Havana appeals to those who romanticize the idea of a city that seems to be completely frozen in time. The capital’s urban fabric proudly displays its history, as it experienced waves of Spanish, Moorish, and Soviet influence. What really lies beyond the Revolutionary kitsch of vintage Buicks parked in front of colorful, yet crumbling homes, is the deprivation that Cuba has experienced throughout history.
While other nations have been afforded the chance to have a voice in their own globalization efforts, Cuba represents one of the last places on earth that straddles the line between a Cold War past and the increasing influence of western Capitalism. Havana’s skyline, which for years remained largely intact, is now dotted with cranes as they face yet another wave of invasions- the 21st-century luxury developer.
Cuba currently finds itself poised with economic opportunities that it has not seen in modern times, as it inches out of a government that is not headed by a Castro or any other founders of the revolutionary ideology. Instead, the island nation is tasked with preserving its deeply rooted culture while also introducing itself to outside investment. Playing into its economy that is propped up by a booming tourist industry, even despite its high-tension relationship with the United States, many people want to visit Havana “before it changes.” This attitude downplays both the fact that the Cuban people deserve change, and that change is coming faster than we predict. The goal is to provide resources that can both restore the city’s past while easing it into its future, and prevent the developer dam from bursting with poorly conceived buildings that won’t better serve the country’s needs.
Until recently, most of the architectural projects in Cuba focused on the restoration of Havana’s homes and businesses, two-thirds of which were estimated to be in a deteriorating condition. Attention has now been placed on what happened when the United States gave Cuba a preview into what a post-embargo government might look like, beckoning the country to sell off development rights for a quick dollar in order to create a high-end tourism industry. While some architects are fearful of what might happen when the relationship between the US and Cuba is inevitably repaired, others are optimistic that Cuba is not a money-hungry nation, and that their national pride will save them from greedy economic ambition. The hope is that their appreciation for their history will also save them from a potentially disastrous urban renewal.
By the end of 2019, there were seven upscale hotels under construction in Havana, and a handful more that had just opened. The most recent business portfolio for foreign investment proposed plots currently occupied by buildings and public spaces to be razed or renovated for what the Ministry of Tourism calls “a different destination” in an attempt to increase the nearly three million visitors it brings in annually. Construction is now noticeable both in the OId Havana city center and the more modern areas of Miramar and El Vedado. Supply trucks, fenced-off areas, and large scale renders plaster the sites that have been converted into these economic generators.
Two of the most anticipated hotels that recently opened were the Paseo del Prado Hotel and the Gran Hotel Manzana Kempinski, both marketed towards international visitors with features that include luxurious rooms, bars and restaurants, and rooftop pools. The Paseo del Prado doesn’t pay homage to the historic street that it sits upon, and stands out like a modernist sore thumb when compared to the rows of colorful Cuban homes that neighbor it. The Gran Hotel Manzana Kempinski however, was a restoration effort that upgraded its facade to keep the Cuban zeitgeist alive.
While tourism is driving the restoration efforts, it’s important to note that not every historic building can be converted into a hotel or boutique store. Instead, these buildings need to be refurbished to create space for housing, schools, and programs that will benefit Cuban society. The transformation of Old Havana’s city center has moved at a much slower rate than the tourist quarter has expanded. The city’s Capitol building has been sitting under scaffolding for almost a decade, cobblestone roads are slowly excavated to make room for new utility lines, while just across the street in the Parque Central, a former office building was hastily transformed into a five-star hotel and became a tourist destination filled with Wi-Fi lounges, a sought after luxury on the island. The hotel is also flanked by new stores filled with Che Guevarra hats, Castro posters, and other tourist nick-nacks, signaling a place that no Cuban would ever shop. Even Chinese developers were looking for their own piece of land and recently converted the Cuatro Caminos Market into a shopping mall, yet another space for consumption that is now further beyond the financial reach of the majority of Cuba’s population.
The Cuban people are hopeful that the policymakers will profit from the other negative examples of market-centric urban development countries, and combine preservationist ideals with strong planning mechanisms that could strike the perfect balance. Havana is on the brink of transformation and as it’s historic fabric is long overdue for rehabilitation, they also enjoy the ability to create their own path forward. While a few of tourism-focused hotels, a shopping mall, and a handful of other in-progress development projects may seem like a premature eyebrow raise, Havana understands that this is their moment to join the rest of the world in a way that remains authentic to who they are without ever becoming another indistinguishable skyline. But with each passing day, and with every new moment of unregulated western influence, the time for preservation seems to be running out.
