Will a U.S. President Visit Cuba Again in 2026?

In March 2016, an event took place that seemed unattainable for decades: a sitting U.S. president set foot on Cuban soil. On March 20, 2016, Barack Obama made history with his visit to Cuba. He met with Raúl Castro and walked through the streets of Havana, initiating the most significant thaw in relations between the two nations since 1959. This moment marked a turning point, leading to the reopening of embassies, easing of travel restrictions, and a surge in cultural and economic exchanges. Many Cubans, both on the island and abroad, felt a glimmer of hope for change for the first time in years.

To understand this properly, we must look back at the context. While Cuba was struggling in 2016, the situation was far better compared to today. There were no widespread and persistent power outages; the scarcity, although severe, was not yet systemic; migration numbers hadn't reached historic highs, and an energy collapse hadn't yet disrupted daily life. Despite these challenges, the Cuban government accepted the political gesture: a historic handshake, an iconic photograph, and a genuine opportunity for transformation.

However, this process failed to solidify. Beyond the subsequent changes in Washington, the reality is that the Cuban regime itself squandered the chance. There was no progress in deep reforms, no expansion of freedoms, nor was there any effort to build the necessary trust to ensure the thawing of relations was sustainable. The rapprochement was stunted, not only by political shifts in the U.S. but also by Havana's inability to adapt to a new reality.

Fast forward to 2026, just days before the tenth anniversary of Obama's visit, and Cuba faces its most severe crisis in recent history. The economic, energy, and social conditions are far graver than they were a decade ago, prompting a renewed question: what prevents a new negotiation process and another U.S. president from visiting Cuba? This is especially pertinent given explicit signals from Washington. Figures like Donald Trump and Marco Rubio have openly discussed potential talks, agreements, and the need to unlock a relationship that has been stagnant for too long.

We must highlight a crucial point: this isn't merely a perception or intuition. Data supports it. In a recent survey conducted by CiberCuba with over 1,800 respondents, 95% of Cubans expressed support for some form of negotiation with the United States. But the details are even more telling. 77% support negotiation only if it includes political changes and the release of prisoners, not solely economic agreements. Another 18% believe negotiations should happen immediately due to the crisis's severity.

Only 3% would accept negotiations limited to economic issues like sanctions, trade, or energy, while opposition to negotiations—whether for sovereignty reasons or waiting for a change in Washington—are negligible, almost nonexistent. The message is clear: Cubans are not against dialogue; they demand it, but not at any cost. They seek urgent material solutions, along with freedom, rights, and dignity. Ignoring this social consensus is no longer an ideological stance; it is a profound disconnect from the reality of the country.

The question becomes even more uncomfortable when considering the international context. If Ukraine and Russia, after a brutal aggression and open war, have found spaces to negotiate; if Delcy Rodríguez has welcomed the CIA director in Caracas despite years of sanctions and direct confrontation with Washington, why does the Cuban regime refuse to explore a genuine dialogue? If opposing forces, in much more violent conflict, have realized that dialogue is not surrendering but a way to avoid total collapse, what explains Havana's persistent refusal?

Even Miguel Díaz-Canel, within his official rhetoric, has publicly acknowledged the possibility of dialogue. "We will always be open to dialogue and improving relations between the two countries, but on equal terms and based on mutual respect," he stated. That is, with conditions, yes, but he speaks of negotiation. So the question becomes more concrete: What is the Cuban government waiting for? Who will take the first real step within the power structure? Who will dare to sit at the table while the nation bleeds economically and socially? Who will heed the cries of the Cuban people?

Because history is not written with slogans; it is written with decisions. And inevitably, someone will be the one to take the photo, to open the door, to be associated with an attempt at resolution. Meanwhile, someone else will be left behind, discarded by history, perhaps even blamed for not having been able—or willing—to do what the country needed when there was no more time to wait.