The recent wave of ICE immigration raids in South Florida has done more than just spark uncertainty on the streets—it’s ignited a fierce, soul-searching debate among Cubans and Cuban Americans, especially those following the news on CiberCuba. When the report "Fear Spreads Through South Florida: No One Sleeps Soundly" was published on December 15, 2025, it unleashed a torrent of reactions online, laying bare deep divisions within the exile community. As the dust settles, the debate continues to rage on, reflecting not only differing views on immigration policy but also the complex layers of identity, memory, and politics that shape Cuban life in Florida.
According to CiberCuba, the comments on their Facebook page revealed two dominant currents: those who support the ICE operations and the immigration policies of former President Donald Trump, and those who condemn the raids for their severity and the impact on working families, asylum seekers, and those still navigating the legal process. The numbers tell the story: about 60% of comments analyzed expressed support for the operations, while roughly 35% voiced indignation or concern. A small but notable 5% took a more ambiguous or even humorous stance, either mocking the media or minimizing the seriousness of the raids.
Supporters of the raids were clear and forceful in their reasoning. The phrase "He who has done nothing wrong fears nothing"—or its close cousin, "If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear"—was repeated more than 40 times, becoming a kind of rallying cry for those advocating for strict immigration control. One commenter captured this sentiment succinctly: "Each country has the right to enforce its laws. If you enter illegally, you know what you are exposing yourself to." Others took a moralistic tone, as one user explained: "I sleep peacefully because I came here legally and work. Those who are here illegally know why they are afraid."
This block of supporters justified the ICE operations as a necessary corrective after what they saw as years of "soft" immigration policies. According to CiberCuba, many praised Trump for "putting the house in order" and argued that the chaos at the border during the Biden administration had brought in "criminals, terrorists, and communists." The pro-Trump rhetoric, especially prevalent among users of Cuban origin, linked strict immigration policy with security, authority, and discipline—values they claim have been eroded under Democratic leadership. Some even went so far as to accuse undocumented immigrants of "abusing the system" by seeking subsidies or lying on asylum applications. "There are many people here who came saying they were escaping communism, and in the end, they still defend dictatorships. Those are the first ones that should be deported," one user insisted.
Supporters often blended American nationalist pride with a stern view of the immigrant experience. As one comment put it, "The United States opened the door for us, but it is not anyone's home. You have to earn the right to stay." The language here was often imperative and moralizing, with calls to "deport them," "obey the law," and even "self-deport." For these commenters, the ICE raids represented a return to order and respect for the rule of law, a stance they viewed as both patriotic and logical.
On the other side, critics of the raids—about 35% of those who commented—expressed a deep sense of outrage and empathy, particularly for working families, asylum seekers, and those caught up in the legal process. One comment, which resonated with dozens of readers, lamented: "There are decent people waiting for their papers, who work, who have no criminal record, and they are being arrested without compassion as if they were animals." Many in this camp appealed to humanitarian and religious values, with statements like, "God protect the emigrants and make those without compassion reflect," and "I ask God to cover with His wings those who only seek a better life."
This group reminded others that many migrants had fled dictatorships—Cuba’s included—and that the current policies, in their view, "punish those who came to work." One particularly poignant comment noted, "Those who applaud today forget how they arrived. We were all immigrants at one point." The emotional tone was palpable, with critics describing the situation as "a psychological war" and "an international disgrace." Some went further, accusing the raids’ supporters of racism and xenophobia: "The hatred towards Latinos and immigrants is evident in the faces of those who celebrate these raids." For these individuals, the ICE operations signaled a betrayal of the American dream—a dream that once promised refuge to those fleeing repression.
Between these two camps was a smaller, more ambivalent group—about 5% of comments—who either mocked the seriousness of the news or downplayed the extent of the raids. Some joked, "CiberCDR trying to instill fear," or "I sleep like a baby with air conditioning and Netflix." Others expressed skepticism toward the media: "Stop amplifying fear. In the end, this is yellow journalism." In some cases, comparisons to Cuba served as a rhetorical device, either to minimize the issue—"In Cuba, they don't sleep peacefully even during blackouts"—or to criticize those who justified the raids—"You who applaud this are the same ones who escaped from fear on the island."
What truly stands out in the CiberCuba analysis is the depth of political polarization among Cubans in exile. The debate over ICE quickly spilled into broader discussions about Cuban and American politics, with references to Fidel Castro, Díaz-Canel, Obama, Biden, Marco Rubio, and Trump. Nostalgia, resentment, and political identity all collided in a combustible mix. Some praised Trump as "the only one who commands respect," while others branded him a "dictator" and "executioner." One comment summed up the divide with biting irony: "They wanted Trump, here’s Trump. Take the blonde all the way."
Many users also acknowledged that these divisions weaken the migrant cause. "We Cubans have never been united," wrote a reader. "Sometimes Americans defend immigrants more than we do ourselves." The overall tone of the conversation was highly emotional, confrontational, and polarized, with both sides deploying strong ideological language—terms like "fascism," "dictator," "terrorist," "communist," "yellow journalist," and "traitor" were common.
Ultimately, the reactions to the CiberCuba report revealed that ICE raids have become more than just a policy issue; they are a flashpoint for the Cuban community’s ongoing struggle over identity, memory, and belonging in the United States. For some, the raids herald a return to order and the reassertion of national sovereignty. For others, they represent a painful betrayal of the values that once made America a beacon for the oppressed. And for a few, the whole spectacle is just another chapter in a long history of political theater—one that leaves more questions than answers.
As the debate continues, one phrase seems to capture the heart of the matter: "He who owes nothing fears nothing… but he who suffers does not forget."