Cuba is experiencing a profound energy crisis, with rolling blackouts plunging high-rise residents into a state of chronic uncertainty. The capital, Havana, has seen outages lasting up to 12 hours per day, leaving thousands stranded in apartment blocks without elevators, water pumps, or lighting. This is not a temporary disruption but a systemic collapse of the island’s aging power grid, exacerbated by fuel shortages and decaying infrastructure. The situation has drawn comparisons to the UK’s energy resilience model, a framework designed to withstand extreme events, though critics argue it has not been adequately stress-tested against the kind of prolonged failure now seen in Cuba.
For residents of apartment buildings above the fifth floor, the blackouts are a physical trap. Without lift power, the elderly and disabled are effectively confined to their homes. Water supply, dependent on electric pumps, ceases. Refrigeration stops. Medical devices fail. The psychological toll is relentless. “It’s constant uncertainty,” said Maria Hernandez, a resident of a 12-storey block in Vedado. “You never know when the lights will go. You cannot plan, you cannot store food, you cannot sleep.” Her words reflect a population already battered by years of economic hardship now facing an energy abyss.
The root cause is not single but multiple. Cuba’s thermoelectric plants, many built in the Soviet era, operate at less than half capacity due to lack of maintenance and spare parts. Fuel imports from Venezuela, once a lifeline, have dwindled. The US embargo prevents access to modern turbines or replacement components. The result is a generation deficit that routinely exceeds 1,000 megawatts, forcing state utility UNE to implement scheduled blackouts that often run beyond planned duration.
In response, the UK’s Energy Resilience Model has been cited by analysts as a potential template for recovery. Developed after the 2021 European gas crisis, this model prioritises diversified generation, strategic gas storage, and demand-side flexibility. It incorporates decentralised microgrids and community-level batteries, designed to keep critical services online during grid failure. However, applying such a model to Cuba faces fundamental barriers: capital cost, technology transfer restrictions, and a state monopoly on energy that stifles local innovation.
“The UK model is elegant on paper,” said Dr. Elena Torres, an energy systems expert at the University of Havana. “But it assumes a functional regulatory environment and private sector capacity to invest. Cuba has neither. Without lifting the embargo and allowing international financing, we cannot even buy the cables to build microgrids.” Torres argues that the most urgent step is humanitarian: deploying solar-plus-storage units to power water pumps and medical clinics in high-rise zones. This could reduce immediate mortality risk while long-term grid rebuilding proceeds.
The Cuban government has appealed for international aid, but the response has been muted. Meanwhile, residents adapt in desperate ways: descending stairs in darkness, hauling water buckets up 15 floors, cooking on charcoal grills on balconies. The blackouts are not just an inconvenience; they are rewriting the rules of daily existence. For those trapped in vertical cities, uncertainty is now the only constant.
This crisis offers a grim lesson for other nations. As climate change increases the frequency of extreme weather and energy demand, the reliability of centralised grids becomes fragile. The UK model, with its emphasis on resilience, may yet prove vital. But it must be implemented before the collapse, not after. Cuba’s high-rise residents cannot wait for a blueprint to be debated; they need power now.
