Cuba defies Trump: “To the last drop of blood, no one will dictate our destiny”

“No one tells us what to do”: Díaz-Canel’s rallying cry

Faced with Trump’s threats, Miguel Díaz-Canel did not flinch. On the contrary, he responded with a firmness that surprised even his critics. On X, he wrote: “Cuba is a free, independent nation. No one tells us what to do.” These simple yet powerful words sum up Cuba’s position. Despite economic hardships, despite international isolation, despite U.S. pressure, Havana refuses to give in. For Díaz-Canel, this is not just about politics. It is about national sovereignty, dignity, and very survival. Accepting Trump’s terms would amount to capitulation, to renouncing everything the Cuban Revolution has fought for over more than six decades. And the Cuban president cannot do that. Not without risking the loss of support from his base, not without betraying the legacy of Fidel and Raúl Castro, not without betraying himself. So he chooses confrontation. He chooses resistance. He chooses to prepare his country to defend “the Fatherland to the last drop of blood.”

This martial rhetoric is nothing new in Cuba. Since the revolution, the regime has always portrayed the United States as an existential enemy, a permanent threat against which the people must mobilize. This narrative has served to justify restrictions on freedoms, the militarization of society, and the maintenance of an authoritarian political system. But today, this rhetoric is taking on a new dimension. For the threat is no longer merely theoretical. It is real. With the intervention in Venezuela and Trump’s statements, Cuba faces a concrete danger. And Díaz-Canel knows it. That is why he is stepping up his calls for mobilization, his patriotic speeches, and his references to historical resistance. He seeks to galvanize his people, to prepare them psychologically for even more difficult times. But this strategy has its limits. The Cuban people are weary—weary of deprivation, weary of broken promises, weary of just trying to survive from one day to the next. And faced with an enemy as powerful as the United States, many are wondering whether resistance still makes sense.

Foreign Minister Denounces a “Criminal Hegemon”

While Díaz-Canel adopted a firm but measured tone, his foreign minister, Bruno Rodríguez, did not mince words. On X, he described the United States as “an uncontrollable, hegemonic criminal that threatens peace and security, not only in Cuba and this hemisphere but also throughout the world.” This statement, marked by a level of verbal vitriol rarely seen in modern diplomacy, reflects Havana’s anger and frustration. For Rodríguez, the intervention in Venezuela is not an isolated act. It is a symptom of an aggressive and unilateral U.S. policy that flouts international law and endangers global stability. He accuses Washington of behaving like an empire, imposing its will by force and ignoring the very rules it claims to defend. This criticism is not without merit. The intervention in Venezuela, carried out without a UN mandate and without consulting the United States’ traditional allies, has raised concerns in many capitals. Even countries generally close to Washington, such as Brazil and Mexico, have expressed their unease at this show of force.

But beyond the rhetoric, Rodríguez’s statement reveals a diplomatic strategy. By internationalizing the conflict and portraying the United States as a threat to world peace, Cuba seeks to mobilize international support. It hopes that other countries, concerned about U.S. unilateralism, will come to its defense. This strategy has already borne fruit in the past. Every year, the United Nations General Assembly votes overwhelmingly in favor of a resolution condemning the U.S. embargo against Cuba. In 2025, only the United States and Israel voted against this resolution, while 187 countries supported it. This symbolic support does nothing to change the reality of the embargo, but it shows that Cuba is not completely isolated. It can count on the sympathy of many countries in the Global South, which see it as a symbol of resistance to U.S. hegemony. But will this sympathy be enough to protect Cuba in the face of Trump’s determination? That is the question haunting Cuban leaders today.

Rodríguez is right on one point: the intervention in Venezuela raises troubling questions about respect for international law. Can a unilateral military operation truly be justified, even against an authoritarian regime? Where does the right to intervene end? Where does imperialism begin? These questions are not new, but they take on particular urgency in the current context. For if Trump can intervene in Venezuela without consequences, what will prevent him from doing the same in Cuba, Nicaragua, or elsewhere? This logic of force, this temptation toward unilateralism, is a danger to the international order. And that is precisely what Rodríguez denounces. But at the same time, I cannot help but think of the hypocrisy of this position. For Cuba itself has never been a model of respect for human rights. So when it denounces American imperialism, it conveniently overlooks its own violations.

