I remember standing on the famed Havana waterfront, watching Fidel Castro speaking to thousands of his fellow Cubans one night, whipping them into a frenzy about a rumoured attack by American warplanes. It was great political theatre: the ocean pounding on the seawall, the crowd under the lights, Castro bellowing on and on in thundering histrionics. Of course, this was 1990 and the surprise attack never happened. But the Cubans had every reason to be paranoid—after the failed
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