Translating Cuba – Page 23 – English Translations of Cubans Writing From the Island

The Diaspora Takes Centre Stage in Cuban Books in January

Fiction, autobiography and art confirm the growing importance of publishing outside the island, while domestic production is disappearing.

Many of the publications are promoted by independent publishers. / Collage

14ymedio, Havana, 8 February 2026 — January confirmed a trend that has been setting the pace in the Cuban publishing world for several years: while the diaspora’s catalogue continues to grow and diversify, domestic production within the island is declining. Novels, autobiographies and books dedicated to the visual arts were the genres that dominated the new releases in the first month of 2026, many of them promoted by independent publishers who have become the true mainstay of the island’s writers.

One of the releases that marked the beginning of this year was Viaje de invierno con mariposas (Winter Journey with Butterflies) by author Roberto Méndez Martínez, which has been added to the Ilíada publishing house catalogue. It is a mature, intense and reflective novel that addresses confinement not only as a physical experience, but also as an existential condition. Writer Amir Valle, director of the publishing house, has defined the book as “a deeply human and heart-wrenching dive into the limits of freedom,” highlighting its ability to turn prison into a metaphor for all the social, spiritual and political barriers that accompany the individual even outside the walls.

Also in January, Lejos de la Isla en Negro (Far from the Island in Black) was released. Relatos de la diáspora cubana (Stories of the Cuban Diaspora), was published by Ediciones Hurón Azul. This is the sixth volume in the Arte Impossible Collection and continues an anthological line that is now classic within Cuban crime and noir fiction. Edited by Rebeca Murga and Lorenzo Lunar, the book continues along the path opened up by Confesiones (Confessions, 2011), Isla en Negro (Island in Black, 2014) and Regreso a la Isla en Negro (Return to the Island in Black, 2022), but now shifts the focus to the geographies of exile.

The selection brings together authors from several generations, including Rodolfo Pérez Valero, Justo E. Vasco, Vladimir Hernández and Marcial Gala, and confirms how crime fiction has survived its ideological instrumentalisation in the 1970s to become part of the body of new Cuban narrative, without forced labels.

In the field of historical essays, January brought El Espía de Franco en La Habana (Franco’s Spy in Havana) by veteran journalist Pablo Alfonso.

Autobiography had its place in the spotlight with the expanded reissue of Metahumorfosis: Vivencias y reflexiones de un humorista (Metamorphosis: Experiences and Reflections of a Comedian) by writer and comedian Pepe Pelayo. Originally published in 2020 and now revised with five more years of experiences and reflections, the book is both a life story and a lucid essay continue reading

on humour and its many manifestations. Spanish philologist and humorist Enrique Gallud Jardiel has reviewed the volume and highlighted the unique nature of a work that defends humour as one of the most complex and necessary human activities, far from any frivolity.

In the field of historical essays, January brought El espía de Franco en La Habana [Franco’s Spy in Havana] by veteran journalist Pablo Alfonso. Based on the so-called “Caldevilla papers,” the book reconstructs a little-known plot from the Cold War: the confidential reports that a Spanish diplomat sent to Francisco Franco’s regime from Cuba, revealing that Spanish intelligence knew in advance about the installation of Soviet missiles on the island. The volume reopens uncomfortable questions about the relations between seemingly antagonistic dictatorships and provides new clues to understanding the Missile Crisis.

Independent publishers have become the real mainstay of writers on the island.

Fiction once again turned to memory with Los mudos de la montaña (The Silent Ones of the Mountain) by Camilo Venegas, an author who has been very active recently and who also published the poetry collection Carta de porte (Letter of Carriage). Set in Cuba in the 1980s, the novel contrasts the cultural effervescence of Havana with the silence of the Escambray, a region marked by a war that is not talked about. Loosely inspired by Werner Herzog’s film Fitzcarraldo, the volume is a portrait of a country where history is rewritten over and over again with omissions and retouches.

The visual arts had a notable presence in new publications. Rafael Zarza. Toda la Corrida Artística, an essay by Hamlet Fernández Díaz, joined a growing catalogue of books dedicated to Cuban artists, a field that is clearly expanding outside the island. The volume reviews Zarza’s work from a comprehensive perspective, reaffirming the importance of these studies in preserving an artistic memory that today lacks the resources and institutional will to flourish in Cuba.

This overview was rounded off by El Cartel Protesta. El arte cubano de la revolución en la era digital (The Protest Poster: Cuban Art of the Revolution in the Digital Age), published by Ediciones Hurón Azul and written by Ernesto Menéndez-Conde and Luis Trápaga Brito. The book brings together more than three hundred works of rebellious graphic art that emerged on social media in the absence of a real public space and documents an artistic movement that is censored within the country. In critical dialogue with El Arte de la Revolución (The Art of Revolution, 1971) and with the tradition of Cuban posters from the 1960s, the work functions as an archive, a denunciation and a counter-narrative to official propaganda.

Translated by GH

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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.

Instead of “Sending Handouts” to Havana, Mexico Should Play an “Active Role in the Cuban Crisis”

Roberta Lajous, former Mexican ambassador to the island, appeals to her country’s “great diplomatic tradition” to facilitate dialogue with the US.

Regarding Mexico’s shipment of oil to Cuba, Lajous acknowledged that it would currently be “suicidal”. / Wikipedia

14ymedio/EFE, Madrid, 7 February 2025 — “It is not possible to continue defending an economic system that has failed and is causing people to go hungry,” said Roberta Lajous, Mexico’s ambassador to Havana between 2002 and 2005, in an interview with EFE, referring to the Cuban government. “And on the other hand, on the part of the United States, it is absurd to continue insisting on an economic embargo that has not worked for 60 years.”

If the aim is to avoid an escalation of the conflict and move towards détente, Lajous believes that Havana and Washington must make political gestures that will allow them to “sit down at the table”. To this end, Mexico would have to take an active role and promote a diplomatic initiative to mediate between the two sides.

In this regard, she criticised the sending of humanitarian aid as the only response to the crisis. “Mexico must play an active role in the Cuban crisis, not send handouts,” said the former ambassador, referring to the assistance announced by Claudia Sheinbaum’s government, a promise that seems insignificant in the face of the increasing suffocation suffered by Cubans. continue reading

“Mexico must play an active role in the Cuban crisis, not just send handouts.”

“Mexico cannot sit idly by,” said Lajous. “Mexico has a great diplomatic tradition and must draw on its history and human resources.”

She described the situation in Cuba as a “tragedy” for the island’s population: “They have no electricity, nothing to eat and no transport to bring food from producers to consumers.”

Regarding Mexico’s oil shipments to Cuba, Lajous acknowledged that it would currently be “suicidal” given the coercive measures imposed by the White House. “The United States is sending humanitarian aid to Cuba, and there is no reason why Mexico should not do the same. Oil is another matter (…) Mexico has not said so clearly, but it seems that these exports have been halted because of this measure imposed by the Trump administration,” he said.

President Claudia Sheinbaum has reiterated that her government has “set the table” to facilitate mediation and has offered the country as a venue for possible negotiations, although she has clarified that any dialogue would depend exclusively on the willingness of Washington and Havana.

Meanwhile, the Cuban government persists in its stance of dialogue only “without interference”, while persistent rumours circulate about meetings between representatives of Havana and the White House in Mexico City, in addition to Trump’s multiple statements about the existence of negotiations with Cuba.

