Half an hour or so into my second interview with

alf an hour or so into my second interview with Hector, a self-described football fan of Huracán, with its clubhouse and stadium in Parque Patricios, a poor neighborhood in the city of Buenos Aires, I asked this 46-yearold car mechanic and sometime-roofer why he remained invested in football but had turned apathetic toward politics: None of the people that I know give a damn [bolilla] about politics. . . . We have been betrayed so many times by so many politicians that I do not trust any of them, even those who want to help us, like Kirchner [current president of Argentina]. . . . Football is in my blood. I have been a Quemero [slang for Huracán fan] since I was a kid and will die wearing my jersey. I told my wife to bury me with it. My two oldest boys play football

Dilip Gaonkar’s and Claudio Lomnitz’s criticisms of an earlier draft led me to rethink my argument. I am also grateful to Patrizia Nanz and Charles Taylor for inviting me to present this essay to the Cultures of Democracy Colloquium at the Wissenschaftskolleg zu Berlin, and to Marcelo Cavarozzi and Arturo Fernández for the opportunity to discuss it with members of the faculty seminar that they lead in the Department of Politics at the Universidad Nacional de San Martín. All thirty interviews that inform this essay were undertaken between November 2003 and February 2004. The majority of them (twenty) were conducted with local residents from poor neighborhoods along the city’s southern rim (La Boca, Barracas, Villa Lugano, and Mataderos); the remaining ten were conducted with middle-class residents in the central and northern dictricts (Nuñez, Flores, and Belgrano). All interviews were conducted in Spanish, and all translations are the author’s. Santiago Garraño conducted half (fifteen) of all the interviews that inform this essay; Leonardo Hirsch located and verified some of the numerical figures related to football life in Buenos Aires.

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in the club, and in the summer they swim in the pool. When Huracán is playing at home, I often go with them or my friends to the stadium. . . . During a match, I unplug [desenchufo] from all my worries; after a game, I am ready to face another week. . . . Huracán is so indebted that it declared itself bankrupt; we have lost so many matches that we [were relegated] and can play only against other second-division teams. Yes, Huracán is in a complete and total mess [quilombo], but my passion for it has not changed.1 I reminded Hector that Huracán’s crisis had been brought about, in part, by its elected officials who had squandered and stolen large sums of money from its treasury. After evading the issue more than once, Hector admitted that the level of corruption in football clubs and political life is about the same. He then clarified why corruption had not dampened his enthusiasm for football: I don’t know why football stirs me in ways that politics no longer does. I feel the same way about the neighborhood. It is a sentiment I cannot explain. [This phrase, which was first used by Peronists in the 1940s to describe their loyalty to the party, has become a cliché and acquired the status of an ontological truth among Peronists and anti-Peronists alike to describe strong feelings of identification with a public cause or institution.] Nothing I have ever felt outside the stadium compares with what I feel when I am inside. . . . In order to attend a Huracán match, I have sometimes requested sick leave from work and taken a cut in salary; missed family gatherings; and even cancelled meetings with my girlfriend. You know what they say: a football team will never betray you like a woman [meterte los cuernos].2 The sense of fulfillment that Hector derives from his club outweighs whatever ambivalence he feels toward it and appears to be based on a dual, perhaps incoherent, set of standards, with one set restricted to the world of football and rooted in personal gratification and the second limited to politics and rooted in public standards of accountability. Hector’s response seems to vindicate the center Left’s long-standing criticism of footballers (and other groups associated with popular culture such as evangelicals and rockers) who are accused of undermining democratic forms of life in the city by propagating “negative liberty,” especially among the poor and marginalized sectors of society.3 1. Interview 14. 2. Ibid. 3. Isaiah Berlin, Four Essays on Liberty (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), 122 – 73.


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The goal of this essay is to explore why, during the 2003 municipal elections, so many Porteños (residents of the city of Buenos Aires) transformed the world of football into a “model of and a model for” city government and how they constituted themselves into a new type of citizen: democratic dribblers.4 Studying the subterranean links that surfaced between football and politics in Buenos Aires also provides an opportunity to make sense of the ways that local institutions, in the course of responding to the pressures of neoliberal globalization, are also transforming the age-old relationship between city life and citizenship.5 My essay is in four parts. The first describes how Porteños responded to the social and representational crises brought on by globalization in the years prior to the elections, underscoring why so many of them abandoned political society, became invested in civil society, and organized a variety of associations rooted in local, territorial forms of life. The second discusses the impact of globalization on the world of football, with the bulk of the discussion centered on Boca Juniors, the city’s leading club and known to fans throughout the world as Diego Maradona’s home team. The various sociomoral and administrative reforms that the club was compelled to make in order to survive enabled voters to construe it as a model for city government. These changes also encouraged fans to reaffirm their loyalty to their own club while at the same time predisposing many of them to conceive of each other as members of the same “family of footballers.” In section three, I study the social and representational practices of the 2003 mayoral campaign in order to make sense of how voters, candidates, and their strategists, in the course of fusing the world of football and municipal politics, resignified the elections. In my closing remarks, I return to the center Left’s account of the “footballization” of politics and propose an alternative reading of it.

From early 2000 until mid-2004, Porteños lived through Argentina’s worst crisis of representation to date, as well as a sociopolitical meltdown comparable in magnitude to what they had experienced during the Great Depression of the 1930s.6 After toppling four presidents in an equal number of weeks, Porteños organized scores of neighborhood assemblies and called on their compatriots in other cit4. Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures, (New York: Basic Books, 1973), 93 – 95. 5. Saskia Sassen, The Global City: New York, London, Tokyo (New York: Random House, 1999); James Houston, Cities and Citizenship (Durham, N.C., Duke University Press, 1999). 6. Maristella Svampa, La sociedad excluyente: La Argentina bajo el signo del neoliberalismo (Buenos Aires: Taurus, 2005).


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ies throughout the country to join them in demanding that Congress reform the constitution to enable them to institutionalize direct forms of democracy at the local and national level. Impelled by the crisis, the city’s impoverished middle class established barter networks to exchange goods and services of all types (homemade foods, used clothes, generic drugs, housing, childcare, car repairs). During these years, unemployed strikers wielding iron pipes and wooden clubs often blockaded major avenues throughout the city and exit ramps on the beltway surrounding it, bringing traffic to a halt and paralyzing urban life. They were joined by bank depositors who marched through the city’s financial district and took turns assaulting banks (foreign and national) in retaliation for having frozen and devalued accounts. Prior to the debacle, Buenos Aires had been the globalized south’s most integrated and middle-class city, but in a short lapse of time it suffered record levels of economic pauperization, social segregation, and spatial fragmentation. The number and size of shantytowns and gated communities soared, as the streets of the city became inundated with families (including children) who spent their entire day scavenging through rubbish heaps in search of metal and paper products to resell to recycling plants. In most neighborhoods, local residents established soup kitchens to feed this late-modern tribe of huntergatherers who had resurfaced in this new ice age of neoliberal globalization.

Many Porteños, including Hector, who lived through this debacle severed whatever ties they once had to Argentina’s oldest, most important political parties (Peronists, Civic Radicals); turned their backs on government institutions; and became committed to direct democracy (and intensely skeptical of electoral democracy). Their involvement in neighborhood assemblies and other types of local associations also led countless Porteños to shift from a state-centered notion of citizenship based on legal, civic, and social rights, in T. H. Marshall’s sense, to a conception of citizenship rooted in civil society and based on mutual recognition and communal belonging.7 Porteños experienced this shift in slightly different ways. One group, including Hector as well as a great many radical democrats, abandoned political society and invested themselves in football clubs and one or another type of local association. But the majority of Porteños did not follow this path. Instead, they remained 7. T. H. Marshall, Class, Citizenship, and Social Development (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964).


