Some 96% consider political change “extremely urgent” and 82% point to the lack of freedoms as the country’s main problem.
The magnitude of the survey results leaves no doubt about the state of opinion among the Cuban population. / 14ymedio
14ymedio, Havana, April 27, 2026 — The online survey promoted by the independent media outlet El Toque —supported by more than 20 independent media outlets and coordinated by journalists and social scientists—to gauge opinions on the country’s political and social situation has exceeded initial expectations. In less than three days, it has already accumulated more than 29,200 responses, well above the 10,000 projected by the closing date of May 1.
Of the total, 59% of the participants are located within Cuba – 17,240 at this time, according to the anonymous geolocation detection of the digital platform – despite the difficulties of connection and the state control of internet access.
The results released this Monday—which can be viewed live at this link —reveal overwhelming rejection of the current political model in Cuba. 96% of those surveyed consider political change on the island “extremely urgent.” 94% are “very dissatisfied” with the system of government, and 90% describe Cuban state policies as “completely inauthentic.”
Only 4.7% of those surveyed mentioned the US embargo as one of the country’s central problems.
When asked about “Cuba’s main problems today,” the numbers are striking: 82.4% identify limitations on civil and political rights as the country’s primary problem, even surpassing the economic crisis, cited by 52.9%. Government inefficiency and inaction also rank highly at 75.2%, while 47.7% denounce institutional corruption. In contrast, the US embargo appears far behind: only 4.7% mention it as a central problem, a stark contrast to the official narrative of the Cuban state.
The perception of a disconnect between power and the citizenry is widespread. Ninety-five percent of those surveyed claim to have no influence on government decisions. Regarding trust in the main political figures of the State, on a scale of 1 to 5 ranging from “no trust” to “full trust,” the average score is extremely low: 1.1. When asked to identify leaders with “favorable performance,” the most frequent response is “none” and “nobody.” continue reading
When imagining a transition, the rejection of current structures is almost absolute: 99% would eliminate the Communist Party, 98% the business system of the Armed Forces, and the same percentage would dismantle the State Security apparatus and state control of the media.
Some 99% would eliminate the Communist Party, 98% the business system of the Armed Forces, 98% would dismantle the State Security apparatus and state control of the media
Some 76.8% believe the country should transition to a liberal democracy with a market economy, while only 0.1% support the socialist system as it stands. Even including those who believe socialism should be reformed, support for that model does not exceed 1.4%.
As a means to resolve the internal political conflict, 60.4% of Cubans on the island support the overthrow of the government “by any means necessary,” including armed struggle. Of all those surveyed in the diaspora, 70.4% voted for this option.
Some 21.3% of all respondents prefer a negotiated transition, and only 10.1% trust peaceful mobilization as the main tool.
Regarding the role of the US and international influence in achieving political change in Cuba, 47.1% support maintaining the US embargo as a pressure tool – 44% within Cuba, 51% from the diaspora – while another 24.4% advocate for its gradual elimination.
Of Cubans on the island 60.4% support the overthrow of the government “by any means necessary,” including armed struggle.
More than a quarter of those surveyed (27.5%) support direct US military intervention. When this figure is broken down by Cubans abroad and Cubans on the island, the numbers are similar: 26.7% of all respondents within Cuba and 28.7% of Cubans in the diaspora vote in favor.
There is also consensus on what to preserve from the current system during a transition, with 73% prioritizing universal healthcare and education. An additional 68%—an identical figure among Cubans both on and off the island—vote in favor of preserving national sovereignty and independence from foreign powers.
Although the organizers themselves warn that the survey is not probabilistic and is conditioned by unequal access to the internet, the volume of responses and the strength of the figures make it a significant indicator of citizen discontent.
Some 68% – the same figure among Cubans outside and inside the Island – vote in favor of preserving national sovereignty and independence from foreign powers
The state-run media outlet Razones de Cuba has reacted with a smear campaign , attempting to discredit the survey by contrasting it with the pro-government mobilization “My Signature for the Fatherland,” promoted by President Miguel Díaz-Canel, an initiative that has already been denounced for the coercion it exerts on citizens to seek support.
Cuban researcher and journalist Hilda Landrove noted in a post on social media that, despite the limitations of any survey in a restrictive environment like Cuba, and even applying high correction margins, the magnitude of the survey results leaves no doubt about the state of opinion of the Cuban population inside and outside the country.
Amelia Calzadilla, director of Citizenship and Freedom Training and one of the promoters of the survey, told Martí Noticias that the response patterns themselves demonstrate a demand for greater citizen participation in political life.
The level of dissatisfaction with government management is above 95%.
For Calzadilla, the fact that the lack of civil and political liberties appears as the country’s main problem, according to those surveyed, reflects the population’s desire to “participate in order to fix” (the situation). The activist interprets the volume of responses as a symptom of accumulating social discontent and a willingness to express opinions directly when relatively safe channels are opened.
“If you review the survey, you’ll see that the level of dissatisfaction with the government’s management is above 95% of the participants. It’s producing very strong numbers,” the activist states.
COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.
Testimonies gathered by ’14ymedio’ in several Havana neighborhoods demonstrate the low turnout at the tables where people could sign spontaneously
At a table collecting “signatures for the Homeland” in the Parque de Línea y L, in El Vedado, there is zero turnout / 14ymedio
14ymedio, Havana, 26 April 2026 — The Observatory of Academic Freedom (OLA) denounced a “coercive pattern” in the island’s academic spaces to participate in the “process” called “My signature for the Fatherland,” initiated a week ago by President Miguel Díaz-Canel himself, with which the regime intends to counteract the pressures of the United States for a change in Cuba.
In a statement, the OLA reported that, “in Cuba, it is an institutionalized practice for political organizations to condition the permanence, evaluation and job stability of students and teaching staff in exchange for their participation in propaganda activities, in a flagrant distortion of the academic space.”
The NGO compiled a list of academic institutions where this modus operandi was replicated. It noted that at the Hermanos Saíz Montes de Oca University of Pinar del Río, a call was issued on April 19th for participants to “participate in an act of repudiation of the economic, commercial, and financial blockade imposed by the United States, and in favor of peace.” According to the Observatory, students and professors were instructed that, upon completion of the activity, each participant should “sign a form.”
According to the Observatory, students and teachers were instructed that, upon completion of the activity, each participant should “sign a form”
This event was repeated in other higher education institutions. In Havana, the Enrique José Varona University of Pedagogical Sciences published a post on its official Facebook page declaring that “Varona signs. On the 65th anniversary of the victory at Girón, we sign! In the centennial year of Fidel, we sign!” continue reading
Another similar case was reported at the Bauta Municipal University Center, which stated that its employees “demonstrated their loyalty to the nation.” On social media, it added that the signatures not only accompany a process, but also “show that universities are bastions of ideas, defense, and national dignity,” because “defending the nation also means teaching, serving, and signing when required.”
Other institutions, such as the Carlos Rafael Rodríguez school in Cienfuegos and the Oscar Lucero Moya school in Holguín, also joined the campaign, stating that their students and faculty participated in “support for the Revolutionary Government.”
During the closing of the V Patria Colloquium – an official world meeting of communicators in Havana, dedicated to the centenary of Fidel Castro’s birth – the head of the Ideological Department of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, Yuniasky Crespo, called for the collection of signatures in support of the Cuban Government.
The OLA emphasized that the Ministry of Higher Education and universities across the country have “echoed the campaign”
The OLA emphasized that the Ministry of Higher Education and universities across the country have “echoed the campaign.” It also stated that, although the ministry claims this is a “Cuban civil society initiative,” it was conceived within the PCC and launched at a political event.
“To understand why universities are required to participate in the collection of signatures, it is important to remember that their autonomy was abolished in 1962, with the Higher Education Reform Law, despite being an internationally recognized principle that allows higher education institutions to serve as spaces for critical thinking, free from external or internal ideological interference,” the OLA recalls.
The requirement to sign can be explained by the fact that, in many cities, there is little to no participation at the registration booths set up by the authorities. 14ymedio has gathered testimonies in several Havana neighborhoods that demonstrate the almost nonexistent turnout at the locations where people could sign more spontaneously.
State workers have also reported being coerced into signing , having received the order from the start of the campaign. “They didn’t set up signing points at workplaces, but rather at the library, the cultural center, and other locations. Now, companies are telling them they have to go there to sign,” an employee from the province of Sancti Spíritus, who preferred to remain anonymous, told 14ymedio last Monday.
“They set up points at the library, the cultural center, and other places; companies are already telling them they have to go there to sign up.”
Likewise, the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) have mobilized to go house to house. “They came to my mother’s door, and she, being very old, signed. Who knows what they told her? I already told my husband not to even think about opening the door,” recounted a resident of Ciego de Ávila.
The woman compared it to what happened in 2002, following the Varela Project launched by Oswaldo Payá, when then-President Fidel Castro ordered the CDRs to force citizens to sign a “counter-project” that ended up crystallizing in the Constitution “the irrevocable and inviolable character of socialism,” which popular humor dubbed “constitutional mummification.”
The campaign comes at a time of crisis and criticism of the Díaz-Canel government, which is seeking to legitimize its continued rule. The fuel shortage has affected key sectors such as transportation, electricity generation, and water supply.
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MIGUEL COYULA / “Looks like AI” was the comment from an American friend, a Democrat, on sending me a photo of young Cubans with red MCGA caps (Make Cuba Great Again). Certainly when I saw the image, I instinctively felt a profound sense of unease.
At first, I thought the caps were a collage, then that they had been made in Miami. Then I considered the possibility that the Cuban regime had created them with AI to discredit the internal opposition. If the caps were real, would any small or medium-sized enterprise (SME) have risked making them in Cuba, or would they have been sent from abroad? But in reality, the image contained a much more disturbing artificiality, the extrapolation of which almost bordered on cognitive dissonance. After almost 70 years under the most recent and enduring dictatorship, young Cubans were alluding to a symbol that had become dogma for another authoritarian and fascist-like government. Absolute devotion to ideologies leads to a creed, a religion. The heralds of communism and capitalism preach political dogmas that some embrace fanatically, while for others, the definitions of left and right are exchanged at will, in an increasingly ephemeral way and subject to economic interests.
