HAVANA.— Now that the foreign hotel chains have packed up and told GAESA that this is no time to keep playing the game; now that the European Parliament has finally taken the cucumber slices off its eyes and is looking at Cuba with a much «clearer» perspective; now that the Antonio Guiteras power plant has finally given up and is on its deathbed; now that public distrust of the system and its leaders is greater—and more justified—than ever; now that even Haiti posts better economic indicators than Cuba; now that the United States has reached a peace agreement with Iran and Pete Hegseth has come and gone from Guantánamo as casually as if it were a gym; now that many Cubans are hoping Trump will finally get serious and turn his attention this way—a defeated Díaz-Canel has announced the most sweeping changes since the Revolutionary Offensive of 1968.
He did it overnight, proving that it was never all that difficult—and that Marino Murillo was paid a salary and enjoyed countless perks for ten years while doing little more than loafing, literally.
The Tarea Ordenamiento (Economic Reorganization Task), which was supposedly studied «in depth» before being implemented—and from whose failure and subsequent revisions the country has never recovered—introduced nothing as risky as what Díaz-Canel has now proposed. In just a few minutes, the handpicked ruler claimed to dismantle the internal blockade—at least in theory—leaving Cubans both on the island and abroad stunned.
Emigrants, he announced, will now be able to invest in infrastructure and manage hotels, supposedly protected by a «secure» legal framework created specifically for them. Once again, Díaz-Canel called for trust, without mentioning the Constitution, which declares socialism to be irrevocable and personal enrichment incompatible with its principles.
The regime wants to create a legal loophole to pretend it is something it is not and selectively allow certain people to come and make money. That loophole will last only until Trump is gone, and any investor reckless enough to step into such a legal quagmire will end up sinking in the mud.
Any emigrant who falls into that trap deserves to lose their money. The warning signs are all there, as is the sheer audacity—an audacity so immense it defies comparison. It takes extraordinary shamelessness to expect the Cuban diaspora to come rebuild the Havana that Fidel Castro found magnificent, vibrant, and fully functional on that disastrous January 8, 1959.
The very people who methodically destroyed this beautiful city, turning it into a dumping ground of trash and rubble, now want those who were forced to leave it—and to leave Cuba altogether because of their political beliefs or because it was impossible to prosper under laws that remain fundamentally unchanged, despite cosmetic adjustments meant to create the appearance of modernization—to come back and rescue it.
For decades, that same diaspora has kept Castroism’s parasitic economy afloat through remittances and consumer goods. Now, as if that were not enough, it is being invited to rehabilitate and beautify its homeland, where the same political power still prevails—the power that rendered the country unproductive, dependent, desperately poor, stagnant, and hostile to its own citizens.
Now that foreign tourists are no longer coming, the authorities are devising strategies to attract domestic tourism, much of which is financed by relatives living abroad. Those domestic tourists—long regarded as low-budget and undesirable, treated poorly, made to wait, and looked down upon at every reservation desk, every so-called gourmet restaurant, and every hotel—are now being courted almost pleadingly so that the establishments still barely operating will not have to close.
Let the Cubans come—the ones born and raised amid hunger, with scarcely the slightest exposure to culinary culture, lacking even the most basic standards, refined taste, or discerning palate. They won’t mind if the hotel sheets smell musty or there is no toilet paper. They won’t complain if the buffet serves processed fish patties, cubes of processed cheese, and Serrano ham that seems left over from the Franco era; if the piña colada is made with Zuko powdered drink mix; or if the mojito is mixed with watered-down rum that the bartender reserves for such «special» customers, assuming they are accustomed to even worse alcohol.
It would have been useful if at least one hard-hitting journalist had asked Díaz-Canel what is different today that would make these reforms succeed, given that they are largely the same ones announced on previous occasions and never implemented successfully. Or who has been farming the land until now if it is only now going to be handed over to those who will actually make it productive. They might also have asked what has become of the land granted to Russia in usufruct three years ago.
No such questions were raised because the state-run press, having abandoned its social and political responsibility, knows full well that the best time to implement these reforms was ten years ago, during the thaw promoted by the Obama administration. Now it is too late, and the more the regime insists on fixing things, the more it alienates a public that does not have a fixed timetable for doing what the authorities are trying so desperately to prevent.
When that moment comes, people will act forcefully, as desperate people do, with little concern for repression, because it has already become clear that the «enemy» not only lives nearby, but even shows up wearing shorts.
