What must they be thinking in Washington and Moscow about the bovine logistics introduced by Havana in the “war of all the people”?
14ymedio,Yunior García Aguilera, Madrid, April 11, 2026 – Social media of the regime have once again delivered one of those scenes conceived halfway between parody, mockery, and Cuban-style ridicule. In the videos of defense preparations circulating this Saturday, several half-malnourished uniformed men deploy around a rural house, crouch down, take positions, and simulate a military operation with the seriousness of someone who believes they are participating in the prelude to the Normandy landings. Except that in the middle of the scene, a camouflaged cart bursts in, pulled by a pair of oxen, as if it were a secret, decisive, and impregnable weapon.
In some Pentagon office, one imagines U.S. generals watching the videos in silence, first with confusion, then rewinding them to make sure they are not looking at a meme, and finally wondering whether it is a military exercise or a Gaesa agricultural fair. Perhaps one of them has concluded that there is no need to deploy drones, satellites, or precision missiles against an adversary that still seems to fight its battles in the Middle Ages.
On the other side, it is also easy to imagine the discomfort of Havana’s allies. In Moscow, perhaps someone has looked away to avoid admitting that, after sending weapons, oil, and political support, the great showcase of Cuban “resistance” ends up making such blunders. Even in Tehran, perhaps some strategist has thought that, following the same logic, the Strait of Hormuz could be closed with a pair of barracudas, three sharks, and a boat covered with dry grass.
It’s one thing is to improvise in a ruined country and quite another to turn precariousness into military doctrine
While the world discusses autonomous drones, electronic jamming systems, highly precise guided missiles, and wars fought thousands of miles away through screens, satellites, and sensors, in Cuba the defensive epic seems to continue relying on bovine logistics. The ox, slow and completely alien to the rhetoric of the “imperial enemy,” thus enters the cast of the “war of all the people.”
There will be no shortage of those who say it is ingenuity, adaptation to shortages, or a display of “creative resistance.” But it’s one thing to improvise in a ruined country and quite another to turn precariousness into military doctrine and, on top of that, to showcase it. In the images, soldiers run around, smear their faces with mud, cover themselves with grass and bushes, as if thermal weapons, night vision, and satellite surveillance had not yet been discovered.
What is laughable, however, stops being amusing when the context is observed. Since January, after the capture of Nicolás Maduro and the cutoff of Venezuelan oil shipments, the Cuban regime has intensified its military maneuvers and the staging of defense exercises. In parallel, the energy crisis has worsened to extremes that affect daily life, the electrical grid, and essential services.
That is where the oxen from Villa Clara come into the scene, not as a tactical innovation, but as a prop resource to disguise waste
The Russian tanker Anatoly Kolodkin arrived with about 730,000 barrels of crude, a limited amount whose real dilemma is not its volume but what the authorities will decide to spend it on. That aid will not last long if it ends up squandered on absurd war drills. While operations in hospitals are suspended, supplies are scarce, and the healthcare system operates at the limit due to blackouts and lack of fuel, the State continues to find thousands of liters, week after week, to move tanks, helicopters, and heavy equipment, as has been seen in previous maneuvers.
Now propagandists seem to have understood that it is no longer effective to denounce to the world that there is no fuel for pediatric services but there is for weekly military deployments. The narrative of permanent victimization runs into the evidence of a power that, when it comes to shielding itself, always finds reserves, diesel, mobilization, and staging. Perhaps that is where the oxen from Villa Clara come in, not as a tactical innovation, but as a prop resource to disguise waste.
In a collapsed country, wasting fuel on useless exercises to reassure a nervous leadership does not convey strength. It conveys fear. And also disconnection. The distance between power and the needs of the people is measured today in hours of blackouts, canceled bus routes, lost harvests, and exhausted hospitals. But also, it seems, it can be measured in the length of a cart pulled by oxen and presented as if it were a strategic resource.
The scene provokes laughter, yes. But then it leaves something worse: the certainty that, while the country sinks, those in power continue playing at war with the fuel they deny the population. And so, among dry grass, mud camouflage, and the weary pace of military cattle, the Revolution ends up demonstrating that it no longer knows how to run a country and barely manages to herd its own decline.
Translated by Regina Anavy
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