What has Spain done for the freedom of Cuba and Venezuela in the last 30 years?

In January 2026, the world witnessed a historic event: the capture of Nicolás Maduro by U.S. forces, ordered by President Donald Trump. The operation, dubbed "Absolute Resolution," ended more than two decades of Chavismo and opened a new chapter for Latin America. Trump stated that "the Cuban dictatorship is ready to fall," convinced that Havana, deprived of Venezuelan oil, would collapse under its own weight.

However, while millions of Cubans and Venezuelans celebrated with hope, Spain's official reaction was one of distant disapproval. Pedro Sánchez's government condemned the U.S. operation for "violating international law" and warned about "risks of regional instability." Instead of welcoming the end of a dictatorship, Madrid preferred to question Washington. That response reignited an uncomfortable question: what has Spain really done for the freedom of Cuba and Venezuela over the past thirty years?

The answer is simple and painful: very little, if not nothing at all. In two decades, Spain has prioritized business and complacent diplomacy over the defense of democracy. Meanwhile, Cubans and Venezuelans have paid the price with repression, exile, and poverty.

Business first: interests above freedom

For the past thirty years, Spain has maintained an ambiguous relationship with the regimes in Havana and Caracas. In theory, it advocates for human rights and democracy; in practice, it protects investments, loans, and contracts. The policy has been clear: business first, freedom can wait.

In Cuba, Spanish companies dominate the tourism sector. Hotel chains manage dozens of establishments owned by the Cuban state, in exchange for a share of the revenue. This model benefits the companies but also provides financial relief to the regime. Despite the accumulated losses and millions in unpaid debts, Spanish firms remain, relying on promises that are rarely fulfilled. Not even the foreign exchange blockade imposed by the Cuban government has led to a massive withdrawal. On the contrary, Spain continues to send business delegations and forgive debts that alleviate the pressures of the Castro regime.

In Venezuela, the story is similar. Large Spanish companies remained in the country for years, hoping to collect debts or recover investments. The oil company Repsol, banks, airlines, and state-owned insurers resisted the economic deterioration brought on by chavismo, hoping to "not lose their position" in the face of a potential political change. This business interest influenced Spanish foreign policy, which opted for caution and silence to avoid jeopardizing the collection of billions of euros.

The paradox is evident: while the United States tightened sanctions and economically pressured the regimes of Maduro and Castro, Spain maintained the commercial status quo. In the name of "economic diplomacy," it ended up indirectly supporting two dictatorships. The result has been the same: prolonging their artificial existence at the expense of the suffering of their peoples.

Diplomatic whitewashing: the art of looking the other way

The second significant constant of Spanish policy toward Cuba and Venezuela has been diplomatic normalization. Instead of firmly denouncing human rights violations, Madrid preferred a discourse of dialogue and mediation that, in practice, legitimized the regimes.

In the 1990s, Spain advocated for a European position that linked relations with Cuba to democratic improvements. However, since the mid-2000s, that firmness has waned. The socialist governments opted for unconditional rapprochement and courtesy visits, replacing political pressure with symbolic gestures. The release of Cuban political prisoners exiled to Spain was presented as a humanitarian advance, but in reality, it was a relief for Havana, which removed the most visible opposition from its territory without conceding power.

In 2019, the state visit of the Kings of Spain to Havana marked the normalization of relations. There were no meetings with dissidents or gestures of support for civil society. The Castro regime was treated as a legitimate partner, right when internal repression was reaching unprecedented levels. The same happened with Venezuela: while the international community hardened its stance, Spain opted for “political dialogue,” with José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero as the controversial unofficial mediator.

Zapatero positioned himself as a facilitator for negotiations between chavismo and the opposition, but his neutrality was questioned even by Venezuelan democrats themselves. His closeness to the regime and frequent visits to Caracas earned him a reputation as an ally of madurismo. By supporting his role and maintaining “cordial” relations with the chavista environment, Spain ultimately lost credibility among freedom advocates in the region.

In Cuba, the Spanish attitude has been even more lukewarm. Even the massive protests of July 11, 2021, did not provoke a clear condemnation. The Spanish government avoided labeling the Cuban regime as a dictatorship, using diplomatic language that no longer deceives anyone. This ambiguity has effectively served as a political shield for Havana in international forums.

