We have absolutely nothing. That's all we want—three hours of electricity.
Across the Florida Strait, a decades-old conflict between Washington and Havana has entered a new and dangerous chapter. The Trump administration is threatening to indict 94-year-old Raúl Castro over a 1996 military incident, deploying legal pressure as a geopolitical weapon even as Cuba's 9.5 million people endure 22-hour blackouts and acute fuel shortages. The strategy echoes the approach used against Venezuela's Maduro — not merely a legal maneuver, but a signal that Washington is willing to accelerate regime change through economic strangulation, military posturing, and the selective use of justice. At the center of it all, ordinary Cubans bang pots in the dark, asking only for a few hours of light.
- The threat of indicting a 94-year-old former head of state over a 1996 incident is less about justice than about leverage — a legal weapon drawn from the same playbook used to destabilize Venezuela.
- Cuba has run out of fuel oil entirely, plunging its population into blackouts lasting 22 hours a day as summer heat climbs and food spoils in powerless refrigerators.
- CIA Director Ratcliffe's surprise visit to Havana, coming the morning after widespread street protests, signals that Washington is pressing its advantage at the moment of Cuba's greatest vulnerability.
- The US is dangling $100 million in aid while simultaneously enforcing an oil blockade — a contradiction that reveals the offer as a demand for surrender dressed in the language of diplomacy.
- Cuba's leadership is publicly projecting unity while privately scrambling, having badly miscalculated that the Iran crisis would distract Washington long enough to ease the pressure.
- With surveillance aircraft circling the island and an aircraft carrier potentially positioned offshore, the line between economic coercion and military threat is growing dangerously thin.
The Trump administration is preparing to indict Raúl Castro, the 94-year-old former Cuban president, over the 1996 downing of two aircraft belonging to Brothers to the Rescue, a Cuban exile group whose planes were intercepted near Havana while searching for people crossing the Florida Strait. The move has not been officially confirmed and would still require grand jury approval, but it mirrors the legal strategy that preceded the US abduction of Venezuela's Nicolás Maduro — a signal, more than a prosecution, that Washington is intensifying its campaign against Cuba's communist leadership. Though Castro stepped down years ago, he remains the island's most powerful shadow figure, and his removal would represent a fundamental rupture in Cuban politics.
The threat arrives as Cuba endures its worst crisis in recent memory. The island has run out of fuel oil entirely, leaving 9.5 million people to suffer blackouts stretching 22 hours a day. Cuba's energy minister confirmed the situation bluntly on state television: 'We have absolutely nothing.' For four months, the Trump administration has enforced a strict oil blockade, permitting only a single Russian crude carrier to dock — a calculated act of economic strangulation framed, thinly, as humanitarian restraint.
CIA Director John Ratcliffe flew to Havana this week for talks with senior Cuban officials and Raúl Castro's grandson, Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, who holds no official government position. The choice of interlocutor unsettled many Cubans, raising suspicions that Washington is trying to engineer a split within the leadership. President Díaz-Canel responded by holding a press conference to publicly confirm the talks and display unity, with Rodríguez Castro visibly present.
The negotiations produced no breakthrough. Cuba insisted it posed no threat to US national security; Washington demanded 'fundamental changes' before any serious engagement. The State Department offered $100 million in aid contingent on reforms — Cuba's foreign minister said his government would accept the money, but only without conditions. The impasse was total.
Cuban officials had hoped the Trump administration's preoccupation with Iran would buy them time. That calculation has proven wrong. Trump has floated positioning the USS Abraham Lincoln near Cuban shores, and American surveillance aircraft have been circling the island with growing frequency. Analysts note the paradox: a military operation seems unlikely while Iran remains unresolved, but Cuba, with no fuel and no leverage, cannot afford to rely on that assumption.
On the streets, the crisis is not ideological. When residents poured out to protest this week, one told reporters the demand was simple: 'We started banging pots to see if they would give us just three hours of electricity. That's all we want.' The indictments, the blockades, and the military posturing all unfold against the backdrop of a population trying, in the sweltering heat, simply to survive the night.
The Trump administration is preparing to indict Raúl Castro, the 94-year-old former president of Cuba, according to reports that have not yet been officially confirmed. The move mirrors the legal strategy that preceded the US abduction of Venezuela's Nicolás Maduro in January, signaling a sharp escalation in Washington's campaign to destabilize Cuba's communist government. Though Castro officially stepped down years ago, he remains the most influential figure in Cuban politics—a shadow authority whose removal would represent a seismic shift in the island's power structure. The timing is deliberate: the indictment threat arrives as Cuba spirals into its worst crisis in years, with the population of 9.5 million now enduring blackouts lasting 22 hours at a stretch.
