The Cuban Regime’s Fear of Its Youth
The criminalization of young dissent in Cuba is not an aberration of authoritarian rule. It is the regime’s repressive logic.
By Michael Lima
“Mom, how long am I going to be here?” asks Jonathan Muir Burgos, a 16-year-old Cuban Christian and one of the regime’s youngest political prisoners, during early-morning phone calls from Canaleta prison in Ciego de Ávila.
In that question lies the anguish of a generation protesting blackouts, shortages, and the absence of freedom in Cuba. Jonathan’s imprisonment starkly contradicts the repeated claims by Cuba’s unelected president, Miguel Díaz-Canel, that political prisoners do not exist on the island.
Jonathan was arrested for participating in the March 13, 2026, protests in Morón, Ciego de Ávila. He now faces charges of “sabotage,” a vague and politicized offense frequently used to criminalize dissent. He is being held in Canaleta, one of Cuba’s harshest prisons.
Jonathan’s case reflects a broader reality in Cuba today: young people are no longer a pillar of the political system, but increasingly one of the driving forces of opposition to it.
We still have not heard Jonathan explain in his own words why he joined the protests. Under the conditions of a maximum-security prison, he has little room to speak freely. Yet the injustices he experienced throughout his short life help explain why he ultimately took to the streets.
From childhood, Jonathan faced stigmatization because of his Christian faith and his family’s religious background. According to his father, Pastor Elier Muir, teachers mocked and isolated him, and at age 11 school authorities blamed him for classroom misconduct by other students, treating the incident as a “political case.” His story illustrates how education in Cuba can function less as a social right than as a tool of ideological indoctrination.
Jonathan’s father later lost his job after refusing to collaborate with state security, while the family became the target of acts of repudiation after founding the church Tiempo de Cosecha. According to Elier Muir, groups acting under state security instructions stoned the family after church services.
Seen in this light, Jonathan’s participation in the Morón protests was the culmination of years of exclusion and quiet resistance. His story unfolds within the emergence of a broader culture of protest in Cuba, where artists, students, and ordinary citizens have spent years demanding better living conditions, greater freedoms, democratic change, and the release of political prisoners.
As scholars such as Sidney Tarrow have argued, protest movements develop through shared symbols, collective identities, and recurring repertoires of resistance. In Cuba, this culture of protest has taken shape through the unifying power of the song Patria y Vida, the rise of social media activism following the expansion of internet access, and tactics such as livestreams, cacerolazos — pot-banging protests — graffiti, sit-ins, and public denunciations. Together, these methods helped sustain civic mobilization after the July 11, 2021, protests despite severe repression.
The Observatorio Cubano de Conflictos has documented tens of thousands of acts of protest and nonviolent resistance over the past six years, further illustrating the emergence of this culture of protest.
One of the defining features of Cuba’s recent protest movement has been the prominent participation of young people and minors, who have also become primary targets of the government’s crackdown. In July 2022, Justicia 11J and Cubalex reported that of roughly 1,484 detainees linked to the July 11 protests, 166 were between 12 and 20 years old and 566 between 21 and 35. By April 2026, at least 33 minors were believed to be imprisoned or facing politically motivated prosecution, according to Prisoners Defenders.
The Morón demonstrations deeply unsettled Cuba’s ruling elite. Led largely by adolescents and, according to recent reports, possibly the largest anti-government protests since July 11, 2021, they drew between 1,000 and 2,000 people, according to eyewitness accounts. What began as a protest over deteriorating living conditions quickly escalated into a direct challenge to the country’s one-party system and ruling ideology.
Demonstrators marched on the offices of the municipal Communist Party, occupied the building, threw documents and furniture into the streets, and lit bonfires outside. The state responded with beatings, tear gas, police dogs, and gunfire. Four adolescents were arrested, along with a total of 16 protesters.
More than a spontaneous outburst of anger, the demonstrations represented a symbolic rejection of the political order itself, reminiscent of the toppling of authoritarian symbols in other repressive contexts.
Authoritarian systems often target youth because they represent future leaders, organizers, and symbols of change. Jonathan’s ordeal illustrates this dynamic clearly. Authorities reportedly denied treatment for his chronic skin disease while forcing him to sleep on bug-infested mattresses. Official government accounts on social media also circulated staged and AI-manipulated images intended to humiliate him and undermine his credibility.
Yet research on character assassination suggests such campaigns depend heavily on the credibility of those carrying them out, something Cuba’s increasingly unpopular government appears to lack. Instead of discrediting Jonathan, the campaign against him has triggered precautionary measures from the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, international denunciations by lawmakers, faith groups, and activists, as well as solidarity campaigns inside and outside Cuba. In Morón, residents have even signed a public document defending Jonathan’s character and values.
But the criminalization of young dissent in Cuba is not merely an excess of an abusive authoritarian system. It also reflects a deeper political logic. Since its early years, the Cuban regime grounded much of its legitimacy in the support of young people, portraying youth as the moral engine of the revolution. In a 1962 speech closing the First National Congress of the Union of Secondary Students, Fidel Castro declared that “youth is like the thermometer that points toward justice, like the compass that tells us where justice lies,” arguing that the “purity” and “brilliance” of a revolution could be measured by the attitude of young people toward it.
Today, however, growing rejection of the system among younger generations points to a profound crisis of legitimacy. The very generation once invoked as proof of revolutionary vitality has become evidence of its erosion.
The targeting of younger generations serves a dual purpose: punishing dissent in the present while discouraging future civic action by silencing potential leaders and organizers.
Jonathan’s case reflects a broader pattern of mistreatment against minors arrested in Cuba for political reasons. His detention and prosecution on “sabotage” charges carrying penalties of up to 15 years appear to contradict the U.N. Convention on the Rights of the Child, which states that detention of minors should be used only as a last resort and for the shortest possible time. Subjecting a 16-year-old to harsh prison conditions for peacefully protesting raises serious concerns under international human rights law.
As Michel Foucault argued, modern power does not merely punish; it disciplines and seeks to produce compliance through exemplary repression. In Cuba today, generational repression is not only about controlling the present, but also about limiting what future generations believe is possible.
Perhaps that is the regime’s deepest fear: not a single dissident or movement, but an entire generation beginning to lose its fear.
Michael Lima is a researcher and the director of Democratic Spaces, an NGO dedicated to fostering solidarity in Canada with human rights defenders and civil society in Cuba. He holds a Master’s degree in Latin American History from the University of Toronto.
Yet, Hasan Piker and Omar’s daughter went there to show how peaceful the regime is. Once the Iran war is settled I imagine Trump will send the 5/6 army Rangers it will take to finally overthrow the govt and take control of the island which should have been done decades ago. If everyone is smart about this they will turn Cuba into a new Hong Kong with the deep water ports it has and reap the tax money for generations. The regime is now cut off from the world’s communists and it won’t stand much longer. Canada should take a hard look at this.