The Danger of Decontextualized Information: A Case Study on Mainstream Media Coverage of Cuba

By Lea Aschkenas on August 25, 2026

In his 1986 book, Parenti described a situation that remains relevant forty years later: when the United States fears that another country’s non-capitalist political model—and its resulting advances in social justice and quality of life—might lead its own citizens to question their own system, it routinely imposes an embargo and sanctions against that country. The media then reports on the suffering caused by these policies, while avoiding any mention of the embargo and sanctions.

Finally, when—after years or decades of suffering—the people of this blockaded country vent their anger at the nearest target and begin protesting against their government, the United States intervenes. It installs a puppet president in power and injects into the country the money it had withheld throughout the embargo. Then, the media reports on how well everyone is doing now, without acknowledging—once again—the disproportionate role the embargo played in the preceding devastation.

In the aforementioned NPR interview, host Scott Simon perfectly perpetuated this pattern of media complicity by announcing, near the end of the interview: “Arturo Sandoval, I have to put you on the spot. You’ve remained silent on politics over the years, but obviously you… you… fled Cuba. When Fidel Castro died, you expressed your disdain for his regime. That was ten years ago.” Then, without any historical or even recent context, Simon concluded: “Cuba seems to be in almost worse shape than ever now.”

With this final statement, in which he erroneously implied a connection between Cuba’s current misery and Fidel Castro’s government, Simon elicited this response from Sandoval: “Sixty-seven and a half years is too long, man… The people of Cuba are desperate and without hope.”

Simon allowed his guest to make this claim without challenging it, as if these decades of despair and hopelessness were a consequence of the 1959 Cuban Revolution. On the contrary, in addition to funding Sandoval’s musical education (he attended Cuba’s National School of Art, which is free and was founded by Fidel Castro), the Cuban Revolution redefined human rights to include universal access to free education, free healthcare, low-cost daycare, and heavily subsidized housing.

The despair Sandoval referred to is a direct consequence of the U.S. embargo against Cuba, which has now lasted 67 years and is the longest in history. Coupled with a multitude of secondary sanctions (more than 200 of which were enacted during Trump’s first term), these punitive measures prohibit Cuba from purchasing products—including medications—manufactured abroad if they contain more than 10% of U.S.-origin components. They restrict U.S. residents’ ability to travel to Cuba. Furthermore, they make it difficult for Cubans living in the United States to send money to their families—a common practice among immigrants worldwide to supplement the income of their relatives in Cuba.

The embargo against Cuba has been condemned worldwide. For more than three decades, the UN General Assembly has annually presented its members with a resolution denouncing it. Year after year, its 193 member states vote almost unanimously in favor of the resolution. The only two countries that consistently vote against it—and in favor of the embargo—are, as expected, the United States and Israel.

Unfortunately, while the UN resolution is an important show of solidarity, it lacks the authority to end the embargo. As stipulated by U.S. law, only the U.S. Congress possesses this authority.

Unfortunately, the suffering caused by the embargo is not merely a consequence of it, but its explicit objective, as indicated in a declassified 1960 government document, published on the National Security Archive’s website and summarized as follows: “This memorandum, written by the Assistant Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs, Lestor Mallory, sets forth the original, unvarnished political justification for imposing trade restrictions on Cuba. Fidel Castro’s revolution enjoys great popularity in Cuba, Mallory notes; since there is no effective opposition, the only way to weaken support for it is ‘through disillusionment and disaffection based on economic dissatisfaction and hardship.’ Mallory advocates for a series of punitive economic measures designed to deprive Cuba of ‘money and supplies, reduce monetary and real wages, and provoke hunger, despair, and the overthrow of the government.’”

Beyond the embargo and its sanctions, the United States’ designation of Cuba as a State Sponsor of Terrorism (SST) contributes to what Sandoval called the hopelessness and despair of the Cuban people. The partisan effect of the SST designation was initiated by Ronald Reagan in 1982 due to Cuba’s support for Latin American leftist groups. It was lifted by Obama in 2015, reinstated by Trump in 2021, symbolically lifted by Biden on January 14, 2025, at the end of his presidency, and reinstated again by Trump on January 20, 2025, at the start of his second term.

In addition to other restrictions, the designation as a state sponsor of terrorism prohibits U.S. international aid organizations, such as Food for Peace and the Peace Corps, from providing humanitarian assistance to Cuba. It also prevents Cuba from receiving loans from the World Bank and other international financial institutions. These loans could be used for much-needed projects, such as modernizing the island’s obsolete electrical grid, which has caused multiple blackouts across the country over the past two years.

Furthermore, as described by the Washington Office on Latin America, the SSOT “has a deterrent effect on businesses—including banking and telecommunications investments—that are crucial for promoting the kind of transformation essential to expanding freedom on the island.” Ironically, this freedom (that is, the opening up of commercial and economic opportunities) is precisely what the United States claims to want for the Cuban people. And it is this lack of freedom, as Sandoval stated in the somber conclusion of his interview with NPR, that prevents him from returning to Cuba and will leave him “dying while dreaming” of going home.

At this point in the interview, what Scott Simon did not say is just as important—if not more so—than what he did say. The point is that, during the last two years of Fidel Castro’s life, a sense of hope and, yes, of freedom, permeated Cuba.

Obama’s policy of détente in 2014 brought hope to Cubans. While it did not lead to the lifting of the embargo (which can only be repealed by Congress), it did allow for the reopening of the U.S. Embassy in Cuba and the Cuban Embassy in the United States for the first time in 50 years. Washington’s outreach allowed for the resumption of commercial flights and direct mail service between the two countries, as well as the easing of restrictions on remittances. This, in turn, enabled Cuban Americans—as well as immigrants from other countries—to easily send money to their families on the island.

