The degradation within socialist Cuba has taken root and is now bearing fruit.

It began with the glorification of revolutionary violence. The state not only executed and tortured thousands of Cubans who held dissenting views but also incited its followers to assault — with clubs and beatings — anyone who rejected the Revolution or its leaders.

In 1980, during the Peruvian Embassy crisis (when thousands of Cubans sought asylum at that diplomatic mission in Havana), revolutionary mobs organized to hurl eggs and stones at the homes of those who had chosen to flee the socialist paradise.

This violent tendency — which has defined the island for nearly 70 years, was embedded in the textbooks we used to learn to read and was justified in official speeches and media — is also mirrored in Cuban culture.

While gang or criminal violence was viewed as marginal and undesirable in pre-1959 culture, social disintegration (fatherless homes, the decline of marriage, the state’s rejection of Christianity, etc.) has, in the 21st century, normalized such behavior — even causing it to be conflated with the very essence of “Cuban identity.”

In 2024, social media in Cuba showed young adults, teenagers, and even children brandishing knives and machetes while dancing to the song “Abakuá namá” by Cuban-American reggaeton artist Chocolate MC. This trend masked a deeper issue: the acceptance of lyrics notorious for glorifying violence.

All of this unfolded amidst a rising wave of crime and violence in the country, with criminality increasing by 50% compared to the previous year, according to a report by the think tank Cuba Siglo XXI. “The deterioration of public security in Cuba,” the report stated at the time, “is linked to the country’s systemic and structural crisis, the lack of economic opportunities, and institutional weaknesses.”

For his part, veteran human rights activist Rolando Cartaya adds to the list of causes the “precarious quality of education (a shortage of teachers and the absence of Christian studies or courses on morals and civics) and the distortion of the mission and quality of law enforcement agencies.” He explains the latter point this way: “If you shout ‘Down with Díaz-Canel,’ the police show up immediately; but if a house is robbed, they might take hours to arrive — or never show up at all. This leads people, feeling unprotected, to take justice into their own hands, while increasing the sense of impunity among criminals.”

Amidst this tension, in the summer of 2026, the Cuban regime authorized and promoted the return of the popular congas — street carnival processions — which it had previously banned for fear that large gatherings of discontented citizens might spiral out of control. With no bread left to provide, the regime is betting on the circus.

At the same time, cacerolazos (pot-banging protests) and demonstrations against the Castro tyranny are becoming increasingly common across the island. People are weary of long blackouts that can last up to 72 hours, as well as stores devoid of food and pharmacies lacking medicines.

The regime hopes that these congas — traditional island festivities for centuries — will serve as an effective tool for control and a pressure valve during the acute crisis and scarcity into which it has plunged the country.

One conga in Matanzas province gave rise to a controversial chant that reflects the cultural degradation of the late-Castro era: “Stab [someone], and I’ll carry your bag of food.” In Cuban slang, pinchar refers to stabbing or wounding someone with a bladed weapon, while jaba refers to the bag of food one brings to a relative in prison. In other words: kill, and I’ve got your back.

Other conga parades drew hundreds of locals to dance lewdly in the streets.

Hours after several of those spectacles took place, only about 30 people joined an evangelical pastor and three 20-somethings who are challenging the regime on social media. The loneliness of heroes is real, yet the contrast cannot be overlooked.

Socialism’s greatest achievement is the creation of a citizen — perhaps the “New Man” spoken of by the murderer Ernesto “Che” Guevara — who, when crushed by the State, clamors for “more” State; who ignores his civic duty to future generations and his nation, content instead with a grotesque, savage, and alienated existence.

While some might say that a people who forget their heroes do not deserve freedom, voices like that of dissident leader Angélica Garrido offer hope.

In a public message, she urged Cuban exiles and patriots not to lose heart. “As long as there is a single righteous person inside Cuba crying out for freedom, we must carry on for their sake,” she posted on Facebook, the island’s most popular social network. “Abraham interceded for Lot so that Jehovah would save him, and so it happened: He saved him and his family.”

“Values have been lost; good habits are no longer plentiful,” he acknowledged, but he pointed out that abandoning those who wander “blind and without God” would mean surrendering them to “diabolical tyranny,” leaving them to be utterly torn apart.