Translated by GH

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Venezuela’s “De-Cubanization” After Maduro’s Fall Leaves Thousands of Cubans in Limbo

“They say we’re all going to leave in the coming months because the cooperation agreement won’t be renewed”

The Venezuelan opposition has repeatedly denounced this cooperation as a form of interference and loss of sovereignty. / Cubadebate

14ymedio, Havana, February 8, 2026 – Cuba’s presence in Venezuela is going through one of its most uncertain moments since, more than two decades ago, both countries sealed a strategic alliance based on exchanging oil for professional services. The capture of Nicolás Maduro by U.S. troops on January 3 accelerated a process that sources consulted in Caracas describe as a progressive de-Cubanization of the country, visible both in official discourse and in everyday life.

“I’m careful when I go out not to speak so they don’t notice my accent, because Cubans are no longer welcome here,” Mariana, a 32-year-old Cuban doctor on official mission in Caracas, tells 14ymedio. The physician, who asks that her real identity not be revealed, says that for weeks her clinical work has dropped sharply. “Since the 3rd, if I’ve seen one patient, that’s a lot,” she explains. According to her account, Cuban doctors are in a state of virtual “barracking,” without clear guidance about whether they will remain or return to the Island.

“I have several colleagues who have already gone back, but so far they’re doctors who had already finished their mission and were waiting for their return flight to be arranged,” she says. “In any case, what’s being said is that we’re all going to leave in the coming months because the cooperation agreement won’t be renewed.” Another sign reinforcing that imminent departure is the poor supply of materials: “We’ve practically not been given the resources we need for consultations and procedures; right now we don’t know what we’ll have to keep working.”

The doctor adds that, unlike other years, the usual meetings at which the annual plans for Cuban missions in Venezuela are communicated were not held in January 2026. “Normally those guidelines are given by the end of January, but this year there’s been nothing,” she says. The absence of instructions reinforces a sense of provisionality among the Cubans, in a political context marked by the redefinition of alliances and the growing presence of the U.S. in Venezuelan reality. continue reading

An estimated 30,000 Cuban professionals work in Venezuela

Although the real figure is unknown, it is estimated that nearly 30,000 Cuban professionals—doctors, sports trainers, technical advisers, and personnel linked to intelligence and security services—currently work in Venezuela as part of agreements signed during the governments of Fidel Castro and Hugo Chávez. The Venezuelan opposition has repeatedly denounced this cooperation as a form of interference and loss of sovereignty, arguing that key sectors of the State were left under Cuban influence.

For years, the most critical voices have spoken of a “Cubanization” that permeated not only surveillance and social-control schemes but also public discourse and ways of working in ministries and official institutions, including the presence of Cuban personnel in torture centers such as El Helicoide, headquarters of the Bolivarian National Intelligence Service (Sebin), in Caracas.

Several detainees in those centers reported that among the interrogators one could hear a “Cuban accent,” according to a report published in 2024 in El Confidencial. This participation would not be isolated but rather part of cooperation agreements signed between Havana and Caracas that, critics say, enabled the transfer of repressive techniques and the direct presence of Cuban police in planning and control roles within Venezuela’s security apparatus.

Organizations such as the Casla Institute have brought these complaints before international bodies, arguing that the involvement of Cuban officers in repression, arbitrary detentions, and torture at El Helicoide and other detention centers is not accidental but the result of decades of alliances between the two governments. According to these allegations, the repressive machinery designed on the Island helped systematize practices of state violence, including detention without due process, interrogations under torture, and forced disappearances, used to punish dissidents and opponents of the Venezuelan government.

Caracas has sent signals of symbolic and practical distancing from Havana

That framework began to crack after Maduro’s detention and the rise of Delcy Rodríguez as a central figure in the current government. Since then, Caracas has sent signals of symbolic and practical distancing from Havana. At recent official events, the presence of the Cuban flag—common for years at ceremonies and institutional events—has been reduced, and changes have occurred in posts held by officials of Cuban origin or closely linked to bilateral cooperation.

The constant presence of high-ranking officials from the Havana regime has also diminished. It used to be rare for a week to pass without Island newscasts airing the arrival of some Cuban leader in Caracas, where they were feted and received at the highest level. The red carpets and handshakes now seem more focused on envoys of Donald Trump than on Havana’s former allies.

One of the most commented gestures was the reshuffle at the Ministry of Tourism, where Leticia Gómez, a Cuban national, was replaced by one of Diosdado Cabello’s daughters—a decision interpreted as part of a process to reduce the weight of foreign presence. Local analysts note that these moves aim to send a message both to the Venezuelan population and to Washington at a time when the new political balance is still being negotiated.

On Venezuelan streets, the change is also felt. Yusniel, a Cuban sports trainer who has been in Caracas for more than two years and asked to use a fictitious name, says he has stepped up his precautions. “Being Cuban right now here isn’t something you can go around advertising,” he says. He reports hearing direct criticism after rumors circulating for years about Cubans’ participation in the security ring protecting Maduro were confirmed. “That has weighed heavily on how people see us,” he adds. “The label of interlopers is something they’re never going to take away from us.”

“They tell me Venezuela has come out of the tunnel and Cuba is coming behind”

At the same time, Yusniel says several Venezuelan friends have offered to help if he decides to stay in the country. “They tell me Venezuela has come out of the tunnel and Cuba is coming behind,” he recounts. The phrase sums up a sentiment repeated in private conversations: the idea that the collapse of the Chavista model could foreshadow similar transformations on the Island, and that staying in Venezuela might represent an opportunity compared with an eventual return to Cuba.

The impact of de-Cubanization is especially noticeable in the health system. For years, clinics and hospitals in working-class neighborhoods of Caracas and other cities operated largely with Cuban personnel. Since January, however, medical care has been notably reduced at several centers.

For Cuba, the pullback of its presence in Venezuela represents a tremendous economic blow. Medical and technical missions in the oil-rich country have for years been one of the government’s main sources of hard currency. An accelerated withdrawal or a significant reduction of this contingent would worsen the Island’s already precarious financial situation, marked by falling tourism, fuel shortages, and declining international support.

So far, neither Havana nor Caracas has officially announced the end of cooperation. The future of thousands of Cubans on mission will depend largely on how far the U.S. extends its influence over the new Venezuelan scenario and on whether Delcy Rodríguez’s government opts to maintain, renegotiate, or dismantle the agreements inherited from Chavismo. Meanwhile, Mariana and Yusniel wait for a decision that has yet to come and avoid public expressions that give away their origin, such as the very Cuban: “Chico, la cosa está mala” [Man, things are bad].

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Culture Becomes One of the First Victims of Cuba’s Collapse

The regime prioritizes theaters of military operations and tank parades over the Book Fair.

Among the measures announced is the postponement of the 34th Havana International Book Fair 2026. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Madrid, Yunior García Aguilera, February 7, 2026 – Every time the Cuban regime meets in congresses and plenary sessions with artists and intellectuals, it repeats the worn-out refrain that “culture is the first thing that must be saved.” The phrase sounds good, sweetens the ears of the salaried thinkers of official ideology, and allows more than one “sobaco ilustrado” [illustrated armpit] to applaud. The problem is that reality insists on disproving it and does so with a bluntness that no longer allows for euphemisms or metaphors.

