1–The beginning. It was early morning when we arrived at Plaza de Mayo before anyone else. The downtown was still half asleep and that particular silence of the first hours hung in the air, with almost empty buses. The sky was just beginning to clear over the buildings. We installed boxes, easels and ballot boxes for the fighting fund in each position we deployed from Congress to Plaza de Mayo. We carried our star product: a special 16-page supplement hot off the press. And with it, a mixture of pride, fatigue, conviction and a stubborn hope that had been growing for months. We wanted to continue writing, together.
2-Emerging. Even without the papers that legally proved that we were a cooperative, but with that project on the horizon, the assembly of each space began. Some on the sidewalks, others on the corners, or at the intersection of Av. 9 de Julio, in the small square. The cold of the morning still got into the hands while the pipes joined together with an almost festive metallic sound.
3-Abandonment. We arrived at the march without owners. Since December 2015 we did not receive our salaries. But the diary was still there because those of us who made it were there, in the building sheltered from the work tools. This entire group that the businessmen had despised wanted to continue because they had more things to say.
Photo: Mariano Martino
4-March 24. The gazebos of Argentine Weather They emerged in the middle of the crowd. Ten meeting points. Ten small islands of paper and ink in the middle of a march full of history. Under each white roof were stacks of copies that still retained the fresh smell of ink. In those gazebos not only newspapers were sold. Hugs, words of encouragement and a shared certainty also circulated: that the project made sense.
See you in the Plaza 🤍
50 years after the genocidal coup, this March 24 we gather one more year in Plaza de Mayo to say Never Again and It’s 30 thousand.
For Tiempo it is a doubly special date: 10 years ago we went to the Plaza with our first self-managed newspaper. The sale of… pic.twitter.com/DjS9PnsDuX
— Tiempo Argentino (@tiempoarg) March 20, 2026
5-Endurance. Next to the copies were also the ballot boxes that had circulated in countless places asking for contributions to raise money so that each comrade could have a minimum of money to continue the fight. Many hands, known and unknown, approached to leave their contribution. It was a simple gesture, almost silent, but deeply meaningful. Because at that moment every coin, every bill and every word of support confirmed that Argentine Weather It was not just a workplace: it was also a community.
6-Return. We had also prepared a small handmade survey, printed on micro-paper. We wanted to know if there were readers willing to support a cooperative project if the newspaper returned to the newsstands. The answers came one after another, and in each one the same idea was repeated: “Yes, come back. We are going to accompany you.” In their hands they carried something more than ink on paper: they carried the collective work of an editorial team that had decided not to give up.
7–A special number. The supplement of March 24, 2016 was dedicated to reconstructing, over 40 years, the deep plot of state terrorism in Argentina. Not only did he recover stories to keep the memory alive, but he also returned to the civil, business and judicial responsibilities that made the dictatorship possible. About the relationship of that economic plan of exclusion and emptying that returned. He put the past and the present in dialogue, asking what traces were still active in democracy and what disputes over memory were still open. As the hours passed, the square was completely filled. The columns advanced, the songs grew and the movement around the gazebos did not stop. Buying the newspaper that day was not just about getting information. It was to accompany. It was recognition. It was to say, without the need for speeches, that this collective effort had value. At two in the afternoon there were no more copies left. Two colleagues had to run to the printing press to look for more. The gesture was almost incredible for those who had come from months of uncertainty: the newspaper had sold out.
8-Company. Along this path, there was also solidarity: the Gráfica Patricios cooperative allowed us to print the special edition when it seemed impossible, colleagues who publicized our situation, journalists who came to sell with us, actors and actresses who put their presence at the service of a common cause. Social organizations, which had already helped us by donating food in the most difficult months, were also present. And, as he did from the first claim, Sipreba He embraced us as he does to this day.
9-The future. We still didn’t know what was going to happen next. We didn’t know if the cooperative project was going to endure or what the following months would be like. But we took away something more important than any certainty. We took with us the memory of a day we decided to be there. A day when a group of workers, abandoned by a company but supported by a common conviction, built ten gazebos in the Plaza de Mayo and demonstrated that a newspaper can also exist thanks to the collective will of those who make it and those who read it. Because sometimes the biggest stories don’t start with big announcements. Sometimes they begin at dawn, in a still empty square, when someone fits one pipe with another and the metallic sound announces that something – against all odds – is still standing.
Photo: Mariano Martino
10-The present. This newspaper, the one from 2026, is crossed by the slogan of Memory, Truth and Justice, but also by a critical and current look: an invitation to combat denialism and the vindication of the military. A call to continue naming what happened and to sustain, from journalism, a living, uncomfortable and collective memory. To denounce the concentrated economic power that is still in force, even with more force. Ten years after that fundamental day for our cooperative and 50 years after the bloodiest civil-military dictatorship in Argentine history, from Tiempo we march again. We say again “Never Again” and “There are 30 thousand” to keep the flags of Human Rights high. Together with all human rights organizations, we demand that “they say where they are.” Memory, Truth and Justice. Yesterday, now and always.
