The Cuban regime has made a move, but it hasn't changed the game.
The statements made by the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Carlos Fernández de Cossío, along with the recent communiqué from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MINREX), outline Havana's new strategy towards the United States: to open up to dialogue, but without touching the foundations of its power.
On the surface, the regime extends a hand. In reality, it reinforces the walls.
The interview of Fernández de Cossío with the Associated Press was carefully calibrated: “We are open to dialogue with the United States, but the Constitution, the economy, and the socialist system of government are not on the table.”
In those few words lies the essence of the agonizing Castroism of 2026: tactical flexibility, structural rigidity, and jolts on the trampoline—eyes fixed on the clock—while performing acrobatics of "creative resistance."
The diplomatic mask of MINREX
The MINREX statement from February 1 set the tone for the new official language.
For the first time in sixty years, the Cuban regime issued an institutional text without mentioning the “blockade,” the “empire,” or the “revolution”. Instead, it appealed to technical cooperation, international legality, and peaceful coexistence.
"Cuba condemns terrorism and reiterates its commitment to cooperate with the United States to strengthen regional security," the document stated. Behind the change in tone, there is not an ideological shift, but rather a political survival operation.
Cornered by the energy crisis, economic collapse, and financial sanctions, the regime seeks to re-legitimize itself before the international community.
The new rhetoric aims to project the image of a rational, professional, and trustworthy State, while the military apparatus and the Communist Party maintain intact their control over real power.
The message to Washington is clear: Cuba is willing to cooperate, but not to transform itself. The objective is twofold: to reduce diplomatic and economic pressure and to prevent the dialogue from leading to demands for political openness.
The red lines of power
When Fernández de Cossío excludes the Constitution, the economy, and the socialist system of government from the dialogue, he is shielding the three pillars that support the one-party dictatorship.
The 2019 Constitution declares socialism to be "irrevocable" (article 4) and enshrines the Communist Party as the "superior leading force of society and the State" (article 5). Article 229 prohibits reforming these provisions.
For its part, the state (socialist) economic model guarantees the military conglomerate GAESA its opaque control over tourism, foreign exchange, foreign trade, and strategic sectors.
In other words, the Cuban socialism is an architecture of power, not an ideology. Discussing these topics would challenge the legitimacy of the Party, the army, and the Castro family.
That is why Fernández de Cossío does not improvise: he outlines the boundaries of the dialogue so that Washington understands that Cuba is only willing to discuss technical matters (security, drug trafficking, migration), but not democracy or human rights.
The regime clings to totalitarian and mafia-like power with the language of diplomacy. And in doing so, it transforms negotiation into a barrier.
Havana: Between Calculation and Fear
The change in tone from the MINREX and the words of the deputy minister reflect a context of unprecedented vulnerability.
The capture of Nicolás Maduro by U.S. forces on January 3 left Cuba without its main energy and financial ally.
The suspension of Venezuelan oil shipments, the restrictions on remittances, and the tariffs on countries supplying crude oil to the island (such as Mexico) have left the regime financially suffocated.
In light of this situation, Havana is trying to show goodwill by offering cooperation against terrorism and money laundering, but without touching its internal structure. It's a strategy of restraint: to simulate openness in order to buy time.
The immediate goal is to prevent an escalation that could lead to total economic collapse or irreversible diplomatic isolation, while the regime reorganizes its alliances with Russia, China, and Iran.
But deep down, the fear is another: that Washington imposes on Cuba the same model that is currently applied in Venezuela.
Washington and the Monroe Doctrine
That fear is well-founded. Before the fall of chavismo, the Trump-Rubio administration had already outlined a hemispheric strategy known in diplomatic circles as Doctrine Donroe (an update of the Monroe Doctrine): to reshape the Western Hemisphere through the democratic transition of authoritarian regimes allied with Moscow and Beijing.
The "Rubio vision", within that doctrine, defines a political sequence: stabilization, economic recovery, reconciliation, and transition. It is the roadmap applied in Venezuela, where the United States leads the process of institutional reconstruction under international oversight.
Cuba is the next logical link. For Washington, the island is not just a dictatorship, but the ideological and logistical source of the Latin American anti-American axis. Keeping its structure intact would be equivalent to leaving the virus alive, or as advisors to the Trump administration refer to it: not cutting off the head of the serpent.
For this reason, the United States will not accept a dialogue that excludes the political system, the Constitution, or the economic model. These are precisely the three axes that the Monroe Doctrine seeks to transform.
Donald Trump and Marco Rubio know that there will be no lasting stability in the region without the dismantling of Castroism. In their view, dialogue can only serve as a tool of pressure, not of concession.
The approaching storm
While Havana clings to its socialist system (the cornerstone of its power structure) and Washington intensifies its maximum pressure policy, the balance point is narrowing.
The United States may accept technical discussions, but it will continue to strike at the economic foundations of the regime: sanctions on GAESA, financial restrictions, blocking its energy allies, and diplomatic isolation.
At the same time, Washington will seek to fracture the internal power structure, creating incentives for a negotiated transition from within, as happened in Venezuela.
The message is clear: “We can talk, but the change is non-negotiable.”
Conclusion: The glass wall
The Cuban regime is trying to survive with a strategy of deception: it lowers the ideological tone, adopts technical language, and offers limited cooperation, but without yielding on the essentials.
Fernández de Cossío represents that attempt at adaptation: to dialogue in order not to change, to negotiate in order not to yield.
However, in the era of the Donroe Doctrine, that language no longer deceives Washington. The United States is not seeking coexistence but rather reconfiguration. And to achieve this, it will employ a combination of sanctions, diplomacy, and multilateral pressure.
The dilemma facing Havana is clear: accept a controlled transition process or confront total isolation and an increasingly imminent internal collapse.
The story, once again, has left the regime facing its mirror. And this time, neither the language of cooperation nor the rhetoric of sovereignty will be able to hide the truth: the Cuban regime does not want to change and will do everything possible to maintain the statu quo. But the United States is not going to wait.
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