We are still here, we will not hide.
A ninety-five-year-old revolutionary celebrated his birthday in Havana on the same day the last grace period for foreign companies doing business with Cuba expired, and the man who came to honor him had been sanctioned by Washington just hours before. The United States, under Donald Trump, has moved with unusual speed and breadth to isolate the Cuban government — economically, legally, and diplomatically — while formal criminal charges now reach back three decades to hold Raúl Castro accountable for four civilian deaths. This is not merely a policy dispute; it is the resumption of a long historical antagonism, sharpened by new instruments and an island population caught between two adversaries who have returned to their oldest postures.
- Washington's sanctions deadline expired June 5, triggering immediate consequences for any foreign company still doing business with Cuba's military-linked commercial empire.
- The corporate exodus is already dramatic — major airlines, shipping giants, hotel chains, and the sole processor of Visa and Mastercard transactions on the island have all withdrawn, severing critical economic lifelines.
- Raúl Castro, now ninety-five and facing federal criminal charges in Miami for the 1996 downing of two civilian planes, appeared publicly in Havana in a deliberate show of defiance — as if daring Washington to make the charges mean something.
- The ambiguous wording of Trump's executive order creates legal risk far beyond Cuba itself, chilling international business engagement with Havana even among companies with no physical presence on the island.
- Secretary of State Rubio has stated plainly that Washington's demands require a change in Cuban leadership — a condition Havana flatly rejects — leaving little room for the quiet diplomatic channels that still exist between the two governments.
- Cuba's economy, already crippled by fuel shortages and capital flight, now faces cascading scarcity as the combined weight of sanctions, an oil embargo, and vanishing foreign currency pushes the island toward a breaking point.
On Friday, Raúl Castro walked into Havana's Karl Marx Theater to mark his ninety-fifth birthday. President Miguel Díaz-Canel was there to honor him — hours after being sanctioned by the U.S. Treasury, along with his wife, stepson, and Castro's own grandson. The celebration went ahead anyway, a public act of defiance on the very day Washington's grace period for foreign companies operating in Cuba expired.
The criminal charges against Castro are decades old but newly prosecuted. In May, federal prosecutors in Miami formally accused him of ordering the 1996 shootdown of two civilian aircraft belonging to Brothers to the Rescue, killing four people. Castro was defense minister at the time. Now, at ninety-five, he faces legal accountability for those deaths as part of a broader American campaign to isolate the island.
Trump's executive order, issued May 1, gave foreign companies just over a month to sever ties with Cuba's energy, defense, mining, finance, and security sectors — or face asset freezes and exclusion from U.S. financial systems. The result was swift: Canadian and Russian airlines suspended service in February, followed by Air France, Turkish Airlines, and Iberia. The two largest shipping companies serving Cuban ports halted new cargo bookings. Sherritt, Canada's biggest foreign investor on the island, stopped nickel and cobalt extraction. Hotel chains withdrew from military-owned properties. Most critically, the sole bank processing Visa and Mastercard transactions in Cuba shut down that infrastructure entirely.
The order's language is deliberately broad, creating legal jeopardy for any company that has interacted with the Cuban government — a deterrent designed to extend well beyond the island's shores. Cuba has denounced the measures as illegal, pointing also to an oil embargo that has crippled its airports and power supply. The island's tourism-dependent economy was already in crisis; the withdrawal of carriers, shippers, and capital has deepened it.
Behind the confrontation, quiet channels between Washington and Havana persist, though details are scarce. Trump has oscillated between threatening force and hinting at negotiation. Rubio has been blunter: the changes Washington wants require new Cuban leadership — something Havana refuses to discuss. What remains is a test of endurance, with ordinary Cubans bearing the heaviest cost of a rivalry that, after a brief thaw, has returned with full force.
Raúl Castro walked into the Karl Marx Theater in Havana on Friday to celebrate his ninety-fifth birthday. The current president, Miguel Díaz-Canel, was there to honor him. What made the moment extraordinary was its timing: Díaz-Canel had been sanctioned by the United States Treasury Department just hours earlier, along with his wife and stepson. The same day, Washington added Raúl Alejandro Castro Calis—Raúl Castro's grandson—to its sanctions list. The celebration proceeded anyway, a defiant public display of continuity in the face of what amounts to the most direct American assault on Cuba's power structure since Donald Trump returned to the White House.
The charges against Raúl Castro himself are decades old but newly prosecuted. On May 20, federal prosecutors in Miami formally accused him of ordering the downing of two civilian aircraft belonging to Brothers to the Rescue, a Cuban exile organization, in 1996. Four people died in the shootdown, killed by Cuban military jets while Castro served as defense minister. Now, at ninety-five, he faces criminal liability for those deaths. The indictment is one piece of a broader campaign to isolate and economically strangle the island.
