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

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Uncharted waters

Theresa May will cling on, but the election result changes everything. Brexit and the future of both great parties hang in the balance.

Let’s start with the headlines. We are going to get a different kind of Brexit, but we will leave. The Conservative hard right is now both isolated and dangerous. And although Labour failed to win the election, Jeremy Corbyn’s party has already had a big influence on the new government. Oh, yes, and Theresa May stays . . .

Those are immediate conclusions based on simple political logic. Yet we are not living in a period suited to confident predictions. Parliaments with such tiny majorities are at the mercy of random events, from heart attacks to obscure rows over completely unpredicted issues. As I write, the Tories haven’t even concluded successful negotiations with the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), and the Queen’s Speech may have to be postponed while May continues her impressive speed-running buffet, scoffing industrial quantities of humble pie.

In such a strange political landscape, the safest thing is to step back a few paces and begin with what we know for sure. First, the Conservative Party is still, just, in control of the country. Its authority is badly weakened and its grip is flimsy, but with the DUP it has the numbers to win the Westminster votes – which, in our system of extremist parliamentarianism, is almost all that matters.

Second: in that case, what now matters most to the Tories? They are, more than ever, a mixed bag. But there are two things most of them agree on – that to go up against Jeremy Corbyn in another general election any time soon would be an act of suicidal stupidity; and that, one way or another, they would quite like to deliver Brexit.

These banal observations imply that May will carry on as Prime Minister for months and possibly even for several years. A Tory leadership contest now – after all the party has said about the Article 50 clock ticking, and having lost two months already with a catastrophic (for Conservatives) general election – would be so grotesquely self-indulgent that the party wouldn’t recover. Whichever poor sod won the leadership would be under massive pressure to hold yet another election in which, you now have to assume, Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour Party would triumph.

Boris Johnson, rampaging around in the undergrowth and breathing heavily, is, many of his colleagues think, constitutionally incapable of not plotting his next move to the top job. Yet I’ve talked in recent days to several senior Tories from different parts of the party who swear that, in one way or another, Boris will be stopped. Were there to be an election, Johnson would be a formidable hooverer-up of votes, perhaps the only Tory today who could match Corbyn’s charisma. Almost nobody wants Theresa May to lead the Light Brigade into another election. So there may be a time when “call for Boris” actually happens. But that’s for another year. Meanwhile, I have to ask: is the current Conservative position of keeping Johnson as their possible electoral saviour in due course, while at the same time ridiculing and diminishing him at every opportunity, completely wise?

Granted, there are other potential prime ministers around. Vigorously (and quite convincingly) denying that he wants the job, David Davis, robust at 68, is nevertheless the obvious successor to May. He is just about the only minister who understands the Brexit negotiations. He is enough of a right-wing toughie to persuade most of the Tory right of his Eurosceptic bona fides, while also being enough of an economic realist to do the deals necessary on immigration and the legal status of EU nationals.

His job is hugely complicated by the outcome of the election. Because of the mathematics of the new parliament – from Ruth Davidson’s group of Scottish Tories to the DUP and the residual Tory Remainers from England – the Brexit position has to change. May has already admitted as much to the 1922 Committee. Davidson is openly demanding talks with other parties. Labour, also committed to leaving the EU, is being lined up as a potential support for the Prime Minister against “no deal is better than a bad deal” Tory ultras.

Thus a great, glittering bubble of optimism has appeared around unreconciled Remainers. The possibility of a non-Brexit has been whipped into a lather by the interventions of former Tory leaders – Hague, Cameron, Major; by “the door is still open” comments from Emmanuel Macron in Paris and Wolfgang Schäuble in Berlin; and by a fresh initiative from the UK Treasury. But we have to remember that this still depends on the Tory party in parliament and what it thinks its own best interests are. Maybe, just maybe, this thing won’t have to happen, after all: let’s call the whole thing off. Michael Heseltine suggests that Macron, fresh from his victory in France, might team up with Chancellor Merkel to offer the British a deal on immigration sufficient to allow the UK to
stay inside the EU. In short: game on again.

***

The chances of a major British rethink about whether and, if so, how we leave the EU seemed to be boosted by the survival of Philip Hammond as Chancellor. May had planned to sack him (and, I’m told, Boris Johnson, too) if she won a big majority. But Hammond, speaking for a very nervous City, and Johnson, with his more liberal views on immigration, remain firmly in place. According to the Remainers’ bible, the Financial Times, British business leaders, who would rather stay inside both the single market and the customs union, now feel emboldened to speak out. They are dancing round the maypoles in besieged Remainer citadels from Cambridge to Primrose Hill.

So let me teeter forward, clutching a very large bucket of cold water. Remaining in the single market requires – unless there is a very large change of heart at Brussels – relinquishing the idea of controlling immigration. For most who voted Leave, that is betrayal. Tory right-wing Brexiteers would be enraged. John McDonnell, one of the clearest Labour voices on this, is utterly against such a move. If it went forward, I don’t see how half the cabinet could stay in their jobs.