A Strategic Alliance Born of Necessity

To understand why Maduro’s downfall is such a severe blow to Cuba, we must go back to the origins of the alliance between Caracas and Havana. It all began in 1999, when Hugo Chávez came to power in Venezuela. An admirer of Fidel Castro and a proponent of 21st-century socialism, Chávez saw Cuba as a model and a natural ally. He quickly decided to forge close ties with the island by signing cooperation agreements in the fields of health, education, and energy. The most significant of these agreements is the Petrocaribe program, launched in 2005, which allows Cuba to purchase Venezuelan oil on extremely favorable terms: deferred payment, low interest rates, and the option to repay in services rather than cash. Thanks to this program, Cuba receives up to 100,000 barrels of oil per day, enough to cover the majority of its energy needs. In exchange, Havana sends thousands of doctors, teachers, and advisors to Venezuela. These Cuban professionals play a crucial role in Chávez’s social programs, particularly the “missions” aimed at improving access to healthcare and education in poor neighborhoods.

But this alliance is not limited to economic and social matters. It also has a security dimension. From the outset, Cuba has provided Venezuela with intelligence and security advisers. These Cuban experts, trained by the island’s intelligence services, helped Chávez structure his security forces and counter attempts at destabilization. When Nicolás Maduro succeeded Chávez in 2013, this cooperation intensified further. Faced with an increasingly virulent opposition and massive protests, Maduro relied more and more on the Cubans to ensure his personal protection and maintain order. According to some estimates, up to 20,000 Cubans were working in Venezuela in various fields, a significant number of whom were in security roles. This massive presence has drawn criticism, both in Venezuela and internationally. Maduro’s opponents accuse Cuba of supporting an authoritarian regime and participating in the repression. But for Havana, it is a matter of survival. Without Venezuelan oil, the Cuban economy would collapse. So it is doing everything it can to keep Maduro in power.

Maduro’s Capture: An Earthquake for Havana

On January 3, 2026, everything changed. In a daring military operation, U.S. forces stormed the Miraflores Presidential Palace in Caracas and captured Nicolás Maduro. The operation, carried out at night, was marked by unprecedented violence. Dozens of members of the Venezuelan and Cuban security forces are killed in the fighting. Among them are 32 Cuban nationals, several of whom were part of Maduro’s personal security detail. For Cuba, it is a shock. Not only does it lose its main ally, but it also sees its own citizens killed by U.S. forces. Havana immediately denounced the action as a “criminal aggression” and an “act of war.” But beyond the rhetoric, Cuban leaders knew that this intervention changed everything. Without Maduro, the flow of Venezuelan oil to Cuba was threatened. And without that oil, the island would not be able to hold out for long. The consequences were already being felt. Power outages, already frequent, are getting worse. Lines at gas stations are growing longer. Prices for basic goods are skyrocketing. And the population, already exasperated, is beginning to lose patience.

But there’s worse to come. Maduro’s capture sends a clear message to Havana: you’re next. Trump makes no secret of his intentions. He wants to put an end to the “socialist” regimes in the Western Hemisphere. After Venezuela, Cuba is the obvious target. And unlike Venezuela, which has vast oil reserves and a population of 30 million, Cuba is small, isolated, and vulnerable. It can count only on itself. True, it has allies: China, Russia, and Nicaragua. But these allies are far away, and their support is limited. China, engaged in a strategic rivalry with the United States, could provide economic aid. Russia, which has a listening post in Cuba, could offer diplomatic support. But neither of these countries is willing to risk a direct confrontation with Washington to save Cuba. So Havana is preparing for the worst. It is mobilizing its armed forces, strengthening its coastal defenses, and stockpiling food and fuel. It is preparing to resist. But for how long?

Maduro’s downfall is like watching the last pillar of an already fragile edifice collapse. Cuba was staying afloat thanks to Venezuela. Now that support is crumbling. And with it, the last hopes for economic stability. I think of ordinary Cubans—those who have nothing to do with politics, those who just want to live with dignity. They will pay the price for this confrontation. They will suffer even more. And for what? For the pride of leaders who refuse to back down? For the pride of a revolution that lost its meaning long ago? It’s unfair. It’s cruel. But it’s the reality.

