Silvio Rodríguez's AKM: Defending a Sovereignty Without Citizens

The statement leaves little room for interpretation: “I demand my AKM, if they attack. And let it be clear, I mean it very seriously.”

At 79, Silvio Rodríguez has once again positioned himself—at least symbolically—in the trenches for the armed defense of Cuba against a potential United States intervention.

This wasn't an isolated outburst. In fact, it represents a consistent stance he has maintained for decades: internal criticism, yes; breaking away from power, no.

However, this declaration, when viewed in light of his own words over recent years, reveals a contradiction that is hard to overlook. What does it truly mean to defend the “sovereignty” of a nation where citizens lack effective political rights? Who is truly being defended?

In principle, sovereignty belongs to the people. It does not reside in the state, the government, an elite, or a historical process frozen in time. Yet, in the official Cuban discourse—which Silvio echoes—sovereignty has shifted: it no longer represents the power of the people but rather the preservation of the ruling system.

Thus, defending sovereignty becomes, in practice, defending authority. This is where the core issue lies.

Internal Critique vs. External Threat

Silvio has acknowledged, with varying degrees of clarity, serious issues in Cuba: disproportionate sentences, political isolation, fear, mass emigration, material decay, and a system that has become a “burden.”

He's even suggested that the populace might eventually confront the government. These are not trivial statements. Yet, when it comes to taking an absolute stance, his compass invariably points in the same direction: rallying against the “external enemy.”

And this is where the contradiction becomes glaringly obvious.

Because he hasn't been heard demanding with the same fervor—symbolically or practically—the fundamental rights of Cubans. There's no “I demand the freedom of political prisoners,” or “I demand free elections.” Instead, there is a “I demand my AKM.”

The contrast is unsettling.

The Moral Dilemma of Sovereignty

Why is there such a readiness for confrontation when the conflict is external, yet caution when the issue is internal? The answer is not merely personal; it's structural.

For decades, revolutionary rhetoric has constructed an almost automatic equivalence: homeland, state, government, and “revolution” are one and the same. Under this logic, questioning power isn't an act of citizenship but a threat to the nation.

This inverts the moral order.

The defense of sovereignty—understood as resistance against the United States—takes precedence over defending fundamental rights. First the “homeland,” then the citizen. First the “epic,” then freedom. The problem is that this “then” never arrives.

Contemporary international law is quite clear on this: sovereignty is not a blank check. It is a responsibility.

A state that fails to guarantee basic freedoms, that limits political participation, that represses dissent, or that condemns its population to precarious living conditions, cannot indefinitely hide behind sovereignty to justify its actions.

Sovereignty without free citizens is, at best, a legal fiction; at worst, a tool for control.

The Paradox of Silvio Rodríguez

From this perspective, the question isn't whether Cuba should defend itself from external aggression—any nation has that right—but what exactly is being defended.

Because if the “sovereign”—the people—cannot express, organize, or choose, the defense of sovereignty becomes the defense of power acting without that people.

Silvio Rodríguez embodies this tension like few others. He is someone who sees the cracks, who half-names them, who whispers them.

But he is also someone who, when the crucial moment comes, does not cross the line. His loyalty to the so-called “revolution”—more emotional than political at this point—continues to outweigh his criticism.

Thus, his “AKM” is, above all, a symbol.

Not of a real war, but of a stubborn loyalty: to a vision of a country where sovereignty is defended outwardly but rarely exercised inwardly. Where the enemy is always external, even as repression and frustration grow within. Where the people are invoked, yet given little room to be truly sovereign.

The paradox is clear: there is a willingness to fight for the sovereignty of a dictatorial state but not to confront with the same determination the lack of sovereignty of the Cuban people.

And this, more than any declaration, is the contradiction that defines not only Silvio Rodríguez but an entire political narrative that, for decades, has confused power with homeland and loyalty with silence.