THE ANTI-UNION GESTAPO IS PART OF A STRATEGIC METHOD

Just like during the dictatorship, and later during the return to democracy and the neoliberalism of the 1990s, the Macri administration also sought to break union activism by infiltrating and undermining its organizational structure. How can we prevent this?

The videos showing Marcelo Villegas, former Labor Minister of María Eugenia Vidal's Buenos Aires provincial government, expressing his desire to create an anti-union Gestapo (a secret police force, without legal or judicial oversight, that surveilled, persecuted, and eliminated opponents of Nazism) call for a deeper look at a troubling issue that has lingered since 1955.

We are referring to the desire to make unions disappear. And we believe this is not isolated, but part of a broader strategy: to dismantle the Argentine union model. When Juan Domingo Perón was overthrown in the 1955 coup, the first move the military made was to take over the unions.

The subsequent dictatorial and democratic governments that followed until 1973 oscillated in their relationship with the unions, due to the strong, organized resistance of unionized workers. We saw an alternation between repression, imprisonment, and torture, and the granting of rights. Even attempts to co-opt the unions led to concessions on certain demands—some of which still stand today.

The working people, always perceptive, pushed for achievable improvements while holding firm to a central rallying cry: “Perón returns.” They knew that their development and inclusion in a national liberation project could only happen with Perón, who embodied that vision of collective advancement.

The 1976 coup, drawing from past lessons, attempted to deliver the final blow to union structures, but once again faced strong resistance. The data speaks for itself: 67% of the disappeared were workers.

The aim was to break union activism by infiltrating its organizational structure. The genocidal dictatorship did not succeed, but it left a deep fracture within the popular movement—one that workers still suffer today.

When democracy returned in 1983 and the horror had ended, Raúl Alfonsín, the first president after the dictatorship, introduced the “Union Reorganization Bill” just days after taking office on December 10, 1983. The bill, crafted by his Labor Minister Antonio Mucci, met with strong resistance from union organizations and was ultimately rejected in the Senate. In other words, the labor movement—tortured, imprisoned, and murdered—had been one of the key actors in restoring democracy, yet before it could even mourn its dead or reorganize, it was hit by a new “democratic” offensive aimed at the same goal: dismantling union structures.

The next attempt came with the neoliberalism of the 1990s, promoted from the Casa Rosada. It sought to complete what the last dictatorship had started: the total destruction of the country's productive structure and the resulting social and labor consequences, from which Argentina has never fully recovered. This was followed by the short-lived Alliance government under Fernando De la Rúa, with its attempts at “labor reforms.”

Under Néstor Kirchner, the labor movement regained space and rights—but by then, the country had changed. The arrival of Mauricio Macri’s government intensified the demonization of union leaders. A smart strategy: by targeting individual leaders, they sought to discredit and destroy the entire union model.

Using crude logical fallacies, they would claim: “This union leader is corrupt, therefore all union leaders are corrupt.” This led to interventions and raids on several unions (not randomly or for legitimate reasons), where government-appointed "interveners" tried to break them financially. The case of Macri’s former Labor Minister Jorge Triaca stands out as both notorious and unpunished.

Meanwhile, in parallel, they pushed forward with the destruction of Argentina’s remaining productive model, benefiting large domestic and foreign capital, and plunging the country into outrageous debt with the goal of burying it in eternal dependence. This was the work of real power. But it’s always important to also look at ourselves.

Macrismo, through fear, “succeeded” in prompting union unity. And beyond that, progress was made toward a broader sense of us, incorporating popular movements that aim to organize workers in the informal and popular economy.

In our collective reflection, some of us wonder if this isn’t a turning point in our time—especially after an unprecedented global pandemic and an extraordinary surge in technology—when this unity could be crystallized into something that goes beyond temporary reactions to immediate threats.

Might this be the moment for all of us—leaders and grassroots activists from second, third, even fourth ranks—to stop scrutinizing each other and come together to build unity around a few key shared principles, beyond our differences?

Juntos por el Cambio was so brutal that it derailed the whole system and exposed itself in a grotesque way. But we know that macrismo is merely the political expression of the true economic power—the same power that once used weapons to impose its interests, and that would not hesitate to use them again.

And what if the macrismo to come isn't so obvious?

The opposition won last year’s midterm elections by shouting, in the final days of the campaign, that severance pay should be eliminated—among other rights. They won while shouting that, along with many other outrageous proposals.

It’s no minor detail that, for many years now, severance pay has ceased to be a common reality for a large portion of our population—especially for workers. Why would they defend it? The destruction of the Argentine union model has been a long-standing obsession. We're not discovering anything new. What is new is how we are going to stop it—and how we move forward to improve this union model to secure more rights for all workers in our country.

To keep speaking of an “organized labor movement” is to reference an era when the labor structure was entirely different.

So how do we get young workers to understand the importance—beyond individualism—of having a strong union model? How do we build a workers' movement that includes all of us? How do we bring in unregistered workers, the self-employed, and those in the social and popular economy (cooperatives, independent workers), so we don't leave that concept in the hands of the same macrismo that falsely promotes and “empowers” them, yet with intentions completely opposed to their actual interests? Does anyone truly believe that we’ll all become entrepreneurs or our own bosses?

The document produced by the CGT at its latest congress, titled “Returning to Work as the Great Social Organizer,” is an excellent starting point to put these ideas into action.

Finally, we feel it’s necessary to highlight the words of Jesuit priest Jacinto Luzzi, who in 1981 wrote about his experience with union leaders in a piece titled “Argentine Unionism Makes the Road by Walking.” In it, he reflects on the two enduring trends in union history: those who negotiate and those who confront—pointing out that both have always existed, have always complemented one another, and have always been necessary.

Toward the end, he writes:

“We must fully commit to the creation of a form of unionism capable of responding to the needs of its time and circumstances. The future is built today. To avoid stagnation, union leaders must remain open to criticism and self-criticism. This also applies to the core approaches in union history: negotiation and confrontation. When polarized, these easily become personal disputes. These postures must be set aside. Confrontation and negotiation are mere tools, and their value lies in the purpose for which they are used. That is, why we negotiate or confront. Argentine unionism makes the road by walking—and one cannot walk by hopping on one leg. Both approaches are needed to move forward.”