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active in political society and participated in municipal elections, although they now filtered and framed them in relation to football. These Porteños voted for Commitment for Change (Compromiso para el Cambio), a center-right coalition that was led by Mauricio Macri, president of Boca, which they had now transformed into a model of and a model for city government. This fusion of football and politics enabled them to bridge the chasm that now separated civil society and political society, with implications for the way that a large number of Porteños would make sense of democracy, citizenship, and institutional affiliation. This struck me as puzzling for three reasons. Since the 1920s, local civic associations of one type or another (public libraries, community development groups, neighborhood self-help groups, etc.) have played a major role in Buenos Aires’ municipal elections; however, this was the first time that football clubs occupied a central role in them.8 Second, since the mid-1990s, the center Left has been a dominant influence in Buenos Aires’ political society. But in the 2003 elections, the center Right, in the midst of the crisis, was able to secure a record number of votes by relying on the social and symbolic ties it had to the world of football. In contrast, the center-left coalition, Porteño Power (Fuerza Porteño), which had close ties with neighborhood assemblies and other radical associations from civil society, was unable to enlist their support. Third, although these radical groups provided Porteños a place to practice direct democracy, this experience did not generate an alternative model of political life, in contrast to football clubs, which contributed to restoring the citizenry’s faith in electoral democracy. Not since the onset of military rule in 1976 had electoral democracy suffered such a profound crisis of legitimacy. These three shifts — in organizational form (from one or another type of local civic association to football clubs), in political orientation (from center-left to center-right), and in conception of democracy (from direct to electoral) — are related to the way that the family of footballers in Buenos Aires responded to globalization and the various local crises associated with it.

8. Leandro Gutiérrez and Luís A. Romero, Sectores populares y cultura política. Buenos Aires en la entreguerra (Buenos Aires, Editorial Sudamericana, 1995); Luciano De Privitello, Vecinos y Ciudadanos: política y sociedad en la Buenos Aires de entreguerras (Buenos Aires: Siglo XXI, 2003) 105 – 83; Omar Acha, “Sociedad civil y sociedad política durante el primer peronismo,” Desarrollo Económico 44, no. 174 (2004): 199 – 230; Luciano de Privitello and Luís Alberto Romero, “Organizaciones de la sociedad civil, tradiciones cívicas y cultura política: El caso de Buenos Aires, 1912 – 1976,” Revista de Historia, I-1 (Fall 2005): 1 – 34.


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With nine first-division teams, an equal number of world-class stadiums (seating capacity: 361,000) and roughly one hundred and thirty games per season, Buenos Aires is one of the most football-centered cities in the world.9 Approximately 85 percent of Porteños describe themselves as fans of a local team. In 2003, at the peak of the crisis, 3 million of them (total population: 2.8 million) went to the stadium to cheer for their team.10 Porteños also enjoy watching football on television. Fourteen of the fifteen top-rated programs are wholly dedicated to the sport, representing a total of one hundred hours of programming per week. Roughly 47 percent of men and 17 percent women view one of these programs three or more times a week; another 35 percent of men and 31 percent of women tune in once or twice a week; the remaining 18 percent of men and 52 percent of women never view them.11 Just as the Balinese are deeply passionate about fighting cocks, Porteños are emotionally invested when it comes to dribbling balls.12 Because football clubs have been constitutive of Porteño public life since the turn of the last century (far longer than any political party), the socioeconomic and representational crises brought on by neoliberalism took on an added dimension. In this country of “immigrants, the emergence of the universal vote, the expansion of radicalism and Peronism, and growing unionization, the club was the most massive and frequent form of voluntary association. As if it were a true social mania, beginning at the turn of the (last) century and continuing until four decades later, a multitude of clubs appeared in each neighborhood . . . , with each of them responsible for organizing recreational, leisure, athletic, and social life of local residents.”13 Despite the many and varied changes that football clubs expe9. The number of first-division teams in Buenos Aires varies slightly from year to year due to the system of relegation-ascension based on the number of points accumulated by each squad during the season. Other football-centered cities (Sao Paulo; Milan, Rome, and Turin; London, Manchester, and Liverpool) have two first-division teams, one or two stadiums, and rarely host more than sixty games per season. Rio de Janeiro is an exception, with four clubs, three stadiums, and eighty or so games per season. But Rio has a population of 6 million. For information on football clubs around the world, see Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia, wikipedia.org. 10. Subsecretaría de seguridad en espectáculos futbolísticos, 2004: Una año más por un fútbol en paz (Buenos Aires: Ministerio del Interior, 2005). 11. Gaspar Zímerman, “Un país con los ojos llenos de fútbol,” Clarín, March 19, 1997; “Sobredosis de fútbol en TV,” Clarín, October 1, 1996; Adriana Martínez Vivot and Eduardo Ovalles, “Fútbol como fenómeno social,” in Nueva Mayoría: Investigaciones, ed. Rosendo Fraga (Buenos Aires: Centro de Estudios de la Nueva Mayoría, 1997), 3 – 6. 12. Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures, 412 – 54. 13. Ariel Scher, “Las manos de unos pocos,” Página 12, July 15, 1994.


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rienced over the century, they have remained the most significant and enduring form of associative life in Buenos Aires. Moreover, they have continued to operate as member-owned civic groups rather than as private corporations, which has become the norm throughout the rest of Latin America and Europe.14 Members of football clubs in Buenos Aires enjoy, without charge or for a nominal fee, a broad range of activities and services, including unlimited use of their club’s multisport complex where they can practice or learn a number of sports (weight lifting, martial arts, swimming, basketball, paddleball, volleyball, martial arts, aerobics) under the supervision of trained instructors. Clubs also have a small staff of doctors and nurses that offer routine checkups and specialized care (pediatrics, gynecological, odontological, kinesiological) as well as a pharmacy where generic drugs are sold at a substantial discount. Most clubs offer members introductorylevel courses in computer science and English, afterschool tutoring in reading and math, lecture series and theatre workshops for senior citizens, adult education, and a certificate in childcare and needlework to enable the unemployed amongst them to secure a job. In addition, nearly all first-division clubs in Buenos Aires have outreach programs that provide needy families from the surrounding neighborhood with scholarships so that they can join the club; year-round sports clinics and summer camps for their children; and community kitchens that serve daily breakfast and afternoon snacks to hundreds of children and senior citizens and provide them bags of foodstuffs each month.15 During President Carlos Menem’s government (in the 1990s), despite repeated attempts by the executive, legislative, and judicial branches to privatize the football clubs, they remained the only public institution in the country that succeeded in defying the decade-long campaign launched against them.16 However, in order to survive and preserve their status as civic associations, clubs were forced to adopt radical measures.17 Some declared bankruptcy to prevent creditors from foreclosing on long-overdue debts and gaining ownership of them; others subcontracted various of their money-making activities (television rights, merchandising of club products) to private investors while retaining control of the club; still oth14. F. C. Schalke in the German city of Gelsenkirchen, along with F. C. Barcelona and Real Madrid in Spain, remain Europe’s only member-owned civic associations. 15. For a detailed description, see the annual reports (Memorias y Balances) published between 1995 and 2002 by Boca, River Plate, Vélez-Sarsfield, Huracán, Independiente, and San Lorenzo. 16. Gustavo Rozano and Leonardo Morales, “Voces y contactos,” Clarín, March 11, 2000. 17. Juan Manuel Compte, “El fútbol local no seduce a los inversores grandes,” Clarín, February 12, 2001. Argentina’s top twenty football clubs owe a combined total of U.S.$ 341 million. Most of them are behind schedule in paying their debts.


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ers raised monthly fees and reduced the number of benefits and services provided to members.18 All of them had to export and sell their most talented players to European teams and use the income to liquidate their debts. Most clubs employed several of these strategies, with Boca proving to be the most successful in combining them in order to preserve its status as a civic organization.

