Americans Need Another Reminder About Communism
Originally published at Newsweek.com
For students of history, the anniversary of Russia's October Revolution—which took place 106 years ago—is a moment for commiseration, not celebration.
When Leon Trotsky's Petrograd Soviet officially voted to back a military uprising on Oct. 23, 1917, the capture of the Winter Palace became all too possible. But the long-term repercussions were still unclear. They are clear now: Since 1917, more than 100 million people have fallen victim to communism, losing their freedom and ultimately their lives under totalitarian regimes.
While the seeds of their tragic demise were planted weeks before in Russia, communism's casualties will officially be remembered on November 7th, when the Bolshevik insurrection took place. We will rue Joseph Stalin's purges in the decades that followed, mourning the tens of millions of Russian lives they claimed. We will observe the symbolic end of Fidel Castro's iron grip on Cuba with his death on Nov. 25, 2016, although Cubans today still suffer under a communist regime whose death toll is in the tens of thousands (total imprisonments aside), and counting.
And we will lament Nov. 29, 1945, when Josip Broz Tito proclaimed the Federal People's Republic of Yugoslavia. The man who successfully resisted Axis occupation during World War II and vowed to liberate the Balkans from fascism in the post-war period ultimately ruled over a Yugoslavia where more than 1 million people perished on his watch. For Tito and too many others, communist "liberation" meant bloodshed.
I was born in Bosnia and Herzegovina, raised by parents who lived under Tito's regime. Growing up, they often told me horror stories about communism in practice, not in theory, distinguishing between the promises made to the proletariat and how they were actually "kept." Censorship was as rampant as communist propaganda. Bosnians, Croatians, and Serbians alike were afraid to speak their minds. While many Yugoslavs—parroting Marxist talking points—idolized Tito, many others feigned idolatry to live their lives untouched by the heavy hand of dictatorship.
While it is important to remember the lives lost to communism over the decades, the death toll is only one side of the story. The other chronicles the trials and tribulations of the living—those who never lost their lives as political prisoners or even innocent bystanders but were ultimately forced to live unfree.
Communism's dark side is twofold: Those who suffered life in it and those who suffered death by it. While the former is more difficult to quantify, Tito's infamous Goli Otok, or Naked Island—which served as the communist regime's political prison between 1956 and 1988—is yet another testament to the latter. Goli Otok housed some 16,000 dissenters (real or perceived), offering them "re-education," forced labor in stone quarries, and senseless beatings.
Hundreds died, either due to the grim conditions, or by suicide. Facing hard labor, disease, and death, prisoners were also forced to cope with the extreme weather conditions, ranging from triple-digit summer days to freezing "bora" winds in the winter.
Driving along the Croatian coast this past August, I saw Goli Otok in the distance, envisioning the brutality endured by those who came before me. It was a necessary reminder—amid the seaside serenity—that communism still remains distant to Americans my age, and we are fortunate for it.
Every day, I feel blessed that my parents brought me to the United States to live the American Dream, and I remain cautiously optimistic about our nation's future. But I also remain vigilant, knowing that many young Americans have begun to embrace communism without fully understanding its pitfalls. Only 40 percent of U.S. adults aged 18 to 29 view capitalism positively, with 18 percent of Gen Z and 13 percent of Millennials claiming communism is a "fairer system."
Millions of Americans need another reminder about communism, like I received overlooking Goli Otok. They should visit museums like the Miami-based American Museum of the Cuban Diaspora, which opened seven years ago this November, to truly comprehend the scale of communism's destructive applications. From architecture to literature and the arts, the museum commemorates the vital contributions of Cuban Americans in exile, who were fortunate enough to flee their oppressive government and start new lives in a free city. Given the sanitized communism so often taught in schools today, The American Museum of the Cuban Diaspora—in the heart of Cuban Miami—offers the actual "re-education" about real communism that people need.
I moved to Miami earlier this year, inspired by Cubans, Venezuelans, and other immigrants who made their own sacrifices to live the same American Dream. Cities like Miami are melting pots in the best possible sense, offering equality of opportunity to those who value freedom (and the occasional cigar).
As I smoke my next cigar, I will count another blessing for America and grieve for the fallen 100 million, remembering those who were not as lucky. In remembrance, now is the moment for Americans to say "no" to communism one more time—and never the last.
