What Cubans want – and what they are bracing for, following Trump’s threats

The Cuban capital of Havana, where we are currently on a research trip, woke to an unfamiliar silence on January 5. As we drove through the city, no music drifted from open windows and shops and restaurants were shuttered. The streets were almost deserted.

It was the first day of national mourning for the 32 Cuban soldiers killed during the US operation to capture Venezuelan leader Nicolás Maduro in Caracas two days earlier. For 48 hours, Cubans observed a duelo (period of grief), honouring what some describe as the “heroes who resisted the aggressors”.

Apart from the eerie quiet, little else in Havana has changed. Street vendors still try to lure tourists with half‑price cigars and last‑minute excursions. The general hospital’s neon lights flicker under the strain of power cuts. And the once‑grand, now crumbling, facades of buildings in central Havana remain coated in a thick film of dust, while passers-by dodge the occasional falling piece of concrete.

The US government says Cuban officials should be scared of becoming their next target. At a news conference on January 3, secretary of state Marco Rubio said: “If I lived in Havana and I was in the government, I’d be concerned.” President Donald Trump has since urged Cuba to “make a deal” with his government or face consequences.

But no one seems particularly troubled by the possibility that the US attack on Caracas might be repeated here. “They have always underestimated us,” says Antonio, our taxi driver, as he steers through the empty streets. He speaks with the matter‑of‑fact pride common among Cubans, quick to recall the fiasco of the failed Bay of Pigs US invasion in 1961. “It won’t happen here, Cubans are different.”

He points to Venezuela’s history of political betrayals, from the conspiracies against independence leader Simon Bolívar in the early 19th century to the attempted coup against former president Hugo Chávez in 2002 and now the removal of Maduro, apparently betrayed by someone close to him. Antonio insists Cubans remain loyal to their ideals of revolution and sovereignty: “The US can try to strangle us with sanctions, but they won’t break us.”

While much of the world reacts with alarm to Trump’s escalating threats against Mexico, Colombia, Iran and even Greenland, Cubans have barely flinched. Hostility from the US is nothing new, and there is general confidence in the country’s longstanding preparation for any potential escalation with what they see as an old adversary. “We’ve been getting ready for this war for more than 65 years,” one resident remarked.

Trump insists that, when Cuba finally collapses, a better future awaits it – an argument that has been amplified by mainstream international media. But this strikes many Cubans as detached from their lived reality. We spoke to Alejandro, a 20‑year‑old law student, who dismissed this idea as wishful thinking: “They’re wrong if they think they know what’s best for us.”

Cuba is living through one of its most difficult periods since the 1990s. Power cuts, water shortages, scarce foreign currency, falling tourism and rising prices shape daily life for most people.

Sanctions imposed after the socialist revolution in 1959 – and later tightened under Trump following a brief thaw under the presidency of Barack Obama – have intensified these hardships. However, there is little sign that Cubans are waiting for Trump’s help.

Cuba’s stoic resilience

Many western analysts say the halt in Venezuelan oil imports will be devastating for Cuba, arguing that the island has no real alternatives. Cubans seem to think otherwise. “We’ll get oil from the Middle East, from Mexico – we don’t rely on Venezuela as much as they say,” says Yadira, a housekeeper.

Still, the reality is more nuanced. While Mexico has now overtaken Venezuela as Cuba’s main oil supplier, providing nearly half of the island’s crude oil in 2025, it also has to deal with increasing pressures from Washington to align with US foreign policy goals in the region. These pressures forced the Mexican president, Claudia Sheinbaum, to clarify on January 7 that, while oil exports to Cuba are continuing, they will not increase.

Losing Venezuelan imports alone may not cause Cuba to collapse, but the impact will be serious and uneven. Cities, which depend heavily on fuel-intensive transport and electricity, will suffer most. And as past crises show, distribution can break down even when food is available.

“During COVID, all I could get hold of in Havana was mangoes and spring onions,” says Sophie, a British expat. Cuba’s vulnerability lies less in total isolation and more in the fragility of its internal systems – especially those that keep urban life functioning.

Beneath the surface of stoic resilience, subtle cracks are beginning to show. Albeit timidly, some Cubans point to internal governance failures.

“If I told you what I really think, I’d be arrested,” says a tour guide who told us he would prefer to remain anonymous. A trained engineer, he never managed to achieve the prosperity promised by the government’s provision of free education for all Cubans.

Like many young people, his children emigrated to Spain and, for him, Cuba’s current situation feels increasingly unsustainable. “Nothing works,” he says. “There are no medicines, no supplies, and the repression is getting worse.”

So, while Trump may not be the answer many seek, his threats underscore a broader truth for Cubans: change must come one way or another. Foreign rule is far from a solution to Cuba’s problems, yet some see it as one of the few paths left when no other way forward seems possible.

Cubans do not expect an invasion, but they do expect their lives to grow harder. They are not calling for regime change imposed from outside, but what they seem to want is the chance to build a future at home.

As the situation in Venezuela unfolds, Cubans will watch closely – not because they expect the same to happen on their island, but because they know that events elsewhere in the region have a way of washing up on their shores.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.