Why the US clings to a failed siege strategy in Cuba

Crippling US sanctions on Havana were designed to force regime change, but six decades of crippling embargo have only cemented it

Axel Rangel Garcia

Why the US clings to a failed siege strategy in Cuba

The US embargo on Cuba has lasted so long that it is now less of a policy than an inheritance. Conceived during the US-USSR Cold War confrontation, reinforced through law and preserved by domestic politics, it has outlived the world that produced it, with both the Soviet Union and Cuban leader Fidel Castro long since gone.

Former US President Barack Obama briefly reopened America’s door to Havana, and successive administrations adjusted the pressure, but the core architecture remains. If the embargo was designed to force political change in Cuba, it survived more than six decades without achieving that aim. Having not toppled the system it was meant to weaken, its central contradiction is that the embargo exists more as a punishment than a strategy.

Washington presents it as a defence of democracy and human rights; Havana calls it a blockade and treats it as proof that Cuban sovereignty remains under siege. Between these two narratives stands a population worn down by shortages, blackouts, migration, state repression and an economy unable to recover. The embargo has constrained Cuba, raised the cost of survival, and limited access to trade, finance, and investment.

The embargo was first initiated when relations between Washington and Havana collapsed after the 1959 Cuban Revolution. Fidel Castro’s nationalisation of US-owned property, hostile rhetoric towards Washington, and growing relationship with the Soviet Union convinced US officials that the revolutionary government could not be accommodated. Economic pressure was used as a weapon against the island, but some officials warned early that sanctions could backfire.

Cutting Cuba’s sugar quota, they argued, might damage the economy without removing Castro. Worse, it could rally nationalist sentiment around him and allow the new regime to blame the US for the hardship. That warning proved prophetic. When Washington cut Cuba’s sugar access, Moscow stepped in. The Soviet Union bought what the US refused and deepened an alignment that Washington feared. Intended to punish Cuba’s move towards the Soviets, the embargo just accelerated it.

Reuters
A Cuban armed forces soldier stands next to American-made weapons captured after some 1,500 anti-Castro Cuban allies landed on Playa Girón beach during the Bay of Pigs invasion on Cuba's southern coast in April 1961.

Tightening the chokehold

By 1962, President John F. Kennedy had imposed a full economic embargo. The Bay of Pigs invasion failed, and Castro survived several assassination plots, so sanctions became the main policy instrument for Cuba. Its maximalist aim was to force regime change by denying resources, making Cuba pay for its defiance, but by the mid-1960s, US officials were starting to understand that economic pressure alone was unlikely to bring down Castro.

The objective shifted towards containment and denial. The embargo was expected to reduce Cuba’s ability to export revolution, show Cubans that their government could not meet their needs, demonstrate that communism had no future in the Western Hemisphere, and increase the cost to Moscow of sustaining Havana. This was more modest than the rhetoric of liberation suggested. If the embargo could not produce political transition, it could still make Castro’s political survival harder.

The collapse of the Soviet Union might have offered Washington a moment to rethink. Instead, it produced a new round of pressure. Cuba entered the Special Period, an economic crisis of exceptional severity that many in Washington saw as an opportunity. The Cuban Democracy Act of 1992 tightened sanctions and framed them as a route to peaceful democratic transition.

Four years later, the Helms-Burton Act made the embargo far harder to dismantle. It extended the policy’s reach towards foreign companies, placed conditions on lifting sanctions, and transferred power from the White House to Congress. Presidents could now soften restrictions, license exceptions, and adjust categories of travel, trade or remittances, but could not easily remove their core.

Helms-Burton also internationalised the dispute. Canada, the European Union and Latin American governments rejected the extraterritorial reach of US law. Domestically, American farmers, exporters, manufacturers, telecoms firms, and travel companies lost access to a nearby market. Business coalitions, religious groups and humanitarian organisations argued that restrictions on food and medicine were morally indefensible and commercially damaging. Even when Congress eased some limits on food and pharmaceuticals in 2000, financing restrictions reduced the practical effect.

CIA via X/ Reuters
CIA Director John Ratcliffe attends a meeting with Cuban officials in Havana, Cuba, in this image released on 14 May 2026.

Mounting contradictions

This created another contradiction. Washington claimed to be helping the Cuban people while limiting channels through which ordinary Cubans could access goods and resources or connect with the outside world. Embargo advocates say trade would enrich the Cuban state and military-linked companies, yet when the state is embedded in the economy, sanctions aimed at the regime inevitably reach society.