To mention just a few examples, Donald Trump (at one time a member of the Democratic Party) is now a convicted Republican president, has supported the genocide in Gaza, is responsible for releasing his followers who stormed the Capitol of his country, killing police officer Brian Sicknick. Two more recent deaths are those of citizens Renee Good and Alex Petrie, whose uniformed assassins have yet to be brought to justice. ICE, Trump’s personal army, has propagated xenophobia and repression, deporting more than three million immigrants, including Cubans. His desire for global economic domination, disguised as a “liberator” was already evident in Venezuela and Iran, and it appears that Cuba and Greenland are next.
Trump’s anti-intellectual posture has led some academics to declare him an idiot. His favorite author, Ayn Rand, erected a monument to egotism. I always found it revealing when Roark, the protagonist of The Fountainhead, declares, “No one has a right to a minute of my time,” before dynamiting a housing complex intended for low-income residents. It seemed also to served as inspiration for Elon Musk when he recently said that empathy is a weakness, as if the heroic entrepreneurs of Atlas Shrugged were revealing their true colors.
Roark’s case is interesting because his compulsive determination to preserve his individuality initially resonates with any young person unwilling to follow dogmas. His arrogance could have portrayed him as full of contradictions, a tragic antihero. But the dramatic premise collapses due to Rand’s insistence on turning him into a heroic figure, to the point of becoming inhuman, a kind of ventriloquist of Objectivism, complete with a happy ending. Personally, I’ve never been interested in heroic narratives; I don’t believe in them in art, much less in politics. I’m much more interested in Nietzsche, for his interest in the contradictions of the individual, and not claiming to have the final answer regarding a social model. Perhaps that is why, unlike Marx, his ideas didn’t generate a massive political movement, or in Rand’s case, why her Objectivism has taken root among the neoliberal elites.
Trump isn’t an idiot, but he certainly knows how to talk to idiots. While Fidel Castro sold humanist ideals, Trump promised neoliberal materialism with economic prosperity for all. Both are aligned with seemingly opposing ideologies, yet equally abstract in their physical manifestation. The sociopathic traits of both point to rampant megalomania. One at the helm of a small island, the other leading an empire through executive orders.
Fidel Castro also had expansionist ambitions, in Algeria, Congo, Ethiopia, Angola… He was criticized by many who today call for a military intervention in Cuba by a foreign power. Perhaps underdevelopment, as Edmundo Desnoes wrote, is the inability to connect things and accumulate experiences. It may also be that many have no problem whatsoever with annexationism.
Latin America has historically been the United States’ backyard. Simultaneously, the failure of the Cuban revolution is now more evident in the cultural and political illiteracy of the majority of influencers. The immediacy of the Cuba they present generally appears as an isolated phenomenon, divorced from global complexities and subject to binary reductionism. One of the MCGA guys says that the mayor of New York is a communist, which suggests that his only source of information is Fox News. And in an even more absurd contradiction, they claim not to idolize any politician. Cuba and its problems are, for them, the center of the universe, the worst place in the world, the only one worth talking about and saving. The reality is that Cuba has never been “Great.” There was a republic, yes, led by former liberators from the War of Independence, most of whom became thieves or dictators.
MCGA, MAGA’s new affiliate in Cuba, seems to ignore this. Its Fuera de la caja, Outside the Box, movement derives from an alien ideology and language, unintentionally confining itself to another box due to its own lack of authenticity and of new ideas, something one would naturally expect from a young person.
The reasons these young people invoke Trump’s slogan could be many: naiveté, ignorance, opportunism, cynicism, or simply something far more disturbing… emptiness. The Cuban people are so fed up with the current dictatorship, their senses so dulled, that if Hitler were to rise from the dead and promise to “liberate Cuba,” some might even wear swastikas. That, too, is the new man. Beings incapable of feeling and thinking as citizens of the world, who embrace the nearest invasive globalization as a symbol of freedom in the face of the material and political suffocation of the Cuban regime. They ignore that the violation of sovereignty means a green light for the expansive techno-feudalism of other empires: Russia over Ukraine, China over Taiwan. But the political sense of this Cuban seems to be governed by the programmed range of a traffic light. There is no long-term vision in their thinking. Fortunately, there are other young people on the island who also oppose the regime from a completely different perspective. Unfortunately, they are the minority in a sea of slogans, taken from what could be an Ayn Rand libertarian manual, corrupted by Javier Milei.
I’ve heard automated justifications from various people, such as, “I don’t care. What I want is for the dictatorship to end and for the political prisoners to be freed.” Perhaps if you’re an activist or a politician, that’s the ideal stance: “Unite instead of divide.” But by prioritizing a top-down goal, you’re eliminating the critical thinking necessary to prevent history from repeating itself.
The Cuban government has ineptly announced sanctions, prohibiting pro-Trump demonstrations in Cuba, as if unaware that its unpopularity will provoke a backlash from many. From a conspiratorial perspective, such ineptitude might appear to be a transitional strategy in the face of another kidnapping, stampede, or negotiated surrender.
That said, raiding a home, arresting a person, intimidating them, professionally destroying them, or inducing them into exile simply for expressing a political opinion is unacceptable.
We have endured almost seven decades of similar abuses by a system that still preaches a facade of social justice, blaming the embargo as the sole cause of all its inefficiency, internal corruption, and systematic violation of citizens’ rights.
My great-grandfather was a delegate to the constituent assembly in 1939. During the drafting of the Constitution, despite being an atheist, he proposed the initial invocation of God in consideration of the beliefs of the majority of the population. I am not my great-grandfather. I am not a politician. I am simply a citizen who distances himself from another imminent creed, in the same way that I have distanced myself from the Cuban regime. I believe in the freedom of expression of the young MCGA members, as well as in my own. We share the desire for the end of this regime, but I want to make it clear that they do not represent me. They are not the cause but rather the consequence of the failure of the left, championed by the Cuban regime for its global marketing. The reason for this text is to put an end, in this era of imminent change, to the attempts to align me with Trumpism (the only US president, at least recently, to have a political movement named after him) through private messages, petitions, and invitations to forums. But this also is not nationalism. I’ve always considered myself an iconoclast. I reject anything that smacks of uniform, be it Che Guevara berets or MAGA caps. Perhaps these three stills from my film Blue Heart (2021) best illustrate my point.
The recently concluded Málaga Film Festival was the scene of controversies. Actor Jorge Perugorría, a resident of Cuba, spoke about how the Trump administration’s new measures were suffocating the island. He was criticized by filmmaker Ian Padrón, who lives in the United States, for not mentioning the Cuban government’s responsibility as the true culprit. Both have a point, but neither side tells the whole story. Certainly, the dysfunction of the Cuban regime is undeniable. But the recent measures implemented by the Trump administration have also profoundly affected the daily lives of Cubans. The restriction on oil imports has led to greater fuel shortages, hindering public transportation and driving up the prices of private transport. Electricity is even more intermittent, affecting food refrigeration and water supplies. The prices of food and medicine have increased. The humanitarian crisis already existed, but it is impossible to deny that it is now more severe, and that it is the people, not the rulers, who suffer the most in their daily lives.
Trump’s strategy seems like manipulating animals in a coliseum, starving them so they devour the gladiators. On the same topic, filmmaker Pavel Giroud, who lives in Spain, commented in Málaga that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” arguing that during World War II no one questioned Europe’s alliance with the United States. This raises an interesting point, because these days one can’t speak of an alliance with the country, but rather with Trump personally. This president usurps the three branches of government established in the nation’s constitutional principles, dictating, or rather, firing off executive orders without consultation. But his followers exclaim, “He’s not a dictator!” Another colleague in Madrid privately remarked, “Transitions are always a mess.” These are all comments divorced from the physical reality of the island.
Cuba produces 40% of its national crude oil. Faced with this suffocation, it is the people who continue to suffer under this blockade, not the elite leaders, nor the police or the army. They will always be given priority in repressing an increasingly weakened population. Meanwhile, the Cuban regime, which had already lost considerable credibility, is now being revived for the reactionary left as a victim of imperialism in the form of humanitarian aid that never questions the island’s rulers, perpetuating a David-versus-Goliath struggle that further weakens the already diminished internal opposition.
Finally, there’s the human question. Every day I see vulnerable people driven to despair by the escalating crisis, but all of this seems to be considered mere collateral damage. I have lived abroad, and it is true that time, distance, and social media with its algorithms distort and polarize reality.
Facebook is a necessary evil, but its use must be limited. Lynn Cruz recently blocked Humberto Castro, a Cuban painter and fervent supporter of Donald Trump’s policies. We have also deleted or blocked followers or collaborators of the Cuban regime. Our work is barely exhibited in Cuba or Miami, but fortunately, we haven’t needed either of those powers to make our way in the rest of the world. Until very recently, I didn’t truly understand that making a living doing what we love without compromising artistic integrity could be an enviable freedom. Since Castro was a painter, one would think that perhaps art would unite them, but curiously, their only interaction—reactive interaction—is about politics. So, if there is nothing in common, what’s the point of virtual friendship? Some people complain when we delete them, but it’s nothing personal. With our terrible internet connection, receiving a notification to load a page can be torture, especially when you end up facing a repeated message.
I almost always use Facebook sporadically, just to share news about my films, festivals, awards, reviews, etc. When I shared the first version of this text, a user on the site named Jacobo Londres tagged me on his page while sharing my text, saying, “Bah, same old soft crap. Coyula wants Cuba freed, but doesn’t want it to be Trump.” Since he wasn’t my friend, his eloquence made me think he was just another troll, and I simply blocked him to avoid further notifications. Later, Lynn told me that Londres was a virtual alter ego of Javier Marimón, a writer with whom I had exchanged a couple of emails more than two decades ago regarding a possible film adaptation of one of his texts. When I replied that I was busy adapting Memorias del desarrollo (Memories of Development), he responded, “They say it’s utter crap.” I never heard from him again until now, 20 years later. Just before finishing this piece, I had just shared the video that Cinema Tropical had asked me to make to announce Crónicas del absurdo as the best Latin American documentary of the year at the annual awards ceremony held at Lincoln Center. In that video, I criticized the Cuban regime and Trump’s techno-feudalist policies; perhaps that’s where the unease began. In any case, the fact was revealing: In all these years of posting cultural news, Marimón’s only reaction, now living in London, was prompted by this, a political opinion piece, which seems to highlight his true motives.
