Venezuela & Cuba: External Expectations, Internal Paralysis
HAVANA TIMES — The military escalation in Venezuela, widely covered by the international press and Cuban opposition media, has once again awakened a fantasy: that an external political cataclysm could finally bring down the regime in Havana. Spoiler: it won’t happen.
After more than 60 years of immobility, discontent and frustration are nothing new, but neither have they produced ruptures. The unease exists; it is whispered about and shared in private codes, but it coexists comfortably with fear, surveillance, and a control structure that works like Swiss clockwork. The state machinery remains fueled by remittances, tourism, and fear—just enough for the system to survive without major disruptions.
Worse still, the opposition—both inside and outside the country—has lost almost all credibility. The false prophecies that promised change in 2021 left five years of disillusionment. The health crisis has not improved, services continue to deteriorate, and an exhausted population has learned that lowering one’s head is usually less costly than resisting. The few dissenting voices that persist are insufficient to unsettle a regime well-versed in surviving social attrition. While outside the Island analyses and grandiloquent calls are constantly renewed, inside the most pragmatic strategy prevails: look the other way, stay quiet, pretend. Live by pretending.
Would a change in Venezuela affect Cuban stability? Yes—but it would not topple the regime. New generations do not know the harshness of the 1990s, and, as always, the Island knows how to survive. Survival is its specialty; risking everything is not. Not for lack of courage, but because there is too much to lose and almost nothing to gain.
Cuba also offers no strategic incentives for external intervention. Unlike Venezuela, with its oil and immediate wealth, the Island’s “resource” is its educated population, trapped in a system that manages human beings as captive capital. A useless asset for generating quick wealth, a luxury for those seeking immediate returns. The Island is, in effect, an almost perfect prison: surrounded by sea, isolated, with impeccable control over resources and information, and a market so small that it barely arouses interest beyond beaches, history, and some nature tourism.
Thus, even amid a regional crisis, change in Cuba does not depend on external events. Internal paralysis remains intact, sustained by fear, frustration, and distrust. While expectations are renewed abroad, inside the Island continues doing what it knows best: surviving… by pretending.