Editorial
“Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.”
These lines from V for Vendetta echo eerily in the halls of U.S. foreign policy towards Cuba, a policy rooted in a single-minded obsession that has spanned over six decades. Despite the ideological Cold War long being over, the United States remains trapped in a vicious cycle of irrationality, clinging to a vendetta that serves neither its own interests nor the cause of global peace and stability. At the heart of this vendetta is Cuba’s placement on the U.S. State Sponsors of Terrorism (SST) list, a designation that defies both logic and morality.
For nearly 60 years, the U.S. has maintained an economic, political, and cultural stranglehold on Cuba. The island, merely 90 miles from the shores of Florida, has endured relentless embargoes, sanctions, and isolation—punitive measures framed as necessary responses to Cuba’s political ideology. Yet, as the world evolves and geopolitical dynamics shift, the U.S. persists in treating Cuba as a sworn enemy, clinging to an irrational and obsolete policy that harms not the Cuban government, but the Cuban people.
The inclusion of Cuba on the SST list is perhaps the most glaring example of this misguided vendetta. By any reasonable measure, Cuba does not fit the definition of a state that sponsors terrorism. Yet, the U.S. continues to impose this label, not because of any real threat posed by Cuba, but because of its refusal to conform to Washington’s vision of how a nation should be governed.
Cuba’s place on this list is an act of hypocrisy and political zealotry, not grounded in facts or any credible security threat, but in a stubborn refusal to relinquish a Cold War-era animosity. How can the U.S. claim to champion democracy and human rights while continuing to enforce policies that inflict suffering on ordinary Cubans? This vendetta, long detached from reality, raises serious questions about America’s true motivations and moral standing on the global stage.
The hostility between the U.S. and Cuba began with the Cuban Revolution in 1959, when Fidel Castro’s rise to power toppled the U.S.-backed Batista regime. Cuba, once a playground for American corporations and mobsters, embarked on a socialist experiment, nationalising industries and establishing a one-party state aligned with the Soviet Union. The U.S. responded with economic embargoes, covert operations, and military interventions, including the infamous Bay of Pigs invasion. The narrative was clear: Cuba had dared to defy U.S. hegemony in its own backyard, and for that, it had to be punished.
The factual balance sheet of terrorism surrounding Cuba tells a complex story of state-sponsored violence, ideological battles, and deep-seated grievances. In the wake of the Cuban Revolution in 1959, the U.S. government, intent on reversing Fidel Castro’s communist regime, directly supported or indirectly enabled a series of terror, sabotage, and paramilitary operations targeting the island. The aim was not merely to overthrow a government but to reassert American influence in a region that had shifted towards socialism and Soviet alignment.
Following the failure of the Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961—a disastrous attempt to overthrow Castro that was planned by Cuban exiles with direct U.S. support—the CIA launched Operation Mongoose. This clandestine initiative sought to destabilise Cuba through sabotage and assassination. From poisoning crops to bombing factories, the operations were designed to create chaos, striking at the heart of Cuba’s economic infrastructure and instilling fear among its citizens. While these actions did not succeed in toppling Castro, they contributed to a pervasive climate of terror.
Support extended beyond covert operations; the U.S. provided funding and training to anti-Castro exile groups that emerged predominantly in Miami. Groups like Alpha 66 and Omega 7 engaged in armed attacks, attempted assassinations, and bombings against Cuban targets, acting with what could be characterised as tacit U.S. approval. For example, Alpha 66 launched raids on Cuban shipping vessels, while Omega 7 orchestrated bombings aimed at diplomatic missions abroad. These actions illustrate how the U.S. facilitated a cycle of violence, reinforcing the narrative of enmity between the two nations.
The School of the Americas became a breeding ground for tactics employed by these exiles, as Cuban anti-communists trained alongside Latin American military officers in counterinsurgency and sabotage. Many went on to commit acts of violence that extended beyond Cuba’s shores, highlighting the long-lasting impact of U.S. support for militant activities.