The possible charges stem from the 1996 downing of two small aircraft operated by Brothers to the Rescue, a Cuban exile group. The planes had been searching for people fleeing across the Florida Strait when they were intercepted by a Cuban military jet near Havana. It is a decades-old incident, but one that carries symbolic weight in the hands of a US administration intent on regime change. "You can get a grand jury to indict a ham sandwich," observed Pedro Freyre, a prominent Cuban American lawyer in Miami, capturing the skepticism many feel about the legal justification. The indictment, if pursued, would require approval from a grand jury—a procedural step that has not yet occurred.
The pressure campaign intensified dramatically this week when CIA Director John Ratcliffe flew into Havana for talks with senior Cuban officials and Raúl Castro's grandson, Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro. The visit came on the heels of a night of widespread protests across the capital, as residents took to the streets demanding relief from the rolling blackouts. Cuba's energy minister, Vicente de la O Levy, had already conceded the obvious: the island had run out of fuel oil. "We have absolutely nothing," he told state television. For four months, the Trump administration has maintained a strict oil blockade, allowing only a single Russian crude carrier, the Anatoly Kolodkin, to dock—a decision Trump justified on humanitarian grounds while clearly intended as economic strangulation.
The US strategy appears designed to force either the collapse of the current regime or its capitulation to American economic interests. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, himself a Cuban American, stated plainly: "I don't think we're going to be able to change the trajectory of Cuba as long as these people are in charge." Trump has been more blunt, declaring his intention to "take over" the country. The administration has also begun holding bilateral talks with Rodríguez Castro, a move that has unsettled many Cubans because the younger Castro holds no official government position—raising suspicions that Washington is attempting to engineer a split within the leadership. In response, President Miguel Díaz-Canel held a press conference to publicly confirm both the talks and Raúl Castro's involvement, with Rodríguez Castro present as a show of unity.
Until this week, Cuban officials had believed the negotiations were stalling, hoping that the Trump administration would be too consumed by its crisis in Iran to maintain pressure on Havana. That assumption has proven dangerously wrong. Trump himself announced in early May that he might position the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln "roughly 100 yards off the Cuban shore." In recent weeks, American surveillance aircraft—both drones and manned planes—have been tracked circling the island with increasing frequency. Michael Bustamante, chair of Cuban and Cuban American studies at the University of Miami, acknowledged the paradox: "I still can't imagine the US actually conducting a military operation with Iran still a mess. But I also don't think Cuba can afford that bet with no oil in the tank."
The meeting between Ratcliffe and the Cuban delegation produced no breakthrough. Each side restated its position: Cuba insisted it posed no threat to US national security, while Washington demanded "fundamental changes" as a precondition for serious engagement on economic and security matters. The State Department dangled a $100 million aid package, but only if Cuba matched it with what it termed "meaningful reforms." In an unusual move, Cuban Foreign Minister Bruno Rodríguez said his government would accept the aid—but only without conditions attached. The contradiction revealed the depth of the impasse.
Meanwhile, the human cost accumulates daily. As summer temperatures climb into the high 80s Fahrenheit, Cubans struggle without fans to cool their homes or refrigeration to preserve food. The economy has been contracting for five years, leaving many destitute and hungry. When residents poured into the streets on Wednesday to protest, one told Reuters the complaint was not ideological: "We started banging pots to see if they would give us just three hours of electricity. That's all we want." The indictment threat, the military posturing, the blockade—all of it unfolds against the backdrop of a population simply trying to survive the night.
Citações Notáveis
We have absolutely nothing.— Vicente de la O Levy, Cuba's energy minister, on fuel oil reserves
I don't think we're going to be able to change the trajectory of Cuba as long as these people are in charge.— Marco Rubio, US Secretary of State
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why indict a man who isn't even in office anymore? What does that accomplish?
It removes the one person Cubans still listen to. Raúl is retired in name only—he's the real authority. If you indict him, you're signaling that no one in that government is safe, that the US will reach back decades to find a charge that sticks.
But the plane incident was in 1996. Why now?
Because now Cuba is weak. No fuel, no electricity, people in the streets. The US sees an opening. Maduro's abduction in January showed what's possible. This is the same playbook.
Does the Cuban government actually believe the US would invade?
They can't afford not to believe it. Trump has already talked about positioning a carrier 100 yards offshore. The surveillance flights are constant. When you have no oil and your people are suffering, you can't gamble that he's bluffing.
What does Raúl Castro's grandson have to do with any of this?
He's the wedge. He has no official role, but the US is negotiating with him directly. It signals to the Cuban government that Washington is willing to work around them, maybe even replace them. It's designed to create fractures.
Can Cuba actually hold out without fuel?
Not for long. The blackouts are already 22 hours. People can't eat, can't sleep, can't work. At some point desperation becomes a weapon the US doesn't even have to fire.