To a certain extent, I can understand why many Cuban emigrants applaud Trump, but in doing so, they declare themselves indifferent to the physical reality of their compatriots, friends, and family on the island. An island where most never dared to dissent while living under the iron grip of its institutions. And this Castro-Trumpist limbo of reconcentration (to quote Lynn Cruz) could extend indefinitely, just as the conflict in Iran has, projecting itself as a process of attrition similar to Vietnam. While the US economy begins to collapse, many continue to applaud the world’s policeman, the conqueror of the universe, with his brand-new Department of War, the same person to whom María Corina Machado gifted her Nobel Peace Prize.
In this case, the burden falls on the Cuban people, not their leaders. Everyone hopes for Cuba’s liberation, unaware that they will most likely witness only a change of facade, the removal of the repressive figure who issued the order to attack the population on July 11th, but, as in Venezuela, replaced by another Delcy Rodríguez who will sign off on economic submission to Trump. Those who expect a president who bypasses Congress and the Senate to be interested in bringing democracy to Cuba are deluded. This demonstrates that true freedom is of interest to very few. The sad truth is that the promise of economic improvements is enough for a silent majority to tolerate yet another dictatorship. Mike Hammer, the US mission chief in Havana, was recently cheered at the Church of Our Lady of Charity in Regla, announcing the spread of the gospel as another weighty dogma on the political chessboard of the imminent new-archaic-society heir to all Latin American corruptions, quoting the cynical protagonist of my novel The Vertical Island: “An ideal of progress that we would live after the change that many called democratic.”
As a filmmaker, I make movies controlling every detail of their staging. But unfortunately, being able to appreciate them in a theater, the format for which they are designed, is something I’ve only been able to do outside the island. After years of censorship, change would benefit me. Even as a source of inspiration, I’d finally have new politicians to rail against. But I’m thinking about more than just myself. I wish that in the midst of this situation, an independent, internal political voice would emerge, someone who doesn’t follow in the footsteps of Castro or the volatile Trump. The social democracy of many Nordic countries, while not perfect, I consider to be the most humane model currently available. The ideal model hasn’t been created yet, nor can I, or intend to, imagine it. I think the best governments are those that are unobtrusive. Good administrators don’t have to worry about being strident. I know that’s probably another utopia: We are Cubans.
Miguel Coyula (1977) is a Cuban filmmaker and writer. He has created his work without institutional support, employing a multidisciplinary approach. His notable films include Red Cockroaches (2003), Memories of Development (2010), and Blue Heart (2021). His work is banned in Cuba. The magazine Cineaste describes him as “…someone whose innovative and challenging way of understanding cinema is not here to appease or flatter. It is here to sting.”
With most international flights suspended due to the US energy embargo, the island received only 35,561 visitors last month.
A small group of Russian tourists in Havana on February 13, just as the cancellation of flights from that country was announced. / 14ymedio
14ymedio, Madrid, April 27, 2026 – In the first quarter of the year, Cuba has lost almost half the number of tourists it attracted during the same period in 2015, a year that was very negative for the sector that has received the most budgetary resources in recent decades. So far in 2026, 298,057 international travelers have arrived on the island, compared to 573,363 last year, a drop of 48%.
While the figure is negative on its own, the situation becomes even more dire when analyzing just the month of March. Only 35,561 visitors arrived in Cuba, a dramatic figure, given that in the same month of 2020 —with half the world under lockdown due to the coronavirus pandemic—189,431 foreigners arrived on the island. Only in 2021 , when Cuba imposed strict measures due to the worsening COVID-19 situation nationwide, was the figure even worse, with the arrival of 12,542 international travelers.
March has traditionally been an excellent month for the tourism sector, so much so that in 2018 it was the best month of the year, with 510,760 visitors. The record figure, 530,615, was reached in 2017, although that year it fell short of December, when 551,371 visitors were recorded—the highest figure ever for one month in Cuba. Although the situation in this sector has not recovered since the pandemic, both 2023 and 2024 saw significantly more than 250,000 foreign visitors, and March was again the best month in both years.
Before the pandemic, March tourism figures were extraordinary for Cuba. / Onei
All these figures highlight the blow that Donald Trump’s decision to veto fuel shipments to Cuba represents for the island. This measure, adopted on continue reading
January 29, led airport authorities to issue a NOTAM informing that all international terminals lacked jet fuel from February 10 to March 11. The alert has had to be extended for the same reason.
In February, when the news broke, airlines announced suspensions, cancellations, and evacuations, in that order, of tourists in Cuba. Some companies that had initially intended to maintain their flights ended up backing out in less than 48 hours, and all Canadian and Russian airlines focused solely on repatriating passengers. Canadian airlines evacuated more than 10,000 people from the island on various return flights out of the 24,559 who were in Cuba throughout February. Meanwhile, Russian airlines—the second largest source of tourists to Cuba— evacuated 4,300 out of a total of 7,314 that month.
Others, like the Spanish airlines, starting with Iberia, decided to maintain their routes and refuel in the Dominican Republic, but this option has also proven unsustainable. The Madrid-based airline announced on April 13 that it would reduce frequencies in May and suspend all flights to Cuba in June, something that in its 60-year history had only occurred during the company’s severe financial difficulties (2012) and during the pandemic.
March was thus the first month in which Cuba felt the full impact of the flight suspensions. Canadian tourists continue to lead the list thanks to their cumulative numbers, although if we do the math, only 511 Canadians traveled to the island this March, 99.48% fewer than in the same month last year (98,663). In the first quarter, the number has fallen by 54.2%. Russians, the island’s second most important market, only totaled 249 travelers last month.
The largest number of arrivals in March came specifically from Cubans living abroad. There were 11,231 exiles who returned to the island last month.
The largest number of arrivals in March came specifically from Cubans living abroad. There were 11,231 exiles who returned to the island last month, and although this quarter’s decline is 42.8% compared to the same period last year, it is by far the only market that has withstood the economic downturn. Paradoxically, Americans are also a significant presence, with 5,243 tourists: ten times more than Canadians.
Some of the other nationalities that have contributed include Spain, with a paltry 1,429 travelers—a welcome boost in this situation—and China, with 1,102. Argentina, which had been gaining travelers after an intense promotional campaign, also saw a significant increase. Now, in this impossible context, the number of travelers is no higher than last year, but it still represents a considerable sum given the situation in Russia and Canada: 1,622 travelers.
In this challenging environment, the regime is trying to maintain a positive image and is stirring up excitement for FitCuba international trade fair next week. The fair for the sector is traditionally held in Havana, but this year it will take place virtually, beginning on the 7th and 8th, from 9:00 am to 7:00 pm, and concluding with a special event on the 9th from Varadero, with free admission for the public.
According to the exultant official press, the event is “aimed at exceeding all expectations” and “hundreds of tour operators and travel agencies from around the world have confirmed their presence, including those who have never participated before.”
Registered participants can visit digital booths and watch presentations or compete in gastronomy and cocktails. However, judging by the figures, the most challenging aspect seems to be “gathering real-life experiences from customers who enjoy the destination during those days.”
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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.
“Nobody knows for certain where truth ends and where invention begins”
In Montevideo, in the late 1980s, one such story was making the rounds. / Imagen creada con inteligencia artificial
14ymedio, Milton Chanes, Berlin, 26 April 2026 — Every city holds stories that never appear on maps. Tales that survive the passage of time, whispered and retold, each version slightly altered—as if every storyteller adds something new or erases a detail. No one knows exactly where truth ends and invention begins. But that has never been the point.
In Montevideo, in the late 1980s, one such story was making the rounds.
Sundays had their own ritual. The sound of the newspaper hitting the door, the smell of fresh ink, the coffee just brewed. And among all its sections, there was one many people read almost out of habit—sometimes out of necessity, sometimes just out of curiosity: El Gallito Luis, the classified ads section of El País.
Everything could be found there.
From improbable job offers to forgotten objects, from strange services to ads that seemed written more on impulse than logic. It was, in a way, an intimate portrait of the city. People searching, selling, exchanging—trying to solve something.
That morning, Isabel flipped through the supplement without much attention. She turned the pages quickly, pausing only briefly on the occasional curious ad, until one—small and almost lost among the others—made her stop.
It wasn’t the car that caught her attention. She didn’t even know what a 500 SEL was. But she knew that something about that price, tied to that brand, was impossible.
She read it again. More slowly this time, as if the meaning might change upon repetition.
One dollar.
It didn’t even look like a typical typo. No missing zeros. No strange symbols. It was simply… one.
The ad didn’t stand out. It wasn’t bold, nor did it take up more space than the others. And yet, it carried something unsettling. Something that didn’t fit.
Isabel lifted her gaze from the paper, her brow slightly furrowed, as if trying to solve a silent riddle.
—Alberto… —she said, without taking her eyes off the ad—. Did you see this?
—See what?
—The Mercedes ad.
—Yes, I saw it. But that car isn’t worth one dollar —Alberto replied, trying to sound reasonable—. There must be a mistake.
Isabel looked at him calmly.
—I’m going to call the number.
—What for? It’s obviously an error. No one would sell a Mercedes-Benz for a dollar. Even wrecked, the parts alone would be worth more.
—It’s not wrecked. It says it’s in perfect condition —Isabel said, already dialing the number on the cordless phone.
Her husband shook his head in disbelief. When she got something into her head… continue reading
He had been planning nothing more than a quiet Sunday
—Good morning, ma’am.
