`Panem et circenses.' That's the expression Roman poet Juvenal used to describe how Emperor Julius Caesar distracted the people from getting involved in politics (Caesar's, not the people's) by giving them bad flour and worse shows.

With time, the expression became a concept of governance. You might ask, who in the 21st Century practices it? Some tribe lost in the Sahara? Well, no. It's Cuba, where 50 years ago, one January morning, a revolution came to stay.

One of the first acts of that dizzying process was to terminate the institutions of that era and establish its own. Thus, the family was dismembered, the churches were closed, many schools disappeared and private property was put to eternal sleep.

We Cubans went from being persons to being an organized mass and, for the proper development of that ``mass formation,'' the new leaders created the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution, the workers' mess halls and, above all, the standard by which we all became almost equal: the ration book!

The ration book is the oldest and most stable heroine of the Cuban revolution and one of its greatest institutions.

A paternalistic and, above all, austere state doled out the food at the rate of five pounds of rice, four pounds of grain and four ounces of coffee per month; one tube of execrable toothpaste (tumbadiente, or, tooth destroyer, we call it); and one bar of soap every three months, plus a portion of beef every three weeks. Thus it distributed poverty in equal portions.

Grandmothers became vegetarians so they could save the beef for their grandsons. The grandsons barely developed baby teeth because milk barely existed. And when a grandson grew, he discovered that what he could expect through the ration book was one pound of ``meat mass'' (the basic menu has morphed), which should best be saved for the youngest child in the house, who, as always, lacked milk because milk has always been notoriously absent.

To terminal patients, The Book allotted one extra chicken, popularly called Alicia Alonso because it was as skinny as the famous ballerina.

The Book has also reflected Cuba's internationalist efforts. That's how in the 1960s we ``voluntarily'' gave up one of the pounds of rice that we were due each month; it headed for Vietnam and never returned.

La Libreta de Abastecimiento -- the ration book misleadingly called the ``supply book,'' that tutelary, never-benevolent God -- rules Cuban stomachs and other areas of life and has its own bureaucracy. Its headquarters is called the OFICODA.

That's where a Cuban has to stand in line if, for instance, his mother-in-law evicts him. (On the island, four generations live under the same roof because of the shortage of housing; so many divorces are caused by antipathy for and hatred of in-laws.) After hours or days of interminable paperwork, a Cuban can move out with what has become an indispensable requisite for a house transfer: The Book!

If you want to move to another city, it's a long story. I can assure you that the OFICODA notifies your change of address to your block's Defense Committee, your workplace and the police. Although it's used to strengthen the strict vigilance exerted over each citizen (massified or not) and his movements, The Book is not an official document and can only be used in one, previously assigned marketplace. So, don't even think about buying the egg assigned to you in Varadero if you live in Havana.

To be Cuban is a career that requires a lot of practice!

Recent news reports indicate that the Cuban regime is poised to abandon its practice of controlling people by managing their gastric juices and is likely to put an end to The Book. Castroism is not even Stalinism anymore, and much less applies Juvenal's dictum today. ``Socialism'' fails to fulfill its commitments, and those who see a shift from Fidel's paternalism to Raúl Castro's pragmatism are wrong.

The reason is simpler. The regime has reformulated its concept of governance. For Cuba, neither bread nor circus!

Alina Fernández Revuelta is the author of Castro's Daughter: An Exile's Memoir of Cuba.