The recent decision by the Empresa de Telecomunicaciones de Cuba (ETECSA) to restrict the use of the Cuban peso (CUP) for mobile service payments has triggered a new and controversial consequence in the island's informal economy: the sale of digital balance as if it were another currency.
A solo días de implementarse la medida, ya There is a growing exchange of balance packages on social media, donde los 360 pesos de saldo —que solo pueden obtenerse mediante recargas internacionales— se ofertan por alrededor de 1,000 CUP.
This phenomenon not only reflects the speed with which the informal market reacts to the distortions imposed by the state apparatus, but also the deep social discontent caused by economic decisions made without consulting the people.
What was once merely a mobile top-up has now transformed into an alternative currency: ETECSA's balance now holds value on the street and is traded in buying and selling groups as if it were a scarce commodity.
Screenshots of these offers are circulating rapidly on social media. Advertisements like "selling 360 of balance for 1,000 CUP" have started to appear in provincial buy and sell groups.
The logic is simple: due to the inability to access data packages in the local currency, those who receive top-ups from abroad can resell their balance to those who do not have relatives outside or income in foreign currency, thus obtaining a considerable profit margin.
The measure from ETECSA, which came into effect on May 30, establishes that only one data package can be contracted in CUP for a maximum amount of 360 pesos per month, which is equivalent to 6GB. Additional packages, as well as messages and calls, must be paid for in US dollars (USD), euros, or MLC, through international recharges.
The state-run entity justifies the measure by claiming it addresses the need to attract foreign currency to sustain the service. However, for large segments of the population, it represents a “covert dollarization” that exacerbates digital exclusion.
The consequences have not taken long to manifest. Thousands of Cubans who rely on salaries in CUP are now facing restricted access to the internet.
The mobile balance, transformed into a scarce and valuable asset, fuels a resale dynamic where, once again, those with connections to the outside can survive — and even profit — while the most vulnerable remain disconnected.
On social media, the outrage is evident. The comments on the article from CiberCuba published on Facebook (over 2,700) point to a common trend: every government decision leads to a new informal business and an added burden for the population.
Many point out that this is the true face of the system, where supposedly technical measures ultimately enable profit-making mechanisms at the expense of the people's needs.
Some question why a company that claims to be "of the people" imposes conditions that force dependence on the black market to access a basic service like connectivity.
Others see this as a calculated strategy to further squeeze families abroad, who will now have to send money not only to cover the basic needs of their loved ones on the island but also for access to information.
Countless users agree that, as has happened with other scarce products—gasoline, coffee, gas, transportation—mobile balance has joined the list of goods that can only be obtained under speculative conditions.
Connectivity, instead of being a right, has become a privilege, and communication among Cubans is contingent upon their ability to pay inflated prices in a market governed by scarcity.
At the same time, there are numerous reports indicating that behind this phenomenon there is tolerance—or complicity—on the part of the authorities themselves.
For many, the informal market is not just a response to shortages, but a functional structure that nourishes power sectors. "None of this is spontaneous," the comments say. "Every restriction carries with it a business opportunity that someone at the top has already calculated."
The citizen reaction is not limited to complaints. Many are urging people not to recharge their accounts from abroad as a form of protest, while others are wondering what will happen to those who rely on the internet for studying, working, or even staying in touch with their families.
“The new rates are abusive, with no relation to salaries. If they cannot sustain the company, they should close it,” is read in several publications.
Criticism of the supposed logic of efficiency put forth by the government is also increasing. The president of ETECSA, in a recent television appearance, stated that "the Cuban peso has no market" and that the offerings respond to external demand.
However, in practice, that statement has been received as a confession of the internal economic collapse, the real devaluation of the CUP, and the ongoing extortion exercised by the Cuban regime over its émigrés, whose relatives in Cuba are used as hostages according to the interests of the rulers.
"The dollar is already selling for over 370 pesos. Now the balance too. What's next? Electricity for USD?" some users ask with irony. Others, more skeptical, warn that the real goal is not to improve telecommunications infrastructure, but to capture foreign currency regardless of the social consequences.
For most, what has happened is a reflection of the general deterioration of the system. Each measure, instead of offering solutions, opens up a new front of inequality.
"First there were the blackouts, then the food shortages, now the internet. Every aspect of life in Cuba is being privatized, and the worst part is that they don't even call it that," commented one of the participants in the virtual debate.
Amid the general discontent, one phrase is repeated: "This was to be expected." In Cuba, whenever the government imposes a restriction, a new business—legal or not—always emerges, taking advantage of the gap left by the State.
This time, digital currency becomes another means of survival… or profit, depending on which side of inequality one is on.
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