by William M. LeoGrande*

Susan Eckstein’s recent book, Cuban Privilege: The Making of Immigrant Inequality in America, is a deep dive into how the U.S. government structured its immigration policy to the advantage of Cuban migrants as part of its Cold War policy to destabilize Fidel Castro’s revolutionary government. The book caused quite a stir among some Cuban Americans, who were insulted that someone pointed out policies that helped make the Cuban American community a success story.  

Cuban Privilege was not Eckstein’s first book on Cuban diaspora. She has written extensively on the threads that connect Cubans abroad with their family still on the island. Her book The Immigrant Divide: How Cuban Americans Changed the U.S. and Their Homeland was one of the first in-depth studies of how the Cuban American community began reconnecting to the island in the 1980s and 1990s, building bridges based mainly on family ties.

In the 1960s and 1970s, both the Cuban and U.S. governments erected a “sugar cane curtain” that made it almost impossible for families to stay connected across the Florida Strait. Travel was prohibited, direct mail service was unavailable, and connecting by phone was nearly impossible and prohibitively expensive. 

But in the 1980s, travel opened up, and remittances began to flow. Ever since the Special Period, Cuba’s economic crisis in the 1990s, Cuban American remittances have made an essential contribution to the livelihood of millions of Cuban families—a stark reality demonstrated by the humanitarian crisis on the island that resulted when Donald Trump and the COVID-19 pandemic cut remittance flows by some two-thirds. 

Cuban Privilege reverses the lens to look not at Cuban immigrants but at the U.S. immigration policies that brought them here. It is the definitive account of how Washington, motivated by the Cold War, gave Cuban immigrants privileged access to the United States and unprecedented support once they got here. Key elements of that privilege remain in place today, exacerbating the current migration crisis—foremost among them the Cuban Adjustment Act, which allows Cubans living in the United States for a year to apply for permanent residence, regardless of their form of entry.  

Most of the time, academics toil in relative obscurity, writing for one another in hopes of contributing new knowledge to their chosen field. On occasion, they write for a broader audience, hoping that their expertise might have some positive impact on public policy. And most of the time, when they speak truth to power, power isn’t listening. Rarely do academic contributions to the public debate attract much attention or make much difference.

Susan Eckstein’s Cuban Privilege is a cautionary tale of what can happen when the public does take notice. Presenting her book in Miami, Eckstein endured 30 minutes of hate, denounced as an agent of Castroism, because she had the nerve to state the obvious — Cuban immigrants to the United States have enjoyed enormous privileges that no other immigrant group has enjoyed. To say that is not an attack on Cuban Americans; it’s a simple truth. 

Ironically, the policy of privileged immigration for Cubans, which was intended to weaken and embarrass the Cuban government, has instead weakened and embarrassed the U.S. government producing a series of migration “crises” or more correctly punctuated increases (Camarioca in 1965, Mariel in 1980, the rafters crisis in 1994, and the post-Covid increase in emigration that is ongoing today), and distorting U.S. domestic politics by creating one of the most powerful domestic foreign policy lobbies in history—Cuban Americans in south Florida.

For 30 years, successive presidents —with the sole exception of Barack Obama— have been afraid to stand up to the Miami lobby on U.S. policy toward Cuba. As President George H. W. Bush’s National Security Adviser Brent Scowcroft put it, “Cuba is not a foreign policy question. Cuba is a domestic issue.” The result is a policy of regime change that, in 65 years, has done nothing to advance the cause of democracy or human rights in Cuba, but has lowered the living standard of the Cuban people and alienated Washington from allies in Latin America.

Before the Trump administration, Cuban American attitudes were gradually evolving toward moderation and support of engagement. President Obama won more Cuban American votes in Florida than any Democrat before him. And a majority—albeit a narrow one—supported his normalization policy.

But Trump’s return to a policy aimed at overthrowing the Cuban government re-energized the most recalcitrant Cuban American right. Recently both attitudes and voting behavior in the community seem to have swung sharply to the right, the result of a new wave of immigrants, a toxic social media environment, and disinformation spread by some of Miami’s Spanish language media.

As a result, Democrats have gone back to being afraid of Cuba—not the island, but the issue. Despite his campaign promise to return, for the most part, to Obama’s policy of engagement, President Biden has kept in place most of Donald Trump’s draconian economic sanctions aimed at strangling the Cuban economy.

            The final irony is that Florida does not actually matter very often in presidential elections. Conventional political wisdom casts it as a critical swing state. But in the sixteen presidential elections since 1960, Florida has determined the outcome in Electoral College only twice: in 2000, when Cuban Americans gave George W. Bush a 537-vote margin over Al Gore because the Clinton administration returned six-year-old Elián González to his father in Cuba; and in 2004 when Bush narrowly beat John Kerry.

            Kerry lost Florida by such a wide margin that he would have lost the state even if he had won the Cuban vote. So Cuban Americans in Florida have only cost the Democrats the White House once: in the unforgettable election of 2000. Ever since, Democrats have suffered from electoral post-traumatic stress disorder over the issue of Cuba, and it appears that 2024 will be no different. That is the legacy of the immigration policies that Susan Eckstein so expertly chronicles in Cuban Privilege.

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*William M LeoGrande is a CLALS faculty affiliate and Professor of Government at American University in Washington, DC, and co-author with Peter Kornbluh of Back Channel to Cuba: The Hidden History of Negotiations between Washington and Havana(University of North Carolina Press, 2015).