Power outages that plunge the island into darkness

If you want to understand the gravity of the situation in Cuba, you need only look at the power outages. For several years now, they have become a symbol of the island’s economic collapse. Every day, entire neighborhoods are plunged into darkness for hours, sometimes even for entire days. Hospitals run on backup generators. Schools close. Factories shut down. And Cubans, resigned to their fate, wait for the power to come back on. These outages aren’t due to a lack of infrastructure. They’re due to a lack of fuel. Cuba’s power plants—old and poorly maintained—run primarily on heavy fuel oil imported from Venezuela. But with the crisis in Venezuela, these imports have plummeted. In 2019, Cuba was still receiving 100,000 barrels of oil per day. By 2025, that figure had fallen to less than 30,000 barrels. And with Maduro’s capture, it could drop to zero. Without fuel, the power plants cannot operate. And without electricity, the entire economy grinds to a halt.

The consequences are dire. Businesses, already weakened by the U.S. embargo and economic mismanagement, can no longer produce. Unemployment is skyrocketing. Wages, already meager, are losing even more value in the face of rampant inflation. And Cubans, exhausted, are searching for ways to survive. Some are turning to the black market, where prices are exorbitant but where they can find products unavailable in state-run stores. Others are trying to leave the country, taking insane risks to reach Florida or Mexico. Since 2021, more than 500,000 Cubans have left the island—nearly 5% of the population. This is one of the largest waves of emigration in Cuban history, comparable to the Mariel exodus of 1980. And it’s probably not over yet. With Trump’s threats and the prospect of a worsening crisis, many Cubans are wondering if they still have a future in their country.

Food Shortages and Rampant Inflation

While power outages are the most visible symptom of the crisis, food shortages are perhaps the most painful. In Cuba, finding food has become a daily struggle. State-run stores, which are supposed to provide basic goods at subsidized prices, are often empty. The shelves for bread, rice, beans, and oil are desperately bare. And when these items do arrive, there’s a mad rush. Endless lines form outside stores, with people waiting for hours—sometimes under the blazing sun—to buy a few kilos of rice or a bottle of oil. This situation is nothing new. Shortages have always been part of Cuban life. But they have worsened in recent years due to the economic crisis, the COVID-19 pandemic, and the reduction in Venezuelan aid. Today, even basic goods have become scarce. And for those who have money, there is always the black market, where prices are ten or twenty times higher than in stores.

Inflation, meanwhile, is out of control. Officially, the Cuban government does not publish inflation figures. But according to estimates by independent economists, it could reach 500% per year, or even higher. The Cuban peso, the national currency, is collapsing against the dollar. In 2020, one dollar was worth about 25 pesos on the black market. By 2026, it was worth more than 300 pesos. This massive devaluation has catastrophic consequences for Cubans, whose salaries are paid in pesos. A doctor, for example, earns about 5,000 pesos a month—the equivalent of 15 dollars. It is impossible to live with dignity on that amount. So Cubans find ways to get by. They hold down multiple jobs. They sell personal belongings. They rely on help from family members abroad, who send remesas—these money transfers have become a lifeline for millions of Cubans. But even these remesas are no longer enough. Because with inflation, the money loses its value almost instantly. So Cubans survive, day after day, in an economy that is collapsing before their eyes.

I find it hard to imagine what it’s like to live under these conditions. Waking up every morning without knowing if there will be electricity. Standing in line for hours to buy bread. Watching your savings melt away like snow in the sun because of inflation. It’s exhausting. It’s dehumanizing. And yet, Cubans persevere. They adapt. They find solutions. They survive. This resilience is both admirable and tragic. Admirable because it shows the strength of the human spirit. Tragic because it shouldn’t be necessary. No one should have to live like that.

More than 500,000 departures since 2021

One of the most alarming signs of the Cuban crisis is the massive exodus of its population. Since 2021, more than 500,000 Cubans have left the island, seeking refuge mainly in the United States, but also in Spain, Mexico, and other Latin American countries. This figure, which represents nearly 5% of Cuba’s total population, is staggering. To put it in perspective, it is as if France were to lose 3 million residents in five years. This wave of emigration is the largest since the Mariel exodus in 1980, when 125,000 Cubans fled the island in just a few months. But unlike Mariel, which was a one-time event, the current exodus is ongoing and appears to be accelerating. Every month, thousands of Cubans make the heart-wrenching decision to leave their country, their families, and their friends to try their luck elsewhere. Some leave legally, with visas obtained after years of waiting. Others take more dangerous routes, crossing the Florida Straits in makeshift boats or traveling overland through Central America.

