Castro broke a lot of eggs - so where is his omelette?

Today, the country is mired in poverty and squalor.

Fidel Castro, former dictator of Cuba, has died at age 90.

Before handing power to his brother Raul, he had ruled his country with an iron fist for half a century. He was a jailer of dissidents, an opponent of political freedom and an overseer of the murder of tens of thousands of its own people.

And while there are claims that Cuba has undertaken some reform in recent years, the island remains a totalitarian dictatorship.

According to Human Rights Watch: ‘‘The Cuban government continues to repress dissent and discourage public criticism. It now relies less on long-term prison sentences to punish its critics, but short-term arbitrary arrests of human rights defenders, independent journalists and others have increased dramatically in recent years. ‘‘Other repressive tactics employed by the government include beatings, public acts of shaming, and the termination of employment.’’

Nevertheless, there are many who continue to make excuses for Castro. The ‘‘liberation’’ of 1959 continues to have a powerful hold on the Leftwing imagination, as does the glamour of the defiance of American interests that characterised his rule. For many, he was an indefatigable symbol of opposition to neoliberalism.

Few will actively defend his tyranny, of course, but the old ‘‘you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs,’’ still gets trotted out from time to time.

‘‘Yes, but where is the omelette?’’ as George Orwell once asked. When Castro seized power in 1959, Cuba was about as prosperous as Spain, Italy and Japan. On some measures, it was even wealthier than a few US states. Today, the country is mired in poverty and squalor – which seems to be the inevitable fate of countries that criminalise entrepreneurship and ban private property.

Praise is often heaped upon the Cuban government for its achievements in the realm of public health. While they may be unfree and poor, the argument goes, the people of Cuba at least enjoy excellent healthcare. This seems to be a myth. Independent investigative reports show that ordinary, non-privileged Cubans have little or no access to things like antibiotics. Even aspirin has to be purchased on the black market. Hospitals and clinics face rampant shortages of basic medical supplies.

Yet the romantic view of Cuban socialism persists. This partly due to propaganda – a combination of self-reported statistics, Potemkin hospitals and gullible writers and celebrities. The fact that the state controls all newspapers and that criticising the government makes the lie easier to spread.

You’ve probably heard Lord Acton’s aphorism that: ‘‘Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.’’

We usually take this to be a caution to those seeking power. However, Acton’s warning was also pointed at those who corrupt themselves by making excuses for great men out of sympathy for their positions and aims.

I am not blameless here. When I initially converted to political conservatism, I developed a habit of defending anti-communist dictatorships. I embraced the argument of former diplomat Jeanne Fitzpatrick that, given a binary choice, traditional authoritarian regimes were preferable to totalitarian governments.

From a purely practical standpoint, that argument is defensible. The problem, however, is that once you start minimising the crimes of tyrants, it becomes easier and easier to keep doing so. As Lord Acton warned, you become corrupted by your justifications.

I once found myself at a party defending aspects of the former military dictatorship in South America. The case for the defence rested on the totalitarian aspirations of the government it deposed, the economic reforms it successfully implemented and the fact the regime eventually accepted a transition back to democracy.

At this time, I had also become friendly with someone with strong ties to that country. After talking with this women, I learned about the ways her family had been victimised by the dictatorship.

The points I was making were things that could be debated, but there was no question that the regime had disappeared and killed thousands of suspected dissidents.

It was a vile government controlled by vile people. It sanctioned murder and destroyed the lives of innocent people and their families. If the best that could be said for it was that it was a lesser evil, that did not change the fact that it was still evil. I think about that party often. It was hardly my finest hour, but it did teach me to pull my head in a bit.

It was a good lesson in the corrosiveness of an ‘‘ends justifies the means’’ mentality.

To those tempted to eulogise Fidel Castro or to excuse his wickedness, I would ask them to imagine themselves talking with one of his victims. If you were confronted by the daughter of a murdered dissident activist, would you say it was all worth it? I doubt it somehow.