The Zombie Parliament of Cuba: The Choreography of Obedience

In Cuba, unanimity stopped being surprising a long time ago. The unusual thing would be a vote against. Each session of Parliament unfolds like a mirrored ritual: hands raised in unison, expressionless faces, and an obedience that requires no justification. There is no debate, only reflexes. Therefore, speaking of a “zombie hemicycle” is not a poetic license, but an accurate description of the vital state of Cuban politics.

The so-called National Assembly of People's Power resembles less a legislative body and more an institutional backdrop. Its meetings do not aim to resolve blackouts, hunger, or mass migration; they merely explain why these issues will continue to be part of the landscape. The deputies raise their hands with the automatic response of those who have been trained not to think, question, or dissent. In this theater, each voting session is a predictable performance.

In cinema, the zombie is a soulless body, driven by an external force. It walks, sits, and obeys... but it is empty inside. This is how it is with a Parliament that approves 100% of the laws, 100% of the failed budgets, and 100% of the policies that deepen the national ruin. The institutional machinery continues to function, even though critical thought has died decades ago.

While the real country crumbles—with endless blackouts, interminable queues, and an exodus that empties the streets—the Parliament continues to vote "yes" to everything: yes to empty rhetoric, yes to repeated lies, yes to the continuation of a worn-out model. They do so with an almost ritual solemnity, as if absolute obedience were an act of patriotic faith. They do not represent the people who survive; they represent the system that uses them as mere decoration.

Unanimity, in reality, does not express consensus. It is a symptom: fear, political sterility, and institutional death. Cuba does not have a living Parliament, but rather an assembly of the living dead that applauds, smiles, and obeys while the country bleeds.

But even in zombie movies, there are unexpected twists. Sometimes, one of them remembers who they were, feels something, reacts differently. If there were even a small piece of human soul left in those seats, perhaps one day we will see a hand that does not rise, a voice that dissents, a vote against. Perhaps then, for the first time in a long time, the Cuban Parliament will begin to come back to life.