Tensions are rising again among the workers at Cementos Especiales de las Islas (Ceisa), the historic cement plant of the Masaveu group in the port of Santa Águeda, in southern Gran Canaria, where an industrial era spanning more than six decades is slowly coming to an end. Five months have passed since the deadline set by the Canary Islands Government to begin dismantling the plant, after denying the extension of the concession. Some employees are accusing the Socialist Party (PSOE) of having "abandoned" them and the works council of "turning a blind eye." The lack of a national budget is damaging the morale of the workers, who had hoped for a boost in civil engineering projects such as the Gran Canaria train line.
“They gave us six months in May to begin dismantling the plant, and we still know nothing about our future. No job placements, no guarantees, no real alternatives,” laments a maintenance technician with extensive experience at the factory. “The committee here spends more time thinking about hiking than about our careers,” another worker quips, referring to the current committee spokesperson who, they claim, “has lost touch with the reality of the workforce. We're not talking about 600 families here, just over 100. What's happening is that they're bringing in supplier companies to lead the workers' defense because they have commercial interests, and that's what we condemn and want a new works council to correct,” said a labor representative who asked not to be quoted for this report.
The rift has been exacerbated by pressure from subcontractors on operational decisions at the plant during this transition period. “We want no external interference, we want decisions made here and not in offices whose owners don't even know the factory,” warns a logistics employee. “We want to make it clear to Puertos Canarios that there are over 100 of us who need to be relocated, and that Ceisa can easily handle it.”
In the political arena, the workers point directly to the Socialist Party, which they accuse of “double standards.” “They promised us that no one would be left behind, but in reality, they have prioritized the tourist image over industrial employment,” says a union representative who prefers to remain anonymous. In southern Gran Canaria, where tourism dominates the economy, Ceisa’s departure symbolizes more than just a closure: it is the end of the last major industrial stronghold amidst hotels and golf courses.
Discontent with the PSOE has even spread to former party voters in the El Pajar area, where the cement plant has been one of the main stable employers for decades. “Many people here used to vote socialist, but that’s over,” summarizes a worker from the bagging area.
Since May, the clock has been ticking. Puertos Canarios granted six months to begin dismantling the facility, but a clear roadmap has not been made public, and the ruling on the lawsuit filed by Ceisa has yet to be issued. Meanwhile, visits by regional technicians to the port—initially thwarted by a lack of coordination, even when planned by sea—are perceived as administrative theater rather than the real start of the process. This institutional silence contrasts sharply with the anxiety of the workers, many of whom have been with the company for over 25 years. “We are losing our voice,” says one worker.
Founded in 1957, the Santa Águeda plant has been a pillar of the local economy and a key link in the development of tourism in southern Gran Canaria, which was literally built on the cement produced in its kilns. Today, the promise to replace the industry with a marina or a hotel complex sounds to many like “an epitaph disguised as modernity.” The labor dispute at Ceisa, beyond its local dimension, poses a broader dilemma for the Canary Islands: can a tourism-based economy sustain quality industrial jobs? For now, in El Pajar, the answer seems to be dissolving amidst the cement dust and the echo of a factory resisting its final shift.