The official note from the Cuban Book Institute announcing the postponement of the 34th Havana International Book Fair 2026 is yet more proof. The country’s main cultural event is put on hold—the only one that for years allowed many Cubans access to new books, exchanges with authors, and, with luck, the chance to buy something more than pamphlets. And, as usual, the explanation does not appeal to internal incapacity but to the ever-present enemy: the “genocidal blockade” and the “escalation of aggressions.”

What is declared a priority is “defense and internal order.” Whatever resources remain will be devoted without hesitation to the fair of rifles and mines, the “theater of military operations,” the olive-green runway and the AKM slung over the shoulder as the latest fashion statement. Culture—by which I mean the real kind, the kind that doubts, questions, moves, and transforms—is usually far too dangerous for a State at war.

The culture “of the people” is relegated to commemorative acts, mandatory anniversaries, and tasteless spectacles designed for propaganda

But Cuba’s cultural collapse did not begin yesterday, nor can it be explained by a single contingency. It is a prolonged, measurable, and deliberate process.

Between 2019 and 2024, state-run publishing production collapsed dramatically. According to official data, print runs fell by more than 70%. The price of paper—imported, yes, but managed by an inefficient State—became prohibitive even for the institutional apparatus itself.

Cinema has fared no better. National production has been reduced to historic lows. The Cuban Institute of Cinematographic Art and Industry (ICAIC) is becoming “Russified,” seeking to revive old ideological alliances through sporadic co-productions, unfinished projects, and a growing dependence on funds from its authoritarian cronies.

In theater and music, the situation is just as alarming. continue reading

Iconic groups have reduced performances or disappeared altogether. National tours have been almost impossible for years due to the lack of transportation, fuel, and per diems. Many musicians can no longer survive even by playing in hotels—making “soup”—because tourism has also been in decline long before 2026 shook the entire regional board. The culture “of the people” is relegated to commemorative events, obligatory anniversaries, and tasteless shows designed for propaganda.

In this context of collapse, the official announcement to “strengthen community art” appears as a perfect alibi. No one disputes the value of cultural work in neighborhoods, schools, or small, remote communities. The problem lies in the political use the government makes of that notion.

That is why it surprises no one that, at this critical hour, art becomes one of the first victims

The regime prefers a fragmented, local art with low symbolic impact and little national reach, because it is easier to control and less dangerous. A mural, a children’s workshop, or an occasional gathering can serve as a momentary anesthetic against hunger, blackouts, and hopelessness, without questioning the structural causes of that misery. Community art, understood this way, entertains, numbs, fills time, and goes straight into compliance reports. That is why art that builds a loyal audience, creates spaces for debate, or—worse still for those in power—collective dissent, is avoided.

The other side of that “measure” is the systematic surveillance and repression of art that makes people uncomfortable. Any creator who tries to go beyond fleeting entertainment, who connects the intimate with the political, or who challenges the spectator as a citizen rather than a captive audience member, automatically enters the danger zone. This is where the decision by El Ciervo Encantado, one of the country’s most important and coherent theater collectives, to leave the institutional system belongs. As does the expulsion of playwright Roberto Viñas as a professor at the University of the Arts. Or the detention in Holguín of the young members of El4tico, who encourage critical thinking through social media.

Added to this is the exodus. In recent years, Cuba has lost thousands of writers, visual artists, filmmakers, actors, editors, and curators. The country that once boasted of its symbolic capital now expels, one by one, those who produce it.

The regime has never defended culture as a diverse and living space; it defends a domesticated, utilitarian version, subordinate to the official narrative. That is why it surprises no one that, in this critical moment, art becomes one of the first victims. On the altar of collapse, culture is always among the first offerings sacrificed.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Cuba Grinds to a Halt Under New Government Measures to Address the Fuel Crisis

Gasoline is rationed and sold only in dollars; public transportation is drastically reduced, and food prices are rising.

The near-total absence of buses is pushing the population toward private transportation, now almost the only option available. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, Darío Hernández, February 7, 2026 – Empty bus stops are seen across much of Havana, a city that is nearly paralyzed. In Regla and Guanabacoa, where until recently route A29 connected both municipalities, not a single bus runs today. Urban public transportation, already fragile, has practically disappeared. And the new measures announced this Friday threaten to make the situation even worse, even as authorities avoid using the word “collapse.”

In other areas, such as the Guanabacoa intersection, people do gather, but not because there are active routes. There, inspectors stop State-owned vehicles and force drivers to take on passengers. “There aren’t many State cars on the road either,” explains a woman waiting, with no certainty about how many hours it will take her to reach her destination. The result is an improvised, irregular, and humiliating form of mobility, where getting around depends on luck, charity, or administrative coercion.

The near-total absence of buses is pushing the population toward private transportation, now almost the only option available, but getting around Havana this way has become a luxury. A trip in a private car from the Guanabacoa traffic light to Parque de la Fraternidad cost 350 pesos this week; from there to El Vedado, another 200. In total, 550 pesos to cross the city. “I spent the money I had planned for this outing just on transportation,” one passenger sums up as he gets out of a taxi.

Getting around depends on luck, charity, or administrative coercion. / 14ymedio

Electric tricycles, once presented as a “sustainable” alternative, barely ease the situation. “They’re only a little cheaper, 50 or 100 pesos less than cars,” a passenger told 14ymedio. In addition, their fares are also soaring. For the past two weeks, ticket prices have been rising exponentially, and transport continue reading

operators themselves warn that the increases will continue as long as the fuel shortage persists.

These vehicles, which are lightweight and with a maximum capacity of six passengers, also have the additional problem that the configuration of their wheels prevents them from effectively navigating potholes. This forces drivers to move at very slow speeds and take dangerous detours to avoid falling into the many potholes that dot Havana’s streets.

The impact of the current restrictions is not limited to mobility. The transportation crisis is already beginning to be reflected in the prices of basic goods. A small shopkeeper in Regla reported that his suppliers raised the price of all bread by 20 pesos “because of the fuel issue,” and he fears the same will happen with other foods. The rising cost of transportation is almost immediately passed on to the cost of living.

“People think that since work hours are shortened and school is cut back, there’s no need to move around,” reflects a resident of Guanabacoa. “But what do I do if I want to see a relative, go out at night, or visit a nearby place like Havana or El Vedado?” The question sums up a reality that official discourse avoids: the city is not only about work and school; it is also about social life, relationships, and leisure. All of that is now conditioned on having enough money to pay an inflated fare.

The new restrictions have been presented as an “opportunity.” / 14ymedio

The official measures do little to dispel public fears, even though they have been presented as an “opportunity.” On the television program Mesa Redonda [Round Table], Vice Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Trade and Foreign Investment Oscar Pérez-Oliva Fraga acknowledged the “low availability” of fuel and announced new restrictions. The Cimex Corporation reported that “until conditions allow, fuel sales in CUP and the commercialization of diesel fuel in USD to the population are postponed.”

In addition, starting February 7, the Ticket app will be implemented at service stations that sell gasoline in dollars, as had previously been done with purchases in pesos. The stated goal is to “organize the process,” but the imposed limit, 20 liters per turn, confirms the magnitude of the shortage. Far from normalizing access, the measure institutionalizes rationing and excludes those who do not earn in hard currency.

At the same time, the Ministry of Transportation has announced a drastic reduction in interprovincial services, the suspension of national routes, and adjustments to urban and worker transportation across the country. Trains with widely spaced departures—every eight days—canceled buses, and exclusive priority for sectors deemed “strategic” complete a picture of near-total paralysis.