So far, the wounded Prime Minister has tried to lean in both directions with her new cabinet appointments – the dripping-wet Europhile Damian Green on one side and the arch-Brexit merchant and Thatcherite Michael Gove on the other. But it’s a wobbly house of cards. Almost certainly, if she suddenly decided to stay in the single market, her government would collapse. Chaps, comrades, citizens of the People’s Republic of Primrose Hill, it’s unlikely to happen.

What about those interesting numbers in the House of Commons? The Scottish Tory MPs are still members of the Conservative family and Ruth Davidson must be aware of the risk of overplaying her hand. After their good results north of the border, they might be more willing to break ranks and provoke another election; but their English colleagues would (perhaps literally) strangle them. In a minority government, the pull of tribal discipline is unusually strong. The DUP, meanwhile, can be bought off and is philosophically in favour of leaving the EU anyway. And then there are Labour MPs who are against staying in the single market. The more I look at this, the more I feel that, despite everything, May has the numbers for a subtly modified Brexit.

These changes matter. In terms of tone, we will have to stop treating the rest of the EU as opponents, rather than our friends and allies. Meanwhile, we are already seeing the ditching of the “tens of thousands” immigration policy. And that’s probably just the beginning.

This is a shift, not an overhaul: despite some of the rhetoric, ministers were not planning the most brutal of Brexits. They have no intention of slamming the door on talented and hard-working European migrants, nor of having an unnecessary bust-up about the rights of EU citizens living here already. They know full well that some kind of financial price is going to be paid as part of our exit.

The much-debated “no deal” option is a proposal for failure and catastrophic failure only – a negotiating gimmick, not any kind of serious plan. Indeed, I’m pretty sure that the real reason the election was called in the first place was that the Prime Minister realised that the European chief negotiator, Michel Barnier, would require her to make unpopular compromises that she couldn’t have got through the old Commons. Now she will have to get them through in even harder circumstances.

I wouldn’t be surprised if we opted to stay inside the customs union for quite a long time as a transitional agreement; and I would be amazed if even looser and more generous migration deals were not being considered for side agreements. May and her cabinet, however, remain tied to a deal that involves leaving the single market, leaving the jurisdiction of the European Court, regaining full control of British borders and ending large regular payments to Brussels.

Even Philip Hammond and Damian Green, the pro-Europe Tory moderate now installed as First Secretary of State (in effect, deputy prime minister), broadly accept this. I see no sign of that changing. What about the Heseltine suggestion of a new migration deal sufficient to allow the UK to stay inside the EU? A senior minister close to the action retorts briskly: “Too late.”

I suspect that many New Statesman readers will regard the above as the vapourings of a Brexit appeaser. Surely the humiliation of the Prime Minister, who called the general election on the issues of Brexit and her authority, must result in a change of direction – and a big one to boot?

But May, who we have already established is likely to survive in No 10, doesn’t want her political career to end on the disaster of the June 2017 election. She wants to do what she has said she wanted to do since becoming Prime Minister, which is to deliver what she calls “a good Brexit”. So long as she is there, with this cabinet and with this Conservative Party, the ship of state – leaking and battered – sails slowly but steadily in the same direction. Is that horizon line a watery cliff marking the end of the world, or is it the New World? Nobody knows, but forward we go. Only another election could change this.

In these circumstances, what role does Labour play? The government makes much of the reality that there is no huge difference between what May and Davis say about the Brexit deal and what Corbyn and Keir Starmer say. That’s true – Labour is as committed to leaving the EU as the Tories are. Labour also accepts that it isn’t possible to remain a full member of the single market while taking back control of immigration; and Corbyn’s party, holding so many seats with pro-Brexit majorities, has no wish to appear to be trying to overturn the referendum result.

That said, there are significant differences. Most important, Labour has not committed itself to getting immigration down to “tens of thousands” and would accept deeper judicial oversight on the rules in order to get better access to the single market.

Senior Labour people I talk to are sceptical about an alliance or commission on the Brexit talks of the kind that Yvette Cooper has suggested. Brexit, they point out, sprawls across so much of the political landscape that this would amount to a grand, Continental-style agreement on the future of Britain on everything from workers’ rights to farming and industrial policy: how could Mayite Tories and Corbynite socialists agree so widely?

And yet the Labour Party’s influence is greater than at any time since Gordon Brown went into the fatal election of 2010. I don’t see how May can get most of the austerity agenda, or grammar schools, or root-and-branch NHS reforms, or fox hunting, or the withdrawal of winter fuel payments through this House of Commons. I’m beginning to wonder whether the Conservatives can even get a majority for a continued freeze on public-sector pay and welfare. Again, stand back a bit and you’ll find that, without winning a parliamentary majority, the Labour Party might get quite a lot of what was in its manifesto anyway. That’s what a hung parliament means.

