Why Did the Cuban Regime Need to Bury Alejandro Gil?

Miguel Díaz-Canel and Alejandro Gil, then Minister of Economy, in a 2019 photo. / Cubadebate

By Jorge Luis León (14ymedio)

HAVANA TIMES – I don’t write from the comfort of an absolute truth, but from the moral obligation to think aloud. The case of Alejandro Gil is not a simple legal matter; it is a broken mirror reflecting the deepest fissures of Cuban power. What is officially presented to us as “justice” seems, in reality, to be a carefully measured combination of real punishment and political theater.

From the outset, the process was shrouded in secrecy unbecoming even by Cuban standards. There was no transparency, no verifiable accounts, no real access to technical details. Only a closed narrative: serious corruption and, as a dramatic finale, espionage for the CIA. That last accusation, rather than convincing, arouses suspicion. Too convenient, too functional, too comfortable.

I don’t deny the possibility of corruption. It would be naive to do so. In a system where political power manages resources without independent audits, without a free press, and without real checks and balances, corruption is not the exception: it is the structural norm. However, what I find impossible to believe is that Alejandro Gil was a moral anomaly within a healthy system. No. If there was corruption, and it is likely there was, it wasn’t an isolated incident, but an integral part of a mechanism that has functioned this way for decades.

Then why him? Why life imprisonment? Why the charge of espionage?

The most coherent answer is not legal, it is political.

The country is experiencing its worst economic crisis since the 1990s. The Economic Reorganization Plan—one of the government’s main initiatives to restructure the economy—has failed spectacularly. Runaway inflation, decimated wages, destruction of purchasing power, and chronic shortages. This plan wasn’t the brainchild of a single individual: it was approved by the top brass, backed by the Communist Party, and celebrated by the propaganda machine. And yet, someone had to take the blame for the disaster.

Alejandro Gil proved to be perfect for the sacrifice. A recognizable face. A visible name. A techie with public exposure. Making him the “culprit” for the debacle allowed them to salvage the central narrative: the problem isn’t the system, it is a man who betrayed, who stole, who conspired.

Here the second level of the case emerges: internal fear. When a high-ranking official falls from grace, it is not just about what they stole or did, but about what they know. Gil wasn’t a minor bureaucrat; he was at the heart of economic decisions, he knew the real circuits of power, the informal networks, the double standards, the privileges that are never written into law. A public trial, with real airtime, would have been a cluster bomb against the elite itself.

That is why the secrecy. That is why the summary nature. That is why the extreme severity.

The label “spy” serves a precise function: to shut down all discussion. Espionage is not debated, not nuanced, not relativized. It is treason. Period. With that word, the process was shielded, the doors were closed, and the maximum punishment was justified.

There is one detail I can’t ignore: the president’s own political ineptitude. In the midst of this turmoil, we saw him publicly congratulate Gil on his work. A gesture that, far from strengthening the image of power, brutally weakened it. Because it revealed something essential: the real strings of power don’t pass through his hands. The president was, in this episode, a secondary player, either ill-informed or deliberately excluded. This reveals not only a lack of coordination, but also the existence of a hard core that makes decisions without consulting, that executes without explaining.

We are not dealing with justice, we are dealing with an administration of fear.

The message is twofold: to the public, “we punish corruption”; to the rank and file, “no one is safe, no one is indispensable.” Life imprisonment is not just a punishment; it is a symbol. It is not about reforming the system; it is about preserving the power structure.

It wasn’t just Alejandro Gil’s actions that were judged; his downfall was used to redefine blame, clean up the facade, and protect the regime’s intact structure. They didn’t want justice: they needed a political scapegoat.

And that, in my opinion, is the key to this whole episode. They weren’t trying to fix the system. They were trying to save it.

First published in Spanish by 14ymedio and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.

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