Cuba stayed independent after the Spanish-American War, unlike Puerto Rico and the Philippines.

History isn’t just a string of dates; it’s a map showing power, influence, and the quiet compromises that shape nations. If you’re digging into the end of the Spanish-American War and the ripple effects that followed, you’re tracing a moment when the world started to tilt toward a new kind of global role for the United States. Here’s the thing many students find fascinating: which possessions did Spain turn over to the United States, and which did not?

Let’s zoom in on the core question you’ll see in many lesson plans and readings: which of the listed possessions were NOT turned over to the United States by Spain at the end of the Spanish-American War?

A quick answer, plain and simple: Cuba. The other two—Puerto Rico and the Philippines—did move from Spanish control into a new American sovereignty, at least on paper, as part of the peace settlement that ended the conflict.

Cuba: independence with a guardian’s eye

When the fighting paused in 1898, Cuba’s future looked uncertain in the moment of victory. Spain was beaten, but the path forward wasn’t as straightforward as “hand over the keys and walk away.” The Teller Amendment, introduced by U.S. lawmakers, declared that the United States had no intention of taking Cuba’s sovereignty. It’s easy to imagine that as a freeing gesture, a promise to leave Cuba to chart its own course. In reality, what followed was more complicated.

What happened next was a tug of war between independence in name and influence in practice. Cuba was declared independent, and the island opened a new chapter as a sovereign state. But the United States kept a very real and very persistent hand in Cuban affairs. The mechanism for that influence came later, through the Platt Amendment, a set of provisions that could be attached to Cuban constitutional arrangements. This wasn’t a treaty with Cuba alone; it was a framework that allowed, under certain conditions, U.S. intervention in Cuban sovereignty. It also secured a long-standing U.S. lease on a naval base at Guantánamo Bay.

So, even though Cuba wasn’t annexed by the United States in the way you might picture galaxies of land transfers, it didn’t become a U.S. possession in the straightforward sense either. It walked a careful line—its own government, but with a security net that favored U.S. interests. That nuance matters, because it shows how power can be exercised through leverage and agreements rather than by simply planting a flag.

Puerto Rico and the Philippines: territories with a new flag

Now tilt your attention to Puerto Rico and the Philippines. The big Treaty of Paris in 1898 officially ended the war and formalized the cession of these territories from Spain to the United States. Puerto Rico became a U.S. territory with a political relationship that reflected ongoing competition, cooperation, and sometimes friction between two American governments and a local Puerto Rican administration. The Philippines did not enjoy a similar path to colonial equality; it became a far more contested, protracted relationship that sparked a long and painful struggle, including a war of its own, before the United States established a more stable, though complicated, grip on the archipelago.

It’s tempting to frame this as a simple “yes” for one side and a “no” for the other, but the reality is richer. Puerto Rico and the Philippines entered the American imperial era via formal cession—legal, recognized, and codified in the peace terms. Cuba’s story, by contrast, is about sovereignty on paper paired with intervention in practice. It’s a reminder that sovereignty isn’t always a one-word status; it’s a mosaic of rights, obligations, and sometimes a security umbrella that’s a few thousand miles wide.

Treaty of Paris: the document that changed a hemisphere

Think of the Treaty of Paris as the choreography that brought many moves onto the floor at once. It wasn’t only about who controlled what; it was about how a new balance of power would look after years of conflict. The treaty sealed the end of Spain’s colonial era in the western Atlantic and Pacific and marked the United States stepping into a larger global role.

The language of treaties matters. It shapes how nations talk about sovereignty, how they justify military or naval access, and how they frame future diplomacy. In the case of Cuba, the terms that followed—the Teller Amendment’s optimistic, almost aspirational promise of independence, followed by the real-world constraints of the Platt Amendment—demonstrate how treaties set up the rules of engagement for years to come. For Puerto Rico and the Philippines, the treaty turned that page into a new chapter where the U.S. would exercise authority and invest in governance structures, infrastructure, and political systems that would endure long after the smoke cleared.

Why this matters beyond the textbooks

If you’re part of an NJROTC-themed academic conversation, this isn’t just a history lesson. It’s a study in how nations negotiate power, how military strategy intersects with diplomacy, and how public policy can shape everyday life—for generations. Here are a few threads you can pull on that connect the past to the present in a way that feels relevant.

• Sovereignty isn’t a binary. It’s often a spectrum—legal independence paired with practical influence. Cuba’s independence existed on paper, but the Platt Amendment showed how great powers protect their interests through conditional arrangements.

• Treaties set expectations. The Treaty of Paris didn’t just redraw maps; it set up institutions, bases, and legal relationships that would matter in diplomacy, naval strategy, and international law for decades.

• Imperial tides carry consequences. The United States’ rise as a global power after the Spanish-American War reshaped its military posture, its domestic politics, and its approach to overseas commitments. That shift echoes in later decades as naval power and strategic interests evolved.

A few takeaways for curious readers

If you skim historical sources or flip through a classroom map, these points can help make sense of the bigger picture without getting lost in the weeds:

• Cuba’s path was unique. It became independent in a constitutional sense, but U.S. influence persisted in ways that shaped Cuban politics and security.

• Puerto Rico and the Philippines became U.S. territories, not fully independent nations in the immediate sense. Their status would influence governance, economics, and culture on the ground.

• The end of the Spanish Empire in the Americas and the Pacific didn’t just change who owned what; it changed how power was exercised and contested on the world stage.

A few playful ways to think about it

To keep the idea from getting too dense, here are a couple of simple analogies you can carry with you:

• Think of a handshake with expectations. The United States and Cuba signed a handshake that looked friendly, but the follow-through included a set of terms that allowed for American involvement. It wasn’t a simple “we’re done here” moment.

• Picture a relay race. Spain passes the baton to the United States, which then passes along some responsibilities to its own institutions in Puerto Rico and the Philippines. Some legs of the race involved direct control, others involved partnership and guidance.

Connecting it back to the bigger arc

Why does this little historical vignette matter for students who study military history, diplomacy, or international relations? Because the Spanish-American War was less about a single skirmish and more about a turning point. It marked a shift in how nations saw themselves and how they used force, diplomacy, and economic influence to shape global dynamics. The Cuba question—why independence on paper but ongoing U.S. influence in practice—illustrates a recurring theme in world affairs: sovereignty is complicated, and power often travels in the spaces between words on a page and actions in the real world.

A final reflection

If you’re ever tempted to see history as a collection of neat, tidy stories, remember this corner of the late 19th century. A war ended, borders shifted, and new kinds of ties bound nations together in ways that still whisper through today’s politics, economics, and even naval strategy. The case of Cuba versus Puerto Rico and the Philippines is a perfect reminder that history isn’t always black and white. It’s a mosaic of agreements, expectations, and the stubborn reality of power as it evolves.

So, next time you come across a map or a treaty, ask yourself: what’s the balance of independence and influence here? Which pages tell you a nation is free, and which pages tell you the story of guardianship, deterrence, or partnership? The answers aren’t just about the past; they illuminate how states think about security, sovereignty, and the everyday lives of people who live under those arrangements.

If you’re curious about more threads like this—how treaties shape naval strategy, or how a base like Guantánamo Bay came to symbolize a longer arc of American foreign policy—there are plenty of sources that lay out the history with fresh insight and clear maps. The more you connect the dots, the more you’ll see how the story of Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines fits into the broader tapestry of global history—and how that tapestry continues to influence today’s decisions on the world stage.