Tropical Versailles at the National Capitol: A Feast Amid Cuba's Ruins

On the evening of Wednesday, February 26, over half of Cuba plunged into darkness. The ongoing electrical crisis, worsening in recent days, saw eight thermoelectric units out of commission due to breakdowns or scheduled maintenance. As Cubans grappled with frustrating power outages, they also faced the arduous task of securing fuel to cook—a challenge in a nation where gas is scarce and a bag of charcoal costs over 1,500 pesos.

That same night, while Cubans dined in darkness, foodless and hopeless, a select group of millionaires and members of the communist elite indulged in an extravagant banquet at the National Capitol in Havana. Given the regime’s history of squandering democracy and individual freedoms, it's no shock that this palace, meant to house the people’s sovereignty, was chosen to host the so-called Intermediate Night of the Havana Festival—an event organizers themselves labeled as an evening for a “select group” of individuals.

A Display of Extravagance Amidst Scarcity

The National Capitol, once the seat of the Republic’s Congress, transformed into a cabaret for the occasion, perhaps nodding to its new role as the headquarters of the regime's National Assembly. The Hall of Lost Steps, a solemn space where legislators of a democratic Cuba should walk, saw a parade of various characters, some anonymous and others infamously known for their unhidden privileges.

The Communist Party, which often lectures about “cultural colonization” or the superficiality of the imperfect 1950s republic, adorned the building with all the pomp of the early 20th century. Red carpets, a live band, high-quality tobacco, and stylish models: it was all glitz and glamour, a near sin for the austere, minimalist society they tout as ideal for other Cubans.

Hypocrisy and Privilege on Display

The same individuals who sentenced Cuban Aniette González García to three years in prison for posing with the national flag, under the alleged crime of “outraging national symbols,” hosted a grand celebration above the Unknown Mambí’s tomb, in the Capitol’s rotunda. The same people who strive to monopolize patriotic sentiment and claim the right to label others as “anti-Cuban” shamelessly smoked cigars and drank rum in front of the Republic’s statue.

Who would have thought? The revolution “of the humble and for the humble” expelled democracy from the Capitol, only to fill it with wealthy individuals smoking cigars and sipping whiskey. Merely a hundred meters away, dilapidated buildings turned into unhealthy tenements reveal a Havana reduced to rubble after decades of neglect and apathy.

The communist elite, increasingly brazen about their privileges, made no attempt to conceal themselves at the event. Among the attendees was Manuel Anido Cuesta, stepson of leader Díaz-Canel, who traveled from Spain for the occasion. One might wonder why he was there that night. Is Lis Cuesta’s son a specialist or enthusiast of cigars? Did he attend as an advisor to the designated dictator, or simply because he belongs to the “first family”? Regardless, the dictator’s stepson was seen alongside Lourdes Dávalos, a regime lawyer who also traveled from Europe to enjoy a cigar at the National Capitol.

A Night to Remember—or Forget?

In Cuba’s landscape, it’s not new that official rhetoric vastly differs from reality. Under Fidel Castro’s command, the communists ousted the “rich” to live in their expropriated mansions in Havana’s finest neighborhoods. Perhaps now, in communism’s twilight, they feel less shame in flaunting themselves.

February 26 will be marked in Cuban history as the night of disgrace. To the costumed mob who improvised a tropical Versailles beneath the dome of our National Capitol, only one phrase was missing: “Let them eat cake.”