—Good morning —a woman’s voice answered on the other end.
—I saw your ad in El Gallito Luis and was wondering if the car is still available.
Alberto lowered the newspaper slightly, trying to catch the conversation.
—Honestly, no one had called yet. I thought the ad hadn’t been published.
—Oh, it has. Don’t worry.
—Are you interested?
Alberto turned his head. Those phones carried sound in a way that left little to the imagination.
—Yes, we are. We could come see it. My husband will come with me.
Alberto pointed at himself, silently mouthing: Me? What do I have to do with this?
He had been planning nothing more than a quiet Sunday.
—Of course —the woman said—. But it has to be today.
—That’s fine. Would now work?
—Perfect.
—Give me your address and we’ll head over.
Alberto stared, incredulous at this spontaneous trip.
—Thank you, I’ve got it. We live almost an hour away. Is that alright?
—No problem. I’ll be waiting. Bring your IDs.
“Bring that lucky dollar bill you keep in your wallet. Maybe today it finally pays off.”
The line went dead.
Isabel took a deep breath. She had the feeling she was about to buy a Mercedes-Benz. She didn’t care what it looked like. It was a Mercedes. And for one dollar.
Alberto went back to his newspaper, still shaking his head.
—Come on, what are you doing? Get dressed, we’re going.
—You’re actually going to buy a Mercedes?
—We’re going to see it. Grab your ID. She asked us to bring documents.
—And the money?
—Bring that lucky dollar you keep in your wallet. Maybe today it finally pays off.
Still unconvinced, Alberto figured at least it would be a Sunday outing… and they set off toward Carrasco.
“She hadn’t imagined it would be something this beautiful.”
One hour later.
—There’s the house. What a house.
—We’re wasting our time. There’s no way it costs one dollar.
A woman came out to greet them.
—Good morning.
—Good morning, ma’am. We spoke on the phone. My name is Isabel, and this is my husband, Alberto.
—Nice to meet you. Please, come in —she said, gesturing for them to enter the front garden.
—So, you have a Mercedes-Benz for sale?
—Yes, it’s here in the garage. Come with me.
Alberto and Isabel exchanged a glance and followed her. She took her time opening the gate. There it was—the car, covered by a heavy, dark tarp.
—Could you help me? —she said, looking at Alberto.
—Yes, of course. Excuse me…
As they pulled the cover away, there it was: the stunning 1983 Mercedes-Benz 500 SEL.
Alberto couldn’t help but exclaim:
—Incredible! It’s an impressive car.
Isabel smiled, delighted. She hadn’t imagined it would be something this beautiful.
The woman ran her hand slowly across the hood, almost involuntarily.
—It was my husband’s favorite car. He took care of it like it was another child.
Alberto looked at her.
—Was?
—He passed away two weeks ago —she said, with a calmness that seemed rehearsed from repeating it so often—. A heart attack. It was very quick.
Isabel felt the garage shrink slightly.
—I’m very sorry, ma’am.
The woman nodded briefly, like someone accepting a condolence she had already heard too many times.
—Thank you. Thirty-four years of marriage.
A brief silence followed. Then the woman composed herself and looked at them with a polite smile.
—So, are you interested in the car?
—Of course —Isabel said.
—But this car isn’t worth one dollar —Alberto said, looking at the woman with a mix of confusion and caution—. There must be a mistake.
The woman shook her head gently.
—There’s no mistake. For me, that’s what it’s worth. One dollar.
Alberto let out a small, uncomfortable laugh.
—Ma’am… I’d gladly buy it, but I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you.
She held his gaze, firm.
—You’re not taking advantage of me. I’ve decided on that price. And besides… it’s important that the sale happens today. Tomorrow will be too late.
Isabel, who had been quietly observing until then, stepped forward.
—Why would tomorrow be too late?
The woman hesitated for a moment.
—It’s something between my husband and me. Let’s just say… if we wait until tomorrow, everything would be different.
That hint of mystery was enough to hook Isabel.
—Can you explain?
—Yes —she replied—. But first, you have to buy the car.
—For one dollar? —Alberto asked, incredulous.
—For one dollar.
“Everything seemed right. Too right.”
Without adding anything else, the woman opened the car door and took out a folder from the seat.
—Here you are —she said, handing it to them—. It’s a document prepared by my notary. All the vehicle details are there. The only thing missing is the buyer’s name.
Isabel took the folder and began reading carefully. It was a typical draft of a purchase agreement: vehicle identification, terms, method of payment… everything in order.
—But this isn’t a final document —she said.
—No, not yet —the woman replied—. You fill in your details, sign it, and then we’ll go to the notary. He’s a family friend. He can finalize the deed today.
Alberto frowned.
—And we won’t run into any problems?
—None at all —she said with complete certainty—. The sale will be entirely legal.
Isabel looked at the document again. The buyer’s line was blank.
She glanced at Alberto. He hesitated for a second… then finally nodded.
Isabel wrote her name and ID number. Alberto did the same. Both signed.
Alberto took the dollar out of his pocket and handed it to the woman.
She shook her head.
—No. You don’t need to pay me. You’ll give the payment to the notary.
She paused briefly.
—If that’s alright with you, I’ll gather my things, call him, and we can go right away. He lives very close.
—Yes… of course —Isabel replied.
The couple looked at each other, still in disbelief. Everything seemed in order. Too much in order.
But the doubt was still there.
“I could fight it. But I decided to respect his final wishes.”
Isabel couldn’t hold back.
—Excuse me… now that we’ve signed the document… could you tell us why you’re selling it at that price?
The woman looked at her in silence for a few seconds. Then she spoke.
—Of course.
She took a deep breath.
—My husband had a mistress.
The air seemed to stop.
—We found out on Thursday… during the reading of the will.
Alberto blinked, surprised.
—The will?
—Yes. He left me this house… and another smaller one in Piriápolis. To my children, he left money and other properties.
She paused, barely noticeable.
—The car, however, he left to her.
Isabel frowned.
—Then… shouldn’t it be hers?
The woman gave a faint, bitter smile.
—In fact, yes. But my husband —she added—, who wasn’t exactly brilliant… wrote that I was to sell the car and give her the money.
Alberto and Isabel exchanged a glance.
—I could challenge it —the woman continued—. I could fight it. But I decided to respect his final wishes.
She looked at them steadily.
—And one dollar… is exactly what she’s going to receive.
The silence stretched on.
No one said a word.
The woman closed the folder gently.
—Let’s go —she said—. The notary is waiting for us.
By Milton Chanes
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Cubalex warns that her physical and psychological integrity remains at risk despite the end of the protest
Góngora, sentenced to 14 years in prison, resorted to this extreme measure after nearly five years of repression since her incarceration. / Facebook
14ymedio, Havanam 24 Aril 2026 — Political prisoner Lizandra Góngora Espinosa, arrested for the Island-wide protests of 11 July 2021 [’11J’], ended her hunger and thirst strike on Friday. She had begun the strike on April 22nd at Los Colonos prison on the Isle of Youth, according to the Cuban legal organization Cubalex. The protest, which lasted 48 hours, was a response to the prison conditions, the lack of medical attention, and the prolonged isolation from her family.
Góngora, sentenced to 14 years in prison for her participation in the 11 July 2021 protests in Güira de Melena, resorted to this extreme measure after nearly five years of repression since her imprisonment. The hunger strike also constituted a direct response to statements by Cuban leader Miguel Díaz-Canel, who has denied the existence of political prisoners in the country.
The inmate herself announced the start of the protest to her family via a phone call from prison. Her decision generated immediate concern among human rights organizations due to the condition of her health. Góngora suffers from sickle cell anemia, a genetic disease that requires rigorous medical monitoring. Furthermore, during her incarceration, she has been diagnosed with a uterine fibroid that causes inflammation, intense pain, and bleeding. continue reading
The distance, coupled with the economic crisis and transportation limitations in Cuba, means that her family can barely visit her.
Prison authorities have systematically denied her a gynecological evaluation and the surgery she urgently needs. The lack of adequate facilities and medical staff has been the recurring argument used to justify the absence of treatment. Given this situation, her husband must use the few visits he is allowed to bring her basic painkillers to help her manage the pain. “Her physical and psychological well-being remains at risk,” the organization warned.
One of the main reasons for the complaint is her transfer in 2023 to Los Colonos prison, located on the Isle of Youth, far from her family in Artemisa. This measure has been punitive and has exacerbated her vulnerability. The distance, combined with the economic crisis and transportation limitations in Cuba, means that her family can only visit her every three or four months.
As a result, Góngora has not seen her children for more than four months, a situation that has severely damaged the family bond. The organization emphasizes that this type of separation contradicts international standards such as the Nelson Mandela Rules and the Bangkok Rules, which establish the need to place prisoners in facilities close to their homes, especially in the case of women with children.
The organization also warned about the risks faced by those who adopt these types of measures within the Cuban prison system.
The activist was sanctioned for the crimes of sabotage, public disorder, and sedition, charges that, according to Cubalex, do not correspond to her actions during the demonstrations and are intended to punish her for exercising her rights. Since her imprisonment, the organization has denounced a systematic violation of her fundamental rights, including harassment, reprisals, and precarious living conditions within the prison system.
The organization also warned about the risk faced by those who adopt this type of measure in the Cuban prison system, where strikes are often considered “indiscipline” and can lead to additional sanctions, including isolation.
Cubalex insisted that the Cuban state must guarantee adequate medical care, allow regular contact with her family, and cease all forms of reprisal. “Although she has ended her hunger strike, the underlying causes remain,” the organization reiterated.
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A second convoy made up of activists from Italy, Switzerland, Mexico and the USA is received in Havana with a welcoming ceremony
Michele Curto, organizer of the May Day convoy, during the welcoming ceremony in Havana. / Granma
14ymedio, Havana, April 25, 2026 — Cuba’s state press continues to enthusiastically celebrate the arrival of meager international donations as gestures of “solidarity” in the face of the crisis gripping the island. These handouts of so-called “international support” are hailed as if they could compensate for a deficit that the model has been grappling with for over half a century: the inability to generate genuine economic autonomy.
