Whatever one's views on the politics of Cuba, socialism, American sanctions or the Trump administration's strategy, there is one aspect of the Cuban story that deserves admiration from almost everyone: the extraordinary ingenuity of ordinary people. Yes, those living under the yoke of communism.
For generations, Cubans have become masters of making do with almost nothing.
The latest reports from Havana describe a nation struggling through another severe energy crisis. Fuel shortages have crippled transport, rolling blackouts have become a fact of daily life, and businesses, schools and hospitals have all been forced to adapt to an economy where electricity cannot be taken for granted. Whether one attributes the crisis primarily to decades of communist economic management, to tightening American sanctions and fuel restrictions, or to some combination of both, the people themselves still have to wake up each morning and find a way to live.
That is where the remarkable Cuban talent for improvisation emerges. Visitors to the island have long been amazed by cars from the 1940s and 1950s still running after seventy years. These are not museum pieces lovingly restored by wealthy collectors. They are working vehicles kept alive by mechanics who have become artists of necessity. Original parts disappeared decades ago, so they fabricate replacements from scrap metal, adapt engines from entirely different manufacturers, weld components together by hand and keep machines operating that many Western mechanics would have declared beyond repair decades earlier. It is engineering in its purest form, not following manuals, but solving problems.
The same spirit extends well beyond automobiles. Household appliances are repaired repeatedly instead of discarded. Broken electrical devices are cannibalised to provide parts for other machines. Plumbing fittings are improvised. Furniture is rebuilt rather than replaced. Clothing is patched and altered until scarcely any of the original fabric remains. When shortages become permanent, creativity replaces consumption.
In affluent societies we often solve problems with our wallets. Something breaks? Buy another one. The battery fails? Replace the whole device. The washing machine is ten years old? Time for a new model.
Cubans often have no such luxury. Instead, they ask a different question: "How can I make this work?"
There is an old saying that necessity is the mother of invention and nowhere has that proverb been tested more thoroughly than in Cuba. Scarcity forces people to acquire practical skills that many Westerners have almost forgotten. Welding, machining, sewing, electrical repair, metal fabrication and mechanical improvisation become everyday survival tools rather than specialist trades.
There is a lesson here for the rest of us. Modern Western societies have become astonishingly dependent upon uninterrupted supply chains. If supermarkets empty for a week, many households have little idea what to do. If the internet fails, work stops. If electricity disappears for several days, daily routines collapse. Our prosperity has delivered convenience, but convenience has also eroded resilience.
The average Cuban, through no choice of his or her own, has spent years developing resilience.
That resilience should not be romanticised. Poverty is not a virtue. Nobody should pretend that shortages, blackouts and economic hardship are desirable social policies. Living under continual scarcity extracts enormous human costs. Families are separated through migration. Young people seek opportunities elsewhere. Basic goods become difficult to obtain. Constant improvisation can be exhausting rather than liberating.
Yet within that hardship, ordinary people display qualities that deserve genuine respect.
History repeatedly demonstrates that human beings are far more adaptable than economic statistics suggest. Long before modern welfare states, supermarkets and online shopping, people survived through craftsmanship, neighbourhood cooperation and practical knowledge. Cuba reminds us that these older capacities have never entirely disappeared.
Those interested in emergency preparedness or societal resilience often speak about "collapse skills." Repairing machinery without replacement parts. Recycling materials. Producing local solutions instead of depending on global supply chains. Conserving scarce resources. In many respects, ordinary Cubans have been practising these skills for decades, not as a hobby, but as everyday life.
Perhaps that is the deepest lesson. A nation's greatest resource is not oil, natural gas or rare earth minerals. It is the ingenuity of its people. Governments may succeed or fail. Economic systems may prosper or collapse. International sanctions may tighten or loosen. Political ideologies come and go.
Human creativity endures. If there is one quality that has enabled ordinary Cubans to survive some of the most difficult economic circumstances in the Western Hemisphere, it is not communist ideology. It is the timeless human capacity to improvise, innovate and refuse to give up.
That is something worth admiring, regardless of where one stands politically. Of course, we here despise communism. But as we Christians say: love the person, but hate the sin.
https://www.nytimes.com/2026/07/27/world/americas/trump-oil-gas-cuba-havana.html