Ecuador at a Crossroads: Why 'Pro-Noboa' vs. 'Anti-Paro' is the Wrong Debate

As the general strike, or 'paro', stretches past the two-week mark, Ecuador finds itself locked in a familiar and painful stalemate. The national conversation has been predictably split into two camps: those who support President Noboa's heavy-handed response to restore order, and those who support the strike as a righteous uprising against an unpopular government. From our perspective, both positions represent a superficial analysis of a deeply complex crisis. To truly understand the situation, one must look beyond the immediate conflict and examine the structural rot and shifting political alliances that have brought Ecuador to this point.

We make a follow-up to our initial post on the topic which highlighted the series of issues the country is facing and why there is such a high discontent with Daniel Noboa's administration. And, although we can very confidently assess everything isn't Noboa's fault, we can just as confidently say he is not taking the right steps into solving many of them. Nevertheless, it is quite concerning that not only is the paro a bad alternative but it is also being called for to address something that's not really a core issue, but a measure to appease a symptom.

Choosing a side is easy. Understanding is hard. This is not a simple story of good versus evil; it is a tragedy where nearly everyone is losing.

While there are plenty of legitimate reasons to be upset with the Noboa administration, the current strike, led by CONAIE, is not addressing them. Instead, it's anchored to the removal of the diesel subsidy—a policy change that, while perhaps poorly executed, is a necessary step towards economic sanity for any society. The strike has become a self-harming exercise, paralyzing a fragile economy at a time when countless people are buried in debt.

We are hearing directly from people on the ground and seeing in the news the devastating consequences: milk, vegetables, and other food are spoiling on roadsides. People are struggling to find gas. Life-saving medication is not reaching those in need. This isn't just an economic disruption; it's a humanitarian crisis engineered by the strike's leaders.

Furthermore, the movement is revealing its own repressive and hypocritical tendencies. Entire towns are being forced to "cooperate" with the strike against their will. We've heard directly from a milk producer who, unable to sell to his usual large buyers, is now being forced to sell his product for $0.15 a liter to "CONAIE-approved" resellers, down from the usual $0.45-$0.55. These chosen few are given a license to profit from the chaos while the producers they claim to represent are driven into bankruptcy. When a movement uses coercion and threats to enrich a select few while impoverishing its supposed base, it is no longer a protest; it is an extortion racket. It is no wonder the government has begun to label these acts as terrorism—one shouldn't have to wait for the AK-47s to appear to call something what it is.

Here in Cuenca, the strike's impact has been noticeably muted compared to other regions. This is largely because the indigenous movement, while powerful in certain regions of the Ecuadorian Sierra, it does not have the same deep-rooted influence over the city's political and economic elite.

This stands in stark contrast to the 2019 Paro, which had the full-throated backing of the 'Revolución Ciudadana' political machine. That alliance provided a level of resources and influence that today's strike lacks. CONAIE has now deliberately distanced itself from Correa's party—a double-edged sword that grants them ideological independence but costs them political muscle. The result is a fractured opposition: a significant anti-Noboa sentiment exists, especially within the 'Correista' camp, but it isn't translating into a unified, nationwide revolt.

None of this is to say the Noboa government is without fault. Far from it. The administration has shown a troubling tendency to declare "emergency situations" at the drop of a hat, a form of flexible martial law that blurs the dangerous line between internal security and waging war on one's own people. He is failing to properly inform the public about the fight against organized crime, and his push to defund political campaigns seems designed to ensure only the wealthy can run for office, setting himself up, or someone just as rich as he is, as the only viable candidate for the next election.

However, it is intellectually dishonest to lay all of Ecuador's problems at his feet. Like his predecessors, he inherited a nation rife with structural issues left behind by a decade of the Correa administration—an era propped up by historically high oil prices and defined by a bloated, centralized bureaucracy. Subsequent governments have failed to capitalize on the few good things Correa left behind, and Noboa is no exception.

The debate over the diesel subsidy is a perfect example of how both sides miss the point. The subsidy is a massive drain on the state, but it's also a lifeline for many. Why? Because Ecuador is plagued by deep, structural problems that predate any recent president.

According to a 2025 study by Ernst & Young, Ecuador's shadow economy accounts for a staggering 26.5% of the country's GDP. Nearly one in every four dollars transacted in the country happens outside the legal, taxable system. This, combined with profound government inefficiency, is the real disease. The diesel subsidy is merely a symptom—a distorted solution in a broken system where many, from contraband runners to legitimate businesses, depend on it.

This is the conversation no one wants to have. Not the government, which struggles to assert control, and not the protesters, some of whom are the very agents of the contraband and black market economies that the subsidy fuels. The country is bleeding from thousands of cuts: from the powerful, organized crime families running legitimate businesses as fronts, to the everyday citizen who engages in the shadow economy to survive.

Ultimately, Ecuador is trapped in a tragic cycle because, as a nation, it seems unwilling to learn from its past. Voters are swayed by marketing, not ideas. Leaders rise by promising to vanquish the "other side" rather than tackling the foundational problems that affect everyone. People on all sides are content to reap the benefits of their own "shady business somewhere" while pointing fingers at others.

This paro will eventually end. But the resentment, the economic damage, and the deep-seated divisions will remain. Noboa may win the battle against Marlon Vargas, but he is not winning the war for Ecuador's soul. Until the country is willing to have an honest conversation about its structural corruption, its broken economy, and its civic responsibilities, it is doomed to repeat this cycle of crisis and conflict, where everyone loses.