The Crab emerged from the shadows: Cuba no longer pretends to be anything but a monarchy

There are images that speak louder than any official discourse. This week's image is this: Raúl Castro's grandson, sitting in front of a camera, speaking on behalf of Cuba without having been elected by a single Cuban. Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, known as "El Cangrejo," granted his first international interview to the Emirati media outlet The National, and with that gesture he confirmed what many of us have suspected for a long time: Cuba is not a socialist republic. It is a monarchy. A monarchy that disguises itself as a revolution.

The prince who needs no crown

Raúl Guillermo, or "Raulito" according to certain media outlets that are sympathetic to the regime, does not hold any elected position. He has never run in a competitive election. He has never received a direct mandate from the citizens. He is a lieutenant colonel in the Ministry of the Interior and has been in charge of his grandfather's personal security since 2016. And yet, he was one of the interlocutors with the CIA director, John Ratcliffe, when he traveled to Havana on May 15.

Ask yourselves this: with whom does Washington negotiate? Not with the one who holds the formal title, but with the one who truly holds power. The fact that U.S. intelligence sits down to talk with a lieutenant colonel without a political position —and not with the appointed president— reveals more about the real structure of power in Cuba than any constitution.

The interview was not given alone. He appeared alongside the Deputy Minister of Foreign Trade and Foreign Investment, presented as the voice of "a new generation" tasked with promoting the reforms. Sitting on equal footing with a deputy minister, without holding any official position, is no small detail: it is the public acknowledgment of an authority that until yesterday operated behind the scenes.

The line of succession

If one looks at the last 67 years without ideological blinders, the pattern is unmistakably dynastic.

Fidel Castro was the founding king, the absolute monarch who ruled for almost half a century without any form of checks and balances. Raúl Castro was the successor king, the brother of the founder, in a lateral transition similar to those experienced by many monarchies when there was no direct heir ready. Miguel Díaz-Canel has been, strictly speaking, the regent: the institutional face that reigns in the name of the dynasty while the blood heir matures. And Raúl Guillermo is the prince who is now starting to emerge from the shadow of the regent.

There was no election. There was no party congress that truly decided anything. It was, at every step, blood calling for blood. Power never left the Castro name, neither when Fidel died nor when Raúl formally handed over the presidency. The republican fiction served for decades to disguise what anyone could see: a ruling family with its own army, its own economic heritage in GAESA, and an ingrained cult of personality.

The Emirati decor

The choice of showcase is not coincidental either. The National is part of a group connected to the power of Abu Dhabi and the ruling family of the United Arab Emirates, a country that maintains diplomatic relations with Havana, banking cooperation, and a bilateral investment treaty. In other words, the Crown Prince of a Caribbean dynasty presents himself to the world in the medium of another dynasty from the Gulf, just as Cuba attempts to portray itself as an accessible destination for foreign capital. Monarchy speaks to monarchy. The symmetry is perfect.

The underlying message of the interview leaves no room for doubt. Raúl Guillermo and the deputy minister defended economic openness but made it clear that the reforms do not include any changes to the political system. More private banking, more investment, more small and medium enterprises: everything is allowed, except for the people to choose who governs them. It's the old pact of any absolutist monarchy when it feels cornered: I concede on the economic front to avoid giving an inch on the political one.

The invisible crown

The Bourbons, the Habsburgs, the Windsors. And the Castros. The difference is that the latter never wore a crown on their heads. They donned olive green uniforms and called a dynasty "revolution."

The interview with El Cangrejo does not introduce anything new. It merely confirms it out loud, in front of a camera, for anyone who might still have doubts. In Cuba, the throne is inherited. What changes, from time to time, is who stands guard in front of it.