My train pulls into The Hague at 10:05am, a few minutes delayed along the journey from Amsterdam. My phone has decided to stop working so I spend a while convincing a security guard to let me out of the gate, using its broken screen and my exasperated confidence as evidence, and run to the closest supermarket to pick up breakfast. The walk down Koninginnegracht is accompanied by parades of flags protruding from the buildings besides me. Ukrainian, Finnish, and EU flags, dangling above my head, swaying in a weak breeze. Finally, I arrive at number 37. The building isn’t large, but the door is heavy and ornate, and as I ring the doorbell a gust of wind unfurls a large Cuban flag above me. The embassy opens, and I’m taken inside.
This isn’t my first time talking to Cuban diplomats. Our first meeting was in Utrecht, at an event commemorating the anniversary of the Cuban revolution. There I met diplomats Ms. Ana Maria Ortega Báez and Ms. Isaura Cabañas Vera, representing the Cuban embassy of the Netherlands. I proposed sitting down for a conversation on the integration of students and young people into Cuban political society, a subject which, as a student activist myself, I hold close to my heart. They said yes, we arranged a date and time, and a month later I found myself sitting on a leather couch, drinking Cuban coffee and hoping that I wasn’t wasting their time.
By and large, British schoolchildren exist in a bubble. Keep your head down, focus on school, and prepare for university, where you’ll spend half a decade pushing the ‘real world’ still further back. We’re happy to roll out an 8-year-old to shake the King’s hand every now and then, and the occasional teenager will be appropriately lauded for organising a local community dinner, but these are understood as impressive exceptions. It could even be argued that the UK model of youth is one of separation from wider society.
Cuban society has a different perspective. Inspired by the revolutionary ideal of the ‘New Man’, a model of citizenry emphasising mass civic participation, community care, and immaterialism, young Cubans are encouraged to take a much more active role in social organising.
Schoolchildren “organise their own structure” in the classroom, Ana tells me. Through structures like the OPJM (José Martí Pioneer Organization, named after writer and national symbol José Martí), students aged 6 to 15 participate in student council elections, lead activities, and form a school board, giving them direct access to democratic mechanisms and cultivating leadership skills. Participation is expected and encouraged, and organisations like FEEM (the Federation of Secondary School Students) support Cuban students through their final years of high school. Nearly 100% of Cuban students participate in these organisations, forming an essential backbone to civic education.
These responsibilities are magnified in university, where alongside membership in the Young Communist League, the youth wing of the Communist Party, students are given direct representation in the country’s political system. Across Cuba’s three legislative domains (municipal, provincial, and national) young people and students propose candidates for parliament through organisations like the University Student Federation (FEU), and frequently stand for election themselves. 20% of Parliament members, and 30% of municipal delegates, are under 35, a population Isaura describes as “more active, and more propulsive” as politicians.
It strikes a contrast to England, where political students have much fewer options available to them. They can join a Young ______ group, where they can be ignored by their parent party and operate entirely separately from parliamentary functions. They can take to the street and protest, held at baton’s length from government. They can, on rare occasions, pull off a surprise local election victory, and work alongside their 60-year-old, 40% retired fellow councillors.
Similarly, integrating young people into political culture in Britain would be difficult. Not only are there radical differences between Cuban and British political structures, but because the veneration of youth is baked into post-revolution Cuban culture as deeply as stately eldership is baked into British. Wrinkle-free Cuban heroes abound. Julio Mella, founder of the original Communist party of Cuba, was martyred at 25. His visage now adorns the logo of the Young Communist League.
These figures continue to inspire Cuban society. Volunteering efforts, made necessary by natural disasters, supply shortages, and a multi-decade, multi-trillion dollar US-imposed blockade, are spearheaded by students and young workers, often organised through the plethora of aforementioned national organisations. International diplomatic efforts, such as the relief efforts following the 2023 earthquakes in Turkey, are often led by Cuban youth. Space isn’t merely held for young people; they are an integral element of civil society.
Yet British youth seem condemned to the sidelines. Our space in the national spotlight is relegated often to the counterculture. The radicals, the musicians, the punks, the hooligans, the protestors. It’s a fun spot to be in, and one that many occupy proudly. But it holds us back from integration. When our governments withdraw our funding and ignore our needs, we have no institutional power to support us, or even give us a voice. Instead of genuine inclusion in civil society, we are dismissed and ignored, kept to our appropriate corners until our first silver hairs qualify us to be taken seriously.
It doesn’t have to be like this. When young people have been given – or have taken – real political agency, we have shown ourselves more than capable of standing up for ourselves. Pro-Palestine protests across the country have defined the political landscape of the last two years, with the recent explosion of action across Europe fuelled by the youth and workers standing together. Our dismissive attitude towards youth is contradicted time after time by the efforts of young people to make their voices heard, by whatever channels they can.
Young people have tried asking, softly and sharply, and it hasn’t worked. It’s too late to ask for this to be granted to us – we must make these structures ourselves. We have more power than we think we do. Our strikes, our struggles, our shutdowns are often the first shot fired of what can become a society-wide battle. We don’t have to roll over and accept tuition fee rises, rent hikes, decreasing living standards, budget cuts, any of it. Get organised and fight back.
That being said, after finishing my conversation with Ana and Isaura, thanking them for their time, and taking the train back home, I discovered that my suncream had leaked in my bag and rendered half of my notes illegible. Maybe there’s a case to be made for experience too.