Who are these migrants? Unlike previous waves, which mainly involved political dissidents or the elderly, the current exodus affects all segments of the population. Among them are young college graduates who see no future in Cuba; doctors and engineers earning starvation wages; and entire families fleeing poverty. And even members of the Communist Party, disillusioned by the system’s failure. This diversity shows that the crisis is not merely economic. It is also existential. Cubans are not leaving simply because they are hungry. They are leaving because they have lost hope. They no longer believe the government’s promises. They no longer believe that things will get better. So they pack their bags and leave, leaving behind a country that is being drained of its lifeblood. For Cuba, this demographic hemorrhage is a catastrophe. It deprives the island of its talent, its skills, and its youth. And it further exacerbates the economic crisis, because every departure means one fewer person to produce, to consume, and to contribute to the economy.

The Perilous Paths of Hope

Leaving Cuba is not easy. For those without a visa, it means taking dangerous routes, often risking their lives. The best-known route is the crossing of the Florida Straits, the 150-kilometer stretch of water separating Cuba from the United States. Every year, hundreds of Cubans attempt this crossing in makeshift vessels: rafts made of inner tubes and planks, overloaded fishing boats, and sometimes even surfboards. The conditions are extreme. The currents are powerful. Sharks lurk. And the U.S. Coast Guard patrols the waters, ready to intercept the migrants and send them back to Cuba. Despite these dangers, many take their chances. For them, the risk of dying at sea is preferable to the certainty of a slow, agonizing death in Cuba. Some succeed. They reach the coast of Florida, where they are welcomed by organizations of Cuban exiles. Others do not succeed. They drown, swept away by the currents. Or they are intercepted and sent back to Cuba, where they face imprisonment for attempting to leave the country illegally.

But there is another route, less well-known but just as dangerous: the overland route through Central America. To take this route, one must first leave Cuba legally by obtaining a visa for a third country such as Nicaragua or Mexico. Once there, migrants embark on a long journey through Guatemala, Honduras, and Mexico, hoping to reach the U.S. border. This journey can take weeks, even months. They must traverse jungles infested with snakes and mosquitoes. They must avoid the gangs that control certain areas and do not hesitate to kidnap, rape, or kill migrants. They must pay smugglers—known as “coyotes”—who promise to get them across the border but sometimes abandon them in the middle of the desert. And even if they manage to reach the United States, they still have to apply for asylum, a long and uncertain process. Despite all these obstacles, thousands of Cubans take this route every year. Because for them, it’s the only option. The only chance to build a better life.

Every time I hear about these crossings, I feel a mix of sadness and admiration. Sadness for these shattered lives, for these separated families, for these dreams that end at the bottom of the ocean. Admiration for the courage of these men and women who risk everything for a better future. But I also wonder: who is to blame? The Cuban regime, which created the conditions for this exodus? The U.S. embargo, which has strangled the island’s economy? Probably both. Because this tragedy is the result of decades of bad decisions on both sides. And it is ordinary Cubans who are paying the price.

China, a Cautious Economic Partner

Faced with the isolation imposed by the United States, Cuba has sought to diversify its alliances. Among its most important partners is China, which over the years has become a crucial economic supporter of the island. Since the 2000s, Beijing has invested heavily in Cuba, particularly in the energy, telecommunications, and tourism sectors. China has financed the construction of solar power plants, modernized Cuba’s telecommunications network, and supplied medical equipment. In exchange, it has secured lucrative contracts and privileged access to the Cuban market. But beyond the economy, this relationship also has a strategic dimension. For China, Cuba represents a foothold in the Western Hemisphere—a way to challenge U.S. influence in its own backyard. This is why Beijing has consistently supported Havana on the international stage, notably by voting against the U.S. embargo at the UN. But this support has its limits. China is not prepared to risk a direct confrontation with the United States to save Cuba. It has its own priorities: its rivalry with Washington, its ambitions in the Asia-Pacific region, and its economic stability.

