On an island that sells itself as a sun‑drenched escape, the most basic ingredient of modern tourism has suddenly vanished: jet fuel. Cuba has told airlines that its reserves of aviation fuel are exhausted, forcing carriers to cancel flights or scramble for workarounds and leaving thousands of travelers stranded or rerouted. The shock is not a freak logistical mishap but the sharpest sign yet of how President Donald Trump’s tightening squeeze on the island’s oil lifeline is colliding with Cuba’s own brittle energy system.
What is unfolding is more than an aviation story. It is a stress test of how far economic pressure can go before it stops targeting a government and instead engulfs an entire society, from airport tarmacs to hospital wards. The result is a country that looks less like a mismanaged resort and more like a patient in intensive care, kept alive on dwindling drips of imported fuel.
The day the fuel ran dry
Cuban aviation authorities have now acknowledged that the country has effectively run out of A‑1 jet fuel, the standard kerosene that keeps commercial aircraft in the air. In notices to carriers, officials said planes could no longer count on refueling at airports on the island, a message that turned routine holiday routes into operational headaches overnight. The warning applied across the board, from charter operators serving beach resorts to large foreign airlines that had treated Havana and Varadero as reliable Caribbean hubs.
The scale of the disruption became clear as carriers began to pull back. Air Canada suspended multiple routes after being told that Cuba’s tanks were empty, while other airlines started planning technical stops in nearby countries just to top up fuel before or after serving the island. The impact has been felt most acutely at Jose Marti International in Havana, the country’s main gateway, where cancellations have rippled through departure boards and tour operators have scrambled to rebook package travelers.
Trump’s pressure campaign and the Venezuelan choke point
To understand how a nation can run out of jet fuel, it helps to follow the pipeline back to its source. For years, Cuba has relied heavily on shipments of crude and refined products from Venezuela, often on favorable terms that blended commerce with political solidarity. Under President Donald Trump, Washington has moved to cut off that artery by tightening sanctions on the Venezuelan state oil company and on shipping networks that move crude and refined products to the island. The goal has been to deprive Havana of both fuel and the hard currency it earns from re‑exporting some of that oil.
Recent measures have gone further, targeting tankers and intermediaries that help move Venezuelan barrels into Caribbean ports, which has left Cuba scrambling for alternative suppliers. According to regional energy analysts, the island has struggled to secure replacement cargoes on commercial terms, in part because many traders and shipowners fear running afoul of U.S. penalties. That has turned what might have been a manageable price shock into a physical shortage, with storage tanks for aviation fuel and diesel simply not being refilled.
Grounded planes, stranded tourists
The most visible fallout has been in the skies. Air Canada was among the first major carriers to halt services, with Air Canada Montreal to Cuba flights suspended as the fuel crisis deepened. Other companies have opted to keep flying but only by adding refueling stops in third countries, a workaround that adds cost and complexity and makes Cuba a less attractive destination for both airlines and passengers. For travelers already on the island, the result has been a familiar modern nightmare: long lines at airline counters, uncertain rebooking options and holidays cut short or unexpectedly extended.
Behind every cancellation is a web of knock‑on effects. Tour operators that specialize in beach packages now face refund demands and reputational damage, while Cuban hotels that had counted on high‑season occupancy are staring at empty rooms. Aviation officials in HAVANA have acknowledged that international airlines can no longer refuel on the island, a blunt admission that turns every inbound flight into a logistical puzzle and threatens a pillar of Cuba’s tourism economy.
Austerity on the ground: buses, trains and blackouts
The aviation crunch is only one front in a broader energy emergency. As jet fuel stocks have dwindled, the government has rolled out austerity measures that reach deep into daily life. Authorities have announced cuts to bus services and limits on train departures, moves that make it harder for Cubans to commute, access medical care or visit family in other provinces. These steps, introduced alongside fuel rationing, echo the transport restrictions that followed the collapse of Soviet aid in the 1990s, when the island endured what it still calls the “Special Period”.
Electricity has become another pressure point. Residents in Havana and other cities have reported rolling blackouts, with families lighting candles while they wait for power to return and hospitals juggling backup generators to keep critical equipment running. Health services are being rationed, with Cuba prioritizing fuel for ambulances and essential clinics even as long lines form at gas stations. The picture that emerges is of an energy system stretched so thin that any additional shock, from a refinery outage to a hurricane, could tip parts of the country into outright crisis.
Who pays the price of “maximum pressure”?
Supporters of Trump’s approach argue that tightening the screws on Havana is a legitimate way to push for political change and to punish the government for its support of Venezuela and its own human rights record. In practice, the immediate victims of the jet fuel shortage are not senior officials but ordinary Cubans and foreign visitors. When Cuba warns airlines that it is out of jet fuel, the people who feel it first are the hotel workers sent home early, the taxi drivers waiting outside shuttered terminals and the families whose remittance‑funded visits are suddenly in limbo.
There is a tendency in some coverage to treat this as a simple morality play, with a repressive state on one side and a principled sanctions policy on the other. I think that framing misses the systemic nature of what is happening. The blockade is interacting with long‑standing structural weaknesses in Cuba’s economy, from chronic underinvestment in refining to dependence on a single foreign supplier, in ways that make ordinary life precarious. That does not absolve the Cuban government of responsibility for its own policy choices, but it does suggest that “maximum pressure” is a blunt instrument whose collateral damage is both predictable and, for now, largely borne by civilians.
More from Morning Overview
*This article was researched with the help of AI, with human editors creating the final content.
