That sense of sullen disenchantment is pervasive–and understandable. Argentina just staggered through its worst year of recession since the 1930s–in 2002 the economy shrank by more than 11 percent, the prices of basic goods soared by 75 percent and more than a quarter of the country’s work force was unemployed–and yet no political leader has come up with a credible proposal to lead the country out of its mess. With Argentina lurching from one crisis to another, millions of voters were disgusted by an unseemly struggle last year between current president Eduardo Duhalde and former president Carlos Menem for control of the Peronist Party. Such self-indulgent machinations have only worsened the population’s already poor opinion of their political rulers. The most popular political slogan in the country over the past year has been: “Throw them all out!”
Argentines know how to do that. When Duhalde was sworn in as caretaker president a year ago, he became the fifth man in less than two weeks to occupy that hot seat. Having declined to run for president this April, the veteran Peronist leader instead spent much of 2002 trying to sabotage the plans of his archrival, Menem, who hoped to become the populist party’s candidate for president. In the end Duhalde got his way: the primary was canceled–and for the first time ever, no presidential hopeful will enter the balloting with the formal imprimatur of the Peronists. (Menem supporters are challenging this decision in the courts.) Perhaps the only prediction about the impending election that can be made with any certainty is that it will require two votes: with no candidate polling more than 16 percent in the latest surveys, a second-round runoff will almost certainly be required. The leading candidate, Peronist governor Nestor Kirchner, is a gray figure who, until recently, was largely unknown outside his tiny province of Santa Cruz. The crowded Peronist field also features Adolfo Rodriguez Saa, a maverick who lasted just a week as president in December (and then published three different memoirs of his time in office) and Menem, who more than half of Argentines say they wouldn’t vote for under any circumstances after his scandal-ridden government of the 1990s.
The leadership confusion has obscured even the few bright spots that have surfaced in recent weeks. There is a growing sense among economists that the country has hit bottom and will get back on the road to recovery in 2003. A year of torturous negotiations with the International Monetary Fund finally yielded an agreement earlier this month to roll over $6.6 billion in debt that was falling due this year. But that accord came through only a couple of days after the Duhalde government defaulted once again, this time on a loan from the Inter-American Development Bank. Argentina’s reputation among international bankers remains that of a debt deadbeat, and IMF officials made a point of noting “the fragility of the macroeconomic policy framework.”
Citizens’ disgust has spread to institutions well beyond the presidency. The perceived penchant of trade-union leaders to feather their own nests at the expense of the rank and file long ago soured many Argentines on big labor. The judiciary doesn’t enjoy much esteem either. One reason that politicians have gotten away with corruption and incompetence for so long is that the courts do little to stop them. When Menem named a relatively obscure judge named Julio Nazareno to head the Argentine Supreme Court in 1990, journalists found two interesting details: Nazareno had at one time shared a law office with Menem in their native province of La Rioja, and both men traced their family lineage back to the same Syrian backwater. Since then, high-court judges have consistently supported the executive branch, asserting their independence only in their refusal to pay income taxes or fully disclose their assets to the government’s anti-corruption office. The judges consider the demand for tax payments a form of government interference, which they creatively argue is outlawed by the Constitution.
As they often do in Argentina, efforts to reform the political system have foundered. Last February the Duhalde government signed a so-called Federal Accord with the country’s provincial governors that contained 10 specific measures aimed at curbing corruption and boosting accountability. Among other points, the agreement would have cut spending at the provincial-government level and reduced the number of elected members in local legislatures. None of those reforms has yet been implemented. In a similar vein, a package of legislative bills submitted by independent nongovernmental groups last May would have enacted a freedom-of-information law, reformed the discredited judiciary and provided bureaucrats with incentives to blow the whistle on corruption. No action was ever taken on any of those proposals either.
Against this backdrop of paralysis and dithering, many Argentines have concluded they have no choice but to help themselves. Grass-roots volunteers have rolled up their sleeves to perform social services that were traditionally provided by the state. Both the health and education systems have been in decay for decades. The social-security net is also full of holes. Neighborhood committees that sprang up in the middle of the political turmoil engulfing Argentina in December 2001 now run soup kitchens to feed the poor or grow their own food in communal gardens. Still others offer basic health care and job-training programs. More than 30 Buenos Aires community leaders have joined forces to force the city council into blocking the handover of publicly owned land to private-property developers. “The only way to escape the crisis is to assume responsibility ourselves,” says group member Norberto Quaglia.
Those sentiments may promote a feeling that Argentine politicians, in addition to being mendacious and self-serving, are fast becoming irrelevant. Pollster Enrique Zuleta Puceiro has detected a nascent optimism among people about the country’s economic prospects–but also a conviction that it won’t be the political elite who spur change. In the current climate, says Puceiro, twice-burned ordinary folks are much less inclined to expect “magic solutions presented by some glorious leader.” Given the sorry state of leadership in the country, who can blame them?
