Startling news emerged from Havana this week as Cuba mourned the loss of 32 military personnel killed during a bold U.S. operation to capture Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro.
The Cuban government released the names, ranks, and ages of the fallen officers on Tuesday, declaring two days of mourning, as reported by Military.com. Their ages spanned from 26 to 60, representing a range of ranks from colonels to reserve soldiers.
These individuals served in Cuba's Revolutionary Armed Forces and Ministry of the Interior, key pillars of the nation’s security apparatus. Details on their specific roles or the circumstances of their deaths remain undisclosed by state media, which instead focused on headshots in olive-green uniforms.
Unpacking the Cuban-Venezuelan Alliance
On Sunday, Cuban authorities issued a statement honoring the fallen, claiming they died with valor. “Our compatriots fulfilled their duty with dignity and heroism, falling after fierce resistance in direct combat against the attackers, or as a result of the bombing of the facilities,” the statement read.
Yet, such rhetoric raises questions about what these officers were truly doing in Venezuela. If their presence was tied to long-standing security agreements, as Havana suggests, the lack of transparency only fuels skepticism about the depth of military entanglement between these allied regimes.
Information began surfacing Monday night, with some Cubans echoing the official line of a noble sacrifice. But voices like Luis Domínguez, who operates Represores Cubanos, hint at a different sentiment beneath the surface, saying, “Inside, Cubans have to be saying something else.”
Personal Stories Amid Political Tensions
Domínguez pointed to specific officers, like 67-year-old Col. Humberto Alfonso Roca Sánchez, once tied to Fidel Castro’s personal stronghold. He also noted 62-year-old Col. Lázaro Evangelio Rodríguez Rodríguez, believed to have led border and coastal defenses.
Meanwhile, an independent blog, La Joven Cuba, shared a touching profile of 1st Lt. Yunio Estévez, a 32-year-old communications expert. The post, later removed at the family’s request, revealed he was shot during the operation, leaving behind three children in Guantánamo province.
These personal accounts cut through the political fog, reminding us of the human cost of such conflicts. While Havana frames this as heroic resistance, the grief of families speaks louder than any state narrative.
U.S. Stance and International Backlash
At a special Organization of American States meeting on Tuesday, U.S. Ambassador Leandro Rizzuto faced interruption from protester Medea Benjamin of Code Pink, shouting, “The majority of people are against this!” Security escorted her out as she demanded sanctions be lifted from Venezuela.
Rizzuto pressed on, labeling the strike a precise “law enforcement action” against an “indicted criminal.” He insisted the U.S. aimed not to invade but to clear a path for Venezuelan democracy, pointing to Maduro’s mismanagement of vast oil reserves.
His words on freeing 1,000 political prisoners and supporting human rights inspections carry weight, especially when profits from Venezuela’s wealth seem to vanish into the pockets of a select few. If true, this operation might be less about aggression and more about breaking a cycle of oppression.
Global Reactions and Lingering Questions
Yet, not all at the OAS meeting shared Rizzuto’s view, with Colombia’s Mauricio Jaramillo condemning the strike as a breach of sovereignty. He called it a dangerous precedent, a stance echoed by other representatives and a small protest outside chanting for peace.
Peruvian Ambassador Rodolfo Coronado, however, urged a moment of silence for victims of Maduro’s rule. This gesture subtly shifts focus to the suffering under the regime, a point often drowned out by cries of U.S. overreach.
As Cuba grieves its 32 officers, and the U.S. defends its actions, the broader picture remains murky. What’s clear is that alliances like Cuba’s with Venezuela come at a steep price, often paid by those least equipped to bear it.
