In Havana’s Museum of the Revolution, historical exhibits depict pre-1959 Cuba under Fulgencio Batista’s dictatorship as an era of extreme poverty and corruption—a stark contrast to the dignity and education promised by Fidel Castro’s revolution. Today, however, that revolutionary narrative is being painfully inverted as ordinary Cubans experience conditions mirroring those prerevolutionary hardships.
Lisandra Botey, a Havana resident living in a makeshift home of sheet metal and wood, embodies this tragic paradox. “We’re living like that now, exactly like that,” she states, referencing museum photographs of impoverished women cooking with firewood. Her daily routine involves scavenging the beach for firewood to cook breakfast since electricity remains unavailable during school hours.
This humanitarian crisis stems from a perfect storm of economic collapse and geopolitical maneuvering. The Cuban economy entered freefall during the pandemic, but conditions dramatically worsened after US troops removed Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro—Cuba’s primary oil supplier—from power on January 3. With Washington assuming control of Venezuela’s oil industry, crude shipments to Cuba have virtually ceased.
The Trump administration has simultaneously intensified the decades-long embargo, threatening tariffs on nations supplying oil to Cuba. While the US Treasury recently relaxed restrictions on limited oil sales for “humanitarian use,” the gesture provides minimal relief amid escalating tensions, including a fatal shooting incident involving Cuban border guards and US-registered vessels.
Cuban economist Ricardo Torres observes, “Trump is changing the rules of the game. Washington’s old playbook on Cuba doesn’t apply anymore.” The administration’s stated objective is regime change through “maximum pressure,” exploiting Cuba’s vulnerability by cutting energy supplies to precipitate systemic collapse.
The consequences are visible nationwide: 15-hour daily blackouts, hospitals operating in darkness, shuttered schools, and uncollected garbage piling on streets. Fuel rationing limits purchases to 20 liters paid in US dollars via a government app with weeks-long waiting lists, causing black-market prices to skyrocket.
Surprisingly, some Cubans like construction worker Brenei Hernández direct their frustration not at Washington but at their own government. “I’d like Trump to take this place over. Then let’s see if things get better,” he admits with striking candor, reflecting diminishing fear of reprisals among the disillusioned population.
The current approach marks a radical departure from Obama’s 2014 diplomatic thaw, which sought to “bury the last remnant of the Cold War in the Americas.” Former US Ambassador Jeffrey DeLaurentis suggests the administration now seeks to “bring the government to the table or capitulate but not necessarily collapse,” while acknowledging this constitutes “a pretty risky strategy.”
With Russia, China, and other traditional allies hesitating to fill Venezuela’s void, and Secretary of State Marco Rubio allegedly negotiating through Raúl Castro’s inner circle, Cuba faces its most severe crisis since the revolution. As the Museum of the Revolution remains closed indefinitely due to fuel shortages, the question lingers whether both the institution and the revolution it celebrates will undergo irreversible transformation.
