Neither in the country nor in Miami is there a single credible alternative movement.
Cuba is experiencing its deepest crisis in decades: the economy is collapsing, infrastructure is deteriorating, people are leaving in droves, yet the government still fears any changes. The private sector is keeping the country from a complete economic collapse, but its capabilities are limited, writes the British The Economist. Will this be enough for Cuba to survive?
It is hard to imagine how ordinary Cubans survive today. The average official salary is about 6,500 pesos, which, at the unofficial exchange rate, barely reaches $15. With this money, both doctors and teachers make ends meet. Those who are even lower on the pay scale—cleaners, museum attendants—earn about 2,500 pesos, or around $5. Meanwhile, a pack of 30 eggs costs 2,800 pesos, more than the monthly income of many families. A kilogram of rice and a kilogram of beans—the staples of the local diet—cost about the equivalent of ten days' wages for low-paid workers. The World Food Programme helps children survive.
The daily hardships have become almost unbearable. In the heat, electricity is cut off for at least four hours a day, and in some places, almost around the clock. Fans and air conditioners sit idle. Water in homes also often disappears, making it sometimes impossible to cook, bathe, or even flush the toilet.
According to the Spanish analytical center Social Rights Observatory, 89% of Cuban families live in extreme poverty, 70% are forced to skip at least one meal, and 12% of people over 70 continue to work because their pension is only about $10. Medicines are available to only a few: only 3% of residents can find the necessary drugs in pharmacies.
Public transport has virtually disappeared. Buses run infrequently, and people stand along the highways hoping to catch a ride. Car owners often cannot buy gasoline: either the gas stations are empty or there are huge lines. It can take more than a week to get 40 liters of fuel at a price of about $46—equivalent to several salaries for most Cubans. Some state gas stations only accept dollars. On the highway between Havana and Pinar del Río, there are almost no cars—the road looks deserted.
Millions of Cubans survive on help from relatives abroad. Others turn to the private sector—once rejected by the Communist Party, now vital for survival. Here, salaries are estimated to be at least eight times higher than state salaries.
But Cubans are still leaving in droves. In the last five years, about a quarter of the population has left the country. According to researchers, 78% of residents either want to emigrate or know people who are willing to do so. Demographer Juan Carlos Albisú-Campos reports that since 2020, 2.75 million people have left, nearly 800,000 just last year. Meanwhile, the birth rate has fallen to 1.29 children per woman, which is a demographic disaster for the country.
The first to leave the country are specialists. In one year, the number of doctors has more than halved. Even the famous national ballet has lost half its troupe. An unnamed Western diplomat told the publication that "almost everyone who had the means to change something has already left." As a result, the economy is facing a severe shortage of personnel. According to a study by the United Nations Economic Commission for Latin America, Cuba is currently the worst in the region in terms of labor productivity.
The economy has collapsed. Nothing works properly. Once, Cuba was a major exporter of sugar. Today, production has reached its lowest levels in a century, and the country has to import sugar from abroad. In its best years, Fidel Castro aimed to produce 10 million tons a year, and in 1989, the factories produced nearly 8 million. In the past season, the harvest was only about 150,000 tons.
After President Barack Obama's visit to Cuba in 2016, tourists flooded into the country. But the industry has not been able to recover from the pandemic. Large hotels remain mostly empty. In the center and old part of Havana, poverty and neglect are palpable. There is almost nothing to sell in stores. In the middle of the day, people of all ages collapse in doorways. Except for the renovated quarter in the city center, the city is drowning in garbage, and once richly decorated 19th-century buildings are now turning into cluttered ruins.
Inflation hovers around 15%. According to El Toque, a platform run by Cuban journalists and bloggers in exile, the peso's exchange rate has collapsed: if in 2019 a dollar cost about 20 pesos, now it is around 450. In July, the economy minister admitted that the economy had shrunk by 11% since 2019.
The only ray of hope amid all the bleak prospects is the growth of private businesses. In 2021, the authorities allowed the establishment of small and medium-sized enterprises, and now there are already 11,000 of them. According to the latest data, they account for about half of retail trade and provide jobs for a third of the employed population. This has become a turning point.
The government seems unable to decide whether to simply tolerate private business or encourage it. The Castro brothers both despised it, but it is now crucial for the survival of Cubans.
"The Communist Party has no choice but to allow the private sector to thrive because it feeds the country and provides jobs for people," says Ricardo Zúñiga, a former advisor to U.S. President Barack Obama during the thaw in relations between the two countries. At that time, the Cuban regime was convinced to cautiously open the door to private business.
But the path to business development is fraught with obstacles. The rules are vague, and the state regards entrepreneurs with constant suspicion. "Everything is done in roundabout ways. Nothing is clear. We are waiting for change, but it seems that the government lives in another world," says entrepreneur Marta Deus, founder of the tax-legal service and courier company Mandao.
The main fear of the authorities is that the private sector will spread its wings and let in foreign capital, the system will be overloaded, first economically and then politically. As one Brazilian expert jokes, "When the first McDonald's opens in Old Havana, you will know that the revolution is over." "They are still too paranoid to open up," says Mr. Herrero. "For them, private business is like a nest of worms that will penetrate the country, destabilize it, and ultimately drive out the Communist Party."
A reformer like Mikhail Gorbachev has yet to emerge in Cuba. Those who have tried to modernize the system have been quickly exiled. The 94-year-old Raúl Castro still influences events and is reportedly adamantly opposed to any deviations from Marxism-Leninism enshrined in the constitution. President Miguel Díaz-Canel, who succeeded Raúl as president in 2018, appears more of a formal leader than an initiator of change.
The opposition is fragmented and weak. The media is completely controlled by the state. Social networks are harder to control, but bloggers and online activists are under close surveillance and end up in prison if they become too popular or outspoken.
Neither in the country nor in Miami is there a single credible alternative movement, no figure like Mandela waiting in the wings. The last major wave of protests occurred in 2021 and was brutally suppressed, with hundreds of people ending up in prison. According to a human rights organization from Miami, 1,196 people are behind bars.
Some Cubans habitually hope for the U.S. But Donald Trump's position is hard to understand, and his attention seems focused on Venezuela. The Cuban community in America has long called for dialogue with Havana, but Washington has yet to heed their voice.
Meanwhile, the country is heading for collapse. The government is paralyzed by internal contradictions. People are too exhausted to overthrow the government. "It’s all so broken that it can’t be fixed anymore," says a 52-year-old taxi driver who would leave if he didn’t feel obligated to care for his sick mother. "All that can be done is to get rid of it and start all over again."
