Even into 2026, there is no sign of recovery in everyday Cuban life. In some areas, blackouts last close to 20 hours a day, and shortages of food and medicine have become routine. Human rights groups report political prisoners numbering anywhere from several hundred to more than a thousand, and recent emigration is said to amount to roughly a tenth of the population. Inside the island, a quiet collapse is underway. I want to look at this story from the perspective of social protection and the front lines of health and welfare.
What Happened
According to news reports and human rights tallies, Cuba has recorded more than a thousand protests a month since the start of 2026. Some of these are classified as direct confrontations with security forces, and observers note that it is not only the scale but the very character of the protests that is changing.
Behind this lies the collapse of basic infrastructure. Aging power plants combined with fuel shortages have made long blackouts the norm. In homes without lighting or refrigeration, storing food becomes difficult, and medical facilities struggle to keep equipment running. Fuel shortages also hit public transport: bus service has thinned out, and commutes that take hours have become common. On nights in March 2026, the sound of pot-banging protests reportedly spread across the capital, Havana.
Background
Cuba's electricity crisis deepened in 2024. Chronic shortages and a stagnant economy had persisted for years, but their pace and scale have accelerated recently. Since the large demonstrations of July 2021, the government has tried to suppress street action through organized repression, yet the number of protests has continued to trend upward.
What stands out is their spontaneity. Rather than being mobilized by any particular political organization, citizens demanding food and power increasingly gather on their own. Arrests, detentions, and forced departures continue. Estimates of political prisoners vary by group, but range from several hundred to more than a thousand. Many are said to be participants in the 2021 demonstrations, and prolonged trials have been notable.
The Point of Contrast
Another striking figure is emigration. In recent years, about a tenth of the population is said to have left the island — a figure acknowledged even in government statistics. The main destinations are the United States, Spain, and Mexico, and many take dangerous overland routes. This outflow is both a loss of labor and the clearest expression of lost trust in the government.
What makes it serious is that many of those leaving are the professionals who sustain social infrastructure: doctors, nurses, teachers, and technicians. When such people vanish, health care, education, and public services degrade further, which in turn pushes more people to leave — a vicious cycle. Meanwhile, international coverage tends to focus on U.S. economic sanctions and diplomacy, leaving the daily cycle of blackouts, shortages, protests, and departures within the island in the background.
My Perspective
What concerns me most here is the normalization of crisis. Blackouts, shortages, and protests are no longer emergencies but part of daily life. Yet seen from the perspective of social protection and the front lines of health and welfare, that very ordinariness is what is fatal. When the power stops, medicines that need refrigeration are lost, and devices directly tied to life — ventilators, dialysis machines — stop too. The first and hardest hit are those who cannot secure alternatives on their own: people with chronic illness, people with disabilities, and the elderly, the most vulnerable of all.
Having been involved with Latin America for a long time and having lived in Costa Rica, I have come to feel that systems of social protection and health care are the foundation that upholds human dignity. That is why Cuba's unending exodus of professionals does not feel like someone else's problem. What remains after the doctors and nurses are gone is institutional collapse and people who lack even the means to raise their voices. Much of the sound of banging pots, I believe, is less a political demand than a desperate plea: simply let us live.
A Note on Terms
Cacerolazo: a form of protest widely seen across Latin America in which people bang pots and pans to make noise. It is used to express discontent over rising prices or shortages, and is known as a nonviolent statement anyone can join.
People banging pots through 20-hour blackouts may not be demanding regime change so much as simply asking to be allowed to live.
References
- WOLA: キューバの人道危機と両政府の対応 — wola.org
- Human Rights Watch: World Report 2026 (Cuba) — hrw.org
- The New Humanitarian: Cuba — US pressure and human suffering — thenewhumanitarian.org
- ACLED: Latin America and the Caribbean Overview, June 2026 — acleddata.com
- Democrata.es: Cuba in 2026 — humanitarian crisis and pressure — democrata.es
※ This article is the author’s commentary based on public information. Please confirm the latest figures, dates and procedures with governments and primary sources. Quotations are kept minimal and sources are cited.