Conflict Resolution and Street Art

Buenos Aires is a city of strange elegance.  It has the cafés, the tree-lined, tiled sidewalks, the high-end designer shops and cobblestone streets that remind that you’re in a truly world-class city.  Within this context of class and refined culture, however, you also find the fruit stands, the dog shit that you’re forced to tiptoe around like an urban-ballerina jumping through tires at boot camp, and the children trying to sell you gum or socks that remind you that this is Latin America.  As a foreigner it can be confusing at times, to say the least.  One minute you find yourself reveling at the trendy restaurants, bars and boutiques, and the next you’re checking your pockets to make sure that your wallet is still there.  It is truly a city of contradictions.  The view from a wealthy office building in Recoleta towards the notorious Villa 31, one of the many Villa Miserias, some 300 meters in the distance will tell you everything.

The disparity of wealth in Latin America is among the most extreme of the world, and Argentina is no exception.  It is very clear that two drastically different worlds exist.  But the contradictory nature of porteño society isn’t confined to socioeconomics.  A walk home from a boliche, the local term for a nightclub, at 8am will provide evidence of this.  As the young and restless stumble home, ears ringing, smelling of sweat, cigarettes and beer – probably Quilmes, the national brand – or else Fernet Branca, the national liquor that tastes like leather scraped against a cheese grater and then boiled in vinegar – in the best way possible – those with more responsibilities and professional agendas make their way to work.  It’s an eclectic mix of lifestyles, but somehow Argentine culture manages to accommodate these two disparate worlds.

What is fascinating about this land is how its culture is able to take these disparate approaches to life and fuse them into one national identity.  From my experience, the society of the United States is divided into many subcultures.  You experience this to a great extent while in university – and the lifestyle of university is itself a subculture.  From churchgoing, small-town folk in Kansas to metropolitan, wine-sipping, art-loving couples in San Francisco to thrift-store-wearing, ironic hipsters in Brooklyn, US “culture” isn’t really one single culture at all.  Instead it’s a federation of a variety of subcultures, all with their own values and lifestyles, which are so dissimilar that it’s often difficult to relate or understand those that reside outside your particular cultural “tribe”.

Here things don’t operate in the same way.  Instead, in Buenos Aires the cultural divergences fuse into one single, porteño culture.  Whether you’re a 21-year-old university student, a 40-year-old businessman, sporting a suit every day and spending your well-earned money at chic restobars every night, or a young artistic couple living in San Telmo, there exists a certain cultural harmony.  Street art is symbolic of this.  Sure, a large part of the graffity adorning Buenos Aires's cobble-stoned streets is of a political nature, whether it is honoring Peronism and the Kirchners or slandering left-wing Peronism and Marxism in favor of right-wing, nationalist ideals, the majority of the noticeable spraypaint has been used creating vibrant murals.  They feel on par with the high-art bought by the upper-echelons of society and displayed on the well-lit, white walls of galleries and museums, while also embodying the gritty and edgy spirit of the “street” – displays that can be appreciated by both wealthy, well-dressed, middle-aged women walking their poodles or taking the chihuahua in their purse for a stroll, as well as skateboarding adolescents with tattoos, tattered t-shirts and lip-rings.  It is symbolic of the porteño ability to overcome what would be social dichotomies anywhere else.

This is truly a socially and culturally diverse nation.  And while the extreme socioeconomic inequality does cause some deep cleavages and serious difficulties, the word, “Argentine”, seems to have more of a definite definition than the variety of meanings that different people from the US ascribe to the word, “American”.

On a lighter, but still very serious, note...

This man, Mark Sarfo, is one of the best, most genuine people you will ever come across.  In South Central L.A. we mourned the tragic loss of Tupac Shakur in 1996.  In NY we lost the Notorious B.I.G. as he was entering his prime, musically at least.  Count on your hand the number of progressive vanguards of the human race that we've lost when it mattered most - Malcom X, el Che, Huey Newton, Salvador Allende, Martin Luther King - and you'll be searching for an extra hand. After experiencing Argentina, you'll need to grow an extra finger to add to that tally for our man, Nestor Kirchner.  Whether it was simply political pandering and electoral pragmatism or authentic idealism and compassion for the urban poor, in my opinion he did good for the down-and-out Argentinians.  Controversy aside, he may well just be deserving of this 40 oz. remembrance.  If not, just enjoy this moment of Mark being the most badass dutchman of all time.