Boca Juniors’ success in reforming itself in the midst of the crises is, in my judgment, the reason that Porteños from all walks of life and different football clubs came to consider it as a model for city government. None of the other communitybased, radical groups that surfaced during the crisis (neighborhood assemblies, barter networks) offered them the same. Although they were committed to direct democracy and Ibarra had promised them that if elected mayor he would, following the Porto Alegre example in Brazil, institutionalize “participatory budgeting” in Buenos Aires, these radical proposals generated little enthusiasm among the Porteño electorate. During the crisis, Boca’s president, Mauricio Macri, with backing from the executive council and the legislative assembly, raised monthly dues and began to charge members a flat fee for using the club’s athletic facilities, its medical services, and for enrolling in its courses.19 The club also trimmed or abolished some of its community programs. But the most radical reforms were aimed at changing the moral and administrative practices within the club. At the end of his first term as president of Boca, Macri described the demoralization that existed in the club prior to his taking office: In our country, the code of ethics has been breached not only by politicians, it has also been violated by unionists and entrepreneurs. This ethical fracture runs horizontally [throughout society and all its institutions], which is why [we now] allow anything to happen anywhere. . . . When I took office, Boca was in a complete state of anarchy. Everyone had an opinion about everything: the players, the coaches, the employees, the

18. Gustavo Veiga, Fútbol limpio, negocios turbios (Buenos Aires: Astralib, 2002). 19. As of 2004, Boca Juniors had roughly sixty-one thousand dues-paying members in addition to the many more thousands of loyal fans who, because of the crisis, could no longer afford to pay for their monthly dues but who regularly attended matches. Situated in the poor neighborhood of La Boca, this club remains identified with the working poor (its rival, River Plate Club, located in the neighborhood of Nuñez, is identified with the middle class) although many of its affluent and middle class members have adopted the club’s plebeian identity as their own.


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members of the Executive Council. No one had a clear idea of what was their role in the club.20 Macri and his supporters introduced a number of reforms aimed at making players, the executive council, and fans understand the duties and responsibilities they had toward each other. Prior to Macri’s presidency, Boca was often referred to by journalists, club members, and players alike as a cabaret or a conventicle (a type of low-income housing found in the neighborhood of La Boca and associated with the sale of drugs and other illegal activities) due to the disorder and demoralization that prevailed at all levels of the club. Star players, such as Diego Maradona, included a clause in their contracts that exempted them from many of the rules and norms that all the other players had to observe (punctual attendance at practices and at squad meetings, refraining from criticizing the coaches and club officers in public interviews, doping inspections, nightly curfews). They also demanded inflated salaries and large bonuses regardless of their performance on the field. Under Macri’s leadership and with support from the council and assembly, Boca stripped these star players of their privileges, drastically reduced their salaries and bonuses, and reminded them that they were employees of the club, rather than celebrities.21 After a year and half of bitter dispute, Maradona and several other leading players resigned from the club, sending shock waves among the fans who, nevertheless, agreed with Macri that the reforms underway were necessary to ensure the club’s survival. The Macri-controlled council and assembly also implemented reforms to improve the situation of junior players, who had always been treated as second class citizens in the club. Until then, Boca had preferred to buy experienced players from other clubs who, although expensive, improved greatly the chance of winning on the field instead of promoting its own juniors, a far riskier strategy for the club that reduced its chances of success. In economic terms, the promotion of juniors was less costly, however, in social terms it required a long-term commitment on the part of everyone in the club who, instead of focusing on immediate results, would have to prioritize the social and moral development of players and their gradual integration into the senior squad. Macri explained, “When I am able to have players (on my senior squad) from the junior team who I have educated and whose only obsession is to win for Boca, then I will have gained the moral 20. Any Ventura, “Mauricio Macri: contra la pared,” El Gráfico, March 29, 2000. 21. “El conventillo,” Página 12, December 14, 1995; “Soñar es un gran proyecto,” El Gráfico, December 26, 1995.


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authority that is required to ask them to stay and play in our squad for three more years. Today, I do not have this authority to request this from any of them.”22 Many in the club attributed the lack of esprit de corps among players in the senior squad (many of whom had been purchased from other clubs) and the recent dispute between them and Boca’s officials to this issue of moral education: It is not enough for our players to be talented. Our evaluation of them must be holistic, by which I mean that they have to be judged . . . as players as well as persons. This requires training and education. A junior player who does not keep up with their study will not be able to play for Boca. In order to remain in the squad, they must obtain a high school degree. . . . For a player, the most difficult challenge is how to remain a part of Boca, not how to become a part of it. We must teach our players how to overcome the [corrosive influence] of success, . . . wealth, fame, and women.23 Under Macri’s leadership, Boca was able to reform social and moral relations among players as well as between players, coaches, and members of the council and assembly. Macri’s campaign against hooliganism and his architectural reform of Boca’s stadium contributed to altering the social composition of the club. Although hooligans represented only a tiny minority (under 1 percent), they exerted an enormous influence on the club. They were responsible for driving away thousands of members and their families from the stadium who feared that they might become victims of mob violence. Boca’s hooligans preyed on fans during matches and frequently visited the stadium after-hours to extort and harass players, coaches, and club officers, extracting from them “cash donations” and hundreds of tickets which they then resold to finance their activities (selling drugs, providing food and cigarettes to members in jail, and traveling to overseas games, including the World Cup). Macri’s administration purged the most notorious hooligans from the club’s roster, banned them from entering the stadium, and stationed private guards in strategic places so that they would not be able to harass players, coaches, and officers. These efforts reduced significantly (although they did not eradicate) the threat from hooligans, as indicated by the dramatic increase in the number of fans, including families, attending home games. The Macri-controlled council and assembly voted to modernize Boca’s stadium (La Bombonera), which had not been reformed in over fifty years and was so deteriorated that it had been deemed unsafe by building inspectors. In addition 22. Miguel A. Rubio, “¿Macri: como sigue este partido?” El Gráfico, December 17, 1996. 23. Natalio Gorín, “Soy un tano calentón,” El Gráfico, July 9, 1996.


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to repairing the stadium’s infrastructure, the council spent large sums of money building new amenities (handicap ramps, elevators, etc.) and renovating old ones (snack bars, restrooms, bleachers, etc.). Seating capacity was also increased, with the majority of new seats built in the relatively expensive box section of the bleachers as well as in the sector reserved for women, families, the handicapped, and lifetime members, thereby reducing the number of inexpensive seats available to low-income fans. These architectural reforms cost nearly 4.5 million U.S. dollars but did not cost the club any money; all the money came from the auction of the new VIP seats to affluent members.24 The antihooligan campaign and architectural reforms contributed to altering the social composition of stadium-goers. Although the majority of Boca fans continued to come from the poor and working-class sectors of society, these reforms attracted a significant number of middle-class and affluent families to the stadium (22 percent affluent; 38 percent middle-class; 40 percent poor).25 A journalist who visited La Bombonera after the reforms had been completed described the social profile of stadium-goers: Two nations have come together in La Bombonera under the same blue and gold banner [Boca’s colors]; those who belong to the first, having abandoned all hope of stealing into the stadium, spend their days scrounging for small change in order to pay for a cheap 10-peso seat in the “popular” section of the bleachers; those who belong to the second nation have it far easier — all they need to do is to reach for their check-book inside the pocket of their suit. . . . In between these two nations, are those who are striving to ascend from the popular section of the bleachers to the box seats and those who are struggling to avoid descending from these seats into the bleachers.26 The decline of hooliganism and the architectural reforms diversified the socioethnic profile of Boca, making it resemble the composition of the city. Macri also reformed the club’s governance structure. Until then, the council, composed of dedicated and enthusiastic fans, had been solely responsible for the sale and purchase of players. In their drive to become champions, the council spent large sums of money in purchasing star players, even though the club was 24. “Que fácil ganan la plata,” Página 12, May 2, 1996. 25. Adriana Martínez Vivot and Eduardo Ovalles, “El 39% es hincha de Boca y el 26% de River,” in Nueva Mayoría: Investigaciones, ed. Rosendo Fraga (Buenos Aires: Centro de Estudios de la Nueva Mayoría, 2004), 2 – 5. 26. “Los palcos del castigo,” Clarín, May 21, 1996.


