By Carlos Aznárez on March 23, 2026.
workers demonstrate against the dictatorship
Half a century later, the civil-military-corporate-religious dictatorship established in Argentina on March 24, 1976, continues to be a major topic of discussion. Not only because 50 years is always a milestone that prompts us to recall painful or pleasant events, but because the consequences of that brutal assault on an entire people remain so relevant today. So much so that a large majority of officials in the current government, starting with the president and his vice president, are engaged in denialist campaigns and openly profess their admiration for the genocidal military. To such an extent that the few uniformed murderers still in prison for crimes against humanity may end up walking free and unpunished by virtue of a presidential pardon.
The 1976 dictatorship is like Hiroshima, for just as with that criminal attack—carried out, if not by the United States, against a civilian population—in Argentina, there is not a single day when its political and economic consequences do not seep into the workings of governments that are quick to bandy about the word “democracy.” On the other side of the world, the same is true of those who, drawing on a vivid memory, have never ceased to remember and demand justice for the 30,000 men and women who were detained, disappeared, and murdered for fighting for a Revolution that remains unfinished.
That is why, on this 50th anniversary, it is necessary to recall that while the criminal repressive onslaught resorted to boundless cruelty, drawing on the teachings of the U.S.-monitored School of the Americas as well as those of the “French school” deployed against the Algerian insurgency, there was also, throughout the years the military ruled and even during Isabel Perón’s “democratic” period, a strong popular resistance that encompassed all sectors of society.
Argentine activists, in all their political, union, and social forms—including those led by revolutionary organizations that took up arms—never ceased to fight against the strategy of annihilation imposed by the military and its accomplices. This strategy had already begun to manifest in 1975, with the criminal actions of the Triple A, which murdered hundreds of grassroots activists and provoked forceful responses.
In this regard, through massive union mobilizations, strikes, roadblocks, factory occupations, university takeovers, and countless armed actions, they achieved, among other victories, the downfall of Economy Minister Celestino Rodrigo and Social Welfare Minister José López Rega—the latter being the mastermind behind the Triple A. Both were determined—just as Milei’s current government is today—to destroy the social gains of working people.
Why, when discussing the 1976 dictatorship, is it necessary to go back to what happened one or two years earlier? Simply because that period was what opened the door to what would follow. The military and the most recalcitrant oligarchy could not tolerate that the mass movement with clearly revolutionary characteristics—those thousands of young people fighting for a Socialist Homeland—were on the verge of “reaching for the sky.” The failure of Perón’s government—which leaned on the most reactionary and right-wing faction of this movement—and the capitulationist policies of his wife and successor, coupled with collusion with the military establishment, led the latter to bypass intermediaries and seize power in March 1976.
What followed, in terms of repression, is well known: a powerful tsunami of horrors swept away all rights, murdering, imprisoning, or exiling tens of thousands of people.
However—and this is something very important to remember now that this 50th anniversary brings so many episodes of cruelty back to the surface—the resistance never ceased. And this resistance took place in all spheres, in every form. It is precisely this that we must discuss on this anniversary.
Trade Union Resistance
There was plenty of it. People fought against repression, the intervention in unions, and the arrests and murders of delegates and internal committees of workers in manufacturing, government, and service sectors. It was precisely the workers who were the main target of the military dictatorship, and it is estimated that 66% of the detained-disappeared come from that sector. This was logical, since from the outset, the military banned the right to strike, and Minister José Martínez de Hoz’s economic plan caused, among other atrocities, a significant loss in wage value.
To confront this reality, the working class carried out acts of sabotage, “work to the point of exhaustion,” strikes, and demonstrations; in some cases, the most intense protests were supported by armed organizations, particularly during the first two years of the military coup. At that time, the Montoneros organization had secretly established the CGT in the Resistance, which included rank-and-file delegates who had survived the kidnapping campaigns that took place in large factories across the country. Similar actions were carried out by the People’s Revolutionary Army and other smaller groups.
A few months after that March 24, in October 1976, a strike by Luz y Fuerza workers took place. The wage demand was ultimately not met, and the repression was particularly brutal against militant delegates; furthermore, the union’s general secretary, Oscar Smith, was kidnapped and disappeared.
During that same period, as the country began to turn into a graveyard, telephone, railway, subway, and some sugar mill workers also went on strike.
Subsequently, between September and November 1979, 60 labor conflicts occurred in major companies across the country, several of which ended in partial or total victories. Notable was the wage increase for Peugeot workers, who halted operations and sang the national anthem several times at their workplace. Other companies then joined in, all with similar demands, such as Ducilo, Standard Electric, Chrysler, and Gilera—the latter two belonging to the mechanics’ union. That same year, a general strike was called by the “Commission of the 25” (which brought together several production unions with a Peronist majority). This show of force was observed by 50% of the entire industrial sector and posed a serious challenge to the military government.
