May Day in Cuba: A Hollow Display Rather Than Revolutionary Zeal, Scholar Argues

The May Day parade in Cuba was described by Cuban scholar Hilda Landrove as little more than an empty display: "more akin to a staged performance of a corpse pretending to be alive than a genuine show of revolutionary zeal."

Landrove, who holds a Ph.D. in Mesoamerican Studies from UNAM, shared an analysis on Facebook this past Saturday, challenging the official narrative of the May Day marches in Cuba. These events are organized by the government-aligned Central de Trabajadores de Cuba, under an anti-imperialist banner in what they call the "Year of Preparation for Defense."

The Illusion of Numbers

The numbers reported by state media and its international allies—ranging from "over half a million" to "millions" of participants, according to outlets like La Jornada, Cubainformación, and Resumen Latinoamericano—are, in Landrove's view, merely "propaganda."

She argues that there is a "sustained decline in participation in these ideological reproduction rituals over recent years," and that the regime's ability to rally people relies on "the usual tactics: coercion, pressure, and a sense of obligation to go through the motions without genuine conviction."

Symbolic Venue Change

Landrove warns against interpreting attendance as genuine support: "Participation should not be directly equated with loyalty, support, or a willingness to defend the regime to the last drop of blood."

One of the most telling signs of the hollowing out of these events was the change in venue for the main act. Instead of the Plaza de la Revolución—where low attendance would have been apparent—Raúl Castro presided over the event at the Anti-imperialist Tribune opposite the U.S. Embassy on Havana's Malecón.

The Stark Reality

The contrast between the official rhetoric and reality was particularly stark. While the regime called for unity against imperialism, President Miguel Díaz-Canel marched wearing Adidas sneakers valued at around $1,449, and his wife, Lis Cuesta, sported a watch worth over $5,000. Days earlier, children were pulled from schools in San Miguel del Padrón and Santiago de Cuba to participate in pre-marches, illustrating the structural coercion Landrove describes.

Cuba is in a state of profound collapse, having gone four months without regular crude oil supplies, experiencing power outages that affect over 60% of the country regularly, and facing a projected GDP contraction between 6.5% and 7.2% by 2026, the worst in the region. In April, more than 200,000 Cubans were left without water due to electrical pumping failures, and hundreds of public protests have been recorded in Havana alone since January.

Relying on a Fading Image

In this context, Landrove identifies the regime's only remaining strategy: "Persisting in projecting an image of popular support." To this end, they organize brigades of foreign sympathizers to march on May 1st and participate in a Solidarity Gathering the following day, so they can return to their countries praising the revolution. "The revolution is ultimately a relic for external consumption, meaningless to those who must live under its rule," the essayist notes.

Landrove also touches on the pressure from Washington, acknowledging that the fear of military intervention is the only internal motive that might still generate some energy for the regime. However, she warns that this argument has a clear limit: "The anti-imperialist fervor loses its meaning because the horror stories of what might happen pale in comparison to the daily horrors Cubans have endured for many years."

"Yes, Trump is a misfortune, but so is the Cuban regime, and there is nothing defensible about it. For a large number of Cubans, the most terrible thing at this point is that the regime responsible for their misery continues to exist," Landrove concludes.