Spanish Politician Says Its Better Cuba Remains Communist
HAVANA TIMES – This Friday, Pablo Iglesias, former Vice President of the Government of Spain and founder of the political party Podemos, sparked intense controversy on social media when he claimed that if communism were to collapse in Cuba, the Caribbean country would end up becoming “a democracy like Haiti,” characterized by “hunger, violence, illiteracy, and a complete absence of services.”
To begin with, the only thing that doesn’t exist in this country right now is illiteracy—everything else eats away at our insides, in case you haven’t noticed.
The controversy began after a heated exchange between Iglesias and Magdiel Jorge Castro, a Cuban activist and exiled communicator, who criticized the Spanish leader’s stance regarding Venezuelan opposition figure María Corina Machado, recently awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. The debate then shifted to Cuba and to the notion—apparently entrenched among sectors of Europe’s radical left—that any democratic alternative to socialism in Cuba would necessarily lead to chaos and extreme poverty.
This is where I ask: Why, Pablo Iglesias? Why must we end up as the worst country on the continent? Is it better to remain under a repressive regime to avoid an alleged total collapse? Are there really only two possible options?
The range of possibilities that could emerge in a post-communist Cuba is broad. Arguments not only attempt to delegitimize any attempt at change but also aim to instill fear in the Cuban people, suggesting that without the Communist Party the country would descend into disaster.
In the same way, he seeks to silence criticism, even though it is evident that the government itself is responsible for the chaos we currently live in—a chaos not very different from the one we are supposedly being warned about.
Haiti does not have 20-hour daily blackouts. Haiti has a functioning public transportation system. Haiti does not have hundreds of political prisoners. Haiti does not repress those who speak ill of their government. Haiti has thousands of problems, yes, but that doesn’t mean Cubans are incapable of forging their own democratic future.
It is, in some way, a contempt for our potential and an attempt to render invisible the hundreds of thousands of Cubans who legitimately desire what so many in Europe take for granted: civil rights, political freedoms, and the opportunity for democratic participation.
According to Iglesias, “The Cuban Revolution, with all its errors and injustices, remains a more decent model than the one offered—under US tutelage—to the rest of the Caribbean peoples.”
Decency, Mr. Iglesias, begins with freedom. And that is precisely what is most lacking for the Cuban people—freedom of expression, of movement, and of enterprise—without the oppressive shadow of a regime that dictates what is possible.
Cuba does not have to follow Haiti’s path. With sufficient investment, the education its population already possesses, and an inclusive political system, it could develop democratic institutions similar to those of its regional peers, where life is much better than in Haiti.
The trivialization of history and the reduction of Cuba’s complex reality to a simplistic, Manichaean narrative is not only dishonest but also perpetuates the suffering of those who deserve a better future.
The narrative Iglesias promotes is not just a defense of an obsolete model—it is an act of complicity. By invoking fear to maintain paralysis, it denies Cubans the ability to build a different path and attempts to extinguish the silent cry of those of us who yearn for change.
Life is a subtle dance between hope and disillusionment, and Iglesias wants to lead us down the worst path.
The inefficient economic system and the failed model that Cuba’s leadership seeks to uphold are the main obstacles preventing the country from emerging from this eternal crisis—and only democracy can make that possible.
This country already lived through that situation before 1959, and it was nothing like Haiti. Why must we now regress, when thousands of Cubans are waiting for a change in regime to invest in their homeland?
Without the US government’s economic sanctions—which Cuban authorities themselves claim hinder development—wouldn’t we already be much better off?
It is the inefficiency of the planned economy that stifles productive forces. That is what we must leave behind—and surely, we would be better off, much better off than Haiti.
What model is Iglesias defending when even the social achievements of the Revolution have been left to fend for themselves—when teachers and doctors cannot live decently on their salaries (that “decent” word he used so offhandedly), when sports, once a traditional banner of progress, are in steady decline?
Here, the sun silently caresses the ruins—ruins born of an old and anachronistic system, the shadow of a beacon that never shone—while Iglesias seeks to legitimize it. We are a nation weary of empty promises, drifting toward no port, living the drama of daily misery.
It is disturbing that such a statement comes from someone who, in his own country, defends the struggle for justice and equity, yet in Cuba’s case seems to relegate Cubans to a cruel and limited destiny.
No, Pablo Iglesias—this narrative of despair is not for us. Do not try to deny us the light of a bright future. We have the capacity to be the architects of our destiny, to build bridges toward prosperity and peace. We are not incapable, nor do we wish to be, and it will never be fair to underestimate our potential.
And if we fail to achieve what we dream of, we will never be worse off than we are now—that you can be sure of. At least we would have the comfort of failing in pursuit of our dreams, and we would have another imperfect but better society. Each disappointment would open the door to reinvention, because life, after all, is nothing more than a work of art in constant creation.