Today, with Trump’s threats and the crisis in Venezuela, Cuba hopes that China will increase its aid. But Beijing remains cautious. True, it has announced a few investment projects, particularly in the solar sector. But these projects are modest compared to Cuba’s needs. And above all, China cannot replace Venezuelan oil. It can provide money, equipment, and technology. But it cannot supply the 100,000 barrels of oil per day that Cuba needs to keep its economy running. So Havana is turning to other allies, hoping that together they can make up for the loss of Venezuelan support. But this strategy is risky. For none of these allies has the means or the will to save Cuba on its own. And in the face of Trump’s determination, their support could prove insufficient. This is Cuba’s dilemma: it has friends, but no saviors.

Russia, a historic ally with limited resources

While China is an economic partner, Russia is a historic ally. Since the Cuban Revolution, Moscow has always supported Havana—first out of communist ideology, then out of strategic interest. During the Cold War, the Soviet Union provided Cuba with massive aid: oil, food, weapons, and military advisers. This aid enabled the island to survive despite the U.S. embargo. But after the collapse of the USSR in 1991, Russian support dwindled drastically. Post-Soviet Russia, in the midst of an economic crisis, no longer had the means to help Cuba. It was not until the 2000s, with Vladimir Putin’s rise to power, that Moscow began to take an interest in the island again. Today, Russia maintains a military presence in Cuba, notably an electronic eavesdropping base in Lourdes, which allows it to monitor U.S. communications. It also provides modest economic aid, mainly in the form of loans and equipment sales. But this aid is far from sufficient to save the Cuban economy.

The problem for Russia is that it faces its own difficulties. Engaged in a costly war in Ukraine and subject to severe Western sanctions, it lacks the means to provide massive support to Cuba. To be sure, Moscow has expressed its support for Havana in the face of U.S. threats. Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov has denounced U.S. “interference” in the affairs of the Western Hemisphere. But beyond these statements, Russian aid remains limited. Moscow can provide diplomatic support by using its seat on the UN Security Council to block any resolutions against Cuba. It can also provide military aid by selling weapons or sending advisers. But it cannot replace Venezuelan oil. And in the face of U.S. economic and military power, its support may prove insufficient. For Cuba, Russia is a valuable ally, but not a savior. It is a friend who can help, but who cannot carry you on its back.

Cuba finds itself in a tragic situation: it has allies, but none is strong or committed enough to save it. China is cautious. Russia is weakened. Venezuela has fallen. So Cuba is alone. Alone in the face of American power. Alone in the face of its own demons. And this isolation may be the greatest danger of all. For in isolation, mistakes multiply. Decisions become desperate. And the consequences can be catastrophic.

A blockade that has lasted since 1962

To understand Cuba’s current situation, we must go back to the root of its troubles: the U.S. embargo. Imposed in 1962 by President John F. Kennedy in response to the Castro regime’s nationalization of U.S. assets, this embargo is one of the longest-lasting and most severe in modern history. It prohibits U.S. companies from trading with Cuba, bars ships that have called at Cuban ports from docking at U.S. ports for six months, and prevents foreign subsidiaries of U.S. companies from doing business with the island. The sanctions have been strengthened over the years, notably with the Helms-Burton Act of 1996, which allows for the prosecution of foreign companies using property confiscated from U.S. citizens. The stated goal of this embargo is to pressure the Cuban regime to embrace democracy and respect human rights. But after more than six decades, it is clear that this goal has not been achieved. The regime is still in power. The Castros ruled for nearly 60 years. And today, Miguel Díaz-Canel leads the country.

The consequences of this embargo are devastating for the Cuban economy. Deprived of access to the U.S. market—which is less than 150 kilometers from its shores—Cuba must import goods from distant countries, which significantly increases costs. It also cannot access international financing, as most banks refuse to do business with it for fear of U.S. sanctions. According to Cuban government estimates, the embargo has cost the island more than $150 billion since 1962. This figure is disputed by some economists, who believe it is exaggerated. But even using more conservative estimates, it is clear that the embargo has had a major economic impact. It has deprived Cuba of revenue, investment, and technology. It has forced the island to develop a self-sufficient, inefficient economy dependent on foreign aid. And it has contributed to the poverty and hardships Cubans face today.