¡Fuerza Cristina!

The last two days in Argentina have been out of the ordinary, to say the least.  On the morning of Wednesday, October 27th, the day of the national census on which all businesses were required to stay closed and people were encouraged to stay home in order to be counted, porteños were greeted not only by census enumerators knocking on their doors, but also by the tragic news that Nestor Kirchner, ex-president and husband of Argentina's current president, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, had passed away in the early hours.  After suffering a heart attack while visiting his family's summer home in the southern province of Santa Cruz, the province of his birth, he died around 9am with his wife by his side.

So while the streets of Buenos Aires remained eerily quiet and empty of life, but that of census workers, in the morning and afternoon, the day was truly defined by a much more profound event.  I studied a great deal of Argentine political history in university, from the May Revolution to the birth of Peronism and the founding of the Justicialist Party, through the Dirty War to democratization and contemporary politics.  Still, I don't think I fully understood Argentina's political culture until last night, when I followed the tens of thousands to the Plaza de Mayo and walked in front of the Casa Rosada to pay my respects.

There is no way that this occurrence and collective experience of the Argentine people can even start to be put into US terms.  It’s not a JFK moment, where we all mourned the tragic passing of such a relatively young man for the family he left behind. There is a general feeling that Argentina has lost its father figure.  The man who led and could continue to lead the nation towards salvation has passed away.  Understanding this sentiment is crucial to understanding Argentine populism, a central tenant of the nation’s political culture.  As the masses had invested their faith in Peron and Evita in the 1940s and 1950s, the Kirchners became the new shepherds for a new generation.  While they subordinated their will to that of the pueblo, they also became the paternalistic defenders of the masses, sitting at the head of the nation’s metaphorical dining room table.

The nature of Nestor's legacy is a divisive topic. For businessmen and those who advocate a more unbridled freemarket capitalism and neoliberal reform, his government's meddling in "places that it did not belong" resulted in disdain and opposition.  Those with wealth are often of the opinion that the Kirchners have bought their way to power through dubious government spending and "handouts", and redistributive measures that amount to nothing more than pandering.  I'm more inclined, however, to describe Nestor in a very positive light, arguing that he was the first president since redemocratization in 1983 to stand up against the Washington Consensus, a strict neoliberal policy prescription by the IMF and World Bank that seemed to wreak havoc on the Argentine economy, not to mention many other Latin American nations, and worst of all placed strict limitations on government spending, leaving Argentina's poor, the "descamisados" as Evita would say, to fend on their own, hopelessly unemployed in the villa miserias, Argentina's version of Brazil's favelas.  Peronism is interesting in that it is made up a variety of groups, ranging from a very right-wing to socialist, leftist factions.  The Kirchners are on the left-wing of the Peronist political spectrum - in 2008 Nestor proposed that his Justicialist Party join the Socialist International.  


Furthermore, Nestor Kirchner has been a leading figure in the fight for more Latin American unity, something that I deem crucial in increasing the rate of economic development in the region.  He also helped to cool tension between Hugo Chavez's Venezuela and Álvaro Uribe and Juan Manuel Santos's Columbia and it is for these reasons that there has been an outburst of tributes to the Pingüino, a nickname given to Nestor because of his upbringing in the far south of Argentina, from heads of state throughout Latin America.  All evening dignitaries from around the continent have been arriving to say goodbye to their colleague and give their condolences to Cristina.  Hugo Chavez, who shared a warm relationship with Mr. Kirchner, just arrived to give, what seemed like, his very heartfelt empathy to Nestor's family.  In spite of the sadness, this manifestation of Latin American unity and solidarity, whose seeds were only really sown in the last decades but continue to grow larger and larger and faster and faster, is quite beautiful.  As the 28 block line of people walk past Nestor's coffin, overlooked by Cristina, Mr. Chavez and President Lula da Silva of Brazil, raising their fists and waiving peace signs, you get the sense that there is something special developing on this continent that has experienced a history of hardship.  In death, Mr. Kirchner perhaps symbolizes a collective and hopeful future for the region.

