Malcolm X_ A Life of Reinvention - Manning Marable [253]
That same week, to Malcolm’s excitement, Ernesto “Che” Guevara, the former guerrilla leader of the Cuban revolution, swept into town to address the General Assembly of the UN on December 11. At that moment, Guevara was perhaps Malcolm’s closest analogue on the world stage, a relentless supporter of the struggles of oppressed people and a committed revolutionary. Like Malcolm he was deeply concerned about ongoing and recent events in Africa. In making broad connections between the Cuban revolution and other struggles around the globe, he gave special mention to “the painful case of the Congo, unique in modern history, that shows how the rights of the peoples can be thwarted with the utmost impunity.” He insisted that the root of the Congo’s misery was that nation’s “immense wealth, which the imperialist nations want to keep under their control.” In a language markedly similar to Malcolm’s, he described the dynamics of neocolonialism as forms of military and economic collaboration between Western powers: “Who committed those crimes? Belgian paratroopers, brought in by U.S. planes, which left from English bases. . . . All free men in the world should prepare to avenge the crime in the Congo.”
Malcolm invited Guevara to address his OAAU rally at the Audubon on December 13, but the Argentine declined to attend, concerned that his presence might be seen as a provocative foray into internal U.S. politics. Still, many of the themes Guevara had addressed at the UN were central to the discussion that evening, especially when Malcolm took the stage to fill time after Tanzanian minister Abdulrahman Muhammad Babu, who also happened to be in New York for the General Assembly, was late in arriving. “We’re living in a revolutionary world and in a revolutionary age,” Malcolm told the overflowing crowd, numbering at least five hundred and, by some reports, many more. We must realize, he said, “the direct connection between the struggle of the Afro-American in this country and the struggle of our people all over the world.” For those who might suggest resolving the racial crisis in Mississippi before worrying about the Congo, he warned, “You’ll never get Mississippi straightened out. Not until you start realizing your connection with the Congo.” His argument defined Pan-Africanist logic, but also ran deeper in light of the “imperialist” connections that Guevara had drawn at the UN. Underlying Malcolm’s main argument about the unity of the black struggle was an important point about exploitation. The “connection with the Congo” for black Americans had as much to do with the commonality of economic oppression as it did with race. It was this leap from race-specific ideas to broader ones about class, politics, and economics that pushed Malcolm’s thinking forward in late 1964, a lesson that his travels in Africa had brought into focus.
Yet he continued to have difficulty conveying the change in his thinking to Harlem audiences, often because of his reliance on an older, cumbersome political language that lumped nearly all whites into one hostile group. He also defined the enemy as “the man” rather than in the more nuanced terms of class and politics. Indeed, at one point when he was calling for “a firm, uncompromising stand against the man,” Malcolm was forced to stop in midsentence to explain that by “the man” he meant “the segregationist, lyncher, and exploiter.” These speaking efforts found his mind in transition, and still struggling to find a new terminology to translate increasingly complex ideas into crowd-friendly language.
Babu finally arrived at the Audubon nearly two hours late, but before he took the stage, Malcolm presented the crowd with a delicious surprise: a statement of solidarity from Che Guevara, which Malcolm read aloud with pride: “Dear brothers and sisters of Harlem, I would have liked to have been with you and Brother Babu, but the actual conditions are not good for this meeting. Receive the warm salutations of the Cuban people and especially