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in financial crisis. This was the main reason that Boca was heavily indebted; the other reason was that most of these deals were done behind closed doors and included an informal “surcharge” that was paid directly to council members, who felt justified in collecting it as compensation for all the money and time they donated to the club. With support from the assembly, Macri eliminated this practice by reforming the statute of the club. Prior to assuming office, council members would now have to deposit in Boca’s treasury 20 percent of the amount of funds in its account (roughly 3.6 million U.S. dollars). If at the end of their tenure the club had overspent its budget, then the corresponding amount would be deducted from the deposit.27 This measure encouraged council members to become fiscally responsible and transparent in their dealings, however, it also deprived the club’s nonaffluent members from seeking office. Under Macri’s leadership, Boca also created an investment fund.28 The fund’s members, a group of ex-players, coaches, and bankers, assumed responsibility for evaluating the transfer of each player to and from Boca, thereby relieving the council of this particular task. The members of the fund evaluated each player in relation to the athletic needs and financial situation of the club rather than the fan’s desire for instant success. Each transfer was discussed by all 1500 members of the fund, enabling them to monitor each other’s actions, thereby curbing the level of corruption. Income from each transaction was registered and audited by an accounting firm. Moreover, whatever profit was made from each transfer was divided between members of the fund and Boca, with the former assuming full responsibility for any economic losses, relieving the club of any responsibility. Over time, Macri and his supporters, because of the success of their reforms, gained considerable influence in the council and assembly. However, some of these same reforms also contributed, unintentionally, to strengthening the system of checks and balances within Boca. Because the Macri family is one of the wealthiest in Argentina, with financial interests in numerous firms, the council and assembly, with Macri’s approval, prohibited Boca from transacting business with any members of the family.29 In 1997, at the peak of Macri’s influence, the 27. “Denuncian discriminación,” Noticias, September 23, 1999. 28. “La Xeneize cotiza en la Bolsa,” Página 12, December 7, 1996. 29. Carlos Voto, “No alcanza con ser presidente,” El Gráfico, May 26, 1998. The Macri family, owner of the holding company Macri Commercial Enterprises (SOCMA), has controlling shares in fifty agro-industrial firms that generate four billion U.S. dollars in profit per year and provide employment to roughly twenty-three thousand persons. Under President Menem, Macri’s father, Franco, president of the company, was reputed to have been involved in several shady deals and had to testify in various high-profile court cases dealing with corruption. He was convicted of tax


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assembly rejected, for the first time in the club’s history, the president’s annual report and hired a team of accountants to audit Boca’s financial records.30 Under Macri’s leadership, discussions during meetings by members of the assembly and council became increasingly contestatory; the average duration of each meeting went from fifteen minutes to four hours.31 The assembly and council also allocated money for the publication of a monthly magazine for fans to keep them informed about club life and to give them a medium to express their concerns. During Macri’s tenure, Boca subcontracted different club activities to private firms in order to make them profitable, but without changing Boca’s juridical status as a civic association. In 1997, Macri entrusted the four hundred or so products (everything from sports clothes and home furniture to prophylactics, television rights, player-sponsored commercials, and advertisements) that carry Boca’s logo to Multi-Deportes, generating 30 million U.S. dollars in revenues in 1998 for the club. Under Macri’s leadership, Boca signed several other lucrative deals with private firms. In 2000, the club decided to create its own firm, Boca Crece, enabling it to gain a larger share of the profit from the marketing and merchandising of its product. Boca Crece also launched a new line of products on the local market, including a wine label, burial plots in a local cemetery, and a fleet of taxi cabs, and also diversified and increased its presence in the international market.32 Macri and his supporters succeeded in preserving the club’s status as a civic association by adopting a variety of market-centered measures which they then used to protect Boca from the ravages of neoliberalism and the privatization campaign launched against it by the state. The fact that members voted overwhelmingly for Macri and his representatives during the 1999 elections for president, assembly, and council is an indication of the broad support they had in Boca.

During the crisis, football clubs remained one of the few public institutions that Porteños continued to identify with. Javier Castrilli, a referee nicknamed the

evasion and of smuggling cars and car parts into the country. Macri’s company also benefited, during Menem’s government, from the privatization of several state-owned firms, including the Central Post Office, Cuyana Gas, and Autopistas del Sol. 30. “Le rechazaron el balance a Macri,” Clarín, October 3, 1997. 31. Matías Aldo, “Macri: 100 por 100,” El Gráfico, July 1, 1997. 32. Christian Leblebidjian, “Boca también juega afuera de la cancha,” La Nación, September 18, 2004.


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“Sheriff of Football” because of his strict enforcement of game rules and etiquette on the field, was the first to discuss clubs in relation to the crisis of representation: “It is impossible to think about football . . . without also taking into account the breach that now exists between our institutions . . . and society. . . . The phrase ‘crisis of representation,’ which is used so often [in public discussions], is another way of expressing the many broken promises and betrayed commitments that have led to our situation. . . . Our complete and utter disbelief in all of our representatives has, however, also provoked in us a need to feel that we belong to and are part of [a larger community] which will not betray us. . . . Amid so much exclusion, marginalization, and deception, many of us have turned to football, making it the center of our existence. . . . Football is the perfect symbol for conveying what we mean by the term ‘belonging’ [pertenencia]. A fan is loyal to his team until the end of his days.”33 Throughout the debacle, Porteños remained identified with their club, in part, because their loyalty to it was rooted in “communitarian” forms of life that were based on family and neighborhood. According to several studies, team loyalty is nearly always passed on from fathers to sons or uncles to nephews — and also, nowadays, to nieces and daughters — and usually lasts for an entire lifetime, regardless of whether the squad wins or loses its games.34 In their study of British football, the London-based office of Salomon Brothers, the prestigious accounting firm, used the phrase, “fan equity” to describe this type of loyalty, characterizing it as “an irrationally loyal customer base.”35 Although Porteños remained loyal to their clubs, they did so despite the sense of disenchantment they experienced toward them, not because, as Castrilli claims, the world of football had become a refuge for them. As I noted earlier, most clubs were now exporting their best players to Europe, making fans extremely disappointed and keenly aware of the extent to which football had succumbed to the forces of neoliberal globalization and professionalization. Fans became even more distraught when clubs, as part of their effort to economize, also began leasing and renting each other’s players instead of purchasing new ones. For example, during the 1995 season, 27 percent of all players in most first-division squads had been rented; during championship games, which attract the largest number 33. Javier Castrilli, “La difícil construcción de un espectador del futuro,” La Voz del Interior, July 15, 2004. 34. Adriana Martínez Vivot and Eduardo Ovalles, “Dos tercios de los socios de los clubes de fútbol son hinchas del mismo equipo que sus padres,” in Nueva Mayoría: Investigaciones, ed. Rosendo Fraga (Buenos Aires: Centro de Estudios de la Nueva Mayoría, 2005), 2 – 4. 35. Salomon Brothers, “UK Football Clubs: Valuable Assets?” Global Equity Research: Leisure (London: Salomon Brothers, 1997), 9.


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of spectators, the percentage of leased players tripled.36 But instead of forsaking their clubs, these and other changes encouraged fans, paradoxically, to reaffirm their commitment toward them. They reconstituted their sense of loyalty to the club and to the broader world of football by borrowing from and fusing certain key elements from communitarianism (personal loyalty, collective solidarity) and neoliberalism (ethopolitics, managerialism, outsourcing). The sale, rental, and circulation of players among first-division teams enabled fans to revise their attachment to their club. Until recently, the majority of fans had assumed that the identity of the club resided in the team, but with the commercialization of players it had become increasingly difficult to associate the two. Since most players on the squad were now hired hands or, in this case, hired legs, fans no longer deemed them to be the legitimate representatives of their club. Fans now designated each other as the authentic guardians of the club and stewards of its venerable traditions. Roque Molina, a 62-year-old, middle-class family man, who was raised in La Boca and works as a proxy for an import-export firm, explains: “Players no longer belong to a club. I don’t even consider them to be fans of the club; they don’t have any special [attachments or reasons] to play for the club. They are professionals; they are willing to play for any squad [as long as they are paid what they demand]. Fans are the only ones who remain passionate [about the team]. They are the only ones who suffer for their club; players, in contrast, come and go.”37 The neoliberal crisis that now afflicted the world of football predisposed fans to transfer their sense of loyalty away from players toward each other. They renewed their sense of horizontal identification with each other and their shared commitment to the club at the stadium during games, consolidating their symbolic authority in the world of football while further undermining that of the players and club officials. The commercialization and circulation of players also encouraged fans to construe each other as fictive kin, members of the same family of footballers, rather than only as rivals, with consequences for the way Porteños classified each other in political life. In the words of Roberto Fontanarrosa, legendary cartoonist and sports writer: Years ago, no Argentine politician would dare reveal publicly whether he was a fan of this or that team for fear of alienating voters; if a politician was a fan of Boca, the fans from River would not vote for him, and vice-versa. But this is no longer the case; today, a politician always makes 36. Pablo Abiad, “Vivir de préstamos,” Clarín, October 14, 1995. 37. Daniel Popowski, “Dados Vuelta,” Mística, November 28, 1998.