On April 22, Cuba received a second European convoy of “solidarity aid,” 28 days after the Nuestra América convoy, which was received with so much propaganda surrounding it that it leads one to wonder if more resources were allocated to its promotion than to effective aid for the Cuban population.
This second convoy, called Primero de Mayo [May Day] and organized by the Agency for Cultural and Economic Exchange with Cuba, led by the Italian activist and businessman Michele Curto – also president of the joint venture BioCubaCafé SA – was received with a welcoming ceremony at the headquarters of the Cuban Institute of Friendship with the Peoples (Icap) in Havana.
“You give Cubans a grain of sand and they give you back the beach,” said Michele Curto himself at the event when he was presented, continue reading
in gratitude, with the commemorative seal of the 65th Anniversary of ICAP.
The handouts of so-called “international aid” are celebrated as if they could make up for a deficit that the model has been grappling with for over half a century.
Fernando González Llort, president of ICAP, acknowledged that the donation’s “symbolic value is of paramount importance.” At the same ceremony, Deputy Minister of Public Health Julio Guerra Izquierdo said, regarding last month’s shipment: “Although it doesn’t cover all of Cuba’s healthcare needs, it’s an immense relief.”
According to the EFE news agency, the new convoy—comprised of activists from Italy, Switzerland, Mexico, and the United States—brought to Cuba “donations of food, medical supplies, and educational materials.” The news report published in the official state newspaper Granma provides no details about the specific contents of the aid, other than the phrase “50 boxes of supplies for the Public Health system, among other things.”
This Saturday, Cubadebatealso reported that Russia delivered to the Cuban government a humanitarian shipment prepared by the government of St. Petersburg “consisting of a batch of medicines destined for hospitals and clinics on the island.”
Official ceremony for the handover of medical supplies donated by the Government of St. Petersburg at the Russian Embassy in Cuba. / Cubadebate
The article omits specifying what types of medications were included, their quantity, or how they will be distributed within Cuba’s dilapidated healthcare system, but it does show images of the few cardboard boxes containing the donation. The article emphasizes the political and symbolic gesture of the modest aid provided by St. Petersburg.
The handover ceremony was held at the Russian Embassy in Cuba. Ambassador Viktor Koronelli, personally presenting the donation to Cuban Minister of Public Health José Ángel Portal Miranda, emphasized that “this is not simply an act of humanitarian aid, but a clear demonstration of the deep and historic bonds of friendship that unite our peoples.”
Koronelli also insisted that the current health crisis in Cuba is “a consequence of the economic, commercial and financial blockade imposed by the US” and reiterated Russia’s opposition “to any form” of external pressure on Cuba.
Yesterday, Friday, the media also celebrated China’s donation to Cuban sports “as part of the close ties of friendship between the People’s Republic of China and the Republic of Cuba.” Another official ceremony was held at the Higher School for the Training of High-Performance Athletes (Esfaar) to receive the donation.
The accumulation of these “gestures of solidarity” normalizes the dependence on external donations that do not even truly alleviate the essential sectors of the Island
“It is a gesture that goes beyond the sports equipment and items we received today: it is a manifestation of solidarity and trust between two sister nations,” said Gisleydi Sosa, director of international relations at the National Institute of Sports (Inder), at the ceremony.
Once again, the specific details of the shipment take a back seat to the narrative of international cooperation: “Cuba is not alone.”
The Cuban regime is a constant recipient of international aid, where each shipment is publicly applauded as a significant relief, and yet the population continues to suffer the same shortages.
Decades ago, the official media triumphantly celebrated the “overfulfillment” of meager national production plans, but now what is celebrated is the receipt of handouts. The accumulation of these “gestures of solidarity” normalizes dependence on external donations that don’t even truly alleviate the needs of the island’s essential sectors.
If previously the propaganda celebrated production goals, today it celebrates the arrival of foreign aid
After more than half a century of centralization, the Cuban economy has functioned solely on external subsidies, unable to finance its imports with its own exports. Thus, from its inception, it depended on massive Soviet subsidies—which between 1960 and 1990 reached tens of billions of dollars—and in the 21st century, it has been sustained by Venezuelan oil.
The collapse of each of these “sponsors” – the USSR in 1991; Venezuela since January 3rd – has led to profound crises that end up being paid for by the Cuban population, forced into “resistance” and “resilience” by vertical order of the State, showing that the problem is not “cyclical” but structural.
Current donations from Russia, China, and sectors of the international left do not represent a solution. They are limited-scope stopgap measures that do not correct the structural dysfunction of the Cuban economy or the lack of genuine productive autonomy. While propaganda previously celebrated production goals, today it celebrates the arrival of foreign aid.
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Plainclothes officers intercepted him in Marianao and beat him before taking him away in an unidentified vehicle.
The arrest comes after eight days of solitary protests from his balcony. / Screenshot / Facebook
Cuban mixed martial arts champion Javier Ernesto Martín Gutiérrez, known as Spiderman, was arrested this Friday in Havana after more than a week of peaceful, solitary protests against the country’s situation. According to independent journalist José Raúl Gallego, the young man was intercepted in Marianao by plainclothes officers who beat him before taking him away in an unmarked vehicle.
“They detained him on 90th Street between 41st and 43rd, near the Jesús Menéndez sports complex. They brutally beat him and took him away,” Gallego wrote on his social media, quoting the athlete’s family. The family says that, so far, they have not received any official information about his whereabouts or his condition.
The arrest occurred just hours after Martín posted a video of himself training. The scene—a black vehicle, plainclothes officers, and violence prior to the transfer—fits with documented patterns of detention against dissidents on the island.
The fighter denounced the economic crisis, accused the Cuban government and State Security, and demanded “Freedom!”
This Friday, the athlete’s sister, Yonexi Gutiérrez – a former political prisoner and resident of the US – posted a video denouncing that, despite the support on social media and media coverage, the young Gutiérrez was receiving no support on the island: “He’s been alone for a week. He does have support from those outside, but inside Cuba he has no one. Not even his own family: for some he’s crazy or a drug addict,” she stated in the video. continue reading
The arrest comes after eight days of solitary protests from the balcony of his home on 31st Avenue, across from the El Lido bus terminal. The fighter denounced the economic crisis, accused the Cuban government and State Security, and called for “Freedom!” with no company other than his cell phone and a mostly digital audience.
“The communist system is dead! Did you see State Security? It’s you! Look at yourselves! Nobody’s coming!” That’s what he shouted into the street in his videos, challenging the police to arrest him: “Come get me! Shoot me with whatever you want!”
“I’m not crazy, I’m tired”
In recent days, the athlete had denounced constant surveillance by State Security, including the presence of agents outside his home and direct pressure on his mother at her workplace. Even so, he maintained a defiant tone.
In response to attempts to discredit him for his behavior, he had replied in a video: “I’m not crazy, I’m tired,” and in response to the accusations, he insisted that he did not use drugs.
Activist Anamely Ramos had previously warned, while publicizing the athlete’s solitary protests, about a possible arrest that would expose the official discourse denying the existence of political repression in Cuba: “Are they going to hunt down this young man with their hordes of hired thugs? Know that if they do, the scandalous lie of the one who claims to be president will be even more exposed.”
Javier Ernesto Martín, nicknamed Spiderman, the Cuban Fighting League champion in the 135-pound division, had become an uncomfortable figure due to his denunciations and for staging an individual protest without organization or permission. His violent disappearance is yet another example of the intensified repression by the regime that has been unleashed this year in response to popular discontent against the Cuban government.
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The healthcare system is using modified screws to compensate for the lack of basic supplies in fracture surgeries.
To obtain suitable materials, families turn to the informal market, where a single piece can cost over 10,000 pesos.
“The country has been unable to acquire these screws for some time,” admits Dr. Audrey Gutiérrez López. / Cubadebate
14ymedio, Madrid, April 25, 2026 — The story of the 4.5-millimeter cortical screw “adapted” in Sancti Spíritus has been presented by Cuba’s official propaganda as a feat of medical ingenuity. But, upon closer examination, the news describes a healthcare system incapable of guaranteeing a basic orthopedic supply and forced to transform one implant into another in order to operate on hip fractures. Are we witnessing a true medical innovation or a desperate measure, technically risky and politically disguised as an achievement?
Dr. Audrey Gutiérrez López himself, when consulted by media outlets in Sancti Spíritus, frankly acknowledged that “the country has been unable to acquire these screws for some time.” He also admitted that “surgeries were suspended for a period in many provinces” and that “currently, many provinces are not performing surgeries because the screws are unavailable.” State media, however, avoid focusing on the disruption of surgeries due to the lack of a standard device and prefer to present the solution to the shortage as an “ingenious achievement” of Cuban science.
The solution described involves taking a cancellous bone screw—specifically designed to be fixed in cancellous bone, the softer, more porous inner layer of bone—and machining its smooth shank to convert it into a 4.5 mm cortical screw—designed to be fixed in cortical bone, the harder, more compact outer layer of bone. The doctor insists that “we are not creating a new material” and that it is merely “an adaptation.” But from the perspective of implant safety, that distinction is fragile.
Cancellous bone screw and adapted 4.5 mm cortical screw. / Cubadebate
A Cuban surgeon consulted by this newspaper emphasizes the importance of materials. “There is reason to be alarmed,” warns the specialist, who is based in Spain. “Steel for use in human surgical procedures is a special type of steel, with a specific composition, and is subject to specific regulations that must meet minimum standards. In fact, the current trend is for surgical steel devices to be temporary. For more complex and permanent continue reading
procedures, titanium is preferred.”
The question, therefore, is not whether the original screw was biocompatible, but whether after being machined, threaded, polished and sterilized it retains the properties required for an implant subjected to load within the bone.
Contemporary orthopedics has learned, sometimes at a high human cost, that no implantable material should be assumed to be safe by analogy. Even industrially manufactured technologies used in countries with robust regulatory systems can reveal harm in the medium term. These experiences compel us to view with greater caution a surgical screw remanufactured in Cuba from another implant, given the lack of publicly available independent studies on fatigue, corrosion, sterility, biocompatibility, and clinical follow-up studies.
Another specialist—this time European—who also spoke with 14ymedio, admits he doesn’t understand the reason for this innovation. “Rather than bold, it seems reckless to me,” he says. “I struggle to understand why they are doing it; I suppose it’s due to the limitations of the embargo,” although he admits he’s not familiar with the Cuban context. Finally, he asks: “Don’t they always say in Cuba that they’re a medical powerhouse?”
Nor does the embargo argument, alone, does not support the official explanation.
However, the embargo argument alone does not support the official explanation. US sanctions complicate payments, banking, insurance, logistics, and suppliers, but they do not absolutely prohibit the export of medical devices to Cuba. Section 746.2 of the US Code of Federal Regulations states that exports of medicines and medical devices to Cuba “shall generally be approved,” except for specific exceptions.
Furthermore, the 4.5 mm cortical screw is neither an exotic nor an unattainable component on the international market. In India, 4.5 mm cortical screws are offered from 35 rupees (US$0.40) per unit by some wholesale suppliers. Other Indian manufacturers offer them for 50 rupees per piece. In secondary markets or among Western distributors, Synthes 4.5 mm screws appear for US$7, US$10, US$12, US$20, or US$31, depending on length, brand, condition, and channel. Even in the European veterinary sector, 4.5 mm screws are sold for around €5 per unit. These are reference prices—they may vary depending on certification, sterility, supplier, volume, freight, and regulatory procedures—but they are sufficient to show that this is neither a rare nor prohibitively expensive technology.
Meanwhile, families in Cuba end up buying the same materials on the black market. Gutiérrez López himself acknowledges this: “Many families have to go out and buy this type of osteosynthesis material on the black market.” And he adds that others “can’t,” so “they can’t operate on their patient.” He also admits that the screw reached a price of more than 10,000 pesos on the informal market.
“You can’t treat a human hip like you treat the boiler of a thermoelectric plant.”
A third specialist consulted by this newspaper, this time within Cuba, empathizes with his colleagues in Sancti Spíritus and their search for solutions, but maintains his reservations. “You can’t treat a human hip like you treat a thermoelectric boiler,” the doctor warns. “Modifying the geometry of a surgical screw changes the surface, the thread, the stress concentration points, the fatigue behavior, the interaction with the plate and bone, and potentially the resistance to corrosion and contamination.”
“The risks to the patient are real,” the specialist asserts. “Calling a hastily adapted screw a ‘wonder’ or a ‘miracle’ is, at the very least, irresponsible.”
International literature also offers reasons to be wary of these practices. A classic study on fatigue failures in cortical screws found that all the screws analyzed failed at the root of the thread, precisely a critical area when the thread of an implant is machined or altered.
Another study on reprocessed pedicle screws found corrosion, grease, soap, and other contaminants in implants that had undergone reprocessing cycles. The authors warned that these residues could contribute to surgical site infections or inflammatory responses.
The official account speaks of “patients operated on so far,” but does not present a single documented clinical case.
What independent validation exists regarding the threading, polishing, cleaning, passivation, sterilization, mechanical strength, and biocompatibility of these adapted screws?
Cuban official sources mention Tecal, in Camagüey, as a company involved in the production of prostheses and implants, and highlight that it manufactures partial hip prostheses as part of an import substitution policy. It has also been reported that the Ministry of Public Health, the Union of Military Industries, universities, and the Center for State Control of Medicines, Equipment and Medical Devices participated in the partial prosthesis project, and that the regulator authorized the exceptional use of this prosthesis in November 2022. However, exceptional authorization for a prosthesis does not automatically equate to independent certification for converting cancellous screws into cortical screws.
The official narrative speaks of “patients operated on so far,” but it doesn’t present a single documented clinical case that would allow for evaluating results, follow-up, or the safety of the procedure. The ultimate question isn’t whether surgeons are trying to save lives with these solutions. Obviously, they are. The question is why a country turns a basic deficiency into a propaganda epic.
Screwing bolts in military facilities to resume surgeries demonstrates that we’re not dealing with technological sovereignty, but rather with a supply collapse, regulatory opacity, and the transfer of risk to the patient’s body.
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The poll, presented by ‘El Toque’, attempts to capture the diversity of positions inside and outside the island at a key moment
With 32 questions, the survey seeks to gather opinions on sensitive issues such as the legitimacy of the political system. / 14ymedio
14ymedio, Havana, 25 April 2026 — The independent media outlet El Toque launched a survey this week targeting Cubans inside and outside the island to gauge opinions on the country’s political and social situation, at a time marked by the government’s decline, talks between Havana and Washington, and threats of increased US pressure on the regime.
The initiative, driven by an alliance of more than 20 independent media outlets, content creators, and civil society actors, is coordinated by journalists and social scientists. Its promoters assure that the aggregated data will be published for independent scrutiny.
The survey, with 32 questions, seeks to gather opinions on sensitive issues such as the legitimacy of the political system, the role of key national actors, the US embargo, the private sector, emigration, leadership, and possible solutions to the Cuban crisis. Unlike informal polls circulating on social media, this survey claims to employ mechanisms to prevent duplicate responses, protect anonymity, and organize the data for later analysis.
Miguel Díaz-Canel’s declarations provoked a flood of polls on Facebook, X and other platforms
The consultation comes after Miguel Díaz-Canel’s recent declarations in an interview with NBC News, in which he rejected the possibility of stepping down. “Resigning continue reading
is not part of our vocabulary,” the president stated. He also maintained: “If the Cuban people believe I am incapable… that I do not represent them, then they are the ones who must decide whether I should continue in this role.”
His words triggered a flood of polls on Facebook, X, and other platforms. Although these polls lack methodological rigor, their results have repeatedly shown a majority rejection of the president’s administration.
The proposal from ‘El Toque’ introduces a tool with greater rigor and ambition
In this context, El Toque attempts to offer a more structured measurement of a discontent that, until now, has been expressed in a scattered manner in the digital sphere. The value of this endeavor lies not only in its future results but also in its attempt to fill a void. In Cuba, measuring political opinion outside of official structures remains a difficult practice, vulnerable to mistrust, fear, and connectivity limitations.
Not all Cubans have equal access to the internet or the same willingness to answer political questions. However, faced with the noise of social media and the lack of reliable public data, El Toque‘s proposal introduces a more rigorous and ambitious tool.
The project aims to gather around 10,000 responses by May 1st. While awaiting the results, the survey is shaping up to be a relevant barometer for gauging the mood in a country where discontent is no longer confined to private conversations.
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The jury unanimously voted for a work that criticizes US immigration policy towards Cuba.
Cuban researcher and diplomat Rodney González Maestrey at the Casa de las Américas award ceremony. / Casa de las Américas/Facebook
14ymedio, Havana, April 25, 2026 — The Casa de las Américas 2026 Prize in the Historical-Social Essay category was awarded yesterday, Friday, to Cuban researcher Rodney Amaury González Maestrey – a diplomat from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs – for his book Chronicle of a Crisis Foretold: The Migration Policy of the United States towards Cuba (1960-2024).
On receiving the award, the author explained that his essay seeks to be “an instrument for the redemption of many divided families, shattered dreams, lives literally drowned” by what he described as a policy aimed at “drowning, truncating, dividing and discrediting.”
From the Cuban Foreign Ministry’s profile, the award was celebrated with an official publication, in which the ministry describes the award as an “achievement that transcends the individual and honors all of Cuban revolutionary diplomacy,” and highlights this result “as an expression of the capacity of our cadres to defend, also through reflection and research, the just causes of our people.”
The award highlighted that the text “provides a comprehensive and careful historical overview, whose temporal coverage provides key elements for critical thinking” on the characteristics of migratory flows.
The ministry describes the award as an “achievement that transcends the individual and honors all of Cuban revolutionary diplomacy.”
The jury – made up of Paula Klachko (Argentina), Darío Salinas Figueredo (Mexico) and Marlene Vázquez Pérez (Cuba) – has had to meet virtually due to the energy crisis on the Island and has not been able to meet in Havana, as has been the tradition in previous editions, with the sole exception of the period of the covid-19 pandemic.
Abel Prieto, former Minister of Culture and current president of Casa de las Américas, also celebrated the news with a brief post, in which he mentions that the award-winning essay addresses more than six decades of migration policy from the administration of Dwight Eisenhower to that of Donald Trump. continue reading
The award-winning author expressed his gratitude for the award on his social media and acknowledged “the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the US General Directorate for having entrusted me with the responsibility of studying the complex migratory relations between Cuba and the US between 2015 and 2018.”
Meanwhile, the Testimonial Literature Prize was awarded to Salvadoran author Carlos Santos for Dr. Muerte: Confesiones (Dr. Death: Confessions ), a work focused on the assassination of Bishop Óscar Arnulfo Romero. The jury described it as a “sustained investigation” that reveals the meaning of paramilitary violence in El Salvador. The jury’s decision highlighted the work as a denunciation written in solid and precise language “that goes straight to the heart of the complexities of the human psyche and heart, without embellishment or sugarcoating.”
The jury members also awarded a mention in the testimonial genre to the book El laberinto de la mariposa [The Butterfly Labyrinth], by the Ecuadorian Juan Pablo Castro.
Founded in 1959, Casa de las Américas became one of the main instruments of cultural projection of the Cuban State in Latin America
Founded in 1959, Casa de las Américas became one of the Cuban state’s main instruments for cultural outreach in Latin America. Its literary prize gained prestige by recognizing important authors from the continent, but always within an ideological sphere close to the regime.
Throughout its history, the institution has combined a genuine effort to promote culture with a political function of legitimizing, from the intellectual field, the narratives of the Cuban government and consolidating a network of affinities with writers and intellectuals aligned – or at least not in confrontation – with the government.
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“Every day I spend in prison is another day trying to make my country freer and fairer,” the artist and political prisoner told ‘The New York Times’.
