The machinery of American military ambition has locked onto Cuba. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, long fixated on dismantling the island's communist government, signaled last week that diplomatic channels are largely closed. While maintaining rhetorical commitment to a negotiated path forward, he made clear the odds of success are slim.
The timing is notable. After what German Chancellor Friedrich Merz described as US humiliation at the hands of Iran, Washington appears to be hunting for an easier target to reclaim lost prestige. The Caribbean island, weakened by decades of American economic pressure and a newly imposed oil blockade under Trump, offers a tempting prospect.
Federal prosecutors have now charged Raúl Castro, Cuba's former president, with conspiracy to kill US nationals, four counts of murder, and two counts of aircraft destruction stemming from a 1996 incident. The legal offensive echoes the indictment of Venezuela's Nicolás Maduro, which preceded US military action against the South American government. The pattern suggests a familiar script: construct a legal pretext, build public justification, then move operationally.
The Trump administration has also circulated intelligence assessments claiming Cuba recently acquired over 300 military drones allegedly intended to threaten the US naval base at Guantánamo Bay. Unnamed senior officials labeled it "a growing threat." The claim strains credulity. A desperately impoverished nation located 90 miles from the American superpower launching an unprovoked drone strike would invite catastrophic retaliation. The rhetoric mirrors the pre-Iraq invasion warnings about weapons of mass destruction, recycled now with thinner evidence and less pretense of urgency.
Trump himself has abandoned diplomatic language. "I do believe I'll be having the honour of taking Cuba," he said in March, borrowing the vocabulary of 19th-century European colonialism carving up Africa. "I think I could do anything I want with it," he added. Days ago, the USS Nimitz, the oldest active aircraft carrier in the US Navy, steamed into Caribbean waters under the cover of routine exercises.
The economic devastation wrought by US sanctions has already bent the Cuban population toward desperation. A taxi driver in Havana recounted how fuel costs surged from $1.20 per liter to $8. The average Cuban monthly salary hovers around $16. Hospital staff struggle to reach workplaces; medical facilities lack essential medicines. The American siege is working exactly as intended: grinding daily life into exhaustion.
Cuban journalist Daniel Montero observed that government popularity has hit historic lows. "The worse the conditions are, the less people support the government," he said. "In that sense, the sanctions are succeeding." The calculation appears obvious: suffocate Cubans economically until they surrender to whatever political arrangement Washington imposes as relief.
Cuba cannot match Iran's military capabilities or geographical advantages. If the US decides to invade an economically hollowed island of 11 million people, the military outcome is predetermined. Yet resistance may still materialize. When American forces struck Venezuela in January, 32 Cuban troops died defending Caracas. Cuban soldiers died for another nation's sovereignty. Their willingness to fight for their own cannot be assumed away.
Some Cubans express defiant resolve. A painter invoked national history, tracing defense traditions back to Hatuey, the 16th-century Indigenous leader who fought Spanish colonizers. "I don't think any Americans will come here and try to impose their will because history has shown them that they can't," he said.
Yet history also shows what happens afterward. Before the 1959 revolution, Cuba was a de facto American colony. US corporations controlled railroads, sugar production, mines, and utilities. A victorious Trump administration would likely replicate that model. The president has already circulated AI images of Gaza transformed into a Trump-branded luxury resort of yachts and gleaming towers. Cuba's celebrated healthcare system, now deteriorating under sanctions, could be carved up for multinational profit. A pliant, US-installed government would replace Castro's regime. Ordinary Cubans would absorb the violence of occupation while elites extracted wealth.
Trump offers one advantage over previous American presidents: naked honesty about motive. He advances no fiction about liberating oppressed peoples or spreading democracy. A war on Cuba would serve two purposes: erasing the humiliation of Iran setbacks and opening the island for corporate plunder. The gains would accrue to American power brokers. The rubble would remain for Cubans to clear.
Author James Rodriguez: "This isn't geopolitics or strategic interest masking business as usual, it's business wearing the uniform of military revenge."
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