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known his affiliation. . . . This serves to generate identification between them and voters, especially among the older electorate; politicians who fail to do this run the risk of losing support because the majority of citizens are fans. An Argentine who does not like football is slightly suspect.38 Fans consider themselves members of the football family, and this has led politicians to reveal their team colors. This is the reason that the most salient difference between voters who supported Macri and those who supported Ibarra was whether or not they belonged to this family. Among Macri’s supporters, 95 percent described themselves as fans of a first-division team; the remaining 5 percent denied having loyalty to any club. In contrast, among Ibarra’s supporters, only 58 percent described themselves as fans; the other 42 percent had no interest in the sport.39 This difference of 37 percentage points between the two camps is a rough indicator of the significant role that football identities played in the municipal elections. Football not only divided Porteño voters, it also brought together fans from rival clubs. A study completed during the mayoral campaign revealed that among Macri’s supporters, 48 percent described themselves as loyal fans of Boca; another 28 percent as fans of their nearest rival, River Plate; and the remaining 25 percent as fans of one of the other first-division clubs.40 Although Porteños identify with different clubs, this did not prevent them from coming together as members of the football family to support Boca’s president and mayoral candidate, Mauricio Macri.

The city of Buenos Aires is the second-largest electoral district and has the most educated and politicized voters in the country. Both the center-left and centerright parties (and coalitions), in and out of government, attribute almost as much importance to its municipal elections as they do to presidential elections; whichever group controls the city invariably exerts an enormous political influence on the rest of the country. In 2003, the mayoral campaign began on March 27 and ended on September 14. From the very outset, Porteño Power, the center-left coalition led by the then 38. José Miguel Jaque, “La pequeña sociedad de Fontanarosa,” La Nación (Santiago, Chile), November 7, 2004. 39. Catterberg y asociados, “Intención de voto a jefe de gobierno” (press release, Buenos Aires, August 2003), 1 – 3. 40. Catterberg y asociados, “Intención de voto,” 1 – 3.


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current mayor, Anibal Ibarra (Ibarrists), and Commitment for Change, the centerright coalition led by Mauricio Macri (Macrists), put forward alternative visions of public life. The Ibarrists portrayed the Macrists as neoliberals committed to privatizing social services and dismantling public institutions: The city confronts a stark choice: to privatize or to protect the public domain [lo público]. Macri symbolizes what I mean by privatization. For the past twenty years, he and all the other economic oligarchs, those who (during Menem’s presidency) became wealthy overnight from doing business with the state, have used their wealth to bribe our political leaders. They are responsible for undermining our democratic institutions. These privatizers have now set their sights on Buenos Aires and are getting ready to steal our grandmother’s jewelry. But we will not let them. We will not allow them to deprive us of our public schools, our public hospitals, and our state, which has done so much to improve the quality of life for all citizens. . . . This is what the debate is about. Our city is the first to have to face these issues, but soon enough the entire nation will also have to decide whether to privatize or preserve the public domain.41 These elections were about much more than municipal government; they were also about the type of imagined nation — solidaristic or individualistic — that Porteño wanted for themselves and their children. For the Macrists, the basic issue was not whether to shrink or expand city government, but whether it was possible to create an efficient and professional bureaucracy instead of continuing to squander public funds on the existing one, which they described as corrupt and incompetent: The central issue that is under debate in these municipal elections is about the need for the state to regain its influence in urban life. We need a dynamic and intelligent state, one that is capable of administering public resources in an austere manner. We must not use public funds in order to continue subsidizing ñoquis (political appointees who rarely work but regularly collect their paychecks) linked to the city’s political machine, or in order to pay for the services of private consultants (whose only job is to manage the mayor’s image). Whatever funds we have should go toward paying for public works and creating real jobs. This is the only way that we can improve the quality of life for all our people.42 41. Santiago Rodríguez, “No hay mucha diferencia entre Macri y Barrionuevo,” Página 12, September 3, 2002. 42. Mauricio Macri, “La obligación del estado,” Clarín, July 14, 2003.


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Second Round (%)

First Round (%) Party Candidates Commitment for Change (Macri) Porteño Power (Ibarra) Other Parties* Unmarked/Annulled Ballots

Mayor

City Council

Congress

Mayor

37 33 27 3

35 32 29 4

35 33 29 3

47 53 — —

*Under this category I have included (with percentage of mayoral votes): Autodeterminación y Libertad (12), Recrear (9), Unión Cívica Radical (2), Izquierda Unida (1), Partido Obrero (1), and Partido Socialista (2).

Throughout the campaign, the Macrists emphasized that they were in favor of public institutions and social spending but against the type of “populist” state that existed in Buenos Aires. This debate on the relative importance of state and market forces in shaping public life framed the municipal elections; however, as I argue later in the essay, in the course of fusing football and politics, the candidates, their campaign staff, and the voters contributed to resignifying them.

The municipal elections of 2003 consisted of two rounds. The first was held on August 24. In addition to electing a mayor, Porteños voted to fill all sixty seats in the city’s legislature; they also voted to fill twelve of the twenty-four seats for deputies, who were responsible for representing the city of Buenos Aires in the lower house of the National Congress. Table 1 summarizes the result of these three races (mayor, city council, Congress).43 In the first round, Macri won the mayoral election with 37 percent of the votes, placing him four points ahead of his nearest rival, Ibarra, who had 33 percent of the votes. The remaining five mayoral candidates received 27 percent of the votes. Roughly 32 percent of all Porteños who were eligible to vote abstained in the first round (and 30 percent in the second). Stated differently, the abstentionist bloc came in third place, trailing close behind Macri and Ibarra, but far ahead of all the other candidates. This was the largest number of abstentionists elected to date

43. For official data on the elections, see Ministerio del Interior, Elecciones de Jefe de Gobierno de la ciudad de Buenos Aires, 2003 (Buenos Aires: Dirección Nacional Electoral, 2003).


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in Buenos Aires, and takes on special significance if one considers that voting in Argentina is legally mandated and sanctioned.44 The outcome of the two other races — city legislature and National Congress — in this first round was similar to the result of the mayoral race. Commitment’s slate of candidates for city legislature and National Congress won against Porteño’s slate by three and two percentage points, respectively. The other five parties received the remaining 29 percent of the votes. Because none of the mayoral candidates secured more than 50 percent of the votes in the first round, a second round (ballotage) was held on September 14. The results of this election also appear in table 1. In this second round, Ibarra of Porteños Power won (53 percent) against Macri of Commitment to Change (47 percent) by 6 points. Many voters from poor neighborhoods in the city’s southern corridor who had previously voted for Macri transferred their vote to Ibarra. President Kirchner’s newly elected government, which at the time had the support of 85 percent of the electorate, sent six of its ministers and an army of operatives to campaign for Ibarra, thereby nationalizing the municipal elections. In addition to mobilizing voters and providing resources, the president and his ministers appeared frequently alongside Ibarra at public rallies, including the one that was held in Villa 21 – 23, a shantytown of 18,000 persons on the southern fringe between Parque Patricios, Pompeya, and Barracas, where the Macrists had won by a wide margin in the first but lost in the second round.45

Most of the fans whom I interviewed from the different neighborhoods throughout the city in the months immediately following the municipal elections framed them in relation to football. Felipe (age 38), a fan of Boca, was born and raised in a small town in the province of Entre Ríos and moved to Buenos Aires when he was a young man; at the time of the interview he lived with his second wife and three children in the poor neighborhood of Barracas in a rented apartment in a rundown building several blocks from the stadium. An unlicensed plumber, Felipe had a full-time job but until recently had been without stable employment 44. After exiting from the booth, election officials stamp the identity card of each voter. Those whose cards remain unmarked risk having to pay a penalty fee whenever they have to present their card in order to complete an official transaction (change of domicile, passport renewal, marriage license). This law is enforced randomly, which does not make it any less threatening. 45. Marcelo Helfgot, “Ibarra, con el apoyo total del gobierno, Clarín, August 15, 2003; and his “Kirchner visito una villa y le dió a Ibarra un nuevo espaldazo,” Clarín, August 21, 2003.