Key incidents illustrate the dangerous interplay of U.S. foreign policy and terrorism. The Cubana Flight 455 bombing in 1976, which resulted in the deaths of 73 people, was orchestrated by exiles linked to the CIA. While both perpetrators, Luis Posada Carriles and Orlando Bosch, faced few consequences in the U.S., this act of terror stands as a chilling reminder of how U.S. foreign policy can intertwine with violent extremism.
In the late 1990s, anti-Castro militants escalated their tactics to target Cuba’s burgeoning tourism industry, a vital economic lifeline following the Soviet Union’s collapse. Bombings in Havana, carried out by individuals like Posada Carriles, not only resulted in fatalities but were intended to deter foreign investment and tourism—actions that effectively crippled the Cuban economy while simultaneously showcasing the violent reach of U.S.-backed exiles.
The U.S. government’s role in facilitating these acts raises significant questions about its ethical stance on terrorism. While condemning acts of violence abroad, the U.S. has often overlooked or even supported terrorism against Cuba, framing it as a necessary measure to combat a perceived threat. This double standard highlights a profound hypocrisy within U.S. foreign policy—one that prioritises ideological alignment over the lives of innocent people.
The ramifications of U.S.-backed terrorism extend far beyond Cuba’s borders. The violent actions of anti-Castro groups have created deep divisions within the Cuban diaspora, particularly in Miami. Cuban Americans advocating for dialogue with the Cuban government often find themselves in peril, targeted by militant factions for their perceived betrayal. The legacy of violence and intimidation perpetuated by these groups continues to reverberate within the Cuban community in the U.S., complicating the already fraught discourse around Cuba and its government.
Terrorism also manifested on U.S. soil. Incidents such as the murder of Eulalio José Negrín, a Cuban exile advocating for talks with the Cuban government, reveal how the climate of fear extended into American cities. Such acts not only disrupted the lives of individuals but also cultivated an atmosphere of hostility that stifled any push for peaceful reconciliation.
But as the Cold War came to a close, and the ideological struggle between capitalism and communism faded into history, Cuba remained firmly in the crosshairs of U.S. foreign policy. Despite having no real geopolitical or military threat to the U.S., the island has continued to suffer under the weight of sanctions and diplomatic isolation. In 2015, President Obama attempted to turn a page in this bitter history, reopening diplomatic relations with Cuba, easing travel restrictions, and even removing Cuba from the SST list. But just as quickly, the Trump administration reinstated Cuba’s listing, citing its refusal to extradite Colombian rebels and shelter U.S. fugitives from the 1960s.
Yet, these reasons hardly justify placing Cuba on a list reserved for nations that actively support international terrorism. Cuba has long played a constructive role in facilitating peace talks in Latin America, including brokering negotiations between the Colombian government and the very rebels the U.S. claims to be concerned about. To call Cuba a terrorist sponsor while turning a blind eye to nations with far worse records on human rights, terrorism, and governance reeks of hypocrisy.
Consider, for example, the U.S.’s relationship with Saudi Arabia—a nation that has been repeatedly linked to alleged funding extremism and whose citizens were involved in the 9/11 attacks. Saudi Arabia has also waged a brutal war in Yemen, causing a humanitarian disaster with millions of deaths and displacements. Yet, the U.S. continues to sell billions of dollars in arms to the Saudi regime and turns a blind eye to its actions. Why, then, is Cuba—an island with no history of supporting international terrorism and no involvement in global conflict—deemed a threat?
The U.S. government’s insistence on punishing Cuba for its political system reveals the deeper truth behind this vendetta. It is not about terrorism, nor is it about protecting American citizens. It is about ideological dominance and a refusal to allow a socialist state to thrive within the Western Hemisphere. The SST designation, like the broader embargo, is a tool of economic warfare designed to suffocate Cuba’s economy and force political change. But after six decades, it is clear that this strategy has failed, and the only victims are the ordinary Cuban people.
