The rise of the application in contexts of censorship raises the question of its possible role in a Cuba with expensive, unstable and monitored internet.
14ymedio, Natalia López Moya, Havana, January 17, 2026 – On a dusty sidewalk in Kampala, Uganda, a young man says there’s something that can connect him with his friends even if the government shuts off the internet: an app that works without mobile data or Wi-Fi. It’s called Bitchat, it was created by Jack Dorsey, the co-founder of Twitter, and it has gone from being a virtually unknown tool to a digital lifeline for many people living under governments that increasingly resort to internet blackouts as a response to internal crises.
What is happening in Uganda is similar to what recently occurred in Iran, where Bitchat downloads surged after massive internet outages during popular protests. Both cases raise questions about the tool’s usefulness in countries like Cuba. On the island, web browsing is also plagued by high costs, a deteriorating infrastructure, and recurring censorship.
Unlike apps like WhatsApp, which rely on an active internet connection, Bitchat operates through a Bluetooth mesh network. If one phone doesn’t have internet access, it can send messages to a nearby phone, which in turn relays them to another, and so on, until the message reaches its destination. There is no login, no phone numbers that can be blocked by the government, and no direct dependence on phone providers. This technology is reminiscent of old community radio stations, but adapted to the digital age.
That same pattern of blackouts to control information at critical moments for the regime is repeated in Cuba
In Uganda, this tool has become especially valuable in the lead-up to the elections held this Thursday. The government cut off web access, limited mobile services, and restricted communication precisely when citizen organization was crucial for monitoring potential fraud. In that country, Bitchat has rapidly climbed the download charts, with thousands of users turning to the app to exchange text and voice messages, while social media has been silenced by the authorities.
A similar phenomenon was observed in Iran starting in late December, where internet blackouts during social protests forced citizens to seek alternatives to conventional platforms. Reports from several data researchers indicate that Bitchat downloads tripled in the Persian nation, according to Reuters, precisely during the days when the web browsing block was tightened.
That same pattern of blackouts to control information at critical moments for the regime is repeated in Cuba.
Internet access on the island has been, from its inception, a territory of political control, but also an unstable and expensive service. In 2025, following a price increase imposed by Etecsa, the country’s sole telecommunications company, many Cubans saw the cost of connecting skyrocket. The price hike meant that access to data packages went from being a moderate economic barrier to a serious obstacle for large segments of the population.
Beyond the costs, the infrastructure remains inadequate. Telecommunications towers suffer frequent outages; the signal degrades easily, and the browsing experience is often disrupted, even without direct state intervention. On key days, such as December 10, Human Rights Day, or immediately after the mass protests of 11 July 2021, the authorities implemented deliberate internet shutdowns that affected activists, independent journalists, and ordinary citizens.
Technically, Bitchat works well in environments where phones can get close to each other and form small community networks.
During those days, digital communication became intermittent or disappeared altogether, complicating the transmission of information and the coordination of those seeking to share photos, videos, or simple messages to reassure their families outside the island. In this context, the emergence of tools like Bitchat offers a glimmer of hope. Can this offline application alleviate the limitations Cubans face due to censorship and inadequate infrastructure?
The answer isn’t simple. Technically, Bitchat works well in environments where phones can be close together and form small community networks. In street protests, neighborhood meetings, or small towns dense enough for devices to relay messages to each other, its use can be effective. A student in El Vedado could send a text to a friend in the El Cerro neighborhood if there are enough intermediaries. A group of activists could coordinate the points of an agreement without relying on data or Wi-Fi.
But the app has clear limitations: physical distance remains a factor. The Bluetooth signal has a range of between 10 and 100 meters, depending on the power of each device. In sparsely populated urban areas, such as many neighborhoods on the outskirts of Havana and Santiago de Cuba, it would be impractical without a large concentration of users or a deliberate community strategy of “nodes” to relay messages.
Even so, Bitchat’s appeal lies in its simplicity: it doesn’t require personal accounts, it isn’t easily registered on servers that can be blocked, and its decentralized network makes it harder for a government to disrupt it through conventional internet censorship mechanisms. It is, in essence, digital resilience.
Perhaps Bitchat’s true value lies not in replacing the large global networks, but in rewriting the map of what is possible.
For many Cubans, however, the challenges aren’t limited to being able to exchange texts during a blackout or an intentional service interruption. The established groups and relationships on social networks like Facebook and Instagram make most of the population highly dependent on these channels for communication and less inclined to explore other options. In computer and gaming communities, the search for independent and less crowded paths is common, but activism and independent journalism need to explore less controlled tools more effectively and consistently.
On the other hand, while Bitchat might be useful during periods of total internet outages, it doesn’t replace more established methods for live video streaming and reporting on protests, which require higher bandwidths. “Being able to send messages without internet is better than nothing,” says a reporter from Havana, “but to document abuses, record interviews, or transmit visual evidence, we still depend on connections that are often unavailable.”
However, the examples of Uganda and Iran show that where authorities block the internet in response to political tensions, Bluetooth networks become part of the citizen response. In Cuba, with its combination of prohibitive costs, fragile infrastructure, and tactical censorship, tools like Bitchat could serve as a complement to maintain basic communication among close-knit groups.
Perhaps Bitchat’s true value lies not in replacing the major global networks, but in rewriting the map of what’s possible when the fragile threads of the conventional internet break. For a mother who wants to know if her son is alright in Marianao when the internet goes down across Havana, being able to send an offline text can be the difference between a night of anxiety and one of relief.
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