Journalists are a competitive breed. The good ones are constantly racing against each other to get the best stories, and to get them first. Landing a scoop is one of the pure joys of our profession.
Journalists also are a collegial breed. The good ones are generally willing to help a fellow reporter find their way around. We won't share our sources with them or the topic of our next story — after all, we are competitive — but we will shoot the breeze and as long as it doesn't hurt our work, help them get a lay of the land.
I wonder if Matt Lauer, who presumably is as competitive as the next blow-dried TV newsman, will reach out to Cuban journalists when he is on the island this week, reporting for the "Today" show.
And then, will he rely only on the mouthpieces and transcriptionists for the dictatorship — who work at Granma, Prensa Latina, Reuters, the Associated Press and other official organs? (Sorry, I'm joking about AP and Reuters, sort of.)
Or will he reach out to the "real" Cuban journalists, the independent reporters and editors for whom doing their jobs means putting themselves at risk of arrest and worse?
Men and women like Carlos Serpa, Roberto Santana, Félix Reyes Gutiérrez, Yoel Espinosa Medrano, Liannis Merino, Mario Hechavarría Driggs, Aini Martín Valero and Tania Maceda Guerra.
With the help of a translator — and not one of those minders from his Cuban hosts — Lauer can read their work at Payo Libre, Cuba Net and other Web sites. If he were to meet with some of them, I am sure they could give him plenty of story ideas to broadcast back to America.
Stories about how communism works, and doesn't work. Stories about repression. Stories about the lies told about the dictatorship.
Maybe Lauer can do a report profiling one or more of these journalists. The best story might be about Guillermo Fariñas, who last year went on a seven-month hunger strike to protest the lack of unfettered access to the Internet for most Cubans. He almost died, but has recovered to resume his work.
Even under the best conditions, such as found in the United States, journalism is a challenging, grueling profession demanding courage and commitment. But usually, we can go home at night, knowing that it's highly unlikely the government will respond to a story it doesn't like by knocking on your door and taking you to jail.
Many of Cuba's independent journalists have been subjected to police harassment, and worse, simply for telling their stories. They have lost their jobs. They have been detained for hours, if not days, with no word on whether this time, the police will throw away the key.
They have their agenda, their bias, if you will — liberty for Cuba — but that doesn't diminish their import. In Cuba, their patriotism makes them better journalists.
No one knows that better than the dictatorship, which understands completely the risk unvarnished, unfettered reporting of what is happening in Cuba today poses for the regime, which is why it tries so hard to stop it.
Cuba's independent journalists know they risk they are taking.
They know that more than two dozen journalists — 30, by my count; fewer, by others — are languishing in the Castro gulag, for telling stories and for their general opposition to the dictatorship.
I wonder whether Lauer will tell their stories. Each one could fill an hour, at least.
They are:
Pedro Argüelles
Victor Arroyo
Armando Betancourt
Mijail Bárzaga
José Caraballo
José Castillo
Guillermo Espinosa
Adolfo Fernández
José Ferrer
Alfredo Fuentes
Miguel Galván
Julio Gálvez
José García
Alejandro González
Lester González
Ricardo González
Iván Hernández
Normándo Hernández
Juan Herrera
José Izquierdo
Héctor Maseda
Pablo Pacheco
Raimundo Perdigón
Fabio Prieto
Alfredo Pulido
Omar Rodríguez
Omar Ruíz
Oscar Sanchez
Alberto Triay
Ramón Velázquez
(For more on each one of these journalists, click on their names on the left, under "March 18 Project."
I care so much about Cuba's independent journalists, in and out of prison, because, I, too, am Cuban. But moreso because we share a common a profession, a common passion for reporting and writing stories and using our work to hold accountable the powers-that-be. If the freedom that I — and Matt Lauer — enjoy to do our work in America really means anything, we have to want it, too, for our colleagues in Cuba.
I know I want that same freedom for Guillermo Fariñas, Tania Maceda, Carlos Serpa, Aini Martín, Juan Herrera, Omar Ruiz and the others. It's why so much of this blog is dedicated to telling their stories, whether detailing their suffering or just translating their work.
Matt Lauer has got his scoop — the chance to report from Cuba.
But to make it worth something, he needs to reach out to his brother and sister journalists on the island, in and out of prison, and tell their stories, too.
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