Cubans Reject Communist Propaganda as a "Revolution of Hunger and Misery"

The recent remarks by Nayla Marieta Leyva Rodríguez, the Communist Party secretary in Gibara, following protests over power outages in this Holguín locality, have sparked widespread criticism on social media. Her call to "trust in the great Revolution we have" was met with indignation, sarcasm, and pent-up anger from Cubans who have endured decades of unfulfilled promises and deepening hardships.

On Facebook, where the news generated over 4,000 comments within 24 hours, her statement was harshly reinterpreted as a "great revolution of hunger, misery, and need." This phrase encapsulates the sentiment of a weary populace, struggling in the dark with empty refrigerators and little hope for improvement.

The Propaganda Machine and National Identity

The public outcry is not merely about daily struggles or the 24-hour power outages that prompted protests in Gibara. What cuts deeper is the regime's persistent effort to equate the so-called “revolution” with the nation itself. This ideological subterfuge turns any criticism of the government into a supposed attack on Cuba, the homeland, or national identity.

Since 1959, the Castro regime has co-opted symbols, flags, and foundational concepts to equate the Communist Party and its leaders with the nation. Thus, anyone questioning government management is labeled a “counter-revolutionary,” “anti-Cuban,” “traitor,” or “betrayer.” This manipulation turns legitimate dissent into an act of alleged national disloyalty.

Peaceful Protests Against Propaganda

While local television attempted to portray “calm” on the streets following the meeting between the Party official and residents of El Güirito neighborhood, citizen videos painted a different picture: dozens of people marching with pots, flashlights, and chants of “We want power!” and “Freedom!” This stark contrast highlighted, yet again, the vast gulf between official narratives and reality.

Despite the situation, Leyva's response did not acknowledge the public's frustration or their dire situation. Instead, she resorted to patriotic rhetoric, urging trust, hope, and resilience—a formula the Cuban authorities have repeated for decades, reducing social discontent to a test of ideological faith and absolving the regime of responsibility for the electrical system's collapse and the broader economic crisis.

Public Outrage

The backlash on social media was swift. Hundreds of comments criticized the official's lack of empathy, the privilege of political elites, and the disconnect between the ruling elite and the majority's hardships. “It's easy to ask for trust from an air-conditioned office,” one user retorted. Another summed up the general sentiment: “Trust in what? We've been hearing the same thing for 66 years, and every day it's worse.”

The rejection is not limited to exiles or traditional critics; it also comes from residents on the island who endure frequent blackouts, rampant inflation, and shortages. For them, the insistence on a “great revolution” feels like mockery.

Manipulation and Growing Discontent

The regime's rhetorical strategy is clear: those who do not trust in the “revolution” are automatically placed outside the nation. The repeated use of phrases like “true Cubans” or “those who do not let themselves be confused” seeks to draw a moral boundary between patriots—those who support the Party—and traitors—those who question it.

However, the protest in Gibara and the massive social response on networks reveal a fracture in this strategy. More and more Cubans reject the equivalence between the homeland and the revolution, denouncing it as empty rhetoric that justifies structural misery. What could once be silenced under slogans of unity now erupts in pot-banging protests and viral posts that dismantle official propaganda.

The Breaking Point

The blackout on September 10, which plunged the entire country into darkness following the shutdown of the Antonio Guiteras thermoelectric plant, was merely the catalyst for the protest in Gibara. Cubans understand that the energy crisis is just a symptom of a larger collapse: food scarcity, overwhelmed hospitals, inadequate transportation, sporadic water supply, and wages that fail to cover basic needs.

In such a scenario, asking for trust in the “great revolution” sounds more like a threat than a promise. Behind the phrase lies an implicit warning: either you are with the Party, or you are against Cuba. The problem for the regime is that, after more than six decades of sacrifices without results, Cubans seem increasingly unwilling to accept this rhetorical trap. The outrage that erupted in Gibara is also a reflection of an uncomfortable truth: the people's patience is running out, and propaganda can no longer mask the darkness enveloping the island.