What role is Sandro Castro playing in the power strategy of the Cuban regime?

In a recent interview, Sandro Castro, the grandson of Fidel Castro, made several comments that, in any other context, might seem merely controversial, striking, or even characteristic of someone many consider a frivolous figure. He criticized Miguel Díaz-Canel, stating that he is not doing a good job; he spoke about decisions that should have been made long ago but weren’t; he defined himself as more capitalist than communist; he asserted that many Cubans would prefer a capitalist model with sovereignty; he defended Fidel Castro by saying that he "respected other people," and also discussed the harshness of daily life in Cuba, with blackouts, scarcity, lack of water, and difficulties that, according to him, affect "even a Castro."

All of that, said by anyone in Cuba, would hold weight. But when said by someone with that surname, in an interview with CNN, living in the country, it takes on a completely different dimension.

Because this is not just about what was said. It's about something much more important: why it could be said.

In Cuba, the value of words is well understood. It is clear that there are young people who are monitored, silenced, detained, or under house arrest for far less: for a post on social media, an uncomfortable comment, a complaint, a gesture, or a phrase. Therefore, when someone from the symbolic circle of power speaks with apparent freedom on an international platform, it is not a minor or innocent occurrence.

And here it is important to remember something essential: no matter how much one attempts to reduce everything to the figure of Díaz-Canel, the Cuban model does not operate based on autonomous personal decisions at the visible peak. In Cuba, no significant decision is made without prior authorization from the true center of power. This is precisely one of the characteristics of the system. Therefore, interpreting these statements as merely the spontaneous opinion of an individual would be, at the very least, naive.

Many will say that Sandro Castro is a buffoon. That may be true. However, history teaches us that the buffoon was never an irrelevant figure. The king's buffoon was not outside the court; he was within it. He did not govern, but he spoke from an allowed place. He expressed things that others could not say. Amidst mockery, lightness, and spectacle, he sometimes introduced truths, tensions, or messages that would have been punished if spoken by anyone else. And that has always been his deepest role: not only to entertain but also to articulate the unspeakable without completely disrupting the order.

For that reason, perhaps the question is not whether Sandro Castro spoke the truth or made a fool of himself. The real question is a different one: what role is he playing?

When criticism of the visible ruler arises from within the very foundational surname, the language of capitalism becomes normalized, social unrest is acknowledged, and at the same time, the mythical figure of the founder is preserved, we may not be witnessing a break with the system, but rather a much more sophisticated operation: the potential to shift responsibilities, refresh the narrative, and explore new frameworks without dismantling the real core of power.

That is to say: not necessarily a change of system, but perhaps a recalibration of the discourse. Not necessarily an opening, but a calculated management of discontent. Not necessarily a fracture, but a way to emotionally and symbolically prepare public opinion for something that has yet to be fully named.

Therefore, it is wise to view this episode with less naivety and more awareness.

In a country where speaking has consequences, exceptions also speak. And sometimes... they say more than the words spoken.