Last night the Plaza de Mayo was a fascinating spectacle.  Part mourning, part political demonstration and part festival, vendors sold hot dogs and bottles of beer while students waved flags screenprinted with the profiles of Che, Evita and Nestor and loyal supporters wrote impassioned letters of appreciation and tribute.  From what I've witnessed, Nestor, you will be missed, but remembered throughout the future history of your Argentina. ¡Fuerza Cristina!  ¡Fuerza Argentina!

Little Eva

¡EVITA!  Except for a few passing moments while studying Latin American Politics in university, this name conjured up little more than a 90s musical starring Madonna that I had never seen and had no interest in doing so.  For most extrañeros like me, “Evita” harkens little more than the instructions, “Don’t cry for me, Argentina,” in Alan Parker’s 1996 film.  In Buenos Aires this is not the case. 

After numerous conversations with local Porteños I encountered both the most impassioned disdain and quasi-religious adoration towards the actress turned first lady.  For the people of Argentina, it’s impossible to maintain neutrality towards the woman the country once attempted to canonize.  It has become a lasting legacy.  When I asked a porteño friend to visit the museum dedicated to the life of history’s most renowned first-lady, the Museo Evita, she told me she would love to.  She just couldn’t let her grandmother find out.

Socioeconomic class is an important determinant in one’s opinion of the woman.  For families of great wealth and inheritance, the offspring of the colonial, landed elite – criollos, the social turmoil that surrounded the Peron years fostered great animosity.  Threats to the Argentine social pyramid and their place at the top of it created a passionate opposition to the Peron administration by Argentina’s aristocracy.  Systematic attempts were made to tarnish her image and portray her as a hypocritical, hedonistic, indulgent harlot.  Despite their best efforts, this had little effect.

The life of Evita was a contradiction.  Having grown up in the slums outside the Capital Federal, she lived her adult life enveloped by the glamour of the entertainment industry and the regality that life in the Casa Rosada affords.  It is impossible to ignore the apparent hypocrisy inherent to her life; her deep empathy towards the “descamisados” – the shirtless ones – juxtaposed against a life of tailor-made, designer dresses, aristocratic galas, and Hollywood-like fame.  When you visit the Museo Evita this fact becomes very striking.  Over half of the museum is devoted to her wardrobe, filled with ornate jewelry and lavish dresses of lace.

The museum dedicated to her life is located in Palermo Alto and makes for a great afternoon destination.  After a brief introduction to the iconic woman, which includes a compelling video collage of her speeches to the masses from the balcony of the Casa Rosada and footage of her shaking hands and commiserating with the countrymen and women who adored her, the museum is laid out chronologically.  Before climbing the stairs to the second floor you are presented with artifacts of her poor childhood – household furniture, her mother’s sewing maching, even her original birth certificate (she had it changed in 1946 due to difficulties presented by the fact that her documented father had another family).

Continuing upstairs you meet the Evita that we all know.  Starting with audio from her radio shows and original posters for her film and theater roles, the museum unfolds the developments that led a young woman with a poor background and big dreams of stardom to the fateful night on January 22, 1944, when while at a charity gala she met and left with the military-man and rising politician she would soon marry.  The homage to her life then focuses on her life as the First Lady of Argentina and Head of the Ministry of Labor and Social Welfare and contains footage of her diplomatic tour of Europe and many dresses and accessories from her ornate, presidential wardrobe.  Ladies, be prepared to gawk in awe.

