By David A. Fahrenthold
CARTERSVILLE, Ga. — At an airfield in rural Georgia, the U.S.
government pays a contractor $6,600 a month for a plane that doesn’t
fly.
The plane is a 1960s turboprop with an odd array of antennas
on its back end and the name of a Cuban national hero painted on its
tail. It can fly, but it doesn’t. Government orders.
“The contract now is a ‘non-fly’ ” contract, said Steve Christopher of
Phoenix Air Group, standing next to the plane. “That’s what the customer wants.”
The
airplane is called “Aero Martí,” and it is stuck in a kind of federal
limbo. After two years of haphazard spending cuts in Washington, it has
too little funding to function but too much to die.
The plane was outfitted to fly over the ocean and broadcast
an American-run TV station into
Cuba. The effort was part of the long-running U.S. campaign to combat
communism in Cuba by providing information to the Cuban people
uncensored by their government.
But Cuban officials jammed the signal almost immediately, and
surveys showed that less than 1 percent of Cubans watched. Still, when Congress started making budget cuts, lawmakers refused to kill the plane.
But
then they allowed across-the-board “sequestration” cuts. And there was
no more money for the fuel and pilots. So the plane sits in storage at
taxpayer expense — a monument to the limits of American austerity. In
this case, a push to eliminate long-troubled programs collided with old
Washington forces: government inertia, intense lobbying and
congressional pride.
The result was a stalemate. And a plane left with just enough money to do nothing.
“It’s hard to state how ridiculous it is” that the plane is still costing taxpayers money, said
Philip Peters, an official in two Republican administrations and now the president of the Alexandria-based
Cuba Research Center.
Peters
said the plane’s broadcasts had “no audience. They’ve been effectively
jammed, ever since their inception. And rather than spend the money on
something that benefits the public
. . . it’s turned into a test of manhood on Capitol Hill.”
This
plane is a last remnant of a long, weird experiment in television
broadcasting across the Straits of Florida. The plan was to broadcast
uncensored news and commentary on a station named for Cuban patriot
José Martí.
The
hope was that something boundless — American disdain for the communist
regime of Fidel and Raúl Castro — could overcome something fixed. Which
was the laws of physics.
Much of Cuba was simply too far over the
horizon to get a strong-enough TV signal from aircraft flying in U.S.
airspace. Still, the effort moved ahead.
“I am convinced that TV Martí will succeed,”
then-Sen. Ernest “Fritz” Hollings (D-S.C.),
a major supporter, said in 1989. “Castro likes to tout his
revolutionary credentials,” Hollings said. “But he cannot begin to match
the revolutionary potential of television.”
As it turned out, he could.
The
first broadcast of TV Martí was March 27, 1990. It came in clear in
Havana for about 20 minutes. Then the American signal — weakened by
distance — was jammed by Cuban broadcasts on the same channel.
“ ‘La TV que no se ve.’ The TV that can’t be seen,” was what Cubans called it, said
Fulton Armstrong,
a U.S. official in Havana at the time. Another problem: The early
broadcasts happened very late at night, to minimize interference with
other Cuban programming. What people saw, Armstrong said, was “a moving
shadow of an image of
. . . something. At something like 4 a.m.”
The TV signal was first broadcast from a
blimp called
“Fat Albert,” suspended 10,000 feet over the Florida Keys. But there is
weather at 10,000 feet. “Fat Albert” blew off into the Everglades
in 1991. It was pulled frequently out of action to dodge high winds.
In 2005, it was torn to bits by Hurricane Dennis, and the government gave up on blimps. Instead, it tried planes.
First,
there was a military C-130. It cost too much. Then came “Aero Martí”
and a sister aircraft (now retired), smaller planes fitted with
broadcasting antennas and flown in a figure-eight pattern in U.S.
airspace near Key West.
Since these planes first flew in October 2006, they have cost taxpayers at least $32 million. That’s more than $12,000 a day.
But on Cuban TV sets, they didn’t make much difference.
In 2008, according to the Government Accountability Office, a telephone survey found
about the same viewership as had been reported in 2006. And in 2003. And in
1990.
Less than 1 percent (after that, the U.S. government stopped taking the
survey, declaring it was impossible to get valid data on Cuban TV
habits).
But the planes kept flying.
The program was
repeatedly protected from Washington budget-cutters by a coalition of
Cuban American lawmakers and non-Cuban legislators from Florida. To
them, what looked like the program’s worst problems were actually proof
that it had to be saved.
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