In practice, the State is withdrawing from everyday mobility and shifting the problem onto citizens. Those who can pay can move; those who cannot, stay put. “People who don’t have money will get around through charity or won’t get around at all,” one comment concludes. This is the country’s new reality.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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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.

Cuba and the Time To Remove the Masks

The numerical disproportion between those who cling to the current model and those who want political openness is overwhelmingly in favor of the latter.

The hope that this difficult moment will give way to “a free Cuba” has taken root in the collective imagination. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Yoani Sánchez, Generation Y, Havana, 11 February 2026 — Next to me in the shared taxi, a young man is listening to a YouTube video at full volume on his cell phone. The video harshly describes Alejandro Castro Espín, mentions the word “dictatorship” several times, and denounces the repression of the Cuban regime. No one bats an eye. No one tells him to turn off the device. No one confronts him ideologically. A few minutes later, in a long line outside an office of the Etecsa monopoly, a woman is listening to a song by Los Aldeanos that criticizes Castroism. The state employees aren’t even bothered, and some people in line are even singing along to the chorus

When I get home, a neighbor who for years has been an obvious informant for the political police approaches me to say that “something has to happen, because this can’t go on.” On the stairs to the 14th floor, without electricity and with the elevators out of service, another neighbor jokes that the fictional character Cuco Mendieta, a Cuban supposedly a member of the U.S. Delta Force who participated in the capture of Nicolás Maduro, is about to arrive in Havana on a mission very similar to the one in Caracas. We laugh, and the climb becomes easier.

Never before has the Cuban government been criticized so openly. I don’t recall a single moment in our recent history when criticism of the Communist Party was so widespread, so corrosive, or so loud. “Gusanear,” that verb borrowed from official insults, is the daily practice of millions of people on this island. They “gusanear” at bus stops, at workplaces, and in lines to deposit a few dollars onto that Clásica card that allows them to buy what little gasoline remains in the country. They “gusanear” at the rationed bodega, at school meetings where they announce the suspension of in-person classes, and on the bus terminal platform, empty of vehicles and hope.

‘Gusanear’, that verb taken from official insults, is the daily practice of millions of people on this Island.

Defenders of the system are at a significant disadvantage in Cuba. Nothing remains of the ideological fervor they once displayed. Many are silent, scanning the horizon for the change that is inevitably approaching, while others continue reading

have joined the ranks of the critics at a surprising speed. Masks are falling away, medals are being hidden, and patting the neighborhood opposition member on the back is a way of making one’s position clear. The numerical disparity between those clinging to the current model and those who want political opening is overwhelmingly in favor of the latter. We are, in the end, the majority, and “they” know it.

In the face of this panorama, Cuban President Miguel Díaz-Canel should think twice before asking for sacrifices and calling for “creative resistance.” His ability to rally support is at an all-time low, the Party he leads is experiencing a period of extremely limited backing, and those who until yesterday were preparing for the front lines will no longer answer the call to self-sacrifice. Not only has fear shifted sides, given the regime’s dwindling numbers, but the hope that this difficult moment will give way to “a free Cuba” has taken root in the collective consciousness. “It won’t be long now,” another neighbor tells me from her balcony. “We’ll get rid of them this time,” she adds before hanging up the sheet she washed by hand, amidst the blackout.

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El4tico, the Rebellious Youth That Those in Power in Cuba Want To Silence

The arrest of Ernesto Medina and Kamil Zayas is a warning to Cubans under 40: emigrate before repression catches up with you

El4tico has shown a country where the Communist Party’s unpopularity is growing, patience is running out, and the imposed political model is garnering less and less support. / Facebook/Cultural Rights Observatory

14ymedio, Yoani Sánchez, Generation Y, Havana, 7 February 2026 — My generation has packed its bags. And the few of us who remain on the island have had to learn another kind of heartbreak: saying goodbye to our children. Watching them leave not only with a backpack on their shoulder, but with the certainty that staying means the risk of being silenced, perpetual poverty, or prison. Young Cubans today face a cruel dilemma: remain in the country where they were born, silenced and subjected to a crisis with no end in sight, or leave for places where everything starts from scratch, but where at least one can speak without fear. The arrest yesterday, Friday, of Ernesto Medina and Kamil Zayas, members of the El4tico project, is a stark warning directed at Cubans under 40: emigrate before the repression catches up with you

“If you are seeing or reading this, it is because they have finally found a way to silence me, to try to temporarily muzzle me,” Zayas says in a message written before his arrest and released this Saturday. “I am not being arrested for theft, assault, drug trafficking, or any common crime,” he clarifies. “I am being arrested for the only ‘crime’ that a dictatorship cannot tolerate: daring to look directly and say aloud what we all notice: its egregious failings, its chronic inefficiencies, its systematic injustices, and the oppression that crushes the dignity of an entire people.”

Standing in front of an old blackboard and with a fan that seems more intent on stirring up social inertia than blowing air, Medina and Zayas have connected with an audience fed up with slogans.

This testimony is not mere rhetoric, but rather an accusation. In a country where too many young people are trapped in the clutches of el químico [the chemical], others spend hours sitting on sidewalks with nothing to do, and a majority dream of throwing themselves into the sea or boarding a plane to get them out of here as soon as possible, these two men from Holguín have chosen the most dangerous path: to stay and speak out. With their videos, they have unsettled the authorities because they have abandoned coded language, fear, and self-censorship. In front of an old blackboard and with a fan that seems more intent on stirring social inertia than providing air, Medina and Zayas have connected with an audience fed up with slogans and in need of stories grounded in real life.

While official channels insist on clinging to the tired slogan of “creative resistance,” El4tico has shown a country where the Communist Party’s unpopularity is growing, patience is wearing thin continue reading

, and the imposed political model is garnering increasingly less support. Where Miguel Díaz-Canel takes hours to string together clumsy phrases that provoke a prolonged national yawn, Medina and Zayas have opted for a direct, approachable, even engaging style. Their videos are devoid of posturing and scripted phrasing: they offer spontaneity, irony, and a sincerity that the system doesn’t know how to handle.

“Speak louder. Be dignified. Because history does not pardon those who remain silent out of convenience,” Zayas wrote before a police operation culminated in his and his colleague’s arrest. That phrase resonates today in a society marked by absences, by empty seats at family tables, and by the fear of ending up behind bars for an opinion, a social media post, or a criticism spoken aloud.

Repression doesn’t just imprison bodies; it also forces people into exile, cancels their future, and empties the country of its youngest voices. Every arrest like this confirms that speaking the truth remains, in Cuba, the most dangerous and most necessary act.

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Cuba Approaches the “Zero Option”: Surgeries Suspended in Hospitals, Tourist Hotels Closed

The fuel crisis is forcing bus routes to be reduced, the sugar harvest to be halted in Sancti Spíritus, and an international congress with 1,500 participants to be canceled.

Line to buy fuel at a gas station in Sancti Spíritus this Friday. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, Olea Gallardo, February 6, 2026 – A critical shortage of basic medicines, the cancelation of surgeries, and the suspension of transport for outpatient patients: This is, for now, the situation in many hospitals in Cuba in the face of an unprecedented fuel crisis, which the regime has not even named this time. “Contingency or emergency, I don’t know,” a provincial Public Health employee told 14ymedio, asking for anonymity. “Because the president talked and talked but said nothing. He was asked everything and dodged everything, and said that other people would be in charge of explaining the energy issue.”

