Venezuela: The “Decubanization” Leaves Aid Workers in Limbo
after Maduro’s fall
“People say we’re all going to leave in the coming months because the cooperation agreement won’t be renewed.”
HAVANA TIMES – The Cuban presence in Venezuela is going through one of its most uncertain moments in 2026 since, more than two decades ago, both countries sealed a strategic alliance based on the exchange of oil for professional services. The capture of Nicolas Maduro by US troops on January 3 accelerated a process that sources consulted in Caracas describe as a progressive “decubanization” of the country, visible both in official discourse and in everyday life.
“I’m careful when I go out not to speak so they won’t notice my accent, because Cubans are no longer well received here,” Mariana, a 32-year-old Cuban doctor on official mission in Caracas, told 14ymedio. The physician, who asked that her real identity not be revealed, says that for weeks her medical activity has dropped drastically. “Since the 3rd, if I’ve seen one patient, that’s a lot,” she explains. According to her testimony, Cuban doctors are in a state of virtual “confinement,” without clear guidance about their continuing in Venezuela or a possible return to the Island.
“I have several colleagues who have already gone back, but so far they’re doctors who had already finished their missions and were waiting for their return flights to be arranged,” she says. “In any case, what people are saying 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 resources: “We’ve practically not been given the supplies we need for consultations and procedures—we don’t know right now what we’ll have to keep working.”
The doctor adds that, unlike in other years, in January 2026 the usual meetings where the annual plans of Cuban missions in Venezuela were announced were not held. “Normally those guidelines are given starting at the end of January, but this year there’s been nothing,” she says. The absence of instructions reinforces the sense of provisionality among aid workers, in a political context marked by the redefinition of alliances and the growing presence of the United States in Venezuelan affairs.
Although the real figure is unknown, it is estimated that around 30,000 Cuban professionals—among them doctors, sports trainers, technical advisers, and personnel linked to intelligence and security services—are currently working in Venezuela as part of agreements signed during the governments of Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez. 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 systems but even public discourse, working methods in ministries and government institutions, and 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 hearing “Cuban accents” among interrogators, according to a report published in 2024 in El Confidencial. This participation would not be isolated, but part of cooperation agreements signed between Havana and Caracas which, critics say, enabled the transfer of repressive techniques and the direct presence of Cuban commissars 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 in El Helicoide and other detention centers is not accidental but the result of decades-long alliances between the two States. According to these allegations, the repressive machinery designed in Cuba helped systematize practices of state violence—including detentions without due process, interrogations under torture, and forced disappearances—used to punish dissidents and opponents of the Venezuelan Government.
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 both symbolic and practical distancing from Havana. At recent official events, the presence of the Cuban flag—common for years at ceremonies and institutional functions—has been reduced, and there have been changes 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 was rare for a week to pass without Cuban newscasts showing the arrival of some Cuban leader in Caracas, where they were honored and received at the highest level. Red carpets and handshakes now appear more focused on envoys of Donald Trump than on Venezuela’s allies of Havana.
One of the most talked-about gestures was the replacement at the Ministry of Tourism, where Leticia Gomez, of Cuban nationality, was substituted by one of Interior Minister Diosdado Cabello’s daughters—a decision interpreted as part of a process to reduce the weight of foreign presence. Local analysts say these moves seek to send a message both to the Venezuelan population and to Washington at a moment when the new political balance remains under negotiation.
In Venezuela’s streets, the change is also felt. Yusniel, a Cuban sports trainer who has spent more than two years in Caracas and asked to use a fictitious name, says he has taken extra precautions. “Being Cuban here right now isn’t something you can go around displaying,” he says. According to his account, he has heard direct criticism after rumors—circulating for years—about Cuban participation in the security ring protecting Maduro were confirmed. “That has weighed heavily on people’s perception,” he adds. “The label of meddlers is something we’ll never shake.”
At the same time, Yusniel says several Venezuelan friends have offered him help if he decides to remain in the country. “They tell me Venezuela came out of the tunnel and Cuba is coming next,” 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 could represent an opportunity compared to an eventual return to Cuba.
The impact of decubanization is especially noticeable in the health system. For years, outpatient clinics and hospitals in working-class neighborhoods of Caracas and other cities operated largely with Cuban personnel. Since January, however, medical care has declined markedly in 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 significant reduction of this contingent worsens the Island’s already precarious financial situation, marked by falling tourism, fuel shortages, and reduced international support.
For now, neither Havana nor Caracas has officially announced the end of cooperation. The future of the thousands of Cubans on mission will depend largely on how far the United States extends its influence over the new Venezuelan scenario and on whether Delcy Rodríguez’s Government chooses to maintain, renegotiate, or dismantle the agreements inherited from Chavismo. Meanwhile, Mariana and Yusniel wait for a decision that still hasn’t come and avoid saying in public phrases that might reveal their origin—such as the very common Cuban expression: “Man, things are really bad.”
First published in Spanish by 14ymedio and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.