But the largest mobilization, of a multisectoral nature, was called by the combative CGT Brasil, led by brewery leader Saúl Ubaldini, who in the coming years would assume an important role in the labor movement. The march was planned for Plaza de Mayo and took place on March 30, 1982, under the slogan “Peace, Bread, and Work.” Dictator Leopoldo Galtieri banned it, but tens of thousands of workers took to the streets; there was heavy repression involving gunfire, resulting in the murder of worker Benedicto Ortiz and the imprisonment of the main leaders of the CGT Brasil, including Ubaldini. Two days after that major popular uprising, the dictatorship pulled a massive diversionary maneuver out of its hat, invading the Falkland Islands, but the “feat” ended in a new bloodbath for the young Argentines sent on that expedition, while their commanders cowardly surrendered.
After that defeat, the dictatorship was weakened, though new repressive actions were not lacking; however, the labor movement continued to organize wage disputes, and on December 6, 1982, a new general strike took place, called by the CGT Brasil and the bureaucratic CGT led by Azopardo, with multiparty support. During the massive march that accompanied the strike, metalworker Dalmiro Flores was murdered.
Resistance of the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo
Mothers of Plaza de Mayo. foto; Bill Hackwell
The dictatorship’s repressive actions imposed a method—which, while it had some precedents in previous years, had not yet been deployed on a massive scale—namely the kidnapping and disappearance of people, many of whom ended up crammed into extermination camps, and subsequently, many were murdered. Faced with this manifestation of military cruelty, it was precisely the mothers of those who had been violently detained and whose whereabouts were unknown who rose up. After visiting countless police stations and military barracks in their search, these brave women decided to take to the streets to make their protest visible, and on April 30, 1977, they began to circle the Pyramid in Plaza de Mayo, first in silence and then (every Thursday, to this day) demanding to know “where they are.”
They were branded “crazy” and “terrorists,” but they did not give in, and on one of those first Thursdays, led by Azucena Villaflor, they decided to tie a diaper from when their children were small around their heads like a headscarf. That symbol, combined with a tenacious and extremely courageous struggle (several of them were kidnapped and murdered), made headlines around the world and dealt a lethal blow to the impunity of the murderous military.
To resist is to win
“If we hadn’t resisted in every possible way, the military dictatorship would have lasted many more years,” the late Montonero leader Roberto Perdía used to say in his public speeches. And it is true that, beyond the fear and paralysis that the dread of joining the list of the disappeared could provoke, many initiatives and activists emerged who did everything possible—and impossible—to wear down the perpetrators of genocide.
There was Cultural Resistance, through a nonviolent struggle, using art, literature, and music to challenge censorship and repression. Independent and clandestine spaces were created to keep memory alive and denounce human rights violations. In the final two years of the dictatorship, Teatro Abierto gained prominence; it was founded in 1981 as a response by playwrights, actors, and directors to the censorship, persecution, and artistic bans imposed by the dictatorship.
In the case of the student resistance, it was also highly complex, as the dictatorship took over all universities and organized mass burnings of leftist or critically minded books. In September 1976, repressive forces kidnapped and disappeared high school students in La Plata who were demanding student rights, marking one of the most atrocious episodes of repression, known as “The Night of the Pencils.” The students participated in the general resistance alongside labor unions and human rights organizations.
There was also Communication Resistance, with numerous underground publications and some clandestine radio broadcasts organized by Montoneros and the ERP. In this area, the Clandestine News Agency (ANCLA), led by the journalist, writer, and Montonero militant Rodolfo Walsh, stood out beginning in May 1976. ANCLA offered the possibility of breaking through total censorship and providing information—both within the country and abroad—about what was truly happening regarding the dictatorship’s criminal actions. A small group of journalists—including the author of this text—carried out this work for a year and a half, until Walsh was assassinated, another member of the group was kidnapped at ESMA, and part of the editorial staff was forced into exile. From this manifestation of journalistic resistance, it is worth recalling the Letter to the Military Junta, written by Walsh, denouncing all the atrocities of the dictatorship.
There was also armed resistance, even though revolutionary organizations had been weakened by suffering severe repressive blows; nevertheless, numerous attacks and acts of sabotage took place throughout the country. In this same context, Montoneros organized a “counteroffensive” beginning in 1979, with the return to the country of militants who had been in exile. This operation resulted in several successful guerrilla actions but also suffered repressive crackdowns that left many militants dead.
Finally, from 1976 to 1983, it can be said that there was also a grassroots resistance, that is, men and women who organized themselves in neighborhoods, factories, and universities, sometimes legally and other times semi-clandestinely, to express in various ways their rejection of the brutal militarization of the country, of torture, of crimes, and of the tyranny of a government that came to destroy all social bonds, mortgage sovereignty, and allow the plundering imposed by multinationals and capitalism. A government—that of uniforms and boots—with a corrosive agenda very similar to the current one.
Conclusion: Fifty years later, the conscious people—workers, students, retirees, human rights activists—not only pay tribute once again to those who gave everything fighting against the dictatorship, but also carry out new acts of resistance every day. As the Mother of Plaza de Mayo, Norita Cortiñas, rightly said, because only in this way “will we prevail.”
Carlos Aznárez is a journalist, writer, founder and director of Resumen Latinoamericano. He is also has been a social and political activist from the 1970s to the present.