The 1922 Guayaquil general strike was a three-day general work stoppage in the city of Guayaquil, Ecuador, which lasted from 13 to 15 November of that year. The strike began with trolley, electric company and other public utility workers who were inspired by a successful strike by railroad workers in nearby Durán. Workers made demands such as pay increases, shorter hours, safer working conditions, and government control of foreign currency exchange rates.
The government of Ecuador called on the military to suppress the strike. On 15 November, police and military killed at least 300 strikers. Most workers returned to their jobs shortly afterwards. The trolley workers continued their strike until 21 November, when most of their demands were met.
In the early 1920s, Ecuador suffered an economic crisis due to a drop in the global price of the cocoa bean, which at the time was the main export of the country. Guayaquil had experienced rapid economic growth in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century due to its location in the Guayas River basin—a region with near-ideal conditions for growing cocoa. At the beginning of the twentieth century, cocoa accounted for 75% of the country's total exports.
Following World War I, the price of the cocoa bean fell as countries such as Ghana, São Tomé, and Brazil began growing the crop. As cocoa sales declined, a lack of foreign currency in Ecuador led to severe inflation. In 1914, the Ecuadorian government passed the "Ley Moratoria," which froze exchange rates and allowed banks to issue currency not backed by gold or silver. This worsened the country's inflation, which was most felt by the working class. By 1922, the country had entered a state of public unrest.
On 19 October 1922, Guayaquil and Quito Railway Company workers began a strike. The workers—based in the town of Durán, across the river from Guayaquil–made relatively modest demands such as the payment of wages on time, the establishment of medical auxiliary posts, payment in United States dollars or gold rather than the sucre, fifteen days notice before lay-offs and the re-hiring of fired union organizers. The railroad company quickly negotiated an end to the strike, granting most of the workers' demands. The company planned to offset increased wages by raising fares on the trains, but rate hikes were cancelled by president José Luis Tamayo.
Workers in Guayaquil took note of the successes of the railway workers in Durán. Trolley, electric company and other public utility workers met in early November and came up with a list of demands including pay increases, an eight-hour workday, overtime pay, and compliance with safety regulations. When the demands were rejected, the workers struck.
The strike gained momentum as factories in the city were unable to operate due to lack of electricity. As negotiations neared completion, the strikers made new demands, such as artificial exchange rate controls by the government in order to prop of the value of the sucre. By 13 November, the strike had grown into a citywide general strike.
Massacre
On 15 November, the government came to an agreement with union leaders on the exchange rate. That same day, a crowd of 20,000 people–the largest demonstration of the strike yet–assembled in downtown Guayaquil. Upon hearing that two labor leaders who had been jailed were to be released, the crowd marched to the police station. When the demonstrators arrived at the police station, soldiers began firing into the crowd.
The crowd began to flee, and were pursued by the troops. Many of the demonstrators were shot to death or stabbed by bayonets. Order was restored at around 6 pm. At least three hundred people had been killed, although the precise number is unknown. No soldiers or police were killed, although several were injured.
The general strike ended shortly after the massacre of 15 November. The following day, president Tamayo signaled that he would sign the exchange rate moratorium that had been demanded by the strikers. Most workers returned to their jobs, but the trolley workers continued their strike. On 21 November, the trolley worker strike was finally resolved, with the trolley workers receiving pay raises, shorter hours, and other demands. However, the trolley company would also increase fares.
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Me and a few of my other co-workers are going to talk to our boss this week about pay increases. We decided that it would be better to talk as a group than one by one. Not exactly a union, but definitely a collective bargain. Of the group, I probably have the most leverage as far as the work I do and how hard it would be to replace me, but I fucking refuse to let the guys that I rely on get skipped over just because they don't have the same title that I do. I'm ready to fucking walk, fuck it.
I'm drunk at a bar rn and eavesdropping because that is a habit I have but man, do I regret it.
It was disgusting, the people on one side of me just would not shut up about breast milk and all its uses (mostly kink). I would love to have been able to forget it omfg
Just had to take my parrot to the vet... apparently, it was old age.. had to put her to sleep... I've had her for 12 years... fuck this shit sucks.
I'm still very sad about having to put my cockatiel down at the vet yesterday... I just miss her, you know? She was my alarm clock too. She would start chirping when the sun came up and I'd yell at her. :sadness: This morning felt so quiet.
Guess who's finally coming off of the night shift. :quokka-smile:
Back to reality.
Thinking about that time in one of my wage slave gigs where the two people I worked closest with were (1) a genocide survivor and (2) a guy who told me privately that we should gun down anyone who tries to cross the border
:thinking-about-it:
I'm quitting my job, but these last couple weeks are killing me. I want to be done already. #Pray4Quimby
it’s November 15 and I still don’t know anything about critical race theory :yes-honey-left:
Took me a while to rid myself of the hangover from yesterday.
I’m never drinking without eating again.
To be honest I probably just cooked my brain with being in all these left wing spaces but at this point I'm convinced all white Americans are racist unless they're explicitly and openly anti-racist and of those that are racist half are just racist because of how American society is and the other half probably believe in some shape or form of race science and dream about killing us
like I have begun to wonder what the fuck they say to each other when they're not looking, I walked in to the breakroom at work and these two white ladies that work there (keep in mind we're all some broke motherfuckers) talking about how the "blacks" in Town keep killing themselves because they got EXTRA welfare due to Corona and these are like poorer whites who have to actually exist among minorities, like what the fuck do the bougie types say
I don't even know what it is that prompted this shift in thinking, because I used to not really think about this stuff. Has the racial hierarchy been reified with the aftermath of Trumpism? I spent most of my life thinking "racism" was "over" but I started to feel really alienated when I was continously the ONLY Hispanic person in some of my college classes in an area with a huge population of Hispanics. I was the only Hispanic person in my Calclus III class....I didn't think this in my head, but I FELT that it couldn't just be "choice" that led to so few people like me there, and the right wing sinkhole I'd gotten into on 4chan felt less and less right to me and I feel like I slingshotted back into the lib politics I had as a 4th grader reading Nat Geo and knowing about Joe Arpaio and just hitting the fucking accelerator until hitting the Communism wall
I went to concert the other day in SF and saw how white that city has gotten and felt bone deep despair, I was feeling like Reverend Toller. I'm the brown guy, I'm the minority in this situation and I need to be "accepted". I think a facet of Chicano identity the majority of my ilk are too uneducated to articulate since most of us wind up as gardeners is that there is a feeling of statelessness that accompanies it, I am not Mexican but I am always given reminders that I am not welcome in the country I was born in either....so what do you do with that?
Do you break away into Pocho Aztlan? Do you dance for the white man as "one of the good ones" who learned to write code despite the primitive hardware that the Chicano brain is composed of? Do you become a Kamala Harris? What is there to do? Does it matter?
There is an old film I think it was called El Pocho or something like that ends with the titular character jumping into the only place he feels he belongs: the Rio Grande
anyway
- AHEM *
fuck Nazis, fuck ICE, fuck white supremacy, fuck systemic racism, fuck climate change, fuck
jannies, fuck Joe Arpaio and fuck capitalism, fuck wage slavery, fuck homophobia, fuck transphobia, fuck ignorance, and fuck tha policei knew it was a bait car i KNEW!
Pretending to be a gusano until we land on the beach and then setting off the remote detonators I slipped into all the chuds tactical cargo pants.