By Ortelio Gonzalez Martinez on October 29, 2026 from Havana
Mike Waltz defines the blockade as a naval blockade that “does not exist,” but the $8,083.3 million in damages and global support for Cuba demonstrate the cynicism of the U.S. government regarding its genocidal policy.
When the U.S. ambassador to the UN, Mike Waltz, defined the blockade as “a cordon of military ships around an island” only to conclude, with an air of smugness, that “that doesn’t exist,” he was pulling the old trick of denying the fire while holding the torch.
The diplomat, who took the podium at the multilateral organization to ask for votes against the Cuban resolution, overlooked a detail that every schoolchild on this island knows: 21st-century wars are not always fought with fleets off a country’s coast.
Sometimes they are waged—even if unsuccessfully—through the silent suffocation of a contract that never materializes, a delayed shipment of medicine, or an oil tanker that cannot dock due to fear of financial reprisals.
Waltz chose the narrowest and most convenient definition. If the blockade were merely a ring of battleships, Cuba would have enjoyed seventy years of maritime tranquility. But the reality experienced in hospitals, factories, schools, and in the daily lives of ordinary Cubans is not governed by the State Department’s dictionary.
In the 2025–2026 period, the cumulative damage caused by the blockade totaled $8,083.3 million—a record figure.
Behind every dollar lies a story that the U.S. representative prefers not to hear: the pacemaker that could not be imported in time, the raw materials that never reached the factory, the child waiting for a medication that is available in any pharmacy around the world.
The U.S. ambassador, in his eagerness to debunk what he called “an absolute lie,” cited the fact that U.S. companies exported more than $876 million worth of goods to Cuba in eight months. He said this as if to demonstrate generosity. But he omitted the fine print: those sales are possible only under exceptional licenses, in specific sectors, and within a bureaucratic maze that discourages anyone who lacks the patience of a monk or the backing of a corporate giant. It is not free trade; it is a revocable permit hanging by a political thread.
“Mr President, point of order” Cuban Foreign Minister confronts Waltz,
The scene at the General Assembly fully exposed him. When Foreign Minister Bruno Rodríguez interrupted to call him to order, Waltz responded with a claim of territoriality that sounded more like a tantrum than an argument: “We are in the United States of America, and no one here is going to intimidate me.”
He confused the forum where nations sit as equals with his own backyard. And in doing so, he revealed that his defense rests on the arrogance of someone who believes he owns the stage.
Denying the existence of the blockade is not a semantic debate; it is a strategy of erasure. If it has no name, there are no culprits. If there are no culprits, there can be no redress, nor can the most atrocious blockade in memory against any country be lifted.
While the ambassador played with words, the General Assembly prepared to vote, for the thirty-fourth time, against the blockade. The support that resolution has historically received is not a manipulation by the “Havana regime,” as they like to say. It is the recognition by nearly the entire world of the irrefutable truth that the blockade exists, causes suffering, and is unjust.
Waltz’s denial does not make it any less real. It only makes him more cynical. Because denying the blockade while it is in effect is like denying the rain while holding an umbrella. The difference is that here, the umbrella is held by his hypocritical government, and the downpour is endured by the rest of us.
Source: Granma, translation Walter Lippmann