CUBA BETWEEN THE RIFLE AND THE OUTSTRETCHED HAND

Editor’s note: This English version has been lightly updated to reflect recent geopolitical context not included in the original Spanish publication.

After the protests of July 11, 2021, singer-songwriter Silvio Rodríguez urged the Cuban government to engage in dialogue with young people and to listen to all voices. He was ignored.

A few weeks ago, however, he asked for a rifle in case the United States military “moves in” on the island—and he received it immediately. In the photos, he appears cheerful, holding the weapon to defend a dictatorial ruling caste that refuses to listen to its own people. It is hard to ignore the near-total uselessness of a rifle in the age of drones. I would rather —as he once sang— that he dies as he lived: well.

That “if they move in” reminded me of Rolando “Roly” Molina. I met Roly and his brothers in a Catholic youth group in Marianao in the late 1970s. They had attempted to leave the country illegally, rowing toward the United States. They never got to use the oars or touch the water—they were arrested beforehand. "Roly", the eldest, was sentenced to ten years in prison. I met him after his release.

With his natural and infectious sense of humor, "Roly" told me that during an interrogation —when authorities tried to accuse him, like his brother Fernando, of belonging to the counterrevolutionary group “Alpha 66”— the officer in charge snapped: “Do you really think you’re going to bring down this Revolution with little shots and pamphlets? Don’t be ridiculous! The only ones who could end this are the blond guys from the Guantánamo base. If the Yankees ever open that gate and come in, they won’t stop until Cabo de San Antonio.”

Northeast Gate of Guantanamo Base. For more than twenty years, it served as the meeting point between Cuban and U.S. military personnel. / Photo: U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Kegan E. Kay/Released

The Surrealism of the Border

But they never came in. Or at least, not by force.

Few people remember—or even know—that in the early 1990s, regular meetings began between U.S. officers at the Guantánamo base and Cuban border brigade officers. During the 1994 balsero crisis, a direct physical line of contact was established between the two sides—one that likely still exists today.

By 1995, these meetings had become routine: every third Friday of the month, alternating locations on either side of the fence. They were not political, but practical—focused on maintaining stability in the area. Over time, and with growing mutual respect, these encounters expanded into joint emergency exercises, including medical response and evacuations.

In January 2002, under President George W. Bush, the first detainees of the war on terror arrived following the attacks of September 11, 2001. U.S. officials informed their Cuban counterparts that the arrival of additional troops should not be interpreted as a threat—they were there to guard prisoners. Cuban officials acknowledged the notice, offered medical cooperation if needed, and promised to return any detainee who might escape into Cuban territory.

Around that time, I visited Guantánamo to meet with Bishop Carlos Baladrón (may he rest in peace). He told me about the astonishment of local residents when they saw U.S. military vehicles driving through the city to the provincial hospital “Agostinho Neto,” in case it might be needed if the base’s medical capacity were exceeded. A few days later, a Cuban delegation visited the base hospital.

It was a surreal moment: two countries officially considered enemies, quietly cooperating—noticed only by the local press.

 Power, Style, and Cuba’s Calling

With the current president of the United States—who claims to have placed Cuba on his list of “political solutions” and often acts unpredictably—it is difficult to know whether “the blond guys” would arrive in uniform or with an outstretched hand. My bet is on negotiation.

At its core, what Donald Trump suggests is an aggressive version of Barack Obama’s more measured attempt to bring the two nations closer together. The difference is one of style. We never heard Obama —or any previous president— say he could “do whatever he wanted” with Cuba, as though it were personal property.

Cuba is an independent nation—devastated, yes, by those who hold power—but still defined by a profound history and immense creative capacity: a flame that continues to burn beneath the ashes.

It has a “universal vocation,” as Saint John Paul II once said, proven time and again. One example deserves to be remembered. In 1781, the women of Havana raised 500,000 Spanish pesos in just six hours—through donations of jewelry and valuables—for George Washington’s depleted army. That sum would be worth between $50 million and $150 million today, depending on the estimate.

That contribution helped secure the decisive victory at Yorktown—and, ultimately, American independence.  Yes, Cuban-born Spaniards (criollos) and Spanish colonial authorities in Havana helped make this nation possible.

 A Country on Its Knees

There is a certain logic behind President Trump’s claim that he could “do whatever he wants.” It is not the logic of a statesman or a champion of democracy, but that of a capitalist seeking to deliver a final blow to a weakened competitor in order to strip it of everything.

What Cuba’s self-proclaimed president calls “our social system” is, in reality, an antisocial—and therefore disgraceful—model that keeps the country on its knees, exhausted. That is where Trump sees opportunity. It is quickly said —but slowly endured.

From the visit of Saint John Paul II to that of Pope Francis, the world drew closer to Cuba. Yet the internal blockade prevailed, settling for occasional scraps. The government did not “miss” opportunities—it deliberately rejected them to maintain control.

But if the population is exhausted, so too are the government and its arguments. There is no humane justification for an inhumane policy that produces—and sustains—deliberate impoverishment. Nor is there justification for the inability to acknowledge and correct, beyond mere words, its grave errors.

What Comes Next

What will happen remains uncertain. But whatever comes must be better than what has been.

The pragmatism shown by military officials around the base should be embraced by civilians. After so much material and spiritual devastation, the nation will have to be rebuilt.

External support will not be lacking for genuine internal efforts. After all, “the blond guys” might come again—only this time, not from the United States, but from Russia.

But only people of sound judgment—respectful of their own dignity and that of others—should lead the country’s rebirth.