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for a year and a half; during that time, he was on public relief and worked at odd jobs (changas). When I asked him why he had voted for Macri, he responded: He turned the club around, and is going to do the same for the city. Go see for yourself. . . . Macri reformed the stadium and the Yellow House [residential home for junior players]; he has done a lot for the kids from the provinces who are recruited to play for the club. Whenever family members visit me [from Entre Ríos], I always take them on a tour of Boca. . . . Today, if the club is losing money, then its officers pay the debt. . . . During the campaign, Macri visited our neighborhood; he told us that working in Boca had changed him. I could tell this was true. His family is rich, but he is a neighborhood type of guy. . . . Boca has to do more for the neighborhood, but in order to help us he has to be elected mayor; the club cannot improve Barracas on its own. I voted for Macri, although I have a feeling that if he had become mayor, he would have behaved like any other politician. He would have forgotten about us. . . . This is [also] the main difference between being a club president and a mayor; the former cannot ignore the fans, the latter can [ignore voters].46 Like Felipe, many of the other Boca fans whom I interviewed in the city’s poor neighborhoods praised Macri for the administrative reforms that he implemented in the club but criticized him for his dealings with local residents. Despite this criticism, the majority of them voted for Macri. María, a fifty-four-year-old single mother of three, is director of an afterschool program in the neighborhood of La Boca. She and her staff provide hot meals to poor children. In order to make money, the program bakes daily four hundred or so blue and gold cakes (Boca’s team colors) and sells them to tourists, visitors, and residents. Although she and everyone in her family is a Boca fan, María voted for Ibarra: Before Macri became president of Boca, neighborhood kids did not have to pay to use the club’s pool, gymnasium, athletic field, and other facilities. But now he privatized and does not allow them inside. He is interested only in making money, and more money. Since the crisis, Ibarra stopped the ball (of privatization). . . . If we (in the afternoon program) have succeeded in coming this far in the past four years it is because he helped us.47

46. Interview 23. 47. Interview 18.


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Maria and Felipe are familiar with the internal life of the club as well as its influence on the community, and although they disagree in their evaluation of Macri’s policies in Boca, their judgment of him as mayoral candidate was based largely on them. Fernando, a forty-six-year-old fan of Nuevo Chicago in the poor neighborhood of Mataderos, which once boasted the world’s largest stockyards that now resemble elaborate, empty wooden mazes, works as a janitor/handyman in an apartment building near the football stadium close to where he and the other members of his extended family have lived most of their lives. Like all the members in his family, Fernando became a fan of Chicago “before birth”; although he can no longer afford to pay the club’s membership dues, he still attends most home games. Throughout the interview, Fernando emphasized that he was an “authentic Peronist” (not a Menemist). Despite his leftist-populist sympathies, he voted for Macri during the mayoral elections: Just because I am on the left does not mean that I cannot accept conservative ideas. This would make me an ignorant person. . . . Macri has been very good for Boca; he modernized the stadium; best of all, he is always renewing and maintaining all its facilities, not like what happens in my club. He still has to bring hooliganism under control. . . . I wish Macri was president of our club; this is not easy for me to say. . . . Everyone knows that Macri is an entrepreneur, but he is honest, efficient, and gets things done. I don’t give a damn [me chupa un huevo] if he is right-wing or not; look at Ibarra and other lefties [zurditos]; all they do is talk, talk, talk. I am interested in results; that’s right, results. If Macri manages to do for Buenos Aires just 30 percent of what he achieved in Boca, [then the city] will be able to improve by 100 percent.48 Some family members and friends warned Fernando that if Macri became mayor, he would privatize everything (public hospitals, schools, etc.). But each time Fernando responded the same way: “Even if Macri tried to do this, he would not last long; we would topple him in the same way that we toppled de la Rúa [when he was president of the country].”49 In looking to Boca for inspiration on how to reform his own club of Nuevo Chicago, Fernando became convinced that football was also relevant for understanding municipal politics. After twenty-five years of working as a building inspector for the city government, Guillermo, a 68-year-old family man who lives in the middle-class neigh48. Interview 27. 49. Ibid.


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borhood of Flores, in the city’s center, has been a fan of Vélez Sarsfield since birth. Despite his sympathy for Macri, he decided to vote for Ibarra for reasons that only Guillermo could have explained. His closest friends, he said, are duespaying members of Boca, and over the years, they have kept him informed of the changes that Macris has made to the club. Guillermo approves of them and would even like the president of Vélez to make similar changes in their own club. Guillermo described Macri as a modern person, someone who is ahead of his times; soon, the people will figure out his game plan and want to join his squad. Macri is drastic, a killer [asesino, in this context a positive adjective). My friends in the club [Boca] tell me, and I have also read about it [in the newspaper], that Macri can smell a deal and knows how to make money from it where others cannot; it’s all about mentality. Let me tell you: they brought this Japanese businessman to Boca after the [2002] World Cup — I don’t recall his name — anyway, they brought him over and Macri proposed a deal; he is now making millions from it. He is going to do the same for the city as what he did for the club. . . . Macri slashed the budget for swimming, baseball, and volleyball, which caused Boca to lose money. . . . I would have done the same; everyone has to protect their wallet. . . . Now don’t get me wrong; I did not vote for Macri. I know I should have; instead I voted for Ibarra. If Macri had become mayor, he would have reduced by 50 percent the city’s budget and the number of employees. I have many friends who work for the city and are about to retire. All of us have worked hard all our lives; we deserve a good pension. At my age, I cannot change team colors and play for the other side.50

As I indicated in the previous section, the central issue under debate in the 2003 mayoral elections was, presumably, the degree to which the municipal government should rely on the state and market to structure public life in Buenos Aires. However, in the course of employing football tropes and symbols, the two leading mayoral candidates, their campaign workers, and the voters themselves contributed to resignifying the elections.

50. Interview 9.


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Commitment to Change had launched its political campaign in late March, in an outdoor stadium (Obras Sanitarias) in the middle-class neighborhood of Nuñez, which voted for Macri in both rounds. The rally was attended by roughly thirtyfive hundred supporters from poor, rich, and middle-class neighborhoods. It was the first time that they had assembled in one place as members of Commitment, a coalition that had been created only a few months earlier and which had never before participated in an election. This rally was proof, at least to the supporters, that Commitment was a genuine political force in the city and not just the private delusions of its leadership. Near the front of the stadium on the main stage a dozen or so supporters sat in a row of chairs off to one side and took turns delivering fiery speeches from the podium that stood in the middle of the stage. As they spoke, their larger-than-life images appeared on a screen behind them. The list of speakers, according to a journalist, was far more varied than what the audience had expected and included “well-known professionals, unemployed persons, as well as a militant . . . who had been expelled recently from the Peronist party.”51 Each orator spoke “with evangelical zeal about the faith they had in Macri.” A civil engineer by training, Macri delivered a speech that was loaded with facts and was described as “sober and precise” — in a word, uninspiring.52 His strategists continued to worry about his technocratic, aloof style. Seated in the audience were the well-known goalies from Boca Juniors and River Plate (Raúl Cascini and Ezequiel Gonzales). Macri invited them to join him on stage. They praised Macri for having saved Boca from bankruptcy and assured the audience that, if he was elected mayor, he would do the same for the city. Throughout the evening, most of the speakers, including Macri, repeatedly used the phrase “Passion for Politics,” based on the football chant “Passion for Football” that is sung by Boca fans during matches.53 Toward the end of the rally, a small group of shabbily dressed persons, identified by journalists as Boca fans from Villa Lugano, a poor neighborhood which voted for Commitment in the first but not the second round, unfurled a large banner (trapo) with Macri’s image emblazoned on it and draped it above the exit ramps. This type of banner is to a football fan what a national flag is to a patriotic citizen: a sacred icon representing 51. Fernando Riva Zucchelli, “Macri-Rodríguez Larreta: Un lanzamiento preparado con la precisión de un misil inteligente,” Noticias Urbanas, March 27, 2003. 52. Ibid. 53. Ana Gerschenson, “Contra la guerra sucia del oficialismo,” Clarín, June 23, 2003.