Trump's administration has moved with striking speed and scope. On May 1, the president issued an executive order targeting foreign companies operating in Cuba's energy, defense, mining, finance, and security sectors. The deadline for these companies to sever ties with the island was June 5—a grace period of just over a month. On that same Friday, as Castro celebrated in Havana, the grace period expired. The threat was explicit: any foreign entity maintaining business with Cuba or with Gaesa, the Cuban military's sprawling commercial conglomerate, would face asset freezes in the United States and be barred from American financial systems.
The result has been a corporate exodus. Four Canadian airlines and two Russian carriers suspended service to Cuba in February, followed by Air France, Turkish Airlines, and Iberia. The two largest shipping companies operating in Cuban ports—France's CMA CGM and Germany's Hapag-Lloyd—stopped accepting new bookings for cargo to or from the island. Sherritt, a Canadian mining company with the largest foreign investment stake in Cuba, immediately halted its nickel and cobalt extraction operations. Spain's Meliá and Iberostar hotel chains withdrew from all properties owned by the Cuban military. Blue Diamond of Canada and Indonesia's Archipelago ceased operations entirely. Most critically, an unnamed bank that had been the sole processor for Visa and Mastercard transactions in Cuba shut down that payment infrastructure, severing a vital revenue stream for an already desperate economy.
The language of Trump's order is deliberately broad. While it nominally targets foreign entities with direct presence in Cuba, the ambiguous wording creates legal jeopardy for any company that has interacted with the Cuban government—a deterrent effect that extends far beyond the island itself. Experts note this is intentional: the order is designed to discourage any international business engagement with Havana, whether or not those companies have physical operations there. The message is unambiguous: do business with Cuba and face American retaliation.
Cuba's government has denounced the sanctions as illegal and abusive. Officials point to the oil embargo imposed after Trump's ally, Venezuelan strongman Nicolás Maduro, was captured—an embargo that has crippled Cuba's ability to fuel its airports and power its economy. The island is tourism-dependent and already in crisis. The combination of fuel shortages, capital flight, and the withdrawal of international carriers and shipping lines has created cascading shortages of goods and foreign currency.
Behind the public theater of sanctions and criminal charges, there are quieter channels. Washington and Havana maintain diplomatic, military, and intelligence contacts, though few details have surfaced. Trump has made contradictory statements: he has threatened to take control of Cuba by force, yet also suggested willingness to negotiate with a government on the brink of collapse. Secretary of State Marco Rubio has been more direct, stating this week that the transformations Washington demands require a change in Cuba's leadership—a condition the Cuban government flatly rejects, insisting it will not negotiate away its sovereignty.
What unfolds now is a test of endurance. The economic pressure is real and mounting. The criminal charges against Castro are real. The public appearance at his birthday celebration was a show of defiance, but it cannot reverse the tide of departing companies, frozen assets, and a population facing deepening scarcity. The question is whether the pressure will break the government or harden its resolve—and how long ordinary Cubans can sustain the weight of a confrontation between two adversaries who, after a brief thaw from 2014 to 2017, have returned to their oldest antagonism with renewed intensity.
Citações Notáveis
For the transformations the U.S. demands to take effect, there must be a change in Cuba's leadership.— U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio
Cuba's government rejects any negotiation that would compromise its sovereignty.— Cuban government position
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter that Raúl Castro showed up to his own birthday party right now, of all moments?
Because it's a statement. He's ninety-five, he's been charged with murder by the U.S., his government is under siege—and he walked into that theater anyway. It says: we are still here, we are not broken, we will not hide.
But can a birthday party actually change anything when American companies are fleeing the island by the week?
No. But that's precisely why the appearance matters. It's not about changing facts on the ground. It's about maintaining the narrative of continuity and defiance when everything else is fragmenting.
The sanctions seem designed to hurt ordinary Cubans more than the government itself. Is that intentional?
The stated target is foreign companies and military-linked enterprises. But yes, when you cut off fuel, shipping, and payment systems, the pain flows downward. Whether that's a feature or a bug depends on your view of the policy.
What's the endgame here? Does Trump actually want regime change, or is this about leverage?
The statements are contradictory. He's threatened military action and also said he'd negotiate. Rubio is clearer—he's said change in leadership is necessary. But Cuba won't negotiate that away, so we're in a stalemate with escalating pressure.
How long can Cuba actually hold out under this?
That's the question no one can answer yet. The economy was already fragile. Now it's hemorrhaging foreign currency and essential goods. Months? Years? It depends on whether the government can maintain control and whether ordinary people's desperation reaches a breaking point.