For Havana, US pressure has become a powerful political language, allowing Cuban leaders to mobilise nationalism, justify sacrifice, and explain scarcity. This does not absolve the Cuban leaders from their repression, economic mismanagement, or failed reforms. Cuba remains a one-party authoritarian system that restricts civil liberties and imprisons protesters, activists and dissidents. Even so, the embargo allows Havana to frame its failures within a wider story of external aggression.

Washington claimed to be helping the Cuban people while limiting channels through which ordinary citizens could access goods and resources

It offers the government an enemy, turns hardship into proof of endurance, and enables officials to describe dissent as vulnerability to foreign interference. This is why the embargo has often strengthened the narrative it was meant to defeat. A policy designed to delegitimise the Cuban state has helped that state speak in the language of sovereignty. Scarcity becomes sacrifice, survival becomes resistance, pressure becomes domination.

The July 2021 protests showed the limits of that narrative. Thousands of Cubans took to the streets over shortages, blackouts, repression, and the absence of political freedoms, only to face trials, imprisonment, and further state control.

Same goal, different approach

Barack Obama's 2014 opening was the clearest admission that the old approach had failed. His administration restored diplomatic relations, eased restrictions on travel and family remittances, reviewed Cuba's terrorism designation, and sought to encourage private enterprise, telecoms, and people-to-people contact.

The opening did not abandon the goal of change in Cuba; it just changed the instrument. Rather than seeking collapse through pressure, Obama sought contact, information flows and economic space beyond the state, turning engagement into a form of soft power. The results were incomplete and reversible.

During his first term, Donald Trump restored pressure by restricting travel and cash transfers to the island and returning Cuba to the 'State Sponsor of Terrorism' list. Joe Biden later eased some measures. In January 2025, he sought to remove Cuba from that list, rescind restrictions linked to the Cuba Restricted List, and suspend Title III lawsuits under Helms-Burton. Six days later, Trump returned to the office and reversed those moves, exposing the volatility of executive-level policy. One president opens a channel, another narrows it, but the overall embargo structure endures.

What began as a Cold War trade ban has become a layered system of statutes, executive orders, financial restrictions, licensing rules, terrorism designations and targeted measures. It touches travel, personal transfers, tourism, mining, oil, finance, foreign investment and defence.

In Trump's second administration, the embargo has hardened again. He has restored the Cuba Restricted List, maintained the terrorism designation and imposed new sanctions on GAESA (Cuba's military-run conglomerate) and Moa Nickel (a Cuban-Canadian mining joint venture). These measures are aimed at the island's hard currency channels. Washington says it is simply denying resources to repressive structures; Havana presents them as economic aggression.

AFP
A tricycle travels through a street in Havana, on 13 February 2026.

Targeting GAESA allows Washington to claim it is pressuring the military rather than ordinary Cubans, although that distinction becomes difficult to sustain when a military-linked conglomerate controls major parts of the economy. The broader the pressure becomes, the more vulnerable it is to humanitarian criticism. UN experts describe "energy starvation" when discussing Washington's demands that countries not supply Cuba with fuel, arguing that restrictions on energy supply harm the rights to health, food, education, water, and development.

Little international support

Internationally, Washington has few supporters on the embargo. In October 2025, the UN General Assembly again called for its end, with 165 countries voting in favour, seven against and twelve abstaining. The vote was non-binding and could not repeal US law, but it exposed the diplomatic imbalance. Havana says it is a victim of coercion; Washington says Havana uses the embargo to avoid reform and conceal its own failures.

After more than six decades, the record of the embargo is clear. It has raised costs for Cuba, restricted investment, complicated trade, and deterred companies. It has also cost US businesses, alienated allies, supplied Havana with a narrative of resistance and failed to produce a democratic transition. Its survival rests less on effectiveness than on inertia, with the costs of keeping it dispersed and the political risks of challenging it concentrated.

The Trump administration's renewed pressure is defended as targeted leverage. For Havana, which has now run out of fuel, it is an economic siege. The embargo may continue to survive its contradictions without resolving them. Its deepest flaw is not that it has had no effect, but that those effects have not produced the political outcome Washington wanted. For ordinary Cubans, it is one more layer in a crisis that no slogan can explain away.

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