Following the devastating collapse of the USSR, Cuba's political leadership, then headed by Fidel Castro, embarked on a turbulent process of market-oriented reforms. Today, I want to focus on one key aspect of that process: how the private sector is managed, defining its place in the economy and setting boundaries to ensure it occupies that place, and no other.
In the revolutionary process, private property has regularly been regarded as a "necessary evil," a view rooted in two plausible interpretations. The first, more sympathetic to the Havana government, suggests a genuine and enduring concern about the effects of the (un)controlled expansion of market forces on the vast majority of the population, many of whom struggle to secure the material conditions necessary for their everyday lives. This perspective would also reflect a sincere commitment to safeguarding both the form and substance of the social project: respect for certain non-negotiable principles and limits. In other words, the familiar maxim that "it doesn't matter what color the cat is, as long as it catches mice" does not apply here.
The second explanation for the Cuban socialist project's aversion to private property is less charitable toward the Cuban Revolution. It holds that this resistance stems from an ingrained inclination toward control and the preservation of a ruling caste's privileges. The argument is that there is a fear that the structures allegedly extracting wealth from the national treasury and dominating the economic landscape—including, notably, the debate over the military's role in the economy—could be displaced by a dynamic, emerging private sector capable of outperforming them in a competition governed by clear and transparent rules. Of course, a fair point must be made here: the state sector is not depressed solely because of mismanagement at every level, but also—and often above all—because of U.S. policy.
This brings us to the question of why, this time around, what once seemed impossible to legislate and regulate in revolutionary Cuba was not only accomplished with little or no debate, in an expedited process, but also why measures that had never even been contemplated became part of the extraordinary and far-reaching economic reform now underway here.
Lacking solid and representative external support, the country increasingly found itself adrift, like a weather vane at the mercy of the wind. The state steadily lost its capacity to meet basic needs, to the point that a widely debated but still useful distribution mechanism for many people—the so-called libreta de abastecimiento, or ration book, which allocated a basic food basket to each person every month—collapsed under the weight of circumstances. The government had never truly wanted to abolish it because it was an intrinsic part of the social contract.
Under these circumstances, directly linked to a sharp escalation of the U.S. economic war—beginning with Trump's first administration and intensifying to unprecedented and inhumane levels from January onward, following Maduro's ouster in Venezuela and, with it, the demise of what might be called original Chavismo—the Cuban leadership had no alternative. This time, it really had no alternative but to turn to the private sector to keep the economy moving.
And that is precisely what it is doing, albeit with a very costly inability to connect this sector's potential to the country's most urgent and strategic interests. What is particularly concerning is that this is where the very possibility of continuing to speak of a socialist project in Cuba now lies: in the state's ability to redirect the financial resources—rather than, for the time being, the productive capacity—of private entrepreneurs toward meeting Cubans' most basic needs without delay.
With appropriate support, less bureaucracy, and sound policies grounded in genuine consensus, this is achievable. It would allow social assistance, so central to the Cuban project, to benefit from the potential trickle-down effects of an orderly expansion of private enterprise.
Private enterprise can no longer be treated as an inconvenient appendage that might be discarded in January 2029—assuming Cuba can survive Trump in human terms until then. Instead, it must be organically integrated into the project, recognized not merely as an important actor but as a critical one for its success, provided it operates within certain agreed-upon parameters.
Alongside this, Cuba must preserve the other two essential pillars that took shape in the years following January 1959: free and universal healthcare and education, ensuring that money does not determine access to medical care or an individual's ability to pursue self-improvement in keeping with their talents.
In my view, this is all that can realistically be aspired to. And it is no small achievement, considering the dark times the world is going through.
Cover image source: via X, shared as a tribute to the late Desmond Boyland.