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the community. (Most fights that break out among hooligans in stadiums occur when rival gangs attack and try to capture each other’s banner.) The communicative style of this rally was based on a fusion of politics (ideological speeches, endorsement from public figures) and football (players, slogan, banner). Once the campaign got underway, the Macrists organized scores of town meetings (aimed at community leaders) and focus groups (aimed at specific groups with particular interests, such as trade unions, gay groups, religious congregations, etc.). The three examples discussed below illustrate how football and politics shaped the communicative practices between voters and candidates during these gatherings.54 In mid-August, between the first and second electoral rounds, the president and members of River Plate Football Club invited Mauricio Macri to present his platform to two hundred or so “Chicken” fans (nickname used by River fans). The audience laughed and howled when José Aguilar, the president of River, introduced Macri: “Today is a very special and memorable date for us, because twenty-seven years ago on this very day, we triumphed over Boca and won the 1975 Metropolitan Championship. This evening, we commemorate our victory. I also take enormous pleasure in presenting this man (Macri) . . . who, although not exactly a member of our house is, nonetheless, a friend.”55 Macri was accompanied on stage by Diego Santilli, son of the ex-president (Hugo) of River Plate and brother of the club’s current secretary (Darío), a gesture that would have been appreciated by any Chicken. In his speech, Macri discussed the need to modernize the state, preserve green spaces, and end the type of Tammany Hall cronyism (ñoquis) that had flourished under Ibarra’s administration. Macri turned over the microphone to Santilli, who proceeded to engage in the type of sentimental reminiscing from which football lore is made: When I was sixteen years old, José María Aguilar and Ramiro “Crazyman” Castro, who is in the audience and a legendary Chicken fan, used to take me to the stadium to cheer River [when they played against Boca]. Who would have thought that twenty years later, I would be standing here on stage supporting Boca’s president in his candidacy for mayor. There are

54. For other town meetings and focus groups, see the following articles by Enrique Colombano published in Noticias Urbanas: “Macri se reunió con sindicalistas municipales,” July 23, 2003; “Macri presentó su plan para combatir el delito,” August 6, 2003; “Macri habló para los empresarios Porteños,” August 11, 2003; “Macri hizo campaña con uno de los temas fuertes de Ibarra,” August 19, 2003; and “Macri presentó su plan de desarrollo urbano,” August 22, 2003. 55. Enrique Colombo, La campaña llevó a Macri a lugares insospechados,” Noticias Urbanas, August 14, 2003.


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things that will always separate us, but there are other, stronger things that bring us together, including the passion we share to improve the city of Buenos Aires.56 Santilli reminded the members of the audience that, in addition to being fans of River Plate, they were also Porteños and, as such, had a responsibility to improve city government by supporting Macri and his slate of candidates. The Macrists also organized a gathering in a community dance hall in the middle of Nueva Pompeya, a poor neighborhood on the city’s southern fringe. It was attended by two thousand local residents, many of whom were unemployed and on public relief. They were there to show support for the candidates, partake in the festivities, and have the opportunity to share with friends and strangers endless trays of meat patties (empanadas) and bowls of beef and vegetable stew (locro). Macri reassured the audience that he was in favor of modernizing, not shrinking, the state, contrary to what the Ibarrists claimed.57 Following his speech, Macri asked the audience who among them was a Boca fan; nearly everyone raised their hand and began chanting “Dale Booooca,” dragging the letter o in the first syllable of Boca, which is how it is sung in the stadium, causing the walls of the dance hall to reverberate. As they chanted, Macri walked about the hall, hugging and kissing supporters. Even the press was surprised and commented on Macri’s change in style. His strategists, who for months had been trying to get him to appear more personable, noted approvingly: “Mauricio is softening a bit, he is Peronizing his style.”58 Commitment was invited by the Democratic Progressive Party, which until recently had supported Ibarra’s center-left coalition, to address their rank-and-file members, many of whom had expressed doubts about Macri.59 One of the leaders of the party, Oscar Moscariello, presented his case in favor of Macri: I want to remind all of you that when Macri became president of Boca, it was bankrupt, and it was during his administration that things changed around; today, when the club is invited to play abroad, it earns 270 million U.S. dollars. Ibarra had the opportunity to modernize our schools and our hospitals, but he did nothing. And now it is too late; the value of the U.S. dollar has gone up and we can no longer afford anything. In ethical mat56. Ibid. 57. Ignacio Silvera, “Macri sintió en Pompeya el folclore del pueblo peronista,” Noticias Urbanas, June 28, 2003. 58. Ana Gershenson, La campaña porteña, a todo vapor,” Clarín, June 29, 2003. 59. “Respaldo del PDP a Ibarra,” Clarín, December 6, 1999.


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ters, Anibal Ibarra, I must admit, has not disappointed me; but I consider his administration to have been a failure. Ibarra spends a large part of his time working on his image for the media rather than helping people.60 Macri was then invited to address the audience. After discussing the plight of the poor and the city’s failure to provide them with employment, Macri focused on the international dimension of municipal life and used a somewhat elaborate football metaphor to explain matters. “From the perspective of the international community, we have lost our sense of respect and authority. To have to ask permission from the IMF [International Monetary Fund] as to what we can and cannot do, is like having Sacachispas [a lower-division football team from Villa Soldati] asking Blatter [Secretary General of the International Federation of Football Associations] to organize a championship game for children.”61 According to Macri, foreign investors interpreted the decline of Buenos Aires as indicative of a general moral malaise that now afflicted the country. The Macrists also organized street festivals in no fewer than ten neighborhoods; seven of them were in poor districts (Parque Patricios, Villa Soldati, Villa Luro, Villa Lugano, Barracas, Mataderos, Liniers) in the city’s southern perimeter; the remaining three were in middle-class neighborhoods (Belgrano, Coughlan, Caballito) in the city’s northern, western, and central districts. Each festival was distinctive but they also shared several features. Trucks with loudspeakers led the way, announcing the arrival of the caravan in each neighborhood, followed by carnival dancers dressed in brightly colored, loose-fitting, clown-like costumes and accompanied by marching bands (Linier’s Crazy Ones, Palermo’s Malevolent Ones). During carnival season, these dancers (murgas) and bands perform nightly in their respective neighborhoods and, along with football clubs, are emblematic of them. Throughout the entire parade route, the bands played festive music while the dancers took turns leaping about and contorting their bodies in midair as local residents cheered and clapped. They were followed by Macri and his entourage, including Antonio Roma and Amadeo Carrizo, goalies from Boca and River Plate; photographs of the three of them now appeared on billboards, campaign posters, and bumper stickers (more on this later) throughout the city. At the rear of the caravan was Ariel the Basque, a well-known Boca fan who, despite his one hundred and thirty kilos of rotundness, kept his oath and rode his bicycle the entire route. 60. Horacio Ríos, “Moscariello se fue con Macri y dijo que Ibarra gobierna para los medios,” Noticias Urbanas, August 26, 2002. 61. Ibid.