While other countries voted on resolutions of condemnation or called for sanctions, Spain abstained, urged calm, and appealed for dialogue. The socialist and left-wing MEPs often voted against the more forceful motions against Cuba and Venezuela, sending an unmistakable message to the world: with Spain, dictatorships can always count on support.

PSOE and PP: a shared responsibility

It would be simplistic to place all the blame on a single party. The responsibility for this ambiguous policy lies with both the socialist and the popular governments, albeit with some nuances.

The governments of the PSOE, first under Zapatero and then under Pedro Sánchez, opted for diplomatic engagement and “good offices.” Zapatero promoted the idea that talking to dictators was more useful than isolating them; Sánchez inherited this approach, adapting it to his pragmatic style. Both minimized abuses in the name of dialogue and cooperation. Under their leadership, Spain became a predictable partner for Havana and Caracas, never uncomfortable, always willing to negotiate.

The Popular Party experienced moments of greater resolve, particularly during José María Aznar's government, when Spain led the so-called "common position" of the European Union towards Cuba. However, that stance gradually weakened over time. Mariano Rajoy maintained a low profile regarding Latin America: he neither pressured the Cuban regime nor promoted an international coalition to support the Venezuelan opposition. Economic caution and a lack of strategic interest contributed to this situation. Only from the opposition have PP leaders revived a strong discourse in defense of freedom, but without translating it into state policy.

In summary, both PSOE and PP have been prisoners of business interests and a conservative diplomacy that avoids conflicts. In practice, neither of them promoted a sustained policy of support for democracy in Cuba and Venezuela. Both shared an implicit premise: it is better not to disturb dictators if there is money at stake.

The double standards of the Spanish left

Beyond the governments, a significant portion of the Spanish left has demonstrated a double standard regarding Latin American dictatorships. While it condemns human rights violations in conservative countries with strong language, it remains silent when the perpetrators are ideologically aligned regimes.

Radical left parties and movements have openly defended the governments of Havana and Caracas, justifying their abuses as “resistance to imperialism.” Some leaders even called for Maduro's release after his capture, labeling the operation as "U.S. aggression." This ideological blindness reveals a moral problem: political loyalty is confused with the defense of freedom.

Many progressive intellectuals and artists have also maintained a lenient attitude towards Cuba and Venezuela, citing the supposed social achievements of the past or the narrative of the embargo. For decades, it was considered politically incorrect to criticize the Cuban Revolution, and even today, many prefer silence rather than admitting that the socialist model has failed. This romantic sympathy has served as a cultural cover for political complacency.

The result is a divided Spain: one part, mainly the right and the Latin American diaspora, demands firmness against the regimes of Castro and Maduro; the other part, the ideological left, remains caught in a rhetoric from the seventies. This internal fracture has hindered a coherent and morally clear foreign policy.

The contrast with the actions of the United States

While Spain debated diplomacy and legality, others took action. Washington, with Donald Trump back in the White House and Marco Rubio heading the State Department, opted for a strategy of strength against the regimes in Caracas and Havana. Its intervention in Venezuela, despite the controversies, achieved what two decades of European dialogue could not: opening an unprecedented phase that puts the Venezuelan dictatorship on a countdown.

The fall of Maduro exposed the fragility of the alliance system that upheld Castroism. Without Venezuelan oil or the financial support of Chavismo, Cuba is now facing its worst economic crisis in fifty years. Trump stated bluntly: “The Island is collapsing on its own.” That may be true. But if Cuba does finally break free, it will not be thanks to Spain.

The Spanish government, instead of supporting that process, has insisted on condemning the U.S. operation. Its priority seems to be defending formal legality, even if that means preserving the privileges of dictatorships. History, however, does not reward neutrality in the face of abuse.

A lesson for the future

After thirty years of neglect, Spain has an opportunity for redemption. Cuba is on the brink of collapse, and Venezuela is entering an uncertain transition. It is time for Spain to regain its moral voice in Latin America, not as a complacent partner of exhausted regimes, but as an ally of the people who demand freedom.

To achieve this, it will be necessary to break away from the diplomacy of economic calculation and adopt a foreign policy based on principles. This means conditioning aid, loans, and cooperation on genuine democratic reforms; supporting Cuban and Venezuelan civil society; and abandoning the lukewarm approach that has characterized the last two decades.

History will judge Spain by its actions, not by its speeches. When Cuba and Venezuela regain their freedom—and that day will come—many will try to be "in the picture" of the new era. But the people will remember who stood by their side when they needed it most. And for now, Spain is on the list of the absent.