She was referring to Miguel Díaz-Canel’s appearance this Thursday, when the president stated that the government has designed a plan to deal with the fuel shortage that has worsened since the U.S. intervention in Venezuela on January 3. But he did not specify any concrete measures beyond voluntarist promises and the usual victimizing slogans against the “imperial government” and the “enemy.” “We are going to live through difficult times,” he limited himself to saying, betting on overcoming obstacles with one of his favorite phrases, “creative resistance.”

Díaz-Canel did announce that “a group of ministers and vice ministers will gradually provide information” about the measures, approximately “in a week,” but in some institutions the restrictions are already being made known. This is the case in Health, as the worker detailed to this newspaper.

“They’re discharging a lot of inpatients,” she says, “and gathering all the information on available resources to see where savings can be made.”

“All surgeries and the transportation of patients from other municipalities are canceled due to a lack of fuel,” she reports, asking that the name of the hospital where she works be withheld, where a “contingency” has been in effect since yesterday. “They’re discharging many of the hospitalized patients,” she adds, “and compiling all the information on available resources to see where cuts can be made.”

The list lays out the panorama. “We have diesel for 160 hours, and the boilers are covered for two days. We have propane for 47 days, but the incinerator has almost no burning capacity, just enough for 1.8 days,” she recounts. The shortage of medicines is also striking: “There is no pethidine to relieve labor pains, no analgesics in general, no antihypertensives, no hydration serum, no catheters, no gauze: it’s all at zero.” continue reading

As for antibiotics, she continues, coverage is also “very low”: Encomed, the Medicines Marketing Company, promised a delivery, but “didn’t have fuel to bring it and nothing has arrived.” For patients undergoing hemodialysis, they have concentrate for three days, and hospital disinfectant for seven.

As for food, she says they have rice and grains for about 15 days, but “protein is almost gone. There’s ground meat for two days and chicken for three.” Although the employee trusts that “they’ll come up with something, because we’re not going to die,” there is still uncertainty about possible solutions.

In the absence of government statements, information passed by word of mouth is proliferating. A healthcare worker at a polyclinic in Ciego de Ávila told 14ymedio that they have been warned that only the emergency ward will be maintained and that doctors must bring “their rechargeable lamp to work.”

On social media, reports say that several hotels in the Keys have been closed and their guests relocated to other establishments

The sugar harvest in Sancti Spíritus, already meager, has been halted, according to an employee at the Melanio Hernández mill. “They ordered state transportation and everything in general to stop,” the man says.

Likewise, on social media, it is reported that several hotels in the Keys have been closed and their guests relocated to other establishments.

“This was the message that guests at the Valentin Perla Blanca hotel in Cayo Santa María received this morning,” wrote Adelth Bonne Gamboa on social media this Thursday, illustrating the post with an image of the letter distributed by the customer service team. “Not even the employees themselves know the reason for the closure,” the activist explained; “they were simply informed this morning that the facilities would stop operating at 4:00 pm today.”

Officially, for now, very few agencies have published concrete measures. One of them is the Provincial Directorate of the Isle of Youth, which, among nearly twenty points, calls for leaving “only indispensable administrative personnel” at workplaces and decrees the “total shutdown” of electricity service in state buildings throughout the weekend, including Friday, as well as the closure of boarding schools and “recreational areas and bars.”

In addition, the authorities say, “one hundred percent of investments in the territory are halted,” including those of the Electric Company, Agriculture, and Fisheries. This contrasts with Díaz-Canel’s words yesterday, when he explained that if there were areas with more blackouts, specifically in Havana and during the day, it was because resources were being prioritized for actions that would activate the economy.

As for the territory’s connection with the rest of the country, it remains up in the air: the statement indicates that the departure of the ferry Perseverancia is “being evaluated” “once or twice a week depending on fuel availability and the guarantee of transportation from Batabanó to Havana.”

In Las Tunas, as of this Friday, national bus departures to Camagüey, Holguín, and Santiago de Cuba have been suspended “due to the worsening availability of fuel in the country.” Only one route to Havana remains, the 9:00 pm “express,” and the alternate route to Matanzas is also suspended. It will not be the only measure, reported Tiempo 21, but the next ones to be announced—“related primarily to national passenger transportation, especially rail service”—are being studied.

In addition, the authorities say, “one hundred percent of investments in the territory are halted,” including those of the Electric Company, Agriculture, and Fisheries

For its part, the University of Havana has decreed, among other resolutions, the “postponement” of the international congress that was to be held in just a few days, which was expected to bring together more than 1,500 delegates, 500 of them from 32 countries, and the extension of the “hybrid modality to all degree programs and Higher University Technician programs,” starting this Friday and for 30 days.

If one looks to the official press for information on the measures, only reporter Elsa Ramos of Escambray asks relevant questions: “How is priority established for distributing the little fuel that reaches service stations? Why are sales in dollars prioritized? Why are cards topped up and charges made if there is no backing in cash? To what extent is it true that the sale of gas, when it appears, will be in dollars?”

The official she interviews, Camilo Pérez Pérez, coordinator of Government Programs and Objectives in Sancti Spíritus, doesn’t fully answer everything, but he is forced to offer some details. For example, the order for the Dairy Company to transport milk “in different thermoses” to reduce vehicle mileage, or the rehabilitation of ovens at the Food Company to produce bread “with firewood.”

In Education, Pérez indicates, without details, that “alternatives are being applied” both for student transportation and food preparation, “mainly in boilers,” where “savings can be made.”

Likewise, the official acknowledged that “at this moment there is no guarantee for private carriers linked to passenger transportation, since only state vehicles are being prioritized due to restrictions.” He did, however, rule out the feared “zero option” that has been on everyone’s lips in Cuba in recent weeks: “We have never been at zero. It has been fairly responsible work, above all by all the consuming entities, and with good communication and alerts about the difficulties we may have in each place. Decisions have been made and services have been guaranteed.”

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Cuban Police Recruit Personnel As the Country Goes Through a Deep Crisis

It is another sign of the Cuban regime’s concern over public discontent and pressure from the United States.

The program promises to graduate recruits, through this fast-track training, with the rank of second lieutenant. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, February 6, 2026 – Cuba’s National Revolutionary Police published a call on social media this Wednesday aimed at young people between 18 and 35 years old to train as officers through a six-month basic police training course followed by an eleven-month upper secondary–level program. The initiative promises to graduate participants, through this accelerated training, with the rank of second lieutenant and also grant them direct access to a Bachelor’s degree in Law at police university campuses, without the need to take an entrance exam.

Reactions on social media were swift. “How things have changed. Fifteen years ago I really struggled to reach the second rank of non-commissioned officer through good behavior, but oh well, I wish the new ones success,” commented user Yanet Rivas on the official Facebook post. The call also sparked much more critical reactions, such as that of user Luciana de Lara: “I wouldn’t become a police officer even if I were crazy, because they go through the same hardships as the people and can’t say anything.”

As noted by Cuba x Cuba magazine, citing a similar call published in 1990 by the newspaper Juventud Rebelde, police training at that time lasted two years and was structured in two stages: a first year of common core training and a second year of specialization.

