The dilemma of the Cuban regime's diplomacy

For weeks, Cuban diplomacy denied what the regime itself now acknowledges: that there are talks with the United States amid the greatest crisis the island has experienced in decades.  

The deputy foreign minister Carlos Fernández de Cossío was the most visible face of that denial. However, as days went by, Havana has ended up acknowledging what it previously denied. 

It's not a minor detail. It is, in fact, a rather accurate portrayal of the role that the Castro regime's diplomatic apparatus has played for decades and the historical dilemma it now faces. 

Because the Cuban regime has not only maintained itself through internal control and political repression. It has also done so thanks to an extraordinarily effective diplomacy in building a favorable international narrative.

The so-called "revolutionary diplomacy" —a term used by the system itself— has been one of the most sophisticated instruments for its survival.

That diplomacy has not been, in the strict sense, a state diplomacy. It has been a regime diplomacy.

For years, its main role has not been to represent the interests of all Cubans, but rather to project a carefully crafted image to the outside world: that of a country under blockade, besieged by the United States, protective of its sovereignty, proud of its revolution, and a victim of historical injustice.

That story has been remarkably successful. 

It has allowed the regime to maintain normal diplomatic relations with most of the world, avoid complete international isolation, garner support in multilateral organizations, and channel the solidarity of sympathetic governments, parties, and movements.

It has ultimately contributed to building external legitimacy that has partially compensated for the lack of internal democratic legitimacy.

And there lies one of the fundamental contradictions of the Cuban system.

Because this international legitimacy is not based on real political legitimacy. The regime has been in power for more than six decades without free elections, without political pluralism, without democratic alternation, and with a control system that limits fundamental rights such as freedom of expression, association, or political participation. 

Cuban diplomacy has been effective in building a narrative that has allowed for the normalization of that anomaly.

But that balance is beginning to crumble.

The open conversations with the United States amidst an unprecedented economic and energy crisis, the partial release of political prisoners, the timid gestures towards economic openness, and the admission of contacts that were previously denied point to a moment of transition, or at least a redefinition of the system.

In this context, the traditional narrative of “revolutionary diplomacy” loses consistency. 

And it is precisely there that the dilemma appears. 

Cuban diplomacy is currently facing a dilemma very similar to that of other state apparatuses: continue defending a narrative that no longer corresponds with the reality of the country or begin transforming into a professional diplomacy at the service of a new historical phase.

That dilemma is not solely institutional. It is also political and, to some extent, personal.

Cuban diplomats have for decades conveyed a narrative that justifies the current political system. They have defended positions in international forums that denied or minimized the lack of freedoms on the island. They have helped to build an image of legitimacy that is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain in light of the accumulated evidence.

In other historical processes, similar situations have led to fractures within the diplomatic services themselves.

When regimes enter their final phase or undergo transformation processes, it is not unusual for some of their representatives abroad to choose to dissociate themselves from structures they no longer consider sustainable. This happened in Eastern Europe, in the Soviet Union, and in other authoritarian systems that faced transition processes.

Diplomats, due to their position outside the country, their access to information, and their contact with other political realities, are often among the first to perceive these changes.

The Cuban case might not be different.

But beyond possible individual fractures, what is relevant is the structural transformation that a transition would require.

A diplomacy of the Republic cannot operate as a propaganda diplomacy. It cannot be dedicated to justifying a political system, but rather to representing the interests of a diverse nation. It cannot monitor its diaspora or act as an instrument of ideological control, but should facilitate the relationship between the State and all its citizens, both within and outside the country. 

This would imply abandoning many of the functions that have defined the regime's foreign actions for decades.

It would also mean reorienting Cuba's foreign policy towards full integration into the international community based on cooperation, respect for democratic norms, and the defense of legitimate national interests, rather than perpetuating an oppressive and impoverishing ideological narrative.

But, above all, it would imply a change in legitimacy. 

Cuban diplomacy would cease to represent a closed political system and would instead represent an open society. It would stop justifying the exception in order to integrate into normality.

None of this will be automatic.

As is the case with other state apparatuses—namely security bodies and forces—the transformation of Cuban diplomacy will largely depend on the decisions made by those who currently comprise it. It hinges on their ability to adapt to a new context or their willingness to continue defending a model that shows clear signs of exhaustion.

Ultimately, the question is simple.

For decades, Cuban diplomacy has succeeded in making the world see the island through the lens of the narrative constructed by the regime. It has been one of the most effective pillars of its survival. 

The question now is whether it will continue to attempt to play that role or if it will start to become the external instrument of a new republic.

Because, just as is the case with the Armed Forces, the Cuban diplomacy will also have to decide which side of history it wants to take. 

It can remain as the last support of an exhausting totalitarian system, or it can become one of the first pillars of its transformation.

And in that decision, silent yet decisive, the future of Cuba is also at stake.