The Horrors of Cuba’s Prisons

On July 11, 2021, Alexander Díaz protested peacefully, like many other Cubans, against the dire situation in the country in what is known as ‘11-J,’ the largest anti-government protests since 1994, sparked by the health crisis caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, shortages, rationing of food and medicine, and the lack of civil liberties. He was arrested for “inciting other protesters” and hurling insults at “officials of the Republic of Cuba.” Alexander was held in pretrial detention until his trial five months later, on December 27. He was also denied the right to an independent defense attorney, and his defense counsel was appointed by the state. In a trial riddled with irregularities and focused on the defendant’s “social misconduct,” Alexander was sentenced to four years and four months in prison for contempt of authority and public disorder. At the time, he was 40 years old.

Alexander was released from prison on April 4 this year after serving his full sentence; he had lost 55 kilograms and is suffering from malnutrition, thyroid problems, anemia, hepatitis B, and terminal throat cancer. As soon as he was released, he contacted Javier Larrondo of Prisoners Defenders and sent him photos in which he looks like he’s just come out of a concentration camp, but unfortunately this is not a thing of the past—it is happening today in the bastion of the socialist revolution: Cuba.

The conditions Alexander endured from the moment he entered prison were utterly inhumane. Malnutrition—he was given only one meal a day and barely any water—along with beatings and forced labor, began to severely undermine his health. On October 14, 2022, he was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, but instead of being hospitalized, the following month he was transferred to the ‘Kilo 5 y medio’ prison in Pinar del Río, further away from his hometown. There, conditions worsened even more because he was not provided with medication.

In 2023, as his health deteriorated, Alexander was admitted to the emergency room at the provincial hospital in Pinar del Río due to throat cancer that had not been treated by the prison’s medical staff. He was returned to prison but had to be hospitalized again. On December 2, it was revealed that Alexander had contracted hepatitis B in the hospital. For the first time, a special release, licencia extra penal, was requested—a legal measure in Cuba that allows for the temporary or permanent release of political prisoners on humanitarian or health grounds, such as in cases of cancer—which was denied.

Also reported were the beatings he was receiving because of a tattoo reading “July 11: Down with Tyranny” that he had gotten in prison, which led to the authorities isolatingAlexander to prevent him from posting about his situation on social media. A request for the special release was made on two other occasions, but both requests were denied on the grounds that he was a “counterrevolutionary.” 

Despite the physical and psychological torture he has endured over the years, along with hunger and illness, Alexander has always refused to collaborate with the regime. The price of that resistance is the image of a man, without an ounce of fat, who regained his freedom just two weeks ago.

I was able to speak with Alexander; he’s with good friends and fighting cancer, and he’s already gained more than 3 kilos. “My principles are non-negotiable,” he tells me when I ask him how he’s managed to endure so many years of torture. And he hasn’t lost hope of seeing the communist regime fall either: “Of course, hope isn’t lost, and now I see that hope within reach. I hope my dream—and that of many Cubans—comes true.”

Unfortunately, he is not the only Cuban political prisoner to have been released from prison in such terrible condition. According to Javier Larrondo, “the communist regime is committing crimes that have no place in humanity, and Cuba ranks first in the world in government-sponsored forced disappearances and arbitrary detentions. We cannot allow this regime to continue doing what it has been doing for the past 67 years.”

Cuba’s president and first secretary of the Communist Party, Miguel Díaz-Canel, gave an interview to NBC News, stating that “there are no political prisoners in Cuba” and calling allegations against his regime “a lie, slander, and a fabrication.” However, the reality is that the number of political prisoners has reached a record high. According to data from Prisoners Defenders, there are currently 1,250 in Cuba, 44 of whom were imprisoned during the month of March, 32 of whom are at serious risk of dying in prison if they are not released.

Without the Venezuelan funds that kept the regime afloat, Cuba is facing a severe crisis and widespread social unrest, which the Communist Party is countering with increased repression—a factor that explains the rise in the number of people imprisoned for political reasons. The threat of U.S. intervention hangs over the island once again, and Donald Trump, who describes Cuba as a “collapsing nation,” has suggested that his administration could turn its attention to Cuba once the military operation against the Iranian ayatollahs’ regime is concluded. According to USA Today, the Pentagon has quietly stepped up its plans for potential military operations on the island.

Díaz-Canel spoke about U.S. preparations and, as Maduro did before him, asserted that Cuba is “ready” to face military aggression from Washington. Despite the rhetoric and speeches, the regime knows that its list of allies is shrinking; for this reason, the declaration of support for Cuba during the summit of progressive leaders in Barcelona is a lifeline for the communist dictatorship. In a supreme act of hypocrisy, at a summit held in “defense of democracy,” Spanish President Pedro Sánchez, along with Claudia Sheinbaum and Lula da Silva, joined forces to denounce U.S. pressure on Cuba, which they claim violates international law. The three countries have called for dialogue and will offer humanitarian aid—aid that will ultimately end up in the hands of the regime.

Alexander Díaz’s emaciated and starving body symbolizes the suffering of the Cuban people, but it also represents their resilience and their struggle for freedom. We must not fail to denounce the horrors of Cuban prisons and the persecution of political prisoners. As Javier Larrondo points out, “it is high time for the international community to make a decision and take responsibility; anything else amounts to complicity with a regime that wages war on its own people.”