The artist shares his story and questions the official narrative about the regime’s supposed current political opening. / Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara
Artist and activist Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara, imprisoned after the July 2021 protests, published a testimonial in The New York Times this Friday, in which he recounts his experience in prison and his confrontation with the Cuban regime through art. The article comes on the same day that a supposed US ultimatum to Cuba to release high-profile political prisoners, such as himself, expires.
Otero Alcántara recounts his story in the article and challenges the official narrative about the regime’s supposed current political opening. From his perspective as an imprisoned artist, the testimony summarizes how the state attempts to maintain its control on power despite pressure from the United States and demands from international organizations to end the criminalization of dissent.
The article confronts the announcement—cynically called by Díaz-Canel a “humanitarian and sovereign gesture”—of the release of 2,010 prisoners, from whom those who have committed “crimes against authority” have been explicitly excluded. “In other words, it didn’t extend to me,” writes the artist and political prisoner.
Otero Alcántara recalls that his sentence ends in July of this year, although he is skeptical about his release: “I don’t know if they will allow me to be free, nor what will happen to me or to my country.”
I do know that when the government says that Cuba’s political system is not open to debate, it is almost certain that political dissent will not be decriminalized.
“But I do know that when the Government says that Cuba’s political system is not subject to debate in possible negotiations with the US, it is almost certain that political dissent will not be decriminalized and that people like me will continue to go to jail,” he writes.
Otero Alcántara emphasizes that his imprisonment is just one of hundreds of cases of criminalizing dissent, in which expressions of critical opinion against the government end in criminal convictions. He recounts how the legal framework has hardened against freedom of expression since the 11 July 2021 Island-wide protests.
The artist was then convicted of “contempt” and “public disorder,” legal terms with ambiguous boundaries that allow for the punishment of political positions. Since 2022, the Penal Code has incorporated the charge of “propaganda against the constitutional order,” used to imprison citizens who express themselves in ways as diverse as putting up anti-government posters or publishing their critical opinions on social media.
The author points to these mechanisms of repression to refute the insistence of the regime and its president, Miguel Díaz-Canel, that there are no political prisoners in Cuba and that any citizen can freely express their opinion.
The most important thing is that they let me paint. It’s what’s kept me alive. That’s why the guards let me do it, so I don’t become a martyr.
Artwork by Otero Alcántara, used to illustrate the NYT article, from the series ‘Still Life: Turning Violence into Art’. / Studio of Luis Manuel Otero
Alcántara continues recounting his artistic and activist journey, describing how the government escalated its harassment until culminating in his five-year prison sentence: from his performances against Decree 349—a law that restricted freedom of expression in the cultural sphere—to the 2018 founding of the San Isidro Movement, comprised of artists, journalists, and academics who demanded greater civil liberties on the island. Alcántara’s activism is widely known internationally—he was included in Time magazine’s 2021 list of the 100 most influential people —but the artist revisits it now in his testimony for the readers of the New York publication.
The text devotes several paragraphs to describing daily life in Guanajay prison, emphasizing the poor food and monotony. The artist notes that he is aware of being a “privileged” prisoner, since his case has international visibility, which limits the abuses and mistreatment that have been documented in the Cuban prison system.
“The most important thing is that they allow me to paint. It’s what has kept me alive. I think the State knows that if I couldn’t make art, I would die, and that’s why the guards let me do it, so I wouldn’t become a martyr,” the artist writes.
An anti-government post on social media can land a person behind bars.
Inside Guanajay prison—where he is surrounded by both political and common prisoners—the inmates have created, according to Alcántara, “a space where people can get along,” which is very different from the atmosphere in other prisons on the island. “I know the guards aren’t to blame for me being here. Our destructive and dysfunctional political system isn’t their fault,” he writes.
“But the system remains,” the artist states, pointing out how, with the tightening of the Penal Code against dissent, “an anti-government post on social media can land a person in jail.” He adds that this situation has led to a mass emigration of artists, activists, and independent journalists, who have found themselves restricted from expressing themselves freely on the island.
“The government is still afraid of people like me, who haven’t been afraid to challenge the authority of the state,” says Otero Alcántara. “Even as conditions here have worsened under US pressure, it has made it clear that its hold on power is non-negotiable.”
“The government has made it clear that its hold on power is non-negotiable.”
The activist also describes how the regime has denied him any kind of leniency: eligibility for parole, sentence reductions, or house arrest, among others. To express his resistance and show that he has not succumbed to attempts to break his will, the artist reminds readers: “I don’t know how many hunger strikes I’ve already done to express myself.”
He adds, however, that his survival and creative work within the prison can serve as an example of “hope and sacrifice” for other Cubans. “I see it as an exchange of my time, as if each day I spend in prison isn’t a wasted day, but another day trying to make my country freer and more just.”
The author mentions in the article that the publication was made possible thanks to the mediation of the Cuban artist Coco Fusco.
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April 27 marks the 55th anniversary of the event, which was a true watershed moment, a turning point, both inside and outside the Island.
Padilla gives up his seat to State Security Lieutenant Armando Quesada, who “corrects” Norberto Fuentes’s statement. In the background, José Antonio Portuondo. / Screenshot
14ymedio, San Salvador, Federico Hernández Aguilar, 23 April 2026 — When night falls on April 27, it will mark 55 years since the most despicable event that Castro’s totalitarian regime carried out on Cuban art and culture: the sadly famous “self-criticism” of the poet Heberto Padilla (1932-2000) before a group of prominent members of the Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba (Uneac), after spending 37 days in prison accused of holding critical views against the Revolution. [Transcript, in English, here.]
The Padilla Case (as it has been known ever since) was a true watershed moment, a breaking point, both on and off the island. Authors who until then had remained steadfast in their support of the revolutionary process suddenly and painfully understood that Castroism was no better than Stalinism in its tolerance of intelligent dissent and creative disapproval. Even those who remained loyal to Caribbean socialism, whether out of emotion or pragmatism, began to question how far Cuba had gone in imposing limits on art and culture within its supposedly democratic system.
And it is not as if there had been a lack of warnings, of course. Besides the infamous speech of June 1961 in which Fidel Castro made clear how he conceived the “responsibility” of artists and intellectuals within the framework of the historical project he led —“…Within the Revolution, everything; against the Revolution, nothing”— it is sometimes forgotten that quite some time before, in October 1959, the Film Study and Classification Commission had been formed, attached to the Cuban Institute of Cinematographic Art and Industry (ICAIC), an entity that began to censor films considered “problematic” because of their content.
In October 1959, the Film Study and Classification Commission was formed, attached to the Cuban Institute of Cinematographic Art and Industry (ICAIC), an entity that began to censor films considered “problematic” due to their content.
Works such as Alberto Roldán’s Una vez en el puerto (Once in the Port) and Fausto Canel’s Un poco más de azul (A Little More Blue ) were banned from distribution on the island in 1964. Roldán’s film was banned because it realistically documented life in Havana’s seaside neighborhoods, while Canel’s film addressed the ever-sensitive topic of exile. Both filmmakers, of course, suffered the consequences of their “reactionary” actions: they were expelled from ICAIC (the Cuban Institute of Cinematographic Art and Industry), which they had helped found, their freedom of expression was restricted, and they ultimately left Cuba. (Roldán died in Miami in 2014 at the age of 81, and Canel lived in France and Spain before settling in the United States, where he currently resides.)
The hardest blow to creative freedom, however, was the one suffered in 1961 by the documentary PM by Orlando Jiménez Leal and Sabá Cabrera Infante, banned and confiscated by the authorities, who accused it of offering “a biased portrayal of Havana’s nightlife” because, “far from giving the viewer a correct vision of the existence of the Cuban people in this revolutionary stage, it impoverished, distorted, and misrepresented it…” It was precisely in the wake of the scandal caused by the condemnation of this short film, barely 14 minutes long, that Fidel Castro himself brandished his fearsome “ Words to the Intellectuals.” continue reading
The regime’s terrifying “all or nothing” approach found its next victim in Heberto Padilla, whose excellent poetry collection, Fuera del juego (Out of the Game), had been recognized by the UNEAC (somewhat reluctantly) with the 1968 National Prize. Despite having received the award by unanimous decision of the jury, the organization made a strange “statement” indicating that the book would be published—along with Antón Arrufat’s in the theater category—with a note “expressing its disagreement” because they considered them “ideologically opposed to our revolution (sic).”
Three years later, in January 1971, Padilla dared to give a reading at the UNEAC (National Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba) of his new book, Provocaciones (Provocations ). And indeed, his attitude was considered provocative. A few weeks later, on March 20, Heberto and his wife, the writer Belkis Cuza Malé, were arrested by State Security agents and taken to the Villa Marista prison. The charge against them was “subversive activities against the government.”
“Did you think you were untouchable, the rebel artist…?” Padilla recalled the henchmen saying to him in prison. “Did you think we were going to forgive all your counterrevolutionary shenanigans?”
“Did you think you were untouchable, the rebel artist…?” Padilla recalled the henchmen saying to him in prison. “Did you think we were going to forgive all your counterrevolutionary shenanigans?” After the brutal interrogation, during which the poet was beaten, he awoke in a military hospital where he received an unexpected visit from Fidel himself. “Yes,” Heberto says in Bad Memory (1989), “we had time to talk, or for him to talk and expound to his heart’s content, and shit on all the literature in the world.”
The writer was then “suggested” that he draft a lengthy text listing his “errors,” a document he recited from memory 55 years ago at that private meeting at the UNEAC (National Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba). The recorded material of this “self-criticism” finally came to light in 2022, when Cuban filmmaker Pavel Giroud rescued it and used it to create an extraordinary documentary titled The Padilla Case, which was nominated for several prestigious film awards.
At this time, the three and a half hours of the writer’s confession can be viewed on YouTube, something I would recommend to anyone who wants to delve deeper into the censorship processes that Castroism instituted to turn art into propaganda and writers into obligated spokespeople for a revolution that ended up devouring their illusions.