The loosening of requirements to enter the police force reflects the lack of demand to join the regime’s main repressive body, compounded by population decline. For more than four years now, following the repression unleashed after the nationwide protests of July 11, there has been a massive exodus of young people of working age. According to a study by independent demographer Juan Carlos Albizu Campos, Cuba’s population has shrunk by 24% in just four years. continue reading

The force’s poor image due to the arbitrariness of its actions and the ignorance of its members is also not negligible.

The force’s poor image due to the arbitrariness of its actions and the ignorance of its members is also not negligible. It is well known that in Havana most police officers—or “pitufos” [smurfs], as they are colloquially called—are young people, generally with limited resources, who arrive from the eastern provinces, often without even knowing the capital.

On January 28, for example, amid this escalation of repression against activists and independent journalists, Yoani Sánchez, director of this newspaper, was detained on the street by a young man in civilian clothes, no older than 25, who was unable to tell fellow officers his location when requesting backup.

In the midst of the deep structural and energy crisis gripping the country, the urgency to rapidly expand the police force is striking. This Thursday, at a press conference, Díaz-Canel stated that the country is preparing for a “wartime scenario,” asserting that the entire defense system and State institutions are gearing up in response to an alleged attempt at aggression, and announcing plans for political mobilization and communication designed for that context. According to a report published this Thursday by Prisoners Defenders, the Island is currently setting a historical record for political prisoners, with a total of 1,207, with 18 detained so far in 2026 alone.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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In Havana, All the Gas Stations Have Switched to the Dollar, Except Those of State Vehicles

It has now become nearly impossible to obtain fuel on the black market, where it’s sold at 1,000 pesos per liter.

The availability of gasoline becomes more critical every day. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Darío Hernández, Havana, February 6, 2026 — The main partner to the shortage, corruption, has colonized the sale of gasoline at a dizzying rate. The under the table sale is a minor thing: they are now even selling turns to buy gas at service centers in dollars, and the price is no small issue. The ten dollars that it costs to move ahead in the line are, at the informal exchange rate (490 as of Thursday), more than double the minimum wage in Cuba.

“It’s no secret to anyone, and the eyes are useless when the mind is blind, fuel is extremely limited,” warned Pedro Garcés, organizer of the service stations of El Vedado and of the social group Gente del Barrio, this Wednesday, to introduce new regulations around the sale of gasoline. All service stations now deal in dollars, he explained, “a measure which we should understand the importance of in order to, in the middle of this siege, continue paying the least amount possible,” added the man who regularly brags about his loyalty to the Revolution.

Garcés explained that, for right now, the waiting lists on the Ticket app for sales of gasoline in pesos are closed, given that they are unable to serve “those that are in them, whose numbers surpass the thousands.”

One can spend up to five hours in line for gas, just to have to leave without any in the end.

The organizer insisted that the corporation Cimex – controlled by the military conglomerate Gaesa and in charge of, among other things, the management of gas stations– accepts the contributions that he himself sends based on the demands of the population. Despite this, “they are searching for solutions to avoid the long lines and the waste of time to obtain fuel in dollars, a situation which today generates growing continue reading

illegalities,” he lamented. More than the price of 10 dollars to get a turn, Garcés affirmed that the liter is being sold under the table at 1,000 pesos, more than double the price tag that it carries in dollars on the legal market.

The situation is an open secret on the streets of the capital. Regular gas in service stations costs $1.10 (equivalent to 539 pesos on the black market) and premium $1.30 (637), and now there is no way to get it in pesos on the Ticket app. “Now I don’t see the group nor the app,” said a man posted in the service station on Zapata and 4th, in Guanabacoa. “Everything is a shameless mess. The line doesn’t move. And, of course, it’s only in the gas stations in Zapata, of Línea & E, and Riviera: all in dollars. If you want to pay in pesos, pay the street rate of 1,000. If you’re lucky and you find it…” he said this Wednesday while waiting in a long line guarded by two officers. Resigned to wait hours or days to get gas in dollars.

A few meters away, in the same line, another man assured 14ymedio that the day before he spent five hours waiting for his turn and, at the end, he had to leave empty-handed because there was none left. The shortage is so bad that where before there were generators to fix the light issues they have started to install new solutions, like the purchase of electric generators, which take 2 or 3 hours to charge.

They continue dispensing fuel to state vehicles without reductions, for now.

In Vedado, they only dispense for sales in dollars, while in Tángana and the service stations at 25th & G and L & 17th they don’t have a drop of fuel. Furthermore, in Guanabacoa two gas stations are selling, but only on the surface, given that instead of the long line that would be expected in that case, there have barely been two or three vehicles, a fact that quickly raised suspicions among passers-by.

“Now with 750 or 800 pesos you can’t afford a liter,” admits another aspiring customer. “If anyone has it, in a few hours it’s already run out. It’s selling for 1,000 pesos, for example, on the Santa Fe bridge,” they added.

“My neighbor, who used to sell regularly, now doesn’t have any,” confessed another driver. “He has huge barrels in his house and people come with containers of all kinds. Cans of 1.5L, 5 liters, etc. I couldn’t tell you where he gets the gas, I only know that his daughter works with something to do with Cupet. I guess that it would be from there.”

In the gas station at Vía Blanca, the line was the usual: only state vehicles. The discomfort is heightened among the drivers, who complain that those cars still don’t have restrictions. “They haven’t cut their rations, nor reduced them. They hope that they soon will, including a 50% reduction, but until this moment, they haven’t done it. They are the only ones that you see in these gas station lines,” protested another.

Translated by Logan Cates

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Cuban State Security Detains Members of an Independent Digital Platform in Holguín

With 35,000 followers on Facebook and 50,000 on Instagram, the creators of El4tico appeal to a generation raised amid scarcity, censorship, and a lack of prospects.

Unlike the image of a grateful youth the regime tries to project, the members of the project break away from the submissive mass the authorities aspire to. / Screenshot / Facebook

14ymedio, Havana, February 6, 2026 – This Friday in Holguín, police and State Security detained Ernesto Medina and Kamil Zayas, members of the El4tico project, during an operation that included surrounding a home in the Piedra Blanca neighborhood. From 6:33 a.m., neighbors confirmed the presence of two patrol cars and a police truck. The deployment looked like a raid against armed and dangerous criminals, although the young residents’ “crime” is something else: publicly expressing what they think.

They are members of an independent space for audiovisual creation and political opinion with a strong presence on social media. The harassment by repressive forces was recorded and shared by the communicators themselves on their digital stories. The action confirms a hardening of police pressure against a group that has gained visibility for its critical and direct discourse against the Cuban regime.

In the video, just a few minutes long, several agents—at least one in uniform and others in plain clothes—are seen stationed at the entrance of the home. The officers display their usual arrogance, though this time they are aware they are being watched by a phone camera broadcasting live. From inside the house, the project’s members repeatedly ask about the legal basis for the operation, even though they know that in Cuba, State institutions act under directives from the single party and its control apparatus. continue reading

The detainees were taken to the Criminal Investigation headquarters in the city of Holguín, popularly known as “Everybody Sings”

According to sources close to El4tico’s members, Medina was detained and taken away in handcuffs. During the operation, agents confiscated his electronic devices. Doris Santiesteban, who also lives in the house, remained there, though cut off from communication. Zayas, another member of the project, was arrested at his own home, where authorities likewise seized his work equipment.

