Why I Changed My Mind About Elián

MIAMI SHORES, Fla. -- When I agreed to provide a neutral meeting place at the Barry University president's house for 6-year-old Elián González and his grandmothers, I expected to witness a meaningful visit. But I had no idea that what I saw would be so powerful that it would change my mind, persuading me that Elián should not be returned -- at least for now -- to his father in Cuba.

Both the American relatives who have been taking care of Elián since he was rescued from the sea in November and the Cuban government representatives who were speaking for the grandmothers exacted multiple demands -- often petty and pointless -- about the ground rules for the meeting. There were attempts to control what parts of the house the different relatives would be in -- even who would climb how many steps of the stairs to meet whom, and who might be on the premises.

The Cuban demands had one unforeseen effect: the delay of the grandmothers at the airport allowed Elián to spend an extra hour at the house before they arrived. I had a chance to see, firsthand, the strong bond between Elián and the Miami cousin who has taken care of him since his mother died in the same attempt to escape Cuba by boat that set him adrift.

His cousin is only a year younger than his mother was, and as he glanced at her for reassurance before the meeting and greeted her ecstatically afterward, it became clear to me that he has transferred his maternal love to her.

As I watched the grandmothers' Cuban escort keep close telephone contact with Havana during and after the visit, I came to feel that the Cuban government was attempting to exert control over these events. Even more troubling, I saw signs of anxiety in both the Miami relatives and the grandmothers: trembling, furtive looks, ice-cold hands.

I saw fear in Elián, too, and I became a wiser woman at that moment, wincing at my own naïveté. I considered what it would mean for this boy suddenly to be ripped away from his surrogate mother, how this second trauma might scar him permanently. I saw and felt, at that moment, how wrong it would be to return Elián hastily to Cuba.

Elián has not yet even begun to grieve the catastrophic loss of his mother. We have to remember, too, what her wishes were: that she had weighed the cost of taking him away from his father and had chosen to come here.

It troubles me that Elián's father has not come to the United States. I realize how he must love Elián. What, if not fear, could keep a person from making a 30-minute trip to reclaim his son? And what might Elián's father fear, if not the authoritarian Cuban government itself? Could we send the boy back to a climate that may be full of fear without at least a fair hearing in a family court?

I realize that moral truth does not always mirror the law, and that Attorney General Janet Reno is bound by the laws she upholds. I also know that she shares my deep concern for this little boy.

We must resolve as a people to uphold that concern. We must turn off all the cameras and find a legal path -- perhaps it is Florida Senator Connie Mack's bill to make Elián an American citizen, which I support -- so that Elián's future can be decided by a court that rules on matters of child custody.

If family members can speak to trained court personnel, free of fear and reprisal from a totalitarian regime, perhaps they can plan a future for the child that will include both his Cuban family and his American family. The Immigration and Naturalization Service cannot provide the right setting for this decision-making.

The case becomes more complicated with each passing week because of the growing bond between Elián and his Miami family. This boy has been in the torment of the seas and is now in the torment of a political maelstrom.

As he was being whisked away from my house, many saw in Elián's tiny dark eyes the collective anguish of the Cuban soul. I just saw a frightened little boy who deserves a chance.

Yes, his relationship with his father should be renewed, but he also continues to need the love of his Miami family, and to live free of fear. The final challenge of finding the best way for Elián to heal and be nurtured should lie with a court that has experience in seeking the best interests of children.

END

Jeanne O'Laughlin

Sister O'Laughlin, a Dominican nun, is president
of Barry University, Miami Shores, Florida

The New York Times
February 1, 2000

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