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The troubadour Israel Rojas, leader of the duo Buena Fe and one of the most consistent cultural spokespersons of the Cuban government, was spoken to through the earpiece and is now attempting to quell the storm he himself stirred up after his controversial statement asserting that he would not give his blood “for a president, nor for a venerable elder, nor for his family”.
His new message, published two days after the uproar caused by the report from CiberCuba that drew attention to his words, adopted an introspective and moralizing tone, embellished with the self-help wisdom of the bestselling Brazilian Paulo Coelho.
"I believe in actions more than in words... Regardless of whether they may sometimes be appropriate or not, opinions come and go. An ounce of action is worth a ton of words," concluded the singer-songwriter, drawing on the ideas from the bestseller from Rio de Janeiro ("the world changes with your example, not with your opinion").
Although he did not mention the previous episode, the phrase is, in fact, an indirect correction. It is his way of acknowledging—without saying it outright—that his earlier patriotic outburst was an unusual display for him, an opinion fueled by fervent patriotism, a minor genre (opinion) amidst his great work (his example as an artist dedicated to the so-called "revolution").
From the absolute patriot to the tightrope walker of discourse
In his original message, Rojas did not seek to distance himself from the power of the Castros, but rather to position himself above it: to present himself as the pure patriot who fights for the “sovereign Cuba,” for the ideals of Martí, and for the dignity of man, beyond any political figure.
It was a moral self-proclamation: the troubadour who serves not leaders, but causes. But in that attempt to sanctify himself as the most revolutionary among the revolutionaries, he let slip the forbidden phrase.
By stating that he would not die “for a venerable old man, nor for his son or grandson, nor for his family”, he almost touched on a taboo: mentioning, even indirectly, the Castro dynasty and its hereditary power structure.
The gesture was not rebellious, but it was certainly dissonant. And in an environment where nuances are suspect, even slight discordance is enough to set off alarms.
The note, the anger, and the correction
On February 4th, CiberCuba published a note interpreting Rojas' text as an act of "metaphorical insubordination" and an attempt to preserve the myth of the revolution by sacrificing its saints.
The musician's reaction was immediate and angry: a post in which he lashed out at the media with insults and sarcasm (“Cibermierda is becoming more discredited every day…”). This verbal outburst only confirmed his discomfort.
Hours later, Rojas seemed to realize that he had lost the narrative control. And, true to his style, he sought to regain his composure with hints of moral lyricism enveloping his obedience and cowardice.
The new text, centered around the idea that "actions speak louder than words," served as a calculated withdrawal: it did not apologize, but acknowledged that his words may have been "inappropriate".
It was, in short, a self-critique disguised as ethical superiority, in which he further buried his inflammatory discourse and once again opened the door to polysemy, that resource that allowed him to label “abnormal” his followers who did not understand the meaning of his lyrics.
The crack of the faithful troubadour
The episode has left Israel Rojas in an ambiguous position.
His first text presented him as a man who believes he owns the sacred fire of the homeland; his second depicted him as a wet chick who feels the need to clarify himself without actually explaining anything, a typical reaction of the faint-hearted who carry burdens of guilt.
And between the two, a public insult to an independent media outlet that has exposed and continues to expose what their rhetoric aimed to and wants to conceal: the fragility of those who depend on the power they sing to.
In just three days, Rojas moved from epic patriotism to a moral retreat, trying to salvage his credibility amidst a controversy that revealed his deepest contradiction: the artist who wants to appear free, but remains loyal to the regime.
There is no challenge in his words, but there is a symptom: the weariness of a discourse that no longer excites or convinces, not even those who repeat it out of habit.
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