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Every few blocks, Macri and his campaign staff approached the crowd to ask them about the issues and problems that concerned them. In the middle-class neighborhood of Belgrano, a football fan from Chacarita complained about Boca’s inability to control its hooligans and provide stadium-goers with adequate security.62 In Villa Lugano and other poor districts, local residents greeted the caravan “wearing Boca’s football jerseys, and from the balconies overhead showered it with blue-and-gold shredded paper, Boca’s team colors, and chanted football songs, including ‘Dale Boca.’ ”63 A journalist who followed the caravan through various neighborhoods noted: Each time Mauricio Macri is [on the campaign trail] in Buenos Aires, people are always asking him the same questions: “Are you going to bring back Riquelme [to play in Boca],” or “What are you planning to do with [Boca’s] goalie?” Instead of getting upset he responds, but afterwards he changes the topic of conversation and begins discussing the issues that most interest him . . . such as [the system of public] security, health and education. . . . The most curious thing (about this election) is that Porteños have forgotten that these are the issues facing them. And so Macri has to remind them constantly that this is what the election is really about. That is why [he] devised a new method that would allow him to focus on these issues. Whenever people approach him to discuss football, he asks them to what team they belong and then reaches into the pocket of his trouser and takes out a pin with the insignia of his football club (Boca). This calms things down, and allows Macri to refocus the discussion on the subject of politics.64 Early in the campaign, Commitment organized a street rally near Boca’s stadium, convinced that local residents would rally around Macri and generate enough momentum to carry the campaign into other poor neighborhoods nearby. But this was not the case. On the day of the rally, three hundred or so residents representing a dozen community organizations (including Open Doors, Neighborhood Assembly of Caminito, Neighborhood Assembly of Lezama Park, Solidaristic Neighbors, and other center-left groups) marched to the esplanade on the riverfront and prevented Macri from reaching the stage. The demonstrators issued a statement that read in part: “We reject Macri in the most energetic terms possible.

62. Marcelo Helfgot and Mariano Thieberger, “Ibarra y Macri cosechan piropos y palos cuando caminan los barrios,” Clarín, September 7, 2003. 63. Ana Gershenson, “El la recta final, apareció el macrimovil, Clarín, August 19, 2003). 64. Daniela Santelices, “Los Buenos Aires de Macri,” Qué pasa, August 15, 2003.


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The consequences of his project for governing the city are already clearly visible in our neighborhood. As president of Boca, he has dismantled all the social and recreational activities [that were used freely by us]; he has privatized everything in the club, even the street [in front of the stadium]. He has done everything in his power to have the club turn its back on the neighborhood.”65 The demonstrators succeeded in deflating the campaign, compelling Commitment’s campaign strategists to organize carnivals in other poor neighborhoods in order to regain their momentum.

The Ibarrists initially downplayed the importance of football and tried to persuade voters that the single-most important choice facing Porteños was whether to support an individualistic (neoliberal) or a solidaristic (social-democratic) model of public life for Buenos Aires. During a highly rated television talk show, The Other Truth, Korol, the interviewer, and Ibarra had this exchange: Korol: What do you need to do in order to attract Boca voters? Ibarra: This (election) has nothing to do with sports. Korol: You really think so? Shouldn’t you be trying to gain the support of River (Boca’s chief rival, and the city’s other great football team) and its president, Aguilar.66 However, as the campaign progressed, Porteño Power began incorporating football terms into its political vocabulary. They were compelled to do this because all the other players in the election (Macrista candidates, their supporters, independent voters, journalists, and political consultants) were now using footballrelated tropes and symbols to make sense of the elections. Football had become the lingua franca of the campaign, and in order to participate in it, the Ibarrists had to be able to speak in these terms. Early in the campaign, Commitment’s lawyers filed a complaint in the Supreme Court against Porteño Power for having altered their list of candidates past the deadline. When asked about it, Ibarra responded: “You can tell that Macri is very nervous. I would advise him that he try to win our match on the playing field rather than in the office of the A.F.A. (Argentine Football Association).”67 Immediately after the 65. Marcelo Heredia, “Los socialistas de La Boca patéan contra el arco,” Noticias Urbanas, April 22, 2003. 66. Verónica Bonacchi, “Elecciones,” La Nación, August 19, 2003. 67. Ricardo Ríos, “Macri va a la justicia para denunciar al oficialismo,” Clarín, July 14, 2003.


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first electoral round, a journalist interviewed Anibal Ibarra and asked him why he had lost. Throughout the interview, the journalist wrote, Ibarra “compared the Porteño elections to a football match,” and then went on to quote him: “He (Ibarra) said that he had wanted the first half (in reference to the first electoral round) of the match to end well, . . . but what is most important is to be able to declare victory at the end of the ninety minutes, that is, after the final results of the ballotage are in.”68 As the second electoral round drew near, Ibarra began using the vernacular of football far more frequently. In the first week of September, after the BocaChacarita match, hooligans from both clubs battled each other with wooden clubs, knives, and chains outside the stadium, injuring each other and innocent fans. According to the Ibarrists, this was proof that the Macrists would not be able to fulfill their campaign promise to improve public safety in the city: I have heard many slogans and arrogant pronouncements claiming that Buenos Aires’ problem with insecurity can be solved easily by implementing one or two simple policies, but as this incident in Boca stadium shows, the issue of public safety is far more difficult [than what the Macrists imagine]. . . . If they cannot even provide security to fans during a football match in their own stadium, how will they be able to guarantee security in the city where the problems are far more difficult and complex? 69 The Macrists responded by claiming that the city’s police had done little to provide protection in and around the stadium, making them wonder whether this incident was part of a broader campaign to discredit them. The dispute between Macrists and Ibarrists dragged on and became increasingly acrimonious, prompting the interior minister to intervene. He reprimanded both sides: “No one has the right to manipulate and play with the lives of our eighty injured citizens. . . . How can anyone be so imprudent to assume that what took place (in the stadium) was politically motivated.”70 The Ibarrists not only had succeeded in overcoming their resistance to using football tropes, they were now even abusing them. During the first half of the campaign Porteño Power printed thousands of blueand-gold (Boca’s team colors) bumper stickers, flyers, and decals. One of them read, “I belong to Boca, but I vote for Ibarra”; another proclaimed, “Half plus one don’t vote for Macri” (“La mitad mas uno no vota a Macri”), a twist on the slogan 68. Santiago Rodríguez, “Con la cabeza en el segundo tiempo,” Página 12, August 25, 2003. 69. “Ahora, el ballottage: Incidentes en Boca se metieron en la campaña porteña,” Terra, September 1, 2003, www.terra.com.ar/canales/politica/76/76060.html. 70. Ibid.


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used by Boca fans to describe themselves.71 Commitment for Change responded immediately by printing 200,000 stickers, flyers, and decals with the emblem of every single football club in the city of Buenos Aires and recruited a small army of Boca fans to paste them across the city.72 In a matter of days, the main entrance and lateral walls to many public and private buildings (schools, hospitals, cemeteries, offices, stores) as well as bus benches and shelters, billboards, lamp-posts, traffic lights, trash bins, subway entrances, and trees along the perimeter of public parks and plazas were papered with propaganda. Voters who supported Porteño Power often used football terms to express support for their candidate. While campaigning along Rivadavia Avenue, one of the city’s busiest thoroughfares, a group of River Plate fans gathered around Ibarra and yelled, “Make sure you win [the elections] against that turd.”73 Several blocks farther down this same street, a large gathering of Boca fans who were against Macri teased Ibarra, “If you join Boca, we will vote for you.”74 In the middleclass neighborhood of Caballito, a group of car mechanics who came out of their workshop in their oil-stained overalls cheered Ibarra: “Hold him back [aquante], Anibal: Stop Macri.” (The term aguante is used by fans to describe their willingness to endure pain and adversity, as proof of loyalty to their team).75 Throughout the neighborhood of La Boca, Porteño Power pasted hundreds of flyers with a long list of names of Boca fans, players, and club officers who, they claimed, supported Ibarra. When La Raulita, Boca’s legendary female fan and an iconic figure in the world of football, was asked who she supported, she replied: “I don’t have any problems with either candidate; however, I just don’t like politics. Evita [Peron] is the only politician that I have ever liked.” 76 In the course of fusing football and politics, the two leading mayoral candidates, their campaign strategists, and Porteño voters collaborated, despite their unequal access to social and communicative resources, to resignify the elections.

71. Mariano Thieberger, “El fútbol también juega su partido,” Clarín, July 27, 2003; Ann Gerschenson, “Macri apuesta a goberandores de PