Mike Hammer's Public Diplomacy Strategy Rattles Cuban Regime

The Cuban regime has ramped up its media attacks against Mike Hammer, the U.S. chief of mission in Havana, signaling its growing unease with the open and direct diplomacy strategy he has employed since arriving on the island. In a recent episode of the state-run program Con Filo, host Michel Torres Corona dedicated an extensive segment to discrediting Hammer's efforts, labeling them cynical and accusing him of being an agent of Washington's "strangulation policy."

In recent weeks, Hammer has embarked on a notable tour across various parts of Cuba, engaging not only with institutional actors but, more disruptively to the regime, with dissidents, activists, and ordinary citizens to foster an inclusive dialogue with Cuban civil society. What might be standard diplomatic conduct elsewhere is perceived as a subversive act in Cuba, unsettling a weakened leadership entrenched in its narrative and disconnected from popular sentiment.

The Con Filo broadcast carried a sarcastic tone, but the underlying message was one of alarm. "He freely roams our streets, meeting with like-minded individuals, feigning concern... yet he represents the empire that suffocates us," the host declared, laced with irony. Torres Corona questioned how Hammer could move freely without repression if Cuba were the dictatorship he alleges. This contrast, which the show attempted to exploit humorously, starkly exposes the Cuban system's vulnerabilities.

Meanwhile, figures like Gabriela Fernández or Fernando González Llort, a spy, face boos and protests in democratic nations, yet Hammer can converse and stroll in Cuba unscathed, as the dictatorship's spokesperson rationalized. This respect for Hammer's physical integrity stems not from tolerance or laws but the regime's desire to avoid diplomatic scandals that would further tarnish its already battered international reputation.

The situation is particularly sensitive. The rise of Donald Trump has created uncertainty, with the Cuban regime hoping for outcomes that secure its power continuity, whether through the dismissal of Secretary of State Marco Rubio or a rapprochement between Washington and Moscow, facilitated by Republican ties with Havana's strategic ally, Vladimir Putin. From the Palacio de la Revolución, there's fear that sanctions may tighten, especially if Cuba is seen as hindering diplomatic efforts by figures like Hammer.

Cuba's structural crisis—characterized by blackouts, fuel shortages, runaway inflation, mass exodus, and rising social discontent—has severely eroded the regime's legitimacy, which survives more through coercive control than public support. In this context, a U.S. diplomat engaging with "the real people" —those whom the regime tries to ignore or silence— poses a direct threat to Havana's narrative monopoly.

On the same program, Johana Tablada de la Torre, deputy director for U.S. affairs at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MINREX), reinforced the official line: accusing Hammer of leading a "desperate effort" to fabricate pretexts for new aggressions. Yet her statements also highlighted the isolation of the official discourse, still echoing "blockade" and "imperial domination" narratives that no longer convince most Cubans, who dismiss them as hypocritical and immoral excuses.

In this unpredictable scenario, Mike Hammer's strategy not only unnerves the regime but has revived something seemingly extinct in Cuba: active public diplomacy. A diplomacy that walks the streets, listens without filters, and documents the real lives of Cubans, beyond the regime's TV studios.

The Campaign Against Hammer: Unleashing the Discredit Arsenal

When Mike Hammer began visiting neighborhoods, playing dominoes with young people, talking to mothers, activists, artists, and dissidents, alarm bells quietly rang within the Cuban power structure. The image of the smiling American diplomat among everyday Cubans not only contrasted with the official narrative but directly challenged it. As is typical in Cuba when control is threatened, the regime responded with its full arsenal.

The critique extended beyond the Con Filo set. From the corridors of MINREX, Tablada accused him of interference, hypocrisy, and being part of the alleged "cognitive war" the State Department wages against the Cuban regime. She also accused him of a "ridiculous tour" to build a false image of friendship while—according to her—implementing new forms of aggression. She spoke of "lists of favorite Cubans" crafted by the embassy, treated as "the true voice of the Cuban people."

The message was clear: any Cuban who spoke with Hammer was automatically marked as suspicious. The campaign culminated in the most virulent and symbolically revealing attack: Lis Cuesta Peraza, wife of Cuban leader Miguel Díaz-Canel, publicly called him "shameless and miserable" on social media. This unusual, almost personal act exposed just how much Hammer's name unsettles the power circles. "Disgusting beings," concluded the Ministry of Culture official, revealing the nausea provoked by those who speak out against the totalitarian regime her husband, appointed by dictator Raúl Castro, governs.

Joining this campaign were state journalists, militant tweeters, old guard figures, and Cuban diplomatic corps members, all echoing the familiar narrative: the external enemy that conspires, infiltrates, and manipulates. Yet this time, it wasn't a secret plan but a visible, documented, and public diplomacy. And paradoxically, that transparency was what irritated them most.

For while Hammer walks Cuba's streets without escort, listens without filters, and publishes without fear, the regime hides behind cameras, scripts, and clichés. And therein lies the true power of his gesture: speaking with Cubans, without intermediaries, is today in Cuba an act of defiance.