This freedom came about thanks to the opening of the Cuban economy and the greater opportunities the government offered to private businesses. Cubans responded enthusiastically, opening a record number of cafes, restaurants, music and art venues, and other businesses, which their new American friends—who could now travel freely to Cuba—flocked to in droves.

It was beneficial for both sides and demonstrated that another way of engaging with Cuba was possible—until, of course, Trump was elected in late 2016 and, shortly thereafter, began systematically shutting everything down again.

If it weren’t for the real harm it inflicts on the country, the SSOT designation could be considered ridiculous, since, throughout all these decades as a so-called state sponsor of terrorism, Cuba has remained steadfast in its commitment to peaceful coexistence with its neighbors, both near and far. Over the past quarter-century, Cuba’s Latin American School of Medicine—recognized both for its size (in terms of student enrollment, it is considered the largest medical school in the world) and for its focus on preventive health care—has offered a full scholarship, along with a monthly stipend for living expenses, to students from low-income communities around the world, including the United States.

Furthermore, in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, Cuba offered relief personnel to the United States, although President Bush rejected this offer. At the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, Cuba sent medical brigades to help Italy contain the outbreak. This was in addition to the doctors Cuba regularly sent to countries in need, from Algeria to Honduras and Sri Lanka. That is, until 2025, when the United States began threatening to deny visas to leaders of countries that accepted assistance from Cuban doctors; and the affected countries, fearing reprisals, terminated their contracts with Cuba.

Last March, when Cuban doctors working in Jamaica were returning home following one of those terminations, hundreds of Jamaicans took to the streets for what they called a “March of Gratitude.” For five kilometers, they marched wearing T-shirts that read “Thank you, Cuba, for 50 years of medical service” and chanting “We love Cuba” and “Bring back the doctors.”

Rupert Walters, a participant in the march, president of the St. Catherine chapter of the Jamaica-Cuba Friendship Association, and a recipient of Cuban medical care for his prostate cancer, called his government’s decision to yield to U.S. pressure “insane.” Walters told the Jamaica Observer that he wished the government had “allowed the Cubans to provide support and services to the hundreds of thousands of Jamaicans who cannot afford them,” and warned that, as a result of the medical program’s cancellation, many Jamaicans would die.

Far from supporting terrorism, Cuba has long been the target of terrorist attacks by the U.S. government. For half a century, the CIA documented numerous assassination attempts against Fidel Castro, ranging from poisoned pens to explosive cigars.

Less comical and far more lethal were the terrorist attacks led by Luis Posada Carriles, a Cuban exile and CIA agent. In 1976, thirty-five years before September 11, Posada Carriles orchestrated the first act of political terrorism in the Western Hemisphere against a civilian flight. His bomb attack on a Cubana de Aviación plane claimed the lives of all 73 passengers, 24 of whom made up Cuba’s entire junior fencing team. In the summer of 1997, Posada Carriles launched another campaign of attacks, this time targeting hotels, restaurants, and nightclubs in Havana, where he murdered an Italian tourist. Finally arrested in Panama in 2000 for attempting to assassinate Fidel Castro at a conference he was attending, Posada Carriles later fled to the United States, where he was detained for illegal entry and later pardoned by President Bush. In 2018, he died a free man in Miami.

Although Scott Simon did not mention it in his interview with Arturo Sandoval, the current situation—which he described as “worse than ever”—is due to the U.S. oil embargo, initiated by a Trump executive order in January. Under this latest act of economic warfare, tankers attempting to deliver oil to the island are threatened with tariffs and, if they persist, are driven away by U.S. Coast Guard vessels.

Like the embargo, the sanctions, and the SSOT status, the fuel blockade has caused widespread suffering among the Cuban people. It prevents access to electricity and water, which reaches most homes in Cuba via an electric pump. Furthermore, it prevents the preservation not only of food but also of medicines that require refrigeration.

Many Cubans now sleep outdoors, on rooftops or along the Malecón, to escape the stifling summer heat, which is even more unbearable without electricity to run their fans. Since electricity (which has been prioritized for hospitals and schools) is now available in most homes for only two hours a day, Cubans must get up when it comes on (even if it’s at 3 a.m.) to do everything they couldn’t do without it: wash clothes and dishes, cook, and bathe. And to collect water for the next blackout. Thus, sleep has also become a victim of this U.S.-induced humanitarian crisis, which a group of U.S. representatives who visited the island in July referred to as a “silent Gaza.”

By opting for decontextualized reporting instead of clarifying the reasons behind the current situation, major U.S. media outlets, such as NPR, are seriously harming their listeners. Because, as The Washington Post’s motto warns—albeit with a touch of irony following its acquisition by Jeff Bezos—“Democracy dies in darkness.”

Citizens who are unaware of the context of the news cannot actively participate in the democratic process. Without knowing the full story of why things happen in our world, we are unable to change them. Without our consent, we become pawns in the machinery of U.S. interventionism and imperialism.

Life in Cuba is full of suffering—not because of socialism, but because of a 67-year-old blockade imposed by the world’s greatest superpower. In a government without checks and balances, we must call out the media that harm us. We must let them know that we are watching, that we hold them accountable for their lies and omissions, and that we demand better treatment.

Lea Aschkenasis the author of the memoir  Cuba: Life and Love in an Illegal Island. She lived in Cuba in 2000 and has returned frequently since then. Recently, Lea traveled to Cuba with CODEPINK as part of the Nuestra América Convoy, where she witnessed firsthand the impact of U.S. sanctions and the blockade on daily life. She lives in Northern California, where she works as a public librarian and as a poetry teacher in the Poets of California in Schools program.

Source: Cuba en Resumen