Out of oil and in pain

Cuba is in crisis, and the people are suffering. While the world is focused on whether the Cuban government will survive, and analysts are assessing the policy failures that led to this moment and what could come next, it is critically important to understand what is happening to ordinary people on the island.

Schools are shuttered, people are hungry, and hospitals are unable to provide life-saving care. These are visible signs of a system that has long been operating beyond its margin, such that today’s exacerbated energy constraints are quickly propelling the country into a possible humanitarian collapse.

The cascading humanitarian impacts of oil shortages

For the last few years, Cuba has had access to a fraction of the oil it needs for daily consumption. Oil shortages — if acute — produce a cascade effect that imperils the people and grinds daily life to a halt. As oil supplies shrink, electricity generation and transportation falter in tandem. Although Cuba has suffered daily blackouts for several years, the crisis has intensified. Satellite imagery underscores the severity of the decline, showing that light levels across parts of the island fell by roughly 50% in January compared to typical levels, particularly in eastern cities such as Santiago de Cuba and Holguin.

The gravest conditions are evident in the essentials, hitting households first and foremost, especially in poorer provinces and in communities without access to remittances or generators. Some estimates show that 89% of the population already lives in extreme poverty. Every day brings extended power cuts, intermittent water, spoiled food, suspended classes, canceled surgeries, and transportation that stops without warning. Families spend entire days searching for fuel, cooking gas, or basic goods rather than working. The average Cuban expends enormous energy getting by day-to-day, and any effort to plan for tomorrow is premised on rumors.

For several years now, there has been an erosion of public order. Independent media has increasingly reported theft, nighttime insecurity, and murders, even as official statistics remain limited and difficult to verify. As economic stress deepens and blackouts lengthen, localized protests over food shortages and electricity cuts have reemerged. Conditions that strain daily survival also heighten the risk of further social unrest. At the same time, roughly 1,000 political prisoners remain behind bars following the July 11 protests, and new detentions continue. The state’s response to instability remains rooted in control.

Those who can — either with financial means or physical ability — have left. Migration is not simply a side effect; it is the clearest measure of how little resilience remains. In 2025, Cubans were the third-largest asylum-seeking nationality worldwide.

Cuba’s oil situation today

Against this already fragile baseline, recent events and policies have all but stopped oil imports to Cuba, increasing uncertainty. First, through sanctions and high-seas seizures, the United States government has, for months, attempted to block Venezuelan oil shipments to Cuba. Now, following the January 3rd U.S. military operation in Venezuela, those shipments have stopped. Then, on January 29, 2026, the White House announced a new executive action that threatens tariffs against any country that provides oil to Cuba.

When compliance risk rises, suppliers and shippers tend to step back first and ask questions later. That chilling effect will reduce deliveries even in the absence of any enforcement action.

Reporting in late January underscored just how thin Cuba’s cushion is. When the White House issued the executive order, nearly 20 days ago, analysts assessed that Cuba had 15-20 days of oil supply remaining. Other estimates put that timeline at closer to four to six weeks. In any scenario, vulnerability is measured in days and weeks, not months.

Attempting to elongate that timeline, Cuba’s government announced island-wide emergency measures to save fuel, including a four-day work week, limited public transit between provinces, and consolidating tourists (and generator power) into certain hotels. They also announced that international flights will no longer be able to refuel in Cuba.

The historical arc of this decades-old crisis

It is tempting to treat Cuba’s collapse as a sudden inflection point driven primarily by external pressure, but Cuba’s current fragility is the result of layered shocks interacting with long-term structural weaknesses.

The Special Period of the 1990s demonstrated how quickly Cuba’s economic system collapses into survival mode when external subsidies disappear. Following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Cuba lost preferential trade, financing, and energy supplies, which were equivalent to an estimated one-third of GDP. Between 1990 and 1993, output contracted by roughly one-third, imports fell by more than 70%, caloric intake dropped sharply, and public services deteriorated rapidly.

A partial recovery followed in the late 1990s and 2000s, supported by tourism, remittances, limited self-employment, and, later, Venezuela’s subsidized oil and service-for-energy exchange. But this recovery never yielded a resilient or diversified economy. The state retained control over most productive activity, investment levels were chronically insufficient, and productivity stagnated. By the 2010s, Cuba remained heavily dependent on a narrow set of external income sources — tourism, remittances, and professional services exports — leaving it acutely vulnerable to external shocks.

The Obama-era opening, which started in earnest in 2015, provided tangible economic and psychological relief for many Cuban households. Expanded travel, increased remittances, and improved expectations injected hard currency into the non-state sector and reduced uncertainty for families and small entrepreneurs. However, these gains were consumption-oriented rather than structural. They were not accompanied by deep reforms to property rights, financial markets, or productive capacity. The economy became more livable, but not more resilient. The gains did not last.

That fragility was exposed when the Trump administration reversed engagement beginning in 2017. Restrictions on travel, remittances, and financial channels reintroduced uncertainty precisely where Cuban households were most exposed — tourism income, family transfers, and small-scale private sector activity.

Then, the COVID-19 pandemic accelerated the decline. Tourism collapsed almost entirely, cutting off one of Cuba’s primary sources of foreign exchange. Remittances fell and exports stagnated. Cuba’s GDP contracted nearly 11% in 2020, and - between 2020 and 2022 — exports fell by 31%.

What had once been “inconveniences” became normalized humanitarian stressors, including prolonged blackouts, fuel shortages, food scarcity, water disruptions, and degraded health services. This deterioration reflects decades of underinvestment and accumulated fragility. Energy infrastructure is obsolete, logistics systems lack redundancy, and the labor force is shrinking rapidly through migration. With GDP still estimated to be 15% below its 2018 peak, and more than two million Cubans having emigrated since 2021, the economy’s capacity to absorb further shocks is minimal.

What comes next?

With continued stresses from a floundering economy, political and demographic pressures, and no oil shipments on the horizon, Cuba’s humanitarian situation is deteriorating rapidly. Illustrating the severity of the situation, several airlines have canceled their Cuba routes. Embassies and international businesses are beginning to implement evacuation plans, moving employee family members off the island.

There are growing fears for the elderly and infirmed, worries that flights will stop altogether, and — with them — deliveries of essential medicines from family and friends abroad.

Several countries have announced they will provide humanitarian aid. Mexico sent 814 tons of aid which arrived to the island on February 12. Chile has also announced plans to send humanitarian aid.

For its part, the United States announced it is sending $6 million in aid, to be distributed through the Catholic Church. This follows four shipments of humanitarian aid in response to Hurricane Melissa, which struck the island in October.

Entities like Caritas Cuba and Catholic Relief Services have a long track record of supporting Cubans; they have stepped up time and again in the wake of natural disasters or to assist the most vulnerable.

Even still, while these deliveries are important, they will not prove sufficient.

The U.S. government reportedly believes that 2026 will be the year the Cuban government falls. President Trump tells of talks with senior Cuban government officials. There is speculation that U.S. engagement with Cuba could go the way of Venezuela, identifying a figure like Venezuela’s Delcy Rodríguez who will usher in an economic opening and — eventually — a political opening as well. But, thus far, there are few signs of Cuban officials eager to negotiate their own exit.

Cuba’s political future remains uncertain. But the humanitarian implications of the current context are straightforward. And — as the pressure campaign continues — policymakers should be clear-eyed that, while hardline policies may be aimed at toppling the state, the impact lands on civilians first, threatening the legitimacy of what comes next.

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