Bold claim: Cuba is teetering on the brink of a full-blown crisis as fuel runs dry, tourists vanish, and cash evaporates. This week’s reality-check arrives from Havana’s diplomatic quarter, where ambassadors from long-time U.S. allies grow increasingly frustrated with Washington’s effort to topple Cuba’s government while quietly planning to scale back their missions.
Cuba is in trouble. After a four-year economic slump, intensified by hyperinflation and a migration of nearly 20% of the population, the 67-year-old communist regime appears at its weakest point. Following what the U.S. called a successful operation against its ally Venezuela at the start of January, Washington is actively pursuing regime change.
The Guardian spoke with more than five senior officials from different nations who complain that U.S. charge d’affaires Mike Hammer has offered little more than a plan to starve the island of oil and grind it to a standstill. One official remarked, “There’s talk of human rights and promises that Cuba could change this year—but there’s almost no discussion about what comes next.”
Some hope for a potential deal emerging from high-level discussions in Mexico, where Cuba’s government—represented by Gen Alejandro Castro Espín, Raúl Castro’s son—has been engaging with U.S. officials. Yet so far, there are no signs of progress.
In the meantime, diplomats in Havana are preparing for a different tactic: starving Cuba of fuel to provoke unrest that could invite outside intervention. “We’re trying to stay calm,” one ambassador said. “Embassies are built on planning for the unexpected—ideally before it becomes expected.”
The situation is compounded by news that a fuel shortage is hampering the United Nations World Food Programme’s relief work for last year’s Hurricane Melissa. The WFP, which maintains a relatively low profile on the island, now faces the prospect of a significantly larger crisis. “We’re already seeing shortages of fresh produce in the cities,” said Étienne Labande, the WFP’s country director.
Diplomats warn that the fuel shortage could trigger severe suffering in a matter of weeks, especially in urban areas compared with rural villages that might fare slightly better. “It’s a matter of weeks,” one observer warned. “People in cities could be in grave danger.”
Cuba’s latest crisis follows an executive order signed by Donald Trump in January, imposing tariffs on any country supplying Cuba with oil. Although China and Russia fired up criticism, the tariff pressure has been effective enough to bite.
Even Mexico, which last year surpassed Venezuela as Cuba’s largest supplier, has stopped sending tankers. Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum warned of a humanitarian disaster on the island and dispatched 800 tons of aid. She noted, “No one can ignore the hardship the Cuban people are experiencing due to U.S. sanctions, which are being applied very unfairly.”
During a January 28 gathering at the U.S. residence, Hammer referred to the ongoing embargo, saying, “Cuban complaints about the ‘blockade’ have been loud for years, but now there will be a real blockade.” He then embarked on a tour of eastern Cuba to distribute U.S. aid, where government-backed protesters greeted him with insult. He is reportedly planning a visit to Rome to meet with the Vatican, increasingly a player on the island.
A spokeswoman for the embassy said meetings with colleagues are regular but declined to discuss specifics.
The oil blockade’s consequences have arrived faster than expected, adding to diplomats’ worries. All three Canadian airlines bringing tourists to Cuba suspended services this week due to fuel shortages. Two Russian airlines followed, and all five carriers have begun repatriating travelers.
In 2025, Cuba welcomed three-quarters of a million Canadian visitors, the largest single group. Russians were the third-largest visitor group after Cuban expatriates. On Wednesday, the U.K. Foreign Office updated its travel guidance to advise only essential travel to the island.
With the oil embargo undermining Cuba’s ability to earn foreign currency, ordinary Cubans outside the diplomatic enclaves are preparing for life without fuel. “It’s starting to feel like the 1962 Missile Crisis,” one observer remarked, noting that sunny days were shadowed by anxiety.
To conserve resources, the Cuban government has closed universities, secondary schools, and non-essential state offices, and reduced public transport.
Adrian Rodriguez Suárez, a 22-year-old nuclear physics student at Havana University, from Holguín, has been sent home to study via distance learning. He said, “We heard the news on Thursday and since then those who can have left. Many are using their own means to get home. What worries me is the situation in my province. Studying will be difficult outside Havana because electricity is less reliable.”
Social media is crackling with concerns. A Facebook user lamented that a March wedding might be canceled, while a Havana-based motorcycle taxi driver shared that hospitals offer free transport for emergencies and chemotherapy patients. In rural Sancti Spíritus, a craftsman is selling cast aluminum and zinc burners for charcoal cooking, a sign of improvised survival strategies amid rising costs.
Meanwhile, diplomats are weighing departures if the situation worsens. “What’s the point of us staying if we can’t work?” one envoy asked. “We’re vigilant and hoping common sense will prevail in the end.”
In central Havana, famed tourist spots have quieted. Yarini, a beloved rooftop bar named after a controversial early-20th-century anti-U.S. figure, usually buzzes with activity but on a recent warm evening only two tables were filled—occupied not by locals or regular tourists, but by war correspondents seeking a front-row view of a potential collapse of one of the world’s remaining communist states.
Additional reporting by Eileen Sosin.
