Cuba: From Obama’s Hope to Trump’s Oil Embargo

In the wake of President Trump’s renewed oil embargo on Cuba, the island’s cultural sector faces collapse just as global streaming platforms eye its untapped archives, threatening to erase decades of revolutionary cinema and music from public access while foreign conglomerates move to exploit its intellectual property without local benefit.

The hope felt when President Obama visited Cuba in 2016 has given way to despair as the island struggles under the oil embargo ordered by President Trump. What began as a cultural détente—marked by rolling Stones concerts in Havana, co-productions between Cuban studios and Netflix and a surge in American film school exchanges—has unraveled into a slow-motion cultural liquidation. With fuel shortages crippling film processing labs and power outages halting post-production, Cuban filmmakers report a 70% drop in feature output since 2020, according to the Cuban Film Institute’s 2025 annual report. Meanwhile, U.S.-based rights holders are quietly registering Cuban film titles and musical compositions with the USPTO, raising alarms about copyright reclamation and cultural erasure.

“We’re not just losing access to film reels—we’re watching our national narrative get rewritten in foreign servers, with no royalties flowing back to the archives that preserved it.”

The stakes extend beyond nostalgia. Cuban cinema, from Tomás Gutiérrez Alea’s Memorias del subdesarrollo to the contemporary works of Fernando Pérez, represents a unique ideological and aesthetic counterpoint to Hollywood’s dominance—one that streaming algorithms struggle to categorize but desperately seek to monetize. As SVOD platforms like HBO Max and MUBI curate “global cinema” slots, the absence of new Cuban productions creates a vacuum that risks being filled by retroactively licensed, poorly restored prints sold at premium tiers—profiting intermediaries while bypassing Cuban creators entirely.

This is where the machinery of global media kicks in—not with aid, but with acquisition. Entertainment attorneys specializing in international IP are already fielding inquiries from U.S. Distributors seeking to clear rights for Cuban film libraries under the guise of “cultural preservation.” Yet without transparent revenue-sharing models, these efforts risk becoming digital colonialism. As one entertainment lawyer noted off the record, “The moment you see a press release about ‘saving Cuban cinema,’ ask who controls the master files and where the money goes.”

How the Embargo Freezes Cultural Export

The embargo doesn’t just strangle the economy—it jams the cultural supply chain. Film labs in Havana can’t import developer chemicals; orchestras can’t replace violin strings; sound stages sit idle without fuel for generators. Even digital workflows stall: Cuba’s limited bandwidth makes uploading 4K masters to cloud servers impractical, forcing reliance on physical drives that rarely clear customs. The result? A growing backlog of unfinished projects, from documentaries on Afro-Cuban religious traditions to animated features aimed at youth education—all trapped in a legal and logistical limbo.

This paralysis creates opportunity for third-party intermediaries. Rights clearance houses in Miami and Madrid are positioning themselves as gatekeepers to Cuban content, offering “expedited licensing” for a fee—despite lacking formal authorization from Cuban cultural institutions. Meanwhile, streaming platforms, eager to fill diversity quotas, may inadvertently legitimize these shadow markets by acquiring titles through third parties without verifying chain of title.

The Brand Risk of Cultural Extraction

For global brands, associating with Cuban culture carries both cachet and controversy. A luxury hotel chain launching a “Havana Nights” campaign using unlicensed son jarocho recordings faces not just legal exposure but reputational damage among culturally literate audiences. In an era where audiences scrutinize provenance—asking not just “what” but “who benefited?”—the line between appreciation and appropriation hinges on transparency.

When a brand draws from Cuba’s rich cultural well, standard disclaimers don’t cut it. The responsible move is to engage crisis communication firms and reputation managers who understand the nuances of post-colonial narratives, while simultaneously consulting intellectual property lawyers specializing in cultural heritage to ensure licenses are sourced directly from Cuban collectives, not offshore speculators.

Beyond legal compliance, there’s a strategic imperative: brands that invest in ethical cultural partnerships build deeper equity. Consider how a tequila producer revitalized its image by funding agave cooperatives in Jalisco—similar models could work in Cuba, where rum distilleries and tobacco farms are eager for foreign partnership but lack access to global distribution networks.

What the Industry Must Do Now

• Fund independent digitization labs in Havana through UNESCO-backed co-productions, ensuring Cuban institutions retain editorial control.
• Create a voluntary registry—administered by the World Intellectual Property Organization—of Cuban cultural works with clear attribution and revenue-sharing terms.
• Urge streaming platforms to include “cultural stewardship” clauses in acquisition contracts, mandating a percentage of licensing fees return to local archives.

The collapse of Cuba’s cultural output isn’t just a tragedy for cinephiles—it’s a warning sign for the global media ecosystem. When geopolitics strangles local creation, the void gets filled not by diversity, but by the most extractive form of content recycling: the commodification of memory without consent. As festivals like Cannes and Sundance amplify voices from the Global South, they must also protect the infrastructures that make those voices possible—before the only thing left to stream is the echo of what was.

For professionals navigating this intersection of culture, commerce, and conscience—whether clearing rights for a documentary, scoring a film with Cuban jazz, or launching a campaign inspired by Havana’s streets—the right talent agencies and local hospitality partners who understand the stakes aren’t just vendors; they’re essential allies in ethical storytelling.

*Disclaimer: The views and cultural analyses presented in this article are for informational and entertainment purposes only. Information regarding legal disputes or financial data is based on available public records.*