The trial for espionage against former Minister of Economy Alejandro Gil not only marks the downfall of one of Miguel Díaz-Canel's closest associates; it also revives a pattern that has accompanied Castroism for decades: the need to fabricate internal scapegoats to protect the elite and divert attention from the crisis-stricken country. The scene is familiar and repeats itself with almost ritual precision. When the system begins to decay, someone must fall. And this time, that someone is Gil.
This Monday, the journalist from Martí Noticias, Mario J. Pentón, described it with a phrase that sums up the political moment: "In Cuba, the revolution always devours its own children like Saturn."
It is a devastating accusation that makes sense when one looks at the trajectory of other high officials who, like Gil, were promoted, celebrated, and then thrown to the public pyre when they ceased to be useful.
Carlos Lage fell first. Then Felipe Pérez Roque was presented as a traitor after being one of the visible faces of the regime. Next came the downfall of Marino Murillo, who continues to live with privileges despite having led the failed economic reform.
Each one, in their time, was made an example of discipline. They all served the revolution until the day the revolution decided to sacrifice them.
Gil himself followed the same path. He was the face of the reforms, the man who kept insisting that “the only way is socialism,” the official who defended every adjustment while the population endured endless lines and blackouts.
He did not make decisions alone, as recalled by the sister of the former minister, María Victoria Gil, everything was approved by Díaz-Canel, Raúl Castro, Manuel Marrero, and the entire Political Bureau. But now he is abandoned, isolated, and portrayed as a CIA spy in a setup that even his harshest critics find unbelievable.
The sacrifice has a political purpose that requires little explanation. The country is experiencing a deep economic collapse. Protests occur daily, power outages are causing despair among the population, and hunger is hitting harder than ever.
The regime needs an internal enemy. It needs someone to shoulder the blame accumulated over a decade of mistakes, improvisations, and arbitrary actions. It requires a scapegoat to conceal the widespread incompetence of the leadership.
Meanwhile, Gil's family is experiencing the other side of the process. The daughter, Laura María Gil, who was prevented from entering the closed-door trial, claims to "feel watched by a black car that follows her wherever she goes," according to her aunt. The wife was detained for four months. The house was searched without prior notice; phones, documents, and computers were confiscated.
There is no transparency, no procedural guarantees, and no public access to the accusations. The trial operates in complete secrecy, as demanded by a system that silences those who know too much.
The fall of Gil reveals, once again, how power operates in Cuba. Those who sign off on decisions are the first to disappear when the situation spirals out of control. The revolution needs to devour its own leaders to maintain the appearance of order. And while the country sinks, Castroism continues to consume those it once called "the most loyal sons of the homeland."
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