U.S. continues to claim that its policy is designed to promote democracy and human rights. But how can a policy that inflicts such widespread suffering on an entire population be justified in the name of human rights?
The sanctions imposed by the U.S. under the SST designation make it nearly impossible for Cuba to engage with the global financial system. International banks, fearing reprisals from Washington, refuse to do business with Cuba. The result is a nation cut off from critical supplies, foreign investment, and access to essential goods. Even during the COVID-19 pandemic, Cuba struggled to import vaccines and medical supplies, exacerbating the crisis and leaving its population even more vulnerable. In 2023, Cuba faced its worst economic crisis in decades, with widespread food shortages, blackouts, and a healthcare system stretched to its limits.
Meanwhile, the U.S. continues to claim that its policy is designed to promote democracy and human rights. But how can a policy that inflicts such widespread suffering on an entire population be justified in the name of human rights? How can a nation that prides itself on free markets maintain one of the longest-standing trade embargoes in modern history? The contradiction is glaring, and the hypocrisy is undeniable.
In recent years, calls for the U.S. to rethink its Cuba policy have grown louder. Religious leaders, humanitarian organisations, and even some U.S. lawmakers have urged the Biden administration to remove Cuba from the SST list and lift the sanctions that have crippled the island’s economy. The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) has been particularly vocal, calling the embargo “immoral” and urging a return to the policies of engagement that were initiated under Obama. Globally, there is near-unanimous opposition to the U.S. embargo on Cuba. Each year, the United Nations General Assembly overwhelmingly votes to condemn the embargo, with 185 countries supporting the resolution in 2023, and only the U.S. and Israel voting in opposition.
Even within the U.S., there is a growing recognition that the current policy is not only ineffective but also counterproductive. President Joe Biden, who served as vice president during the Obama administration’s diplomatic thaw with Cuba, campaigned on a promise to reverse Trump-era policies and restore engagement. Yet, nearly the completion into his presidency, little has changed. The sanctions remain in place, Cuba remains on the SST list, and the Cuban people continue to suffer under the weight of an unjust and outdated policy.
So why does this irrational vendetta persist? The answer lies in domestic politics. Florida’s Cuban-American exile community, particularly in Miami, wields significant political influence, and for decades, hardline anti-Castro sentiment has shaped U.S. policy toward the island. For many in this community, the U.S. embargo is seen as a legitimate tool to punish the Cuban government for its so-called “authoritarianism and repression.” But this perspective ignores the reality on the ground. The Cuban people, not the government, bear the brunt of the sanctions. The embargo has done little to weaken the government’s hold on power and has only deepened the suffering of ordinary Cubans.
Irony is that, the U.S. has long supported right-wing dictatorships in Latin America, turning a blind eye to their human rights violations as long as they align with American interests. This selective application of human rights standards reveals the true nature of U.S. foreign policy: it is not about promoting democracy or protecting human rights; it is about maintaining geopolitical control.
Cuba’s continued designation as a State Sponsor of Terrorism is a glaring example of this hypocrisy. The U.S. has long used the SST list as a political weapon, applying it selectively to punish nations that defy its interests while ignoring the actions of its allies. Cuba does not belong on this list, and keeping it there serves no purpose other than to perpetuate an irrational vendetta.
The time has come for the U.S. to end its hypocrisy and rethink its approach to Cuba. If the goal is to promote democracy, human rights, and economic freedom, then isolating Cuba is the wrong strategy. Instead, the U.S. should embrace engagement, diplomacy, and cooperation. By lifting the embargo, removing Cuba from the SST list, and restoring diplomatic relations, the U.S. can finally begin to repair the damage caused by decades of hostility. Ultimately, the American people should demand a foreign policy that is consistent with the values the U.S. claims to uphold.
