friends, not because of bad behaviour but because his detailed and measured analysis of what is wrong with the EU is hard to rebut, in contrast to more emotive outbursts by the likes of Boris Johnson that can be swatted aside.

Meanwhile, Cameron has sought to ridicule Bernard Jenkin, one of the most vocal Leavers among MPs, for making a perfectly reasonable observation about the dilution of trade union legislation in return for the unions’ support of Remain. The snide side of the Prime Minister’s character, depressingly familiar to those who deal with him in private, is becoming more and more unchecked as tensions in the campaign rise. There have also been briefings against
Penny Mordaunt, the armed forces minister, and, of course, Johnson. One attempt to terrify the country was to have the Sunday Times splash that, Brexit or not, Johnson would be the next leader and, therefore, prime minister. Downing Street seems not to realise that such an outcome is, for reasons few can fathom, one the general public seems to want.

***

The Tory party has long been a coalition. Most diehard Leavers had no social or personal relations with their colleagues in Remain anyway, so that has not changed. Any breakdown in civilities among others at the moment is, for the most part, temporary. Many take the view of Jacob Rees-Mogg that the result must be binding whatever it is and the party must move on. Equally, many don’t, and if the outcome is a narrow victory for Remain it will be the worst possible result for the Prime Minister.

Those trying to maintain peace in the parliamentary party – and it is important to note that a few dozen MPs have never really been interested in Europe and are showing little interest now – believe that things could have been worse. Veterans say the atmosphere is better than it was during the Major government, in the arguments over the ratification of the Maastricht Treaty and Britain’s inglorious departure from the Exchange Rate Mechanism. That, too, is probably true, when one recalls that nine MPs had the whip withdrawn, John Major described some of his cabinet colleagues as “bastards” and he felt constrained to call a leadership contest to prove his mandate to lead the Tories. However, the vote is still a month away and there is scope for things
to worsen.

With the government and the Whitehall machine distracted by the referendum, other aspects of Conservative rule are causing irritation within the party. There is a sense that the whips and Downing Street have given up trying to take MPs with them on other issues, or to explain why changes of policy are being made. There is little doubt about the fragility of the economy, or that it could go south even if the UK remains in the EU – and George Osborne is felt to be doing too little to demonstrate the proverbial firm hand on the tiller, or to inspire confidence among his colleagues.

The recent U-turn on academy schools has caused particular rage among MPs who had gone to great lengths to explain and defend the previous policy to their constituents. Now they find themselves having to do the opposite and, as one of the less self-regarding said to me, “No pompous Tory MP likes being made to look stupid.” There is a widespread belief even among the more feminist MPs – and, believe it or not, the Tories have them of both genders – that Nicky Morgan has proved she is nothing more than a token presence in the cabinet.

Speculation about what would happen in the event of Brexit – and none of the 20 or so MPs I spoke to in preparing this piece, whatever their allegiances, would rule it out – is now starting to grip the Conservatives and is causing tempers to rise. Nobody seems to want Cameron’s immediate departure if the vote goes against him. There is talk of a “managed, orderly withdrawal” to see the party and the country through the initial shock of the change, with a contest getting under way formally at the Tory conference in October and the process – a vote of the parliamentary party, followed by a plebiscite of the membership to decide between the two most popular candidates – over by early December.

Johnson’s high-profile Brexit campaign is, in effect, the start of his bid for the leadership and why Cameron is so agitated about him. Johnson, as I wrote here in March, has not made the best impression on his fellow MPs since returning to the House last May and it is far from assured that he will be one of the final two candidates. There is also an uncomfortable recognition that he achieved little for London as mayor, other than traffic chaos and a series of vanity projects. “We’d like to do a Checkpoint Charlie-style swap, halfway across Westminster Bridge, with Sadiq Khan,” a Remainer told me.