A Controversial Political Tool

The U.S. embargo against Cuba is one of the most controversial issues in international politics. Its supporters, primarily in the United States and among the Cuban diaspora, believe it is necessary to put pressure on an authoritarian regime that violates human rights. They argue that lifting the embargo without concessions would amount to rewarding the regime and abandoning Cuban dissidents. They cite arbitrary arrests, censorship, and the lack of free elections as evidence that the regime deserves no concessions. For them, the embargo is a legitimate tool of pressure, even if it has not yet produced the desired results. But critics of the embargo—who constitute the majority worldwide—believe it is counterproductive and cruel. They argue that after 64 years, it is clear that the embargo has not brought down the regime. On the contrary, it has provided the Cuban government with a convenient scapegoat to justify its economic failures. It has allowed the regime to portray itself as a victim of U.S. imperialism, thereby strengthening its domestic legitimacy.

Every year, the United Nations General Assembly votes on a resolution condemning the embargo. And every year, the result is the same: an overwhelming majority of countries vote in favor of the resolution, while only the United States and Israel vote against it. In 2025, 187 countries supported the resolution, with only two opposing it. This symbolic vote highlights the United States’ diplomatic isolation on this issue. Even close allies of Washington, such as Canada, the European Union, and Japan, consider the embargo to be unfair and ineffective. They advocate for lifting the sanctions and for constructive engagement with Cuba. But in Washington, the embargo remains popular, particularly among the Cuban-American community in Florida, which constitutes a key voting bloc in this swing state. No U.S. president, whether Democrat or Republican, has dared to completely lift the embargo. Barack Obama attempted a rapprochement in 2014, reestablishing diplomatic relations and easing certain restrictions. But Trump reversed those measures during his first term. And today, he seems determined to tighten the sanctions even further.

The embargo is the perfect example of a policy that has failed but persists due to political inertia. After 64 years, it is clear that it has not achieved its objective. The regime is still in power. So why continue? Out of principle? Out of pride? For political gain? I don’t know. But what I do know is that it’s ordinary Cubans who are paying the price. Not the leaders, who have access to special stores and privileges. Not the exiles, who live comfortably in Miami. No, it’s the ordinary people—those who stand in line for bread, those without electricity, those who watch their children leave. They’re the ones paying the price. And that’s unfair.

The Negotiation Scenario: An Agreement Under Pressure

Faced with Trump’s threats, Cuba theoretically has several options. The first—and most peaceful—would be to negotiate: to agree to sit down at the table with Washington and discuss a deal. But what might such an agreement entail? On the U.S. side, the demands would likely be very high. Trump and Rubio would undoubtedly want major political reforms: the release of political prisoners, the authorization of opposition parties, and the holding of free elections. They would also want economic reforms: opening the country to U.S. investment, privatizing state-owned enterprises, and abandoning the socialist model. In exchange, they might offer a gradual lifting of the embargo, economic aid, and the normalization of relations. For Cuba, accepting these conditions would amount to capitulation. It would spell the end of the regime as it has existed since 1959. It would mark the end of the Castro revolution. And that is precisely why Díaz-Canel refuses to negotiate. For him, accepting these conditions would be a betrayal of everything Cuba has fought for over more than six decades.

But there may be common ground. An agreement that would allow Cuba to preserve part of its sovereignty while obtaining some relief from sanctions. For example, Havana could agree to release certain political prisoners, allow greater press freedom, and open its economy to foreign investment. In exchange, Washington could lift certain sanctions, authorize food and medical exports to Cuba, and restore commercial flights. This would be a compromise—an imperfect agreement that would not fully satisfy either side. But it would help prevent a dangerous escalation. The problem is that neither Trump nor Díaz-Canel seems willing to compromise. Trump wants regime change. Díaz-Canel wants to preserve the system. And between these two positions, there is little room for negotiation. So the risk of escalation remains high.

The scenario of military intervention: a real risk?