The detainees were transferred to the Criminal Investigation headquarters in Holguín, popularly known as “Everybody Sings,” an allusion to the methods used during interrogations.

El4tico was launched by these young people from Holguín who decided to turn a room in their home into an improvised studio to produce videos for social media. From there they publish political messages, civic analyses, and calls for citizen responsibility. Their style is blunt, without metaphors or euphemisms, and speaks directly to a generation raised amid scarcity, censorship, and a lack of expectations.

Unlike the image of a grateful youth the regime tries to project, the project’s members escape the applauding, submissive, or silent mass the authorities aspire to. Their content lays bare the moral degradation of the system from within, doing so with a transparent, raw aesthetic, without affectation. That combination has allowed them to amass more than 35,000 followers on Facebook and surpass 50,000 on Instagram, in addition to a growing audience on platforms such as TikTok and YouTube.

This is not the first time El4tico’s protagonists have faced harassment by the authorities. In recent months they have reported verbal summons, informal warnings, and repeated police visits. According to their accounts, the aim is not to investigate a specific crime, but to intimidate, wear them down, and force silence, a practice widely documented against activists, independent journalists, and content creators who are inconvenient for those in power.

They have understood that documenting the harassment and making it public is both a form of protection and a denunciation

The episode comes just one day after President Miguel Díaz-Canel, at a press conference reserved for friendly media, repeated the word “youth” 28 times to underscore the role of new generations. Judging by the facts, the young people of El4tico are not among those whom the president asked to be treated “as the important people they are within our society,” nor among those who “continue to have confidence because they know that life projects are more possible here than elsewhere.”

The problem for the regime is that these young people belong to a generation that no longer waits for permission to speak and is not easily intimidated by the uniform. They have understood that documenting harassment and making it public is, at once, a form of protection and a denunciation.

Since the capture of Nicolás Maduro in Caracas, a tightening of repression has been recorded in Cuba. In January alone, the Cuban Observatory of Human Rights (OCDH) documented more than 400 repressive actions nationwide, including police summons,, arbitrary detentions, acts of repudiation, and threats against activists, journalists, and content creators. In that context, a recent report by the Foundation for Human Rights in Cuba notes the direct participation of Communist Party and Young Communist League cadres in acts of intimidation, including those directed against the U.S. chargé d’affaires on the Island, Mike Hammer.

By recording and sharing the scene, El4tico’s members move the conflict from the private sphere to the public digital space, where the State loses control of the narrative. The camera exposes what power prefers to happen in silence and shows the world the hypocrisy of a regime that casts itself as a victim of threats from a foreign power while harassing, besieging, and repressing its own dissenting citizens.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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The Cuban Regime Negotiates Its Survival with Washington, According to ABC News

The Spanish outlet cites anonymous sources in the Mexican government regarding meetings between Raúl Castro’s son and U.S. representatives

Alejandro Castro Espín, at the presentation of his book United States: The Price of Power (2015). / Razones de Cuba / Screenshot

14ymedio, Havana, February 5, 2026 – The front page of ABC this Wednesday expands on information previously reported by independent Cuban journalists such as Carlos Cabrera. Citing Mexican officials as sources, the Spanish newspaper reports that Havana is holding “discreet” talks with Washington aimed at guaranteeing the political survival of Castroism through economic concessions, with General Alejandro Castro Espín, the son of Raúl Castro, acting as the intermediary.

According to the report, he has been leading talks in Mexico City with U.S. intelligence agents, mediated by the government of Claudia Sheinbaum, in an attempt to negotiate a “transition” without the Cuban regime being overthrown.

The first exchanges have revolved around the possible easing of the embargo, which has intensified in recent weeks. This easing could occur by negotiating the entry of U.S. companies into important sectors of the economy, such as energy, tourism, banking, and communications. According to sources among Mexican officials consulted by ABC, a possible initial gesture would be the authorization of sales of American crude oil to Cuba in quantities sufficient to sustain its energy system, which needs between 100,000 and 150,000 barrels continue reading

per day.

A possible initial gesture would be the authorization of sales of American crude oil to Cuba in quantities sufficient to sustain its energy system

This exchange occurred while, in statements to CNN, Cuban Deputy Foreign Minister Carlos Fernández de Cossío denied the existence of a formal bilateral dialogue between Cuba and the United States, although he did acknowledge occasional contacts through messages. The official position of the Cuban government contradicts this, as do the statements of Donald Trump himself, who affirmed that negotiations are underway between the two countries.

President Miguel Díaz-Canel declared in his press conference this Thursday that “Cuba is willing to engage in dialogue with the United States,” on the condition that “we do not address issues that we could interpret as interference in our internal affairs.”

Since the U.S. capture of then-Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro on January 3 and the subsequent interruption of oil shipments to Cuba from Venezuela, Mexico has become the Cuba’s sole fuel supplier. However, increased pressure from Washington and the threat of tariffs appear to have deterred President Claudia Sheinbaum from sending more crude oil. Trump’s threats could deepen the humanitarian crisis on the island, at a time when Trump insists that the Castro regime is exhausted.

The potential opening sought through negotiations led by Alejandro Castro seems more like a maneuver by the regime to ensure its political continuity than a step toward democratization or genuine liberalization. The possibility of gaining access to U.S. oil is intended to avert what is known within Cuba’s own power structure as “Option Zero”—the complete paralysis of the country due to a lack of fuel, with no allies capable of sustaining the government—a scenario that has been looming over Cubans in recent days and that President Díaz-Canel appeared to allude to during his appearance this Thursday when he stated that the government is preparing a plan for an “acute fuel shortage” in response to pressure from the United States.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Cuba Sets Historic Record for Political Prisoners with 1,207 According to Prisoners Defenders

The NGO denounces inhuman conditions and the lack of guarantees for detainees

The year 2026 begins with 18 new political prisoners, according to the latest report by Prisoners Defenders. / EFE

14ymedio, Havana, February 5, 2026 – The year 2026 has begun with 18 new political prisoners, according to the latest report by Prisoners Defenders, published this Thursday, and marks a historic record of 1,207 political prisoners in total. Of these, 436 are seriously ill and 42 suffer from mental disorders without receiving medication.

The Madrid-based NGO specifically denounces the death, on January 22, of Lázaro García Ríos, who died without having received medical assistance. The man, who was detained without an arrest warrant and sentenced to 20 years in prison for throwing Molotov cocktails at the Archive of the Central Havana People’s Court, had repeatedly reported the penitentiary system’s refusal to provide him with medical care.

The report also provides details about the new political prisoners, most of whom were deprived of their liberty for peacefully expressing their opinions on social media. Such is the case of Ankeyli Guerra Fis, who was charged with “propaganda against the constitutional order” following messages posted after the capture of Nicolás Maduro.

Most of the people were deprived of their liberty for peacefully expressing their opinions on social media

On January 20, Prisoners Defenders released another report denouncing the alarming digital surveillance system that the regime has built to suppress dissent. Based on 200 statements, this first comprehensive report on digital surveillance in Cuba concluded that 60% of respondents were detained and interrogated just hours or days after making critical posts against the continue reading

regime. In addition, 46.5% of those interviewed also reported having suffered direct interference in their conversations on applications such as WhatsApp.

