On September 6, 2025, a new solar park spanning 32 hectares was officially inaugurated in Havana’s Boyeros municipality, a short walk from the revered national sanctuary of San Lázaro. The event, marked by the presence of historic Cuban figure Ramiro Valdés Menéndez—now well into his nineties—alongside Havana governor Yanet Hernández and Vice Prime Minister Argelio Jesús Abad Vigoa, was meant to signal hope in the midst of Cuba’s deepening energy crisis. The park, boasting a capacity of 21.8 megawatts, even features a statue of Fidel Castro, described by the Empresa Fuentes Renovables de Energía (EMFRE) as “the greatest visionary this beautiful homeland has ever had.” Yet, in a twist of historical irony, Castro himself had once requested that his image not be used in such public displays.
Despite the government’s efforts to showcase progress, the mood on the island is anything but celebratory. According to the Electric Union (UNE), the very same weekend saw the Felton thermoelectric power plant—officially known as the Lidio Ramón Pérez plant in Holguín—go offline due to a transformer failure in unit 1. The outage is expected to last at least 20 days, a devastating blow to a grid already buckling under the weight of chronic blackouts and fuel shortages. The timing couldn’t have been worse. The National Electric Service (SEN) reported that on September 5 and through the early hours of September 6, the system was disrupted for a full 24 hours. The deficit reached a staggering 1,861 MW at 8:20 PM, right at the peak of daily demand, worsened by another failure at unit 3 of the CTE Santa Cruz plant.
For ordinary Cubans, the statistics translate into harsh realities. Many provinces continue to endure blackouts exceeding 12 hours daily, with some families facing power cuts as long as 30 continuous hours. On social media, frustration and despair spill over: “Unbearable, we’ve been without electricity for over 30 hours,” one user wrote. Another declared, “It’s inhumane to live like this,” while a third lamented, “We no longer see a light at the end of the tunnel.” The sense of hopelessness is palpable, with some comparing their plight to “dying slowly like a terminally ill patient.”
The outrage isn’t just about the lights going out. Many citizens direct their anger at the government, questioning its priorities and transparency. “What works well in Cuba besides repression?” one person asked pointedly. Another demanded, “All the dictators and their accomplices must resign.” There’s widespread skepticism about how international aid is being used: “All the power plants are collapsed, but they don’t tell the truth. Where are the millions received from allied countries?” These are not isolated complaints—they reflect a groundswell of public anger and a demand for honest answers.
In the midst of these hardships, the government has tried to highlight its push toward renewable energy. As of late August 2025, the Ministry of Energy and Mines (MINEM) reported that 27 photovoltaic solar parks are now synchronized with the national grid, out of 51 planned for the year—a little over half the target. These 27 parks collectively contribute more than 580 MW during midday, which authorities claim helps to “reduce” blackout hours and move the country closer to energy sovereignty. The National Electric System Recovery Program, according to the ministry’s posts on social media X, is designed to diversify energy sources and reduce Cuba’s dependence on aging and unreliable thermal plants.
But on the ground, the impact of these solar parks is limited. The core issue, as many experts and residents point out, is the lack of energy storage systems. Without batteries or other means to store solar power, the energy generated is only available when the sun is shining—leaving the island vulnerable when demand peaks after sunset. “Solar parks contribute to the Cuban electrical system, but their impact is limited due to the lack of energy storage systems,” notes a frequently cited government FAQ. The inability to store energy for nighttime use means that the most severe blackouts often occur precisely when families need electricity the most.
The shutdown of the Felton plant has only amplified these vulnerabilities. According to the Electric Union, the transformer failure in unit 1 requires extensive repairs, which will take at least 20 days. This has left the electrical system crippled, with a generation shortfall that already exceeded 1,800 MW during peak hours. The result is a nation plunged deeper into darkness, with Cubans forced to adapt in creative and often desperate ways. Food spoils in refrigerators that don’t function, children try to sleep through stifling heat and darkness, and adults cook by candlelight or the glow of mobile phones. As one reader summed it up, “This isn’t life; it’s a torment.”
Proposed solutions have surfaced, both from officials and the public. Some advocate for expanding the use of solar panels in private homes and utilizing vacant land for additional renewable energy generation. However, a recurring sentiment is that technology alone won’t solve the crisis. “What is lacking is not technology, but political will and honest management,” many argue. The skepticism is understandable: with 47% of the planned solar parks still pending installation, and no clear path to modernizing the rest of the grid, confidence in the government’s ability to resolve the crisis remains low.
The situation has also raised pointed questions about the government’s management and priorities. While officials celebrate renewable energy milestones, many Cubans see these efforts as inadequate stopgaps rather than real solutions. The feeling that the government is disconnected from the daily struggles of its people is widespread. “Terrible, and they’re living the sweet life,” some have commented on social media, alluding to perceived disparities between the ruling elite and ordinary citizens. Calls for greater transparency and accountability have become a rallying cry, with many demanding to know how resources—especially international aid—are being allocated.
As the Felton plant remains offline and blackouts persist, the sense of crisis continues to deepen. The government faces a daunting set of challenges: modernizing an outdated energy infrastructure, attracting investment, and, perhaps most critically, rebuilding public trust. Without efficient management and the implementation of energy storage solutions, even the most ambitious renewable energy projects risk falling short of their promise.
For now, the new solar park in Boyeros stands as both a symbol of hope and a stark reminder of how much work remains to be done. The statue of Fidel Castro may look out over the gleaming rows of solar panels, but for many Cubans, the true measure of progress will be when the lights stay on—and life, at last, becomes a little less dark.