If negotiations fail, what is the alternative? Is military intervention a realistic option? After the operation in Venezuela, this question is no longer theoretical. Trump has shown that he is willing to use force to overthrow regimes he considers hostile. So why not Cuba? Technically, an intervention would be relatively easy. Cuba is a small island, less than 150 kilometers from the U.S. coast. Its armed forces, though numerous, are poorly equipped and aging. Faced with U.S. military might, they would be no match. An operation similar to the one in Venezuela could be carried out in a matter of hours: special forces would land in Havana, capture Díaz-Canel and the top leaders, and install a transitional government. But the consequences of such an intervention would be unpredictable. Unlike in Venezuela, where part of the population supported the U.S. intervention, nationalist sentiment is very strong in Cuba. A U.S. invasion could spark popular resistance, turning the island into a new military quagmire.

There are also international consequences. An intervention in Cuba would provoke near-unanimous condemnation from the international community. China and Russia would denounce it as imperialist aggression. Latin America, already on edge after the events in Venezuela, would see its worst fears confirmed. And even traditional U.S. allies, such as Canada and the European Union, would express their disagreement. This diplomatic isolation could have long-term consequences for Washington. But does Trump care about international opinion? His first term has shown that he favors unilateralism and does not hesitate to defy international norms. So yes, an intervention in Cuba is possible. Not certain, but possible. And it is precisely this uncertainty that makes the situation so dangerous. Because in the face of uncertainty, miscalculations multiply. And miscalculations can lead to war.

The idea of a military intervention in Cuba makes my blood run cold. Not just because of the lives that would be lost—though that alone is reason enough—but also because of what it would mean for the international order. If the United States can invade a sovereign country without a UN mandate, without an immediate threat, just because it doesn’t like its regime, then what will stop it from doing the same elsewhere? That’s the law of the jungle. It’s a return to a world where might makes right. And I don’t want to live in a world like that.

Between Resignation and Hope: The Daily Lives of Cubans

Amid this geopolitical storm are ordinary Cubans. Those who aren’t involved in politics, who don’t dream of revolution or counterrevolution. Those who just want to live with dignity, feed their families, have electricity, and send their children to school. For them, the statements by Trump and Díaz-Canel feel distant, almost abstract. What matters is day-to-day life. Finding bread. Paying the rent. Surviving. And that daily life is getting harder and harder. Every day brings its own set of challenges. Power outages that last for hours. Endless lines outside stores. Prices that keep rising. Wages that can’t keep up. It’s exhausting. It’s disheartening. But Cubans are holding on. They’re adapting. They’re finding solutions. They’re getting by. That’s what they call “resolver” in Cuba: the art of getting by, of finding creative solutions to intractable problems. It’s a skill that all Cubans have developed over the decades.

But this resilience has its limits. More and more Cubans are wondering how much longer they can hold out. How much longer they can accept this life of deprivation. How much longer they can believe in the government’s promises. Because there have been plenty of promises. For years, the regime has been announcing reforms, improvements, and a better future. But nothing changes. Or rather, things are getting worse. So trust is eroding. Hope is fading. And more and more Cubans are choosing to leave. Not out of ideological rejection of the system. Not out of political opposition. But simply because they no longer see a future in Cuba. They leave for their children, to give them a chance at a better life. They leave for themselves, to escape this life of constant struggle for survival. And every departure is a heartbreak. A family torn apart. A bond broken. A dream abandoned. This is Cuba’s silent tragedy: a country being drained of its very essence, a nation losing its children.

The Voices of Dissent: Between Courage and Repression

Amid this crisis, there are also those who dare to speak out. Dissidents, opponents, and activists calling for change. They are few in number, as repression is severe. But they exist. And their courage is remarkable. Among them are artists like rapper Maykel Osorbo, imprisoned for his songs critical of the regime. Independent journalists who risk their freedom to report the news. Human rights activists who document abuses. These voices are essential. They remind us that Cuba is not a monolith, that not all Cubans support the regime, and that dissent exists despite the repression. But these voices are also fragile. The regime monitors them, harasses them, and imprisons them. Protests are banned. Public gatherings are controlled. The internet is censored. And those who dare to defy the authorities pay a heavy price: arrests, summary trials, and prison sentences. This is the paradox of Cuba: a country that calls itself revolutionary but suppresses any form of dissent.