A group of Cuban women activists submitted a citizen petition this Wednesday to promote an amnesty law before the National Assembly in order to free political prisoners. Led by Yenisey Mercedes Taboada Ortiz—mother of political prisoner Duannis León Taboada—along with Jenny Pantoja and Miryorly García Prieto, the initiative For an Amnesty Now! has so far gathered more than 1,500 verified signatures of the 10,000 required to request the drafting of a law. Of these, 59% correspond to people living on the island.

The issue, however, is repeatedly avoided by the authorities. Asked about it by the EFE news agency, Deputy Foreign Minister Carlos Fernández de Cossío said that the government “sees no reason to talk about the issue of political prisoners.”

As a point of comparison, there is the case of Venezuela, and the recent proposal by acting president Delcy Rodríguez for a General Amnesty law for political detainees held from 1999 to the present.

Translated by Regina Anavy
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Manuel Cuesta Morúa: “90% of This Country [Cuba] Wants Change”

The president of the Council for Democratic Transition in Cuba advocates for a “sovereign” transition to democracy, piloted “from within” and “from the center,” without external interventions or “extreme” actors.

Opposition leader Manuel Cuesta Morúa believes that US measures to prevent oil from reaching Cuba are counterproductive. / EFE

14ymedio (via EFE), Juan Palop, Havana, February 4, 2026 – Cuban opposition leader Manuel Cuesta Morúa is convinced that “90%” of his country “wants change” and that, in his opinion, is the basis of a “sovereign” transition to democracy, piloted “from within” and “from the center,” without external interventions or “extreme” actors.

In an interview with EFE, he advocates for getting out of the “geopolitical trap” in which the Cuban government has placed the country, although “unfortunately” he does not see the Executive prepared to start negotiating “fundamentally, with the Cubans and, of course, also with the United States and the international community.”

“Listening to what they say, they don’t seem ready and prepared for that conversation,” says the newly elected president of the Council for Democratic Transition in Cuba (CDTC), the main opposition platform on the island.

Regarding a possible negotiation between the governments of Cuba and the United States, he adds that although some sectors of power in Havana may have “enough pragmatism” to pursue it, he does not believe that this is the majority internal position, because they lack “of vision of State” and “responsibility.”

Nor does he believe that what happened in Caracas could happen in Havana, where the United States took advantage of internal differences to stage a coup by capturing Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and forcing political and economic changes in the country.

Cuesta Morúa does not perceive “a fissure” in Cuba between “factions of power” nor people in the Government who can lead a new agenda: “I absolutely do not see a Delcy Rodríguez continue reading

in Cuban reality, in the Cuban elite.”

Washington’s role, in his opinion, should be one of accompaniment, respecting Cuban national sovereignty. “If negotiations begin between Cubans, then the United States should support them, encourage them, and do everything necessary to ensure the process is successful,” he recommends.

Looking at the example of Caracas, Cuesta Morúa also asks the Cuban opposition not to cede autonomy to the United States: “What Venezuela is demonstrating right now is that those who bet most strongly on a transition by ceding sovereignty are out of the game of the transition.”

“What Venezuela is demonstrating right now is that those who bet most heavily on a transition by surrendering sovereignty are out of the transition game.”

“Definitely, the intervention in Venezuela demonstrates that the democratic process in a country cannot be defined from the outside,” he points out.

He believes that a democratic transition should be sought from “the center,” which means “maintaining certain existing structures in the country” and “seeking certain agreements with those in power, those who understand that it is necessary to open up and that mechanisms must be gradually established to achieve democracy.”

The opposition leader is also critical of Washington’s strategy to prevent oil and fuel from reaching Cuba through successive measures, as the country needs to import two-thirds of its energy needs.

“I don’t think that tactic of strangling Cuba will lead to the harbor and the direction in which we believe the country should be headed. Provoking an explosion only strengthens the repressive machinery of the State,” warns this opposition member who fears “a humanitarian situation worse” than the current “general collapse.”

He also rejects the possibility of a military intervention, because it “would not respond to the great demands” of Cubans “to democratize the country,” forming a “rule of law” with full “respect for human rights.”

“I don’t believe that tactic of strangling Cuba will lead to the harbor and the direction in which we believe the country should be headed. Provoking an explosion only strengthens the repressive machinery of the State.”

Cuesta Morúa advocates for a “humanitarian solution”: “That message is much better, while at the same time exerting political and diplomatic pressure in the most appropriate direction, which is to release political prisoners, establish a negotiating table with the Cubans and open up the economy.”

At this point, he criticizes the bellicose responses from the Cuban government: “Engaging in a war will not solve the country’s problems. We may end up, or they may end up, with an epic adventure, but a nation will be destroyed, and that nation deserves to be recovered.”

His optimism, despite everything, stems from the “tacit consensus” among the general population that Cuba “cannot continue on its current path.” “The country has to open up, and that is my hope, that is my optimism, which I try to convey to the international community,” he explains.

“Perhaps we don’t have all the strength of a mature civil society. That’s true. Perhaps we are not used to all the mechanisms that democracies use to resolve their internal conflicts. That’s also true. But there is hope within Cuban society that the country must change,” he argues.

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The Removal of the Photos: Fidel Castro’s Regime Retreats in Cuba

Lacking a sense of humor, vengeful towards anyone who dared to challenge him, Fidel Castro’s image is at an all-time low in the social imagination.

In the centennial year of Fidel Castro, Cuban authorities are doing everything possible to resurrect a legacy that popular will insists on burying. Tet on the fence: “I am Fidel” / EFE

14ymedio, Yoani Sánchez, Generation Y, Havana, February 4, 2026 — Her photo with Fidel Castro hung in the living room for decades, and Rita proudly displayed it. But a few years ago, the frame was used to hold a portrait of her newborn granddaughter, and the snapshot, faded by time, ended up in a drawer. A retired engineer enduring more than ten hours of daily power outages, this 80-year-old Cuban now feels a mixture of shame and annoyance every time she comes across that image where a man in military uniform is pinning a medal on her.

In the centennial year of Castro’s birth, Cuban authorities are doing everything possible to resurrect a legacy that the popular will insists on burying. The man who ruled the destiny of millions on this island has become synonymous with everything that must be avoided in the nation’s future. Uncompromising voluntarism, hatred of those who are different, revolutionary bravado, and contempt for dissent were not only his personal hallmarks but also the defining characteristics that shaped his domestic policy and international diplomacy for more than half a century.

The “This is your house Fidel” signs only remain in the memory of a few, and those diplomas where his signature was written on the paper have been stored away from prying eyes.

Lacking a sense of humor, incapable of even the slightest bit of dancing, vengeful towards anyone who dared challenge him, averse to personal affection, and prone to tantrums when he didn’t get his way, Fidel Castro’s image is at an all-time low in the public consciousness. Despite the display of his photographs in government offices and the calls to celebrate the centenary of his birth, the man born in Birán in 1926 has been more than buried by most Cubans, who avoid even mentioning his name, as if it were a spell that could bring him back to life.

Few family living rooms still display his photographs, the “This is your house, Fidel” signs only survive in the memories of a few, and those diplomas bearing his signature have been tucked away, out of sight. Grandparents avoid mentioning him, emigrants swear they could never stand him, and even those named after him insist their parents actually chose it in honor of an uncle who died young. No one wants that bearded shadow cast over their life. continue reading

A century later, Cubans are trying to completely bury the man who attempted to leave his mark on every second and every millimeter of national life. He’s so absent from public discourse that he’s no longer even mentioned in curses.

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