Nietzche notwithstanding, it is most unfair to measure any leader only by the number and nature of his enemies. To that negative standard we need to add a positive and perhaps morevaluable gauge: the amount of affection that those leaders give and receive. Mas was many things to many people, and in addition to adversaries, he generated huge waves of admiration and respect, deep affection, and unbreakable loyalty, and he forged a family that displayed rich human qualities.

There are other positive dimensions. The wealth amassed by Mas, who came penniless into exile, would have allowed him to rest on his riches and contemplate the Cuban tragedy from afar without having to tread that thorny road of the anti-Castro struggle in Miami.

He could have done it, but he didn't. Compelled by his personal ambition -- not at all a reprehensible quality -- or by a patriotic zeal that consumed his soul, Mas plunged so intensely into the protracted battle for the freedom of Cuba that his visage could be seen in every corner where the Cuban drama was discussed.

He was the first Cuban to realize that the strands of that campaign formed not a loop in Miami but a noose in Washington. With his usual dynamism, he organized the Cuban American National Foundation and solicited financial contributions and support for his plans.

The result of his efforts altered the face of the exile community. For the first time in this long journey, his voice, the voice of the foundation, the voice of an exiled Cuban, brought weight to bear in Washington, was listened to by the hemisphere's most powerful politicians, and spread its influence to Europe and Latin America. There may be disagreement over the message, but no one can deny that the messenger expanded the narrow boundaries of Miami to the world at large.

No one can deny the triumph represented by the creation of Radio Marti, the station that broke and continues to break the monopoly on news that Castro brought down on Cuba like a thick fog. Or the merit of many of Mas's plans, such as bringing to Miami those impoverished Cuban exiles who had ended up in various corners of the hemisphere. Or his ability to organize international meetings where Cuba's cause could be raised in the fullness of its pain. When it came to Cuba, Mas never hesitated or took a step backward.

At the end, fate -- the enigmatic factor that rules our destinies -- dealt him a premature and cruel death. His disease was one of those that crush the body slowly and demand intense stoicism from patient and family.

It is said that God does not rain such blows on those who are unable to bear them. And I saw clearly how Cuban exiles of all ages and all classes filed silently past his wasted body, purified by suffering, looking for all the world like orphans.

For that reason, even though I never was a CANF member or Mas's close friend, I cannot close without acknowledging my misspent anger, without clenching my fists at fate when I think that, over on the island, a bloodthirsty and abominable dictator, 13 years older than Mas, continues to crush the Cuban people while here a dark wind silences his most formidable adversary.

Such an emotion rebels against self-resignation. No, I do not resign myself. Jorge Mas Canosa may rest in peace. Standing before his prematurely dug grave, I cannot.