"It's an idiot": Official spokesperson erupts against Sandro Castro, grandson of Fidel

For years, Sandro Castro, the grandson of the Cuban dictator Fidel Castro, has become synonymous with ostentation, disdain, and public mockery towards the Cuban people, showcasing luxury cars, private parties, and arrogant behaviors on social media.

Despite the evident symbolic damage this represents for Castrismo and the Cuban regime, very few official voices had spoken out to condemn their behavior.

This Thursday, however, that changed: the lawyer, writer, essayist, and historian Ernesto Limia, one of the intellectual spokespersons for the regime, published a lengthy and impassioned text on Facebook in which he not only spoke out against Sandro but also directly labeled him for what he is, “an idiot.”

The publication was publicly supported by Gerardo Hernández Nordelo, one of the so-called "Five Heroes," current national coordinator of the CDR and a symbol of Castroism, who shared the text with a brief but eloquent "Amen," making it clear that he shares both the judgment and the disdain for Sandro Castro's behavior.

In his writing, titled “Martí promised you…”, Limia attempts to completely dissociate Fidel Castro from the actions and privileges of his grandson, which constitutes a manipulation by the military spokesperson.

“I don’t know where Sandro got his money from, but I’m sure I can guarantee it wasn’t Fidel who gave it to him. This community knows it, and so does the CIA,” he states, in a sentence that borders on the absurd and deliberately overlooks the structure of privilege in which Sandro grew up, surrounded by resources, access, protection, and institutional silence, which he ultimately inherited.

The text navigates through the defense of Fidel's legacy, an idealization of Marti's values, and a critique of the role of social media as platforms that "exacerbate anger and resentment," a crude attempt to divert attention from what is truly important: the privileges enjoyed by Sandro Castro, due to his surname, highlighting that in Cuba there exists a class that operates outside the law.

But instead of acknowledging the complicity of the system that formed and protected him, Limia blames external enemies: “Our enemies know this, and that’s why they provoke their foolishness,” he writes, as if Sandro's irresponsibility were a maneuver orchestrated from Miami.

What Limia does not mention —and probably cannot mention— is that the attitude of Fidel's grandson is not an anomaly, but rather the logical outcome of a ruling class that has lived for decades apart from the hardships of the average Cuban, surrounded by privileges they deny in rhetoric but wield in practice.

The young Castro simply made it visible.

Despite the energetic tone, the essayist warns that imprisoning Sandro without legal backing would be a mistake, fearing the global media impact: “The Cuban Revolution devours its children like Saturn…” However, the lawyer seems to conveniently forget that in Cuba there are young people in prison for publications that are less disrespectful than those made by the dictator's grandson.

By the way, Limia accompanied his post with an image of Sandro Castro drinking Cristal beer in front of a United States flag, a symbol that for decades has been a reason for harassment, stigmatization, and punishment for many young Cubans, simply for showing the slightest sympathy towards American iconography.

The contradiction is evident: what was once a cause for repression is now tolerated—if not silenced—when those responsible are part of the circles of power. Thus, it is not about justice, but about controlling the narrative, and the concern is not the action itself but the scandal it may provoke.

Limia's intention, in the end, seems to be to protect the symbol, not to confront the structure that made it possible.

He passionately defends Fidel's austere image, his personal sobriety, and even the legend that he walked with worn-out soles, as if that could invalidate the existence of a privileged and hereditary caste.

It seems that Sandro annoys not because of what he does, but because he makes it public.

Limia's gesture, though unusual within the government, comes too late and lacks self-criticism, at a time when the population is experiencing one of the worst economic crises, with blackouts, shortages, and massive migration.

His text does not denounce the system: it tries to preserve the narrative that everything good comes from Fidel, and that the bad is a deviation, or worse, the fault of the external enemy.

Frequently Asked Questions About Sandro Castro and His Impact in Cuba