COLUMN: Cuba Runs Out of Gas — Trump Uses Oil as a Weapon of War

Broken Promises

In February, Moscow announced the repatriation of its citizens. Officially, this is a precautionary measure. In reality, it’s an admission that Russia can no longer help Cuba. Discussions between Putin and Díaz-Canel have come to nothing. Any oil shipment would be viewed as a provocation by Washington. And Russia, already under sanctions, cannot afford another conflict.

For Cubans, this is a severe blow. After Venezuela, Russia was their last hope. Today, there is nothing left. “We are on our own,” confides a doctor in Havana. “And Trump knows it.”

It’s easy to talk about “maximum pressure” when you’re sitting in the Oval Office. But when it’s your child who can’t afford heat, or your mother who is dying for lack of medical care, politics becomes a cruel abstraction.

Mexico Under Pressure

Mexico, which was still supplying 20,000 barrels per day in 2025, has reduced its shipments to almost nothing. Under the threat of tariffs, the Mexican president chose to submit. As a result, Cuba finds itself without fuel, without electricity, and without allies.

“Well, it’s a failed nation,” Trump declared. But who has truly failed? A regime that has held out for sixty years, or a policy that would rather starve a people than engage in dialogue?

A deafening silence

Faced with the crisis, the Cuban government remains silent. No information on oil reserves, no announcements about alternative solutions. Just calls for “resistance” and “unity.” But how can people resist when there’s nothing left to eat? How can they remain united when anger is boiling over in the streets?

The authorities are counting on international solidarity. China, Iran, Algeria—all have promised their support. But promises don’t feed people. And time is running out.

A regime that no longer speaks to its people is a regime on borrowed time. Yet in Cuba, silence is an old habit. We’ve learned to survive without answers. But today, survival itself is at stake.

The Shadow of 1990

Cubans who lived through the “special period” after the fall of the USSR recognize the signs: the lines, the power outages, the fear of tomorrow. But in 1990, there was still revolutionary momentum. In 2026, there is nothing but weariness.

“We’re told to hang in there, but for how long?” asks a teacher. “Our children are growing up in the dark. Literally.”

Between Solidarity and Realpolitik

Some countries, such as Nicaragua and Bolivia, have offered their help. Others, such as Brazil and Argentina, remain cautious. No one wants to incur Washington’s wrath. Yet, in the streets of Caracas, Mexico City, and Buenos Aires, voices are rising to denounce the blockade.

“Cuba is not alone,” the protesters chant. But in reality, it is. And Trump is taking advantage of the situation to tighten the screws.

Latin America has always been a playground for the United States. But when a superpower uses hunger as a weapon, even its allies should be ashamed.

The EU’s Role

The European Union, for its part, is watching cautiously. Officially, it condemns the blockade. Unofficially, it doesn’t want to upset Washington. The result: Cuba is left to fend for itself.

Yet the EU could make a difference. It could send humanitarian aid, circumvent the sanctions, and offer alternatives. But the fear of U.S. retaliation is stronger than solidarity.

Surviving Without Gas

In Havana, people are making do. They use bicycles, horse-drawn carts, and homemade solar panels. But these solutions aren’t enough. Without fuel, ambulances can’t run, trucks can’t make deliveries, and factories grind to a halt.

“It’s like going back thirty years,” sighs an engineer. “Except back then, we still had hope. Today, we have nothing left.”

There is a certain dignity in refusing to give in. But there is also a limit to what a people can endure. Cuba has almost reached it.

Health Care in Jeopardy

Hospitals are operating at reduced capacity. Generators are breaking down, medicines are in short supply, and doctors must choose whom to treat first. “We’re doing what we can,” explains a nurse. “But it’s not enough.”

The Cuban healthcare system, once a model for others, is on the verge of collapse. And Trump, for his part, gloats: “They’re going to fall soon.”

Exile and Rebellion

In Miami, Cuban-Americans are divided. Some support Trump, seeing the embargo as a chance to overthrow the regime. Others, horrified, send care packages and organize protests. “We can’t let our people die,” proclaims a protester.

But their voices carry little weight. In the America of 2026, Cuba is no longer a priority. It’s just a pawn on Trump’s chessboard.

When a diaspora is forced to choose between loyalty to its host country and the survival of its family, something is seriously wrong. Yet that is exactly what Trump has managed to do.

The Powerlessness of Exiles

Sending money, medicine, and food—that’s something, at least. But in the face of a total blockade, these gestures aren’t enough. “We feel powerless,” confides an exile. “We watch our country collapse, and there’s nothing we can do.”

Yet they carry on. Because it’s all they have left.

A Regime on Its Last Legs

How long can the Cuban government hold out? Experts are divided. Some think it will collapse by summer. Others believe it will hold out, no matter the cost. But one thing is certain: the Cuban people are paying a heavy price.

“They want to make us give in, but there’s one thing they don’t understand,” explains an academic. “The more they squeeze us, the more we resist.” Yet resistance has its limits. And Cuba is dangerously close to those limits.

A regime can survive without oil. A people, no. And that is the Cuban tragedy: those in power refuse to see the suffering of those who have none.

Possible Scenarios

Three outcomes are possible. The first: the regime falls, and Cuba descends into chaos. The second: Trump backs down, and the island finally breathes a sigh of relief. The third: Cuba finds a new partner and survives once again.

But in February 2026, none of these outcomes seems likely. All that remains is waiting—and fear of what tomorrow will bring.

An Ally of Last Resort

Beijing has promised its help, but it’s taking a while to arrive. China has its own problems, and it doesn’t want to draw Washington’s wrath. Yet without China, Cuba doesn’t stand a chance.

“China is our last hope,” confides a diplomat. “But even China has its limits.”

When your survival depends on the goodwill of a country that already has so much to lose, you know you’re at the end of your rope. Yet the Cubans continue to hope. Because that’s all they have left.

The Limits of Solidarity

Even the most loyal allies have their own calculations. China does not want a conflict with the United States. Iran is too far away. Algeria lacks the resources. Cuba is alone, and the world knows it.

Yet, on the streets of Havana, people refuse to give up. “We’ve survived worse,” says an elderly activist. “We’ll survive this, too.”

The Impossible Choice

Cuba faces a dilemma: give in and lose its dignity, or resist and risk collapse. Trump has done everything to make this choice impossible. And today, the island is on the brink of the abyss.

Yet, in the eyes of the Cuban people, there is still a glimmer. Not of hope, perhaps. But of pride. “No one gives up here,” they repeat. Even when all seems lost.

There are moments when resistance becomes a matter of survival—not just physical, but moral. Today, Cuba is facing one of those moments. And the world, once again, is looking the other way.

The Legacy of the Revolution

The Cuban Revolution has survived it all: embargoes, invasions, crises. But today, it faces its greatest challenge: surviving without resources, without allies, and without hope.

Yet as long as there are Cubans who say, “We will not give in,” the island will not be defeated. Even if, at times, victory looks like defeat.

By Maxime Marquette

Editorial Stance

This column is an immersive account based on firsthand accounts and on-the-ground analysis. I stand with the Cuban people, not with regimes or ideologies. My goal is to highlight the human impact of a cruel policy, not to take sides in a geopolitical debate.

Methodology and Sources

The information comes from news articles, NGO reports, and firsthand accounts. I have cross-checked the sources to ensure their reliability, but some situations remain difficult to verify due to the blockade.

Nature of the Analysis

This is a committed narrative that seeks to give a voice to those who suffer in silence. I do not claim objectivity, but I do strive for honesty.