The tour concludes with the final chapter of the story of Evita – her tragically unsuccessful fight against cervical cancer.  A camera projects footage of the two million Argentinians who lined the streets of central Buenos Aires to glimpse her final public voyage from the Congress building to the Ministry of Labor where she had worked.  While the ending of the story you’ve just learned is very heartbreaking and will leave you profoundly saddened, don’t be surprised to encounter locals unabashedly shedding tears while watching this last projection – here, the memory and symbolism of “Santa Evita” constitute a small part of Argentina’s collective experience and identity.

Finish your visit with a snack at the Café and Restaurante Museo Evita in the terraza in the back.  Its more than your typical museum café and is renowned across the city for its great quality and beautiful ambiance of tiles and iron-cast furniture.

From the museum it’s a 20-minute walk to Evita’s final resting place, the Cementerio de Recoleta, a must-see while spending time in Buenos Aires.  More of a city of tombs and mausoleums than a cemetery, the giant concrete burial grounds resemble those of New Orleans, but with much more ostentation and opulence.  Membership and entrance is more exclusive than the gentlemen’s clubs and nightclubs that line the nearby streets.  Here status, rather than money, is what matters and, given the circumstances, there is very little turnover and the waiting list doesn’t shorten very quickly.  The tombs act as aboveground abodes for their occupants and are aligned in a grid like manner, complete with wide thoroughfares and narrow alleys.  You feel that they should name these pedestrian avenues so that when you ask, someone can respond, “oh, just go down Park Ave., then take a right onto Main, then its your third left.”  Evita’s tomb is hidden within this sprawling mess of buildings and traffic, but if you ask anyone, especially the staff at the entrance, it should be easy to find.  Walk inside, take the first left, then take a right at the next large “avenue” and walk towards the large mass of cameras and their owners.  Witnessing her celebrity, which endures and perhaps has even been strengthened by her death, firsthand is fascinating, but if you want to avoid the crowds try to schedule your visit with Evita for a weekday morning.

Afterwards, don’t forget to visit the Basílica Nuestra Señora de Pilar and see the ornate golden altar, typical of Spanish colonial religious interior design, and its whitewashed walls.   If you do choose to visit on the weekend take a stroll around the market in adjoining park and browse through the interesting, though touristy, trinkets.  By this point, having walked and gotten lost probably more than once in the avenues of the cemetery, rest your legs on the terraces of the many cafes, restaurants and bars that line the perimeter of the necropolis.

At first it all seems very hypocritical and one might develop a sense of resentment towards this woman who seemed to have manipulated the masses and instilled in them a possibly ill-placed sense of hope towards Peronism.  But when you look deeper, Evita is emblematic of what makes Argentine society great.  Its the combination of the “American dream” – the idea that we can all keep our chins up because with hard-work and ingenuity we can control our destiny and improve our lives – and a parallel realistic understanding that things don’t always work out for everyone and that its our collective duty to make sure that our fellow, out-of-luck and struggling countrymen don’t fall through the cracks.  Evita’s transformation from her rural, poverty-stricken and fatherless childhood to her glamorous fame and wealth is representative of the fact that the sky is the limit.  In one word: hope.  Meanwhile, her faithful reverence towards the descamisados stands for national, and even human, fraternity.  Together, the two form a beautiful partnership and the foundation of Argentine society that Evita so effortlessly symbolized.

Buenos Aires Personified

This is a little project I've been working on.  The barrios of Buenos Aires are so distinct and diverse that they can be difficult to fully describe with words.  Instead, try to imagine the characters they would resemble as people.  It's always fascinated me how cities project such strong personalities, from London, cup of Earl Gray tea in hand, a bowler's hat and a straight-cut suit and tie, to Paris, sitting outside of a chic cafe, smoking a cigarette while a book of poetry rests on his crossed legs.  These generalizations are obviously cliche, but one can't deny that different cities, and the neighborhoods within them, differ in the same way that a room full of people at a party do.  Who knows what lies at the core of these distinctions.  Socioeconomics?  Culture?  Subculture?  Architecture?  Language?  What I do know is that they are impossible to ignore.

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