However, Tory activists forcefully tell their MPs that Johnson is a “winner” who merits support in a leadership vote. Some younger MPs, yet to learn the difference between being a representative and being a delegate, are nervous of disagreeing. Three of them – Nigel Adams, Ben Wallace (a junior Northern Ireland minister and former soldier) and Jake Berry – are running a campaign for Johnson, organising lavish drinks parties for colleagues so the candidate can press the flesh. This irritates older MPs, who see it as a provocative manifestation of ambition and vulgarity that the party could do without.

A prominent Brexiter is almost certain to be in the last two in the leadership contest, be it later this year or in 2019-20, whatever the outcome of the referendum. Whether that is Johnson depends on if he self-destructs during this campaign – his reference to Hitler in his Sunday Telegraph interview on 15 May suggests that is quite possible, given the opportunities ahead. What might entertain the general public – and his unrestrained remarks, such as about President Obama’s Kenyan heritage, probably do –
increasingly angers his colleagues.

It may then be up to Michael Gove to offer himself, something that is said to be unlikely at the moment but that may become less so if things go badly for Johnson. Whatever Cameron thinks of his Justice Secretary, his colleagues have nothing but praise for the way in which he has conducted himself. It is widely thought that, in the event of a Remain victory, Cameron will promote Gove, possibly even to deputy prime minister, as a very public healing of wounds, in an attempt to unify his fractured party.

The favourite to end up in the last two with a Brexiter if there is an early leadership contest is Theresa May, described by one who knows her well as “cold, unfriendly, charmless, not as clever as she thinks she is, lacking imagination, unable to think outside the railway lines and intellectually dishonest”. However, he said that were the choice to be between her and Johnson, “I would, of course, vote for her.”

The wider party probably would not. It is accepted that if Johnson reached the last two, the party in the country would elect him leader. His fate, therefore, lies in the hands of his parliamentary colleagues, whenever the contest comes.

An MP who is a constitutional authority told me of his belief that even if Johnson became leader he would struggle to form a government, because a hard core of pro-Europeans might refuse to support him. Others, knowing the ambitions of their brethren, doubt that but the thought was recently echoed by the former MP Matthew Parris, probably the most articulate columnist writing in support of Cameron, who said on BBC radio that if there were a vote for Brexit he and others like him would leave the party.

***

A victory for Remain might end Johnson’s prime ministerial ambitions and the prospect of such a realignment. But unless that victory is substantial – at least as large as the 55-45 vote in the Scottish referendum – Cameron will struggle: and even that margin of victory in Scotland has not squashed demands for another vote.

The Prime Minister has failed to grasp how many of his MPs are against the EU. A former cabinet minister, not known for hyperbole, told me that “more than 200” of the party’s 330 MPs would vote for Brexit in the privacy of the polling booths. The proportion of Leave activists is even higher. Some MPs still maintain that they can find hardly anyone in their shrunken constituency bases who wants to stay in.

What we are witnessing is the expression of the resentments and tribal hatreds of many years, in a party that has never recovered from the splits after Margaret Thatcher’s 1988 Bruges speech and the Maastricht arguments, or indeed from the conduct of the debate over the UK’s entry into the then EEC during the passage of the European Communities Bill in 1972.

A former minister, a pro-European, said: “Dave is going to have to bring in the people he has alienated but even then it is going to be hard for him to do more than limp on for a couple of years.” Another said the government now, with its small majority, deals with the Tory party on a “issue by issue” basis, seeking just to get over the next hurdle. Even if Cameron clears the Becher’s Brook-style fence marked “Brexit”, he may find a very deep ditch on the other side.

Simon Heffer is a columnist for the Daily and Sunday Telegraph

Simon Heffer is a journalist, author and political commentator, who has worked for long stretches at the Daily Telegraph and the Daily Mail. He has written biographies of Thomas Carlyle, Ralph Vaughan Williams and Enoch Powell, and reviews and writes on politics for the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 19 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Great Huckster