Free retamar caliban by Unknown Author

it is not manufacturing substitutes (as “if can already ”) for our poor products.
    I have lingered perhaps longer than necessary on Fuentes because he is one of the most outstanding figures among the new Latin-American writers who have set out to elaborate in the cultural sphere a counterrevolutionary platform that, at least on the surface, goes beyond the coarse simplifications of the program “Appointment with Cuba,” broadcast by the Voice of (the United States of) America. But the writers in question already had an adequate medium: the review Mundo Nuevo [New World], financed by the CIA, 71 whose ideological foundations are summed up by Fuentes’s short book in a manner that the professorial weightiness of Emir Rodriguez Monegal or the neo-Barthean flutterings of Severo Sarduy— the magazine's other two “critics” —would have found difficult to achieve. That publication, which also gathered together the likes of Guillermo Cabrera Infante and Juan Goytisolo, is to be replaced shortly by another, which will apparently rely upon more or less the same team, along with a few additions. I am speaking of the review Libre [Free]. A fusion of the two titles speaks for itself: Mundo Libre [Free World].
The Future Begun

The Future Begun
    The endeavor to include ourselves in the “free world”—the hilarious name that capitalist countries today apply to themselves and bestow in passing on their oppressed colonies and neo-colonies—is a modem version of the nineteenth-century attempt by Creole exploiting classes to subject us to a supposed “civilization”; and this latter, in its turn, is a repetition of the designs of European conquistadors. In all these cases, with only slight variations, it is plain that Latin America does not exist except, at the very most, as a resistance that must be overcome in order to implant true culture, that of ‘ ‘the modern peoples who gratify themselves with the epithet of civilized.” 72 Pareto’s words here recall so well those of Marti, who wrote in 1883 of civilization as “the vulgar name under which contemporary European man operates.”
    In the face of what the conquistadores, the Creole oligarchs, and the imperialists and their flunkies have attempted, our culture —taking this term in its broad historical and anthropological sense—has been in a constant process of formation: our authentic culture, the culture created by the mestizo populace, those descendants of Indians and blacks and Europeans whom Bolivar and Artigas led so well; the culture of the exploited classes, of the radical petite bourgeoisie of Jose Marti, of the poor peasantry of Emiliano Zapata, of the working class of Luis Emilio Recabarren and Jesus Menendez; the culture “of the hungry Indian masses, of the landless peasants, of the exploited workers” mentioned in the Second Declaration of Havana (1962), “of the honest and brilliant intellectuals who abound in our suffering Latin-American countries’ 1 ; the culture of a people that now encompasses “a family numbering two hundred million brothers” and that “has said: Enough! and has begun to move.”
    That culture—like every living culture, especially at its dawn —is on the move. It has, of course, its own distinguishing characteristics, even though it was bom—like every culture, although in this case in a particularly planetary way — of a synthesis. And it does not limit itself in the least to a mere repetition of the elements that formed it. This is something that the Mexican Alfonso Reyes, though he directed his attention to Europe more often than we would have wished, has underscored well. On speaking with another Latin American about the characterization of our culture as one of synthesis, he says:
    Neither he nor I were understood by our European collegues, who thought we were referring to the résumé or elemental compendium of the European conquests. According to such a facile interpretation, the synthesis would be a