Blackouts, Food Shortages, and Water Scarcity

The crisis is the latest turn in a history of U.S. sanctions designed to squeeze into submission the Communist government that has ruled the island since 1959. In early January, the Trump administration put an end to Venezuela’s subsidized oil shipments to Cuba, which had kept the country afloat since the early 2000s.

Weeks later, on Jan. 29, U.S. President Donald Trump announced a full-fledged oil embargo on Cuba, threatening heavy tariffs on any country that exported oil to the island. For nearly three months now, Cuba has not received any oil shipments.

Without oil, a long-running humanitarian crisis on the island is rapidly intensifying. If not properly addressed, the suffering and desperation could lead to violence and repression—but also a massive outflow of refugees fleeing in makeshift boats to the United States and other neighboring countries.

While conversations between the Trump administration and members of the Cuban government are confirmed to be taking place, it remains unclear what is being discussed and if and when these talks will lead to any concrete changes or reforms in Cuba.

Meanwhile, for Cubans on the island facing economic collapse and political intransigence, the consequences are life-threatening.

I have been doing research on Cuban poverty, inequality, and migration for 30 years and recently returned from conducting a multiyear research project on the island. What I witnessed—even before Trump’s oil blockade—was alarming. At least 40 percent of the population is estimated to be living in extreme poverty; there is widespread malnutrition, especially among older people and children; and many people live on one (poor) meal a day. Infant mortality rates have also spiked over the last five years.

Meanwhile Cuba’s infrastructure and social services, including its once-lauded education and health systems, have severely deteriorated due to the lack of resources, supplies, and qualified staff. Since 2021, approximately 2.5 million Cubans—an astonishing 24 percent of the population—have left Cuba, mostly young, educated professionals.

The lack of fuel and, with it, electricity has brought massive blackouts, food shortages, water scarcity, lack of public transportation, and major sanitation problems. Garbage has not been regularly collected in years, which led to widespread dengue and chikungunya outbreaks last year. Those diseases are bound to return during the next rainy season starting in May, as might other diseases such as cholera. Blackouts of up to 20 hours in Havana and even longer in the provinces have become normal.

In early February, the Cuban government began to introduce measures in an effort to save energy and project a sense of calm and control over the situation. Nonessential workers have been told to stay at home, universities have closed, school schedules have been reduced, and hospital patients have been relocated to maximize capacity and care in fewer hospitals. Cultural and sports events have been paused, and international flights can no longer refuel in Cuba.

Transport, tourism, and public life have all come to a standstill. People’s daily lives are organized around the few, often unannounced hours of electricity, in which they try to complete basic chores such as cooking and washing clothes. But people are exhausted, and patience with the status quo is running out. In the last week, nightly protests in different areas of Havana have become more frequent and larger in number. People bang on pots and shout out slogans such as: “We’ve had enough,” “Freedom,” and “Put the lights back on.”

Once again, Cubans on the island are caught in a game of chicken between Washington’s embargo—more punishing now than ever—and the Cuban government’s determination to cling to power.

While Trump says Cuba is next on his list, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio has signaled that the U.S. pressure could be turned down if the Cuban government were to liberalize its decrepit, state-centered economy. But such concessions would likely be unacceptable to many in the influential Cuban American community who have long advocated for complete regime change.

Meanwhile, the Cuban government, despite being in a true bind, is not known for its willingness to accept dictates, let alone give up control. If anything, its leaders are masters at buying time. But it is precisely time that the Cuban people do not have.

The consequences of Cuba’s looming humanitarian train wreck—and the costs in terms of human lives—are not inevitable. Governments in the Western Hemisphere and Europe have an opportunity to rally a broad coalition that could provide international humanitarian assistance and ensure its effective delivery to the Cuban people.

The offer by the Trump administration to head off such a crisis by channeling aid through the Catholic Church or the small private sector is a first step in the right direction. But it is not enough to provide the necessary electricity, food, and medicine so desperately needed by the vast majority of the population.

An economic collapse that creates a full-blown humanitarian disaster just 90 miles off the coast of Florida would be harmful to everyone involved, including Cuba, the United States, and neighbors in the region. Yet neither the Trump administration nor the Cuban government has offered any clarity on what comes next. The lives of about 9 million Cubans on the island hang in the balance.