Cuban Foreign Minister Bruno Rodríguez Parrilla reiterated this Wednesday his mantra that Cuba does not pose a threat to the United States, describing the island as a "small," "peaceful" country that is a victim of a "brutal economic war."
His message, shared on the social network X, is part of a recurring narrative of the regime in times of international pressure: that of presenting itself as a harmless actor in front of the world's greatest power. However, this discourse stands in stark contrast to the historical, doctrinal, and political trajectory that the system itself has built over decades.
Far from positioning itself as a neutral or detached country from confrontation, the Cuban regime has built much of its identity on challenging the United States.
From the early years following 1959, the dictator Fidel Castro promoted a rhetoric of active resistance that not only recognized military asymmetry but also turned it into a cornerstone of political legitimacy. The central idea was clear: Cuba could not defeat the U.S. in conventional terms, but it could make any attempt at intervention extremely costly.
That principle was institutionalized in the doctrine of the “War of All the People,” conceived as a national strategy to confront a superior enemy through the total mobilization of society.
It was not just about military planning, but about a vision for the country. For decades, generations of Cubans were trained under this logic through mechanisms such as the Territorial Troops Militias (MTT), Initial Military Preparation (PMI) in pre-university education, and Mandatory Military Service (SMO).
Defense, conflict, and the willingness to sacrifice were not marginal elements, but rather structural components of the state discourse.
This doctrinal dimension is complemented by an intense symbolic construction. Official propaganda, from revolutionary posters to graphic humor, constantly reinforced a narrative of confrontation, reaching absurd levels of aggression, infused with a macho mentality characterized by its notions of "manliness" from the lower-class perspective, which, with the "continuity," came to exalt Miguel Díaz-Canel as "pingú".
Slogans such as “Homeland or Death”, “No one gives up here”, “They will gather the dust of their soil soaked in blood”, “Ready for Defense” and other references to the willingness to resist to the last consequences have become part of everyday political language.
The military parades in the Plaza de la Revolución, featuring displays of weaponry, troops, and technology, for years replicated an aesthetic inherited from the Soviet, Chinese, and North Korean blocs, projecting an image of strength and deterrent capability.
That rhetoric did not remain on a symbolic level. Cuba actively participated in armed conflicts in Africa, particularly in Angola and Ethiopia, and supported insurgent movements in Latin America during the Cold War.
These interventions were presented by the regime itself as demonstrations of "proletarian internationalism," but also as evidence of its ability to project power beyond its borders.
The most critical moment of that confrontation occurred during the missile crisis of 1962. In that context, the Cuban leadership took particularly hard positions, even suggesting to the Soviet Union the possibility of a nuclear escalation in the event of a U.S. invasion.
"The aggressiveness of the imperialists makes them extremely dangerous, and if they succeed in carrying out an invasion of Cuba - a brutal act in violation of universal and moral laws - that would be the moment to eliminate this danger forever, in an act of the most legitimate self-defense. No matter how harsh and terrible the solution may be, there would be no other." (Letter from Fidel Castro to Nikita Khrushchev during the Missile Crisis, October 26, 1962).
This episode reinforced in Washington the perception of Cuba as an ideologically radical and potentially unpredictable actor, an image that the regime never truly made an effort to dismantle in the following decades.
In parallel, Havana has also highlighted its capabilities in the field of intelligence. Cases like the Red Avispa, whose members were later honored as heroes, have been incorporated into the official narrative as proof of the Cuban state's ability to infiltrate U.S. territory and operate against its adversary.
All of this is compounded by the recent strategic ties with adversarial powers of the United States. In recent years, Washington has raised alarms about the existence of facilities in Cuba related to Chinese intelligence activities, including alleged electronic espionage bases.
Although the regime has denied these accusations, various reports have indicated agreements in technology and security that strengthen cooperation between Havana and Beijing in sensitive sectors.
In the case of Russia, the military relationship is not new, but it has undergone a renewed impetus. Authorities from both countries have acknowledged defense cooperation agreements, visits of Russian military ships and nuclear submarines to Cuban ports, and modernization projects in strategic sectors.
These actions have been interpreted by the United States as part of a geopolitical repositioning of the island in the context of global tensions.
This framework of doctrine, propaganda, military history, and international alliances contradicts the image of a country entirely foreign to dynamics of confrontation.
It is not about claiming that Cuba today poses a direct military threat to the United States in conventional terms—which it clearly does not—but rather emphasizing that the regime itself has cultivated an identity over decades based on active resistance, deterrence, and political and ideological confrontation with Washington.
The contrast with the current discourse is significant. For years, power in Cuba was legitimized by emphasizing the ability to "stand up to the empire."
Today, in the context of a deep economic crisis and increasing international pressure, the emphasis shifts towards vulnerability and victimization. This turn does not necessarily imply a structural change in the nature of the system but rather a discursive adaptation to adverse circumstances.
In this regard, Rodríguez Parrilla's statements aim not only to address the accusations from Washington but also to reshape the international perception of the island.
However, that narrative encounters evident limits when confronted with the regime's own historical record, which for decades promoted exactly the opposite image: that of a small actor in size, but determined to resist, challenge, and, when necessary, confront its main adversary.
Filed under: