Cuban Blood in a Post-Castro Era

Majid Marouphay

“Fidel Castro was not just a head of state; he was an idea, a provocation, and a living challenge to American hegemony—one that neither embargoes, covert operations, nor assassination plots could silence.”

The dramatic and unprecedented military operation against Venezuela’s capital, Caracas—launched by the United States—has sent shockwaves far beyond Latin America. The assault, which involved the bombing of strategic targets and the deployment of American special forces to seize Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, marked one of the most audacious acts of direct intervention in recent decades. Codenamed Operation Absolute Resolve by the Pentagon, the mission concluded with Maduro being flown to New York to face U.S. federal charges, including allegations of narcoterrorism and drug trafficking.

The human cost of the operation was devastating. Venezuelan authorities confirmed that at least 47 members of the Venezuelan Armed Forces were killed during the assault. More symbolically charged, however, was the loss of 32 Cuban security personnel who had been stationed in Venezuela as part of longstanding bilateral cooperation agreements. Their deaths have reverberated through Havana and across the Global South, reopening historical wounds and exposing uncomfortable truths about the changing geopolitical balance in a post-Castro era.

For Cuba, these deaths carry meaning far beyond numbers. Decades after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the passing of Fidel Castro, and the gradual retreat of revolutionary leadership under Raúl Castro’s exit from power, Cuban blood has once again been spilled—this time directly by U.S. military action. It is the first such confrontation since the Cold War in which Cuban personnel have died in a direct clash with American forces. The event starkly underscores how profoundly regional power dynamics have shifted and how vulnerable Cuba has become without the towering political presence that once shielded it.

For over six decades, Cuba—despite its modest size and limited economic resources—stood as a defiant outlier against American interventionism. From the height of the Cold War to the complexities of a unipolar world dominated by Washington, Havana consistently rejected U.S. diktats, resisted intimidation, and openly challenged American hegemony. That Cuban soldiers should now fall to U.S. firepower highlights not only a regional realignment, but also the erosion of deterrence once embodied by Fidel Castro’s leadership.

Fidel Castro was not merely a head of state. He was an idea, a provocation, and a living embodiment of resistance. From the moment the Cuban Revolution triumphed in 1959, Washington resolved to destroy it. Economic sanctions, a suffocating embargo, diplomatic isolation, covert operations, CIA-backed plots, and repeated assassination attempts followed with mechanical persistence. Nearly a dozen U.S. presidents occupied the White House during Castro’s rule, all united by a single objective: to overthrow him and transform revolutionary Cuba into a compliant client state. Yet Castro endured. Cuba did not capitulate. The revolution did not collapse.

One of the most defining episodes of his leadership came during the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962—an event that stunned Washington and brought the world to the brink of nuclear war. In coordination with the leadership of the erstwhile Soviet Union, Castro transformed Cuba into the epicentre of a global confrontation. The revelation that Soviet missiles had been deployed on Cuban soil, within striking distance of major U.S. cities, shattered American complacency. For the first time, the United States confronted vulnerability on its own doorstep—an experience it had long imposed on others. Although the crisis was ultimately defused through superpower diplomacy, it exposed the limits of American dominance and demonstrated Castro’s willingness to confront imperial pressure head-on, regardless of personal or national risk.

From that moment onward, Fidel Castro transcended national leadership and became a global symbol of defiance. At international forums—whether at the United Nations or gatherings of the Non-Aligned Movement—his speeches were unapologetic and incendiary. He denounced U.S. neo-imperialism, condemned economic exploitation, and castigated Washington for assuming the role of the world’s self-appointed policeman. His oratory did not seek approval from power centres; it challenged them openly, articulating the grievances of the colonised and the marginalised.

Castro’s defiance was not confined to Latin America. He was equally vocal on global injustices, particularly the Palestinian struggle. He condemned Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territories and expressed solidarity with Yasser Arafat’s resistance, framing it as part of a broader global fight against domination and dispossession. In doing so, Cuba aligned itself firmly with liberation movements worldwide, reinforcing Castro’s image as a leader unwilling to trade principles for diplomatic convenience.

Against extraordinary odds, Fidel Castro preserved the core ideals of the Cuban Revolution—sovereignty, social justice, and resistance to imperial domination. Even under the crushing weight of the U.S. embargo, he built a system that prioritised human development. Cuba’s achievements in healthcare, education, and social welfare gained international recognition, often surpassing those of far wealthier nations. For millions across the developing world, Cuba under Castro became living proof that dignity and independence were achievable, even in the shadow of relentless superpower hostility.

During the Cold War, Fidel Castro emerged as one of the most powerful voices of the Third World. He spoke not only for Cuba, but for nations scarred by colonialism, exploitation, and foreign interference. His rhetoric was uncompromising, his positions ideologically clear. He did not ask for inclusion in elite circles; he disrupted them. In doing so, he transformed a small Caribbean island into a global symbol of resistance whose influence far exceeded its geography.

Castro’s closest revolutionary companion, Ernesto “Che” Guevara, carried this flame beyond Cuba. Travelling across Latin America, Che sought to ignite armed resistance against U.S.-backed regimes and export revolutionary struggle. His mission ended tragically in Bolivia, where he was captured, executed, and buried in a secret grave. The news devastated Fidel Castro and plunged Cuba into mourning. Years later, when political winds shifted and relations with Bolivia improved, Castro dispatched a forensic team to locate Che’s remains. After painstaking efforts, the grave was uncovered. Che was returned to Cuba, received personally by Fidel and Raúl Castro, and honoured in a massive state procession. The iconic image of Che Guevara released thereafter transcended borders, becoming an enduring global symbol of sacrifice, resistance, and revolutionary idealism.

Castro’s influence reshaped Latin America itself. His ideas inspired generations of leaders and movements that rejected submission to foreign interests. Figures such as Hugo Chávez in Venezuela and Evo Morales in Bolivia openly acknowledged Castro as mentor and guide. From Nicaragua to Brazil, left and centre-left governments rose, challenging neoliberal orthodoxy and reclaiming national sovereignty. For a time, Latin America spoke with renewed confidence—rooted in independence rather than obedience.

Today, the contrast is unmistakable. With Fidel Castro gone and revolutionary leadership diluted, external interference in Latin America has grown increasingly brazen. Actions that once would have provoked fierce diplomatic resistance and moral outrage now unfold with little fear of consequence. The absence of leaders with Castro’s stature, clarity, and courage has created a vacuum—one eagerly filled by forces long constrained by his presence.

Fidel Castro may be gone, but his legacy endures. It serves as a reminder that resistance is possible, sovereignty is worth defending, and even the most powerful empires can be confronted. In an era marked by renewed coercion and intervention, his life stands as an uncomfortable truth for the powerful—and a lasting source of inspiration for those who still refuse to bow.

(The author is a teacher and can be reached at khanmarouphay@gmail.com)