Ernesto Che Guevara
Ernesto Che Guevara
A historic figure who became the voice of oppressed peoples and an inspiration to young people around the world.
Today marks the birthday of Comrade Che Guevara — June 14, 1928.
Born in Rosario, Argentina, Ernesto Che Guevara studied medicine. He was an avid reader and an athlete. Although he suffered from asthma from an early age, he traveled extensively throughout Latin America and witnessed firsthand the poverty of ordinary people and the deep social inequalities that existed. These experiences transformed him into a revolutionary.
In Mexico, Che Guevara met Fidel Castro and joined the July 26 Movement, which sought to overthrow the dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista in Cuba.
Excelling in guerrilla warfare, Che played a crucial role in the success of the Cuban Revolution.
After the revolution triumphed in 1959, he served as President of Cuba’s National Bank and later as Minister of Industries, working to advance the country’s development.
However, he was not satisfied with holding government office. He believed that imperialism should be eradicated throughout Latin America and Africa.
Resigning from his positions in Cuba, he went on to support liberation struggles in countries such as Congo and Bolivia. One of his most famous statements was:
“Every country that remains in chains is my homeland.”
In 1967, while attempting to advance a revolutionary movement in Bolivia, he was captured by Bolivian forces with the assistance of the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).
On October 9, 1967, he was executed. He was 39 years old.
Because he rejected power and privilege and ultimately gave his life in the struggle for the rights of ordinary people, Che is remembered not merely as an individual but as a movement in himself.
His famous words,
“If you tremble with indignation at every injustice, then you are a comrade of mine,”
continue to inspire activists around the world.
Che Guevara stands as a powerful example of the saying:
“Revolutionaries are not buried; they are planted.”
Even today, he remains an inspiration to millions of young people across the globe.
Che strongly opposed powerful nations exploiting economically weaker countries and interfering in their sovereignty.
He believed that revolution should not be confined within the borders of a single nation. Wherever oppressed people existed, revolutionaries had a duty to stand with them and struggle alongside them.
He argued that the working class was the true strength of a nation, that the means of production should belong to the people, and that a classless society should be the ultimate goal.
For Che, socialism was not merely an economic transformation. He believed that human consciousness itself had to change. He envisioned the emergence of “new men and women” who would reject selfishness and greed and place the welfare of society above personal gain.
He supported guerrilla warfare, arguing that oppressive regimes could not always be overthrown through peaceful means alone and that oppressed peoples might be compelled to take up arms in pursuit of liberation.
Among the slogans and quotations associated with Che are:
“Let us be realistic and demand the impossible.”
“It is far better to die standing for one’s rights than to live on one’s knees as a slave.”
“The most important quality guiding a revolutionary is boundless love. No true revolution is possible without love for humanity.”
“If I fall, another will pick up my rifle; the bullets will continue to fly.”
“Not every seed that is planted will sprout. But every plant that grows was once a seed.”
These ideas and principles form the core of Che Guevara’s political philosophy.
They are not merely political doctrines; they are also reflections on human dignity, equality, and an uncompromising commitment to struggle against injustice.
Red Salute, Comrade Che.
Translation by Hari
Che Guevara lives on, if not in our hearts at least on our chests
By Rachel Roberts, Sydney Morning Herald, 15 March 2002
In my hometown, Byron Bay, Ernesto Che Guevara lives and breathes. I see him regularly. Sometimes at the Railway Friendly Bar, where he comes most nights to drink and listen to live music. Other times in cafes sipping coffee, nodding and looking intense among friends. Often I stand behind him in the queue at the post office, where he comes to send postcards of dazzling beaches and sherbet-coloured sunrises to relatives and colleagues he has left behind, although temporarily, in Sydney and Melbourne.
Naturally I don’t mean the real Che Guevara, the guerilla revolutionary who joined Fidel Castro in overthrowing Cuba’s repressive Batista regime in 1959. As most of us already know, he died long ago, executed deep in Bolivia by Bolivian soldiers shortly after 1.10pm on October 9, 1967. The Che Guevara I am referring to is the one I see displayed over chests of all shapes and sizes on the streets of Byron Bay. The iconic picture of Che we all know so well, young and compelling, printed over khaki, red and rainbow-coloured T-shirts wherever I look. Given that visual images are frequently adopted to communicate political trends, what might Che’s growing contemporary popularity mean?
Few of us would argue that the picture isn’t wonderful. Captured in 1960 by the official photographer of the Cuban revolution, Alberto Korda, it invokes our deeply rooted romantic understandings of revolution: our concepts of intellectualism, political defiance, liberation and, ultimately, martyrdom. There is an unsurprising blaze to Che’s stare, one that speaks of profound idealism and dark resolve. Unsurprising, because the photograph was taken at a memorial service for 75 people killed and several hundred others injured when the French munitions ship La Coubre mysteriously exploded in Havana harbour. Cuba believed the explosion to be a US-assisted counter-revolutionary strike, and against the backdrop of that suspicion, the service became not simply a commemoration of the lives that were lost, but an opportunity for Castro to denounce US imperialism and affirm Cuba’s commitment to socialism.
How the Che photograph came to leave Korda’s control and enter the hands of another is a fascinating story of entrepreneurialism and injustice in itself. Nevertheless, what is equally interesting to me is why the image has captured the imagination of a new kind of person of late. Formerly a symbol embraced mostly by students and radicals, the image and myth of Che Guevara have seeped, it seems, into the heretofore unconverted ranks of the urban professional middle classes. Fleeing the cities on their annual holiday to Byron Bay, Sydneysiders and Melbournites rush to buy the T-shirt in their droves, wear it happily around during the one or two weeks they stay there, only to abandon it then to the bottom drawer on returning to their normal white-collar lives.
Why this is so is open to interpretation. On the one hand, you could convincingly argue that we are drawn to Korda’s image of Che because it is cool, evocative and, quite simply, sexy. A marketer’s dream come true primarily because Che is dead, therefore neither can his face age, nor can his mystique be shattered. (And when you think about it, when have any of us seen T-shirts of poor old Fidel for sale?) On the other hand, perhaps the popularity of the image represents a broadening disaffection among the middle classes with the global and domestic political environment that keeps them desk-bound for much of their lives. In particular, it may be a way of trying to resist capitalism and mass corporatisation in the only way many of us know how – by buying a product and letting it do the talking for us. It is becoming harder and harder to be subversive these days. The pull of capitalism and economic rationalism co-opts us in so many ways that it is difficult to survive in a truly radical way. Let’s face it, we all have to live.
It could suggest that the Prime Minister, John Howard, has misjudged the mood of his much-loved middle Australia, reflecting instead its lack of support for the Coalition’s performance in relation to matters of public conscience, not least the uncompromisingly cold-hearted policies on refugees and the stolen generations. Or maybe, in the wake of September 11, donning the T-shirt denotes the wearer’s sympathy for Che’s own antipathy towards the US and what many of us see as its alarming gung-ho nationalism and insidious cultural colonialism.
Whatever the reason people buy and wear Che T-shirts, one thing is sure – someone must be doing well out of his unique appeal. In Byron they sell for about $25. They couldn’t cost more than a few dollars to produce.
Che’s bones must be turning in his grave.
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