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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.
One doesn’t need to hold any position to represent true power
Internal struggles to eliminate competitors, gain influence, or secure exclusive patronage have always been intense. / EFE/ Ernesto Mastrascusa
14ymedio, Yunior García Aguilera, Madrid, April 23, 2026 — It is true that power in Cuba is no longer as concentrated as before, that command has fragmented, and that the country seems to have moved from absolute verticalism to a kind of collective management of disaster. Today, more operators, more layers, more intermediaries, and more sectoral elites are visible than in the years of classic Fidel Castroism. But this does not imply that power has ceased to be concentrated. Management has fragmented, but what has not fragmented is command. And that command, even today, still points to a single name and his inner circle: Raúl Castro.
The Cuban regime no longer functions as it did in the years when the bearded leader monopolized the discourse and transformed every governing problem into an extension of his personal will. That model, for both biological and historical reasons, is exhausted. In its place has emerged another architecture, less charismatic and more bureaucratic. But opacity does not equate to a distribution of power. The fact that today the administrators of the apparatus, the trusted technocrats, the military-businessmen, the guards, and the ideological commissars have a greater presence in public affairs does not mean that they all carry equal weight or that they collectively decide the strategic direction of the system.
This nuance corrects the illusion that true power simply erodes through attrition. Sometimes the opposite occurs. The disappearance of the founding leadership opens the door to new, more discreet concentrations of power. In Cuba, authority no longer needs to appear as frequently as before to maintain its monopoly on power.
Raúl Castro unquestionably determines when to set limits, order successions, or bless high-risk contacts
Last March, in the midst of negotiations with the United States, Miguel Díaz-Canel was quick to emphasize that the talks were being led by him — with an almost anxious emphasis on that “by me”—along with Raúl Castro and other officials. The inflection in his voice betrayed more than it clarified. It seemed to reflect the increasingly widespread perception that he plays a largely decorative role, not truly occupying the center of power. His formal titles—President of the Republic and First Secretary of the Communist Party—are not enough to dispel that suspicion. Even less so when, at those same crucial moments, the presence of Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, Raúl’s grandson and bodyguard, served as a reminder that the truly sensitive areas of power still revolve around the old inner circle, and that no official position is necessary to represent the true authority.
In fact, when one looks at where Raúl Castro appears, he always appears in the decisive position. He unquestionably determines when to set limits, order successions, or bless high-risk contacts. It was he, and no one else, who chose Díaz-Canel for all his posts and who has allowed him to remain there. It was also he who proposed indefinitely postponing the Party congress scheduled for 2026, and then the Central Committee unanimously approved the proposal. To call that “collective leadership” requires a rather generous imagination. continue reading
And yet, that is precisely the formula that Díaz-Canel repeats. Last April 12, in the interview with NBC, he said that the leadership of the Revolution was not “personalized in one person” and affirmed “we have a collective leadership,” with unity, cohesion, revolutionary discipline, and hundreds of people capable of assuming responsibilities and making decisions collectively.
In Cuba there is collective administration, yes, but in the sense that an apparatus distributes functions, not in the sense that it distributes ultimate command. The collegiality serves to share responsibilities, so that several cadres bear the weight of deterioration and so that no one appears indispensable on the surface. But when the matter touches on the regime’s security, the relationship with Washington, or the architecture of succession, the system does not revert to a horizontal collective; it gravitates once again toward the intimate center where family, security, and historical trust converge.
Outside the family, all those who occupy these positions of micro-power do so precariously. They can disappear with the snap of a finger.
During the thaw with Obama, the key player was Alejandro Castro Espín, Raúl’s son, who was then linked to the national security apparatus. And now, all eyes are on Raúl Guillermo, known as El Congrejo, [The Crab]. In other words, when Washington wants to know who to talk to so that a conversation isn’t just a formality, it ends up reaching into the orbit of the Castro family and their most trusted contacts.
The same thing happens within the country. There are, of course, the administrators of the apparatus: Díaz-Canel, Roberto Morales Ojeda, Manuel Marrero, governors, ministers, and Party secretaries. There are the reliable technocrats, promoted to manage critical areas without altering the logic of command. There are the military businessmen, heirs to the economic power concentrated for years in Gaesa and in the circle of the late López-Calleja, Raúl Castro’s son-in-law and father of El Cangrejo.
But outside the family, all those who occupy these positions of micro-power do so precariously. They can disappear with the snap of a finger. The list of officials, cadres, and technocrats wiped off the political map is too long for this space, but a quick glance reveals inevitable patterns. No matter how high an administrator has climbed within the system, nothing protects them from a swift fall. There are the cases of Arnaldo Ochoa, José Abrantes, and the de la Guardia brothers, but also, on a different scale and at a different time, those of Carlos Lage, Felipe Pérez Roque, and Alejandro Gil.
No one is certain that Donald Trump will drastically end Castroism
Nor is the supposed “unity” within the power structures real. In the digital-propaganda sphere, the irreconcilable differences between Iroel Sánchez and Abel Prieto were well known. Internal struggles to eliminate competitors, gain influence, or secure exclusive patronage have always been intense. Today, the battle for the narrative is not only cultural; it also involves surveillance, defamation, mobilizing alliances, and managing fear.
Cuban power no longer takes the simple form of the one-man rule of previous decades. But when Fidel Castro died, everyone knew who his successor was. Now, new concentrations of power have emerged, various groups that manage different parts of the system, while a small core retains the ability to dictate the essentials. The big question is what will happen when Raúl Castro physically disappears.
No one can be certain that Donald Trump will drastically end Castro’s regime. But even surviving his threats, the regime doesn’t seem capable of sustaining itself indefinitely. If social and external pressure continues, it is unlikely anyone will be able to demonstrate sufficient credentials to proclaim themselves the legitimate heir to the dictatorial power. And that moment is inevitably approaching at full speed.
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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.
Lizandra Góngora declares a hunger strike in protest against Díaz-Canel’s statement that there are no political prisoners
Jonathan Muir tells his parents that bedbugs are keeping him awake in prison. / Facebook
14ymedio, Madrid, April 23, 2026 — “Dad, please get me out of here, I can’t take it anymore.” With these words, Jonathan Muir Burgos called his parents from Canaleta prison (Ciego de Ávila) on Wednesday, at almost 2:00 a.m. The 16-year-old, arrested for participating in the massive demonstration in the town of Morón on March 13, is desperate due to the appalling conditions in the prison, where he is being held awaiting trial.
According to his father, Pastor Elier Muir, in a video shared by fellow evangelical pastor Mario Félix Lleonart, he and his wife received the call from the young man at that hour because bedbugs were keeping him awake. “They’re infesting my skin, and I feel like my brain isn’t going to take it anymore,” Muir quoted his son as saying. “I wrap myself in the sheets, and even then, the bites won’t let me sleep day or night.”
The pastor fears for his son’s health not only because of the wounds the parasites, which he says are proliferating in the new cell where he has been transferred, might cause, but also because of the meager food the boy receives. “They give him a pittance, enough to fit in a six- or eight-ounce disposable cup, at four in the afternoon, and then he doesn’t see anything else until five-thirty or six in the morning,” the father says.
“They give him food, meager, which all fits in a disposable six- or eight-ounce cup, at four in the afternoon, and then he doesn’t see anything else until five thirty or six in the morning.”
The provisions that the family brought him on their last visit, he continues, “have already run out,” because “he shares them with the five prisoners who are there with him, just as the others share with him, but they have nothing left.”
Accompanying the video that disseminates Muir’s message, Lleonart wrote: “A sick minor, subjected to this cruel treatment simply for participating in a peaceful protest asking for food, light, and freedom. This is state torture,” while demanding his “immediate release” and “urgent medical attention.” continue reading
On April 9, the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) sent an official request to the Cuban government demanding urgent information on the situation of the minor. The request, addressed to Foreign Minister Bruno Rodríguez, gave the State five days to respond regarding Jonathan Muir’s detention conditions, his state of health, and the measures taken to guarantee his safety.
The IACHR clarified that this request did not imply a decision on granting such measures, but stressed the urgency of verifying the adolescent’s situation. The request was made following a petition for precautionary measures filed by the organization Cuba Decide.
The strike, this family member explained, seeks “to demonstrate that there are indeed people imprisoned for political reasons and to demand respect for her status as a political prisoner.”
The number of women and minors arrested has grown “significantly,” Prisoners Defenders denounces, saying it demonstrates “a significant increase in repression also against vulnerable groups and a devastating impact on entire families.”
Faced with this reality, and amid pressure and contacts between the US and Cuba, the regime has continued to deny the existence of political prisoners in recent weeks, whose release is one of the requirements of the ultimatum given by the Trump administration to Havana, which expires this weekend.
It was precisely in response to President Miguel Díaz-Canel’s statements to NBC that political prisoner Lizandra Góngora, sentenced to 14 years in prison—the longest sentence imposed on a woman for participating in the July 11, 2021 protests—declared a hunger strike this Wednesday. She is being held in Los Colonos prison on the Isle of Youth.
Her husband, Ángel Delgado, explained this to Martí Noticias, which also reported on the words of the opposition leader’s cousin Ariel Góngora, in a Facebook Live broadcast. The hunger strike, this relative explained, aims “to demonstrate that there are indeed people imprisoned for political reasons and to demand respect for her status as a political prisoner.”
Ariel Góngora holds the Cuban regime responsible for any consequences to his cousin’s health and points out that she is not the only prisoner protesting in this way. He cited the example of Jesús Véliz Marcano, also imprisoned since the 11 July 2021 Island-wide protests, in his case in Camagüey, who this Thursday marks nine days of a hunger strike in solitary confinement.
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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.
14ymedio, Havana, April 27, 2026 — The online survey promoted by the independent media outlet El Toque —supported by more than 20 independent media outlets and coordinated by journalists and social scientists—to gauge opinions on the country’s political and social situation has exceeded initial expectations. In less than three days, it has already accumulated more than 29,200 responses, well above the 10,000 projected by the closing date of May 1.
