Cuba’s tourism industry, once hailed as the nation’s economic locomotive, now stands as a stark symbol of systemic failure and governmental mismanagement. The sector’s dramatic collapse has pushed the Caribbean nation toward its most severe economic crisis since the 1962 Missile Crisis, with far-reaching implications for both Cubans and international visitors.
The industry’s trajectory reveals a complex history: initially privatized and mafia-controlled pre-1959 revolution, then abandoned due to criminal associations, before being resurrected as a Soviet alternative collapsed. The 2000s brought increased militarization under GAESA, a military conglomerate that now controls over one-third of Cuba’s GDP.
Despite brief optimism during the Obama administration’s diplomatic thaw, which generated $3.3 billion in 2017 and supported nearly 500,000 direct and indirect jobs, the industry faced consecutive blows. Trump-era travel restrictions, COVID-19 pandemic disruptions, Ukraine conflict reducing Russian visitors, and most critically, fuel shortages resulting from U.S. pressure on Venezuela’s oil supply have created a perfect storm.
Current visitor numbers tell a grim story: 2024 saw only 2.2 million tourists—less than half the 4.7 million recorded in 2018. This decline has devastated an economy that is approximately 15% smaller than its pre-pandemic peak.
The situation has become so dire that Canada—historically Cuba’s largest tourism market with over 750,000 annual visitors—issued a February 2024 travel advisory warning citizens to avoid non-essential travel due to worsening shortages of fuel, electricity, and basic necessities. All Canadian airlines have suspended service indefinitely.
Ricardo Torres, a Cuban economist at American University, describes the situation as “a disaster,” noting widespread public frustration with government investments in failing tourism infrastructure rather than addressing fundamental needs. Luxury hotels now stand as “gleaming symbols of inequality” amid nationwide power outages and humanitarian deterioration.
The crisis extends beyond tourism, with experts describing Cuba’s energy generation, transportation, healthcare, agriculture, and water supply sectors as pushed to “the point of checkmate.” An estimated 10,000 tourism workers have fled the country, exacerbating the human capital crisis.
This economic unraveling contrasts sharply with international diplomatic posturing, including past Canadian praise for Cuba’s “social rights” achievements while overlooking fundamental political freedoms. The growing disparity between governmental rhetoric and on-the-ground reality underscores the profound challenges facing ordinary Cubans, who increasingly view empty hotels not as potential economic saviors but as monuments to failed policies.