Yet, despite the repression, dissent persists. In July 2021, thousands of Cubans took to the streets to protest shortages and demand freedoms. It was the largest demonstration in decades. The regime responded with force: mass arrests, trials, and prison sentences. But the message was clear: the Cuban people are not resigned to their fate. They want change. They want a better life. And they are willing to take risks to achieve it. Today, with the crisis worsening and Trump’s threats looming, the question is whether these dissenting voices will grow stronger or be silenced. If the regime falls, they could play a key role in the transition. But if the regime survives, they risk being crushed. This is one of the stakes of this crisis: the future of freedom of expression in Cuba. And that future is uncertain.

Cuban dissidents are heroes. They risk everything to defend their convictions. They know they will be arrested, imprisoned, perhaps tortured. But they carry on. They speak out. They write. They protest. Because they believe in something greater than themselves. They believe in freedom. In dignity. In justice. And that courage is what gives me hope. Because as long as there are people like them, Cuba will not be lost. It will be wounded, battered, exhausted. But not lost.

A Time of Impossible Choices

We have reached a pivotal moment in Cuban history. A moment when the decisions made in the coming weeks could determine the island’s future for decades to come. On one side is Donald Trump, determined to put an end to the last bastion of communism in the Western Hemisphere. On the other is Miguel Díaz-Canel, who refuses to give in despite economic pressure and military threats. Caught in the middle are eleven million Cubans who are waiting, hoping, and suffering. They are the hostages of this confrontation. They are the ones who will pay the price, whatever the outcome. If Trump intensifies sanctions, they will suffer even more. If military intervention takes place, they will die. If the regime collapses, they will have to rebuild from the ruins. And if the status quo persists, they will continue to survive in poverty. These are impossible choices. Dilemmas with no solution. And yet, a choice must be made. Because inaction is no longer an option. The situation is too serious. The crisis is too deep. Something must change.

But what? And how? That’s the million-dollar question. Or rather, the 150-billion-dollar question—the estimated cost of the embargo. The ideal solution would be dialogue, good-faith negotiations between Washington and Havana. An agreement that would allow Cuba to preserve its sovereignty while securing relief from sanctions. An agreement that would pave the way for gradual reforms and a peaceful transition toward greater freedoms and prosperity. But this ideal solution seems out of reach. For it would require goodwill on both sides. And that goodwill is sorely lacking. Trump wants regime change. Díaz-Canel wants to preserve the system. And between these two positions, there is no common ground. So we are heading toward an escalation—toward more sanctions, more suffering, perhaps even military intervention. And this prospect is terrifying. Because an intervention in Cuba would not be a “surgical” operation like the one in Venezuela. It would be a quagmire—a long and bloody conflict that would destabilize the entire region.

The Fragile Hope of a Resilient People

Despite everything, there is hope. Not in the statements of leaders. Not in the threats and counter-threats. But in the Cuban people themselves. In their resilience. In their ability to survive despite adversity. In their creativity in the face of challenges. Cubans have survived six decades of an embargo. They have survived the collapse of the Soviet Union. They have survived devastating hurricanes, energy crises, and food shortages. And they will survive this crisis as well. Perhaps not all of them. Perhaps not without suffering. But they will survive. Because they have no choice. Because that is what they have always done. And in this survival lies a kind of victory. A victory over despair. A victory over resignation. A victory over those who would like to see them disappear. Cuba will not disappear. It may change. It will likely transform. But it will remain. Because the Cuban people want it to. Because they believe in it. Because it is their country, their land, their homeland.

As I write these lines, I feel a mix of conflicting emotions. Anger at the injustice of this situation. Sadness for the suffering of the Cuban people. Admiration for their resilience. And concern for their future. Because Cuba’s future is uncertain. There could be a peaceful transition to democracy and prosperity. Or there could be a military intervention and bloodshed. Or there could be a prolonged status quo and worsening misery. I don’t know what will happen. No one knows. But what I do know is that Cubans deserve better. They deserve to live with dignity. They deserve electricity, food, and a future. They deserve to be free—free to choose their government, free to speak out, free to leave or stay. And I hope, with all my heart, that they will achieve that freedom. Not by force. Not through foreign intervention. But through their own will. Through their own courage. Through their own determination. That is my hope. That is my wish. For Cuba. For its people. For its future.