The Caribbean and the wider developing world are once again confronted with a troubling question: Where is the solidarity with Cuba?
Today Cuba faces one of the most difficult periods in its modern history. Severe shortages of fuel, widespread blackouts, food insecurity, and a strained economy have combined to create enormous hardship for the Cuban people. The pressures are not occurring in isolation. They are taking place within the context of decades of economic restrictions and policies from the United States that continue to limit the country’s access to trade, financial markets, and essential resources.
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Yet the question that must be asked across the Caribbean, Latin America, and the Global South is not only about Cuba’s internal difficulties. It is about the response—or lack thereof—from those who have benefited from Cuba’s solidarity for decades.
For more than half a century, Cuba has stood as one of the most consistent examples of international medical solidarity in the developing world. Long before the phrase “global health diplomacy” became fashionable, Cuba was sending doctors, nurses, and medical technicians to remote villages, disaster zones, and underserved communities across the Caribbean, Latin America, and Africa.
This was not done as an act of political expediency but as an expression of a philosophy deeply embedded in Cuba’s national identity—that healthcare is a human right and that the responsibility to heal extends beyond national borders.
Cuba’s own public health system is frequently cited internationally as one of the most effective in the world relative to its resources. Despite being a small island nation with limited economic capacity, Cuba has achieved life expectancy rates and infant mortality outcomes that rival—and in some cases surpass—those of far wealthier countries. Its emphasis on preventative care, community-based medicine, and universal access has made it a model studied by public health experts across the globe.
But Cuba’s contribution goes far beyond its own borders.
Across the Caribbean, Cuban medical brigades have provided care to millions who might otherwise have had no access to doctors at all. In Jamaica alone, Cuban medical professionals have served in hospitals and clinics for decades, treating millions of patients—many of them among the poorest and most vulnerable citizens.
In Haiti, Cuban doctors have been present through some of the country’s darkest moments—earthquakes, hurricanes, and epidemics—often working in rural areas where few other international medical teams would remain for long periods.
In Africa, Cuban medical missions have played historic roles, from combating infectious diseases to training local physicians. Tens of thousands of doctors from developing nations have received training in Cuba’s medical schools, returning home to serve their own communities.
When disasters struck, Cuba often arrived quietly and quickly. Hurricanes, earthquakes, epidemics—again and again Cuban medical teams have been among the first responders.
This history makes the current moment all the more troubling.
As Cuba faces profound economic and social strain, the level of solidarity from some quarters appears muted. Some governments have scaled back or terminated medical cooperation agreements under political pressure. Others have remained largely silent.
Yet the moral question remains: What does solidarity mean if it does not extend to those who have shown it consistently to others?
The issue was poignantly raised recently by the award-winning Caribbean-American actress and activist Sheryl Lee Ralph, who asked a simple but powerful question as several countries reconsidered their medical partnerships with Cuba:
If Cuban doctors leave, will the United States step in to provide the care?
It is a question that deserves serious reflection.
Even within the United States itself, millions of people struggle with access to affordable healthcare. Medical insurance costs remain among the highest in the world, and millions of Americans continue to face difficult choices between medical care and financial survival. The reality is that the global need for accessible healthcare is vast—and growing.
In that context, dismantling or weakening one of the world’s most extensive networks of international medical cooperation raises serious concerns.
No country is without its challenges or criticisms, and Cuba is no exception. But when the history of international solidarity is written, Cuba’s record of medical assistance to developing nations will stand as one of the most remarkable examples of humanitarian outreach in modern history.
That is precisely why the question of solidarity matters today.
The Caribbean region in particular understands the value of cooperation in times of hardship. Our islands are frequently vulnerable to hurricanes, economic shocks, and health crises. We know what it means to rely on one another.
Solidarity is not a slogan; it is a practice.
And when a nation that has extended its hand so often finds itself in distress, the least that can be offered is a willingness to stand with it—not in ideological alignment, but in recognition of shared humanity.
The call, therefore, is not simply about politics. It is about principle.
At a moment when Cuba faces significant challenges, the Caribbean and the wider international community would do well to remember the countless doctors, nurses, and medical workers who crossed oceans and borders to care for those in need.
The question remains before us:
Where is the solidarity with Cuba?
And equally important:
If solidarity is not shown now, when it is most needed, what does the word truly mean?