It will enjoy all of that, but it would be lethal for Labour now to relax. To prepare itself for the next election, it needs to be in the right policy position to win an overall majority. John McDonnell and his team worked hard with outside experts to produce a costed manifesto, but their numbers still depend on optimistic assumptions about economic growth, and there is more to do. “The language of priorities is the religion of socialism,” said Aneurin Bevan in 1949 to an angry party conference in Blackpool during the greatest Labour government. It remains true. If Team Labour flinches from making some hard choices in private now, it will come to regret it when the next election is called.

And, yes, one way or another, the grumpy rebel talent that turned its back on Jeremy Corbyn must be allowed to shuffle back. Corbyn is a forgiving and relaxed man; that is not entirely true of everybody around him. The Tories want more time before the next election but Labour needs to use that time busily, too.

In all this, over the next few years, Brexit will loom over everything. In the cod-medieval corridors of Westminster, in coffee rooms and ministerial offices, in bars and on the paths of St James’s Park, Tory-Labour, Tory-SNP, Tory-Tory (and so on) conversations will now shape our future.

One clear example is judicial oversight. The Prime Minister is determined that Britain will completely free itself from the European Court of Justice. Michel Barnier has been equally clear, in a speech he made in Florence, that EU citizens living in Britain must have their rights protected in the long term by European judicial oversight. David Davis’s response to that, which is that they will have their rights guaranteed by British law under our Supreme Court, tied to an international treaty, may not wash. So there’s a crash coming. (By the way, I would expect a theatrical walkout and angry words quite soon, as the negotiations start. And when that happens, my strong advice is not to take it too seriously. There is going to be a bit of gorilla before everybody settles down.)

***

Going beyond the rights of European citizens, there is the question of how trade disputes will be handled after Britain has left the EU – lawnmower noise levels, the packaging and description of smoked salmon, you name it. The Tories are determined to get us out of the ECJ and if May can’t manage that, her MPs may then move against her. Labour’s view is that there must be an independent court, which companies and individuals can approach, not just governments.

For both trade disputes and individual citizen rights, the obvious solution is a new court structure comprising both ECJ judges and members of Britain’s Supreme Court – call it the “Guernsey Court” option. This won’t please the Tory right or those with the hardline independence view represented outside parliament, still, by Ukip. It is exactly the kind of issue on which the opposition parties might have to come to the government’s aid in the weeks and months ahead. The same may go for agreements on future work quotas and on the appropriate payment for leaving.

If this is right, the obvious conclusion is that Britain is now heading for a softer exit than it was before the election. It will fall far short of retaining membership of the single market, as demanded by unreconciled Remainers. It is possible, particularly because of the DUP, that we may stay in the customs union – but note that, if we do, the Department for International Trade would become almost immediately redundant and we might then see the resignation of Liam Fox. At the least, we will see more compromises over judicial authority and migration and money in return for better market access.

This is probably the best deal now available. Yet even this ignores two huge potential problems. The first is that the rest of the EU, with its own agenda, may not be interested and may want to use the weakness of the May administration to grind British noses in the dust – or, in blunter terms, make us pay more money. Our wild and at times chaotic politics encourages us to see the negotiations as if they were almost one-sided. This is very, very stupid. On the other side, there are plans, and priorities, and worries, and some very big egos. As we leave, they won’t all wish us well.

That takes me to the second big problem. The worse the EU side behaves, the more the popular press and the Tory right will portray this as a nationalistic fight against Continental enemies. Despite the election result, don’t write all those people off yet. There is still a considerable Tory group that would like to see us exiting with no deal at all and that, angry at the compromises being made in our complex new parliament, may yet decide to revolt against May-Green-Davis-Hammond and bring the House down. There is a Götterdämmerung option.

Let’s take another step back. By and large, parties of the centre right get into trouble when they find themselves divorced from the interests of big money and big business. But we now live in a political environment, since the 2008 crash, in which popular revolt against big money is expressed on the right as well as on the left. To some extent, the Tories represent both the problem and the revolt against the problem. That’s part of the reason why May’s simple appeal for leadership and stability failed.

And it makes the May cabinet a buzzing electric switch box of tangled pressures, full of heat and crackle, in which the interests of the City, hi-tech business and universities on one hand and the demands of poorer voters across England on the other are played out day after day. If May, Hammond, Davis and Green manage to pull off an acceptable compromise and deal, it would be a heroic achievement to put against the appalling Conservative election campaign. However, they can’t do it any more without immersing themselves in old-fashioned parliamentary politics and deal-making.

My advice to all newspapers, media groups and websites is to tool up – get out there and hire more political and parliamentary correspondents, right now. This is going to be the most exciting parliament of my lifetime.

The tenth-anniversary revised edition of Andrew Marr's book “A History of Modern Britain” is published by Pan

Andrew Marr is a broadcaster and journalist. Formerly the BBC’s Political Editor, he presents the Andrew Marr Show on BBC1 on Sundays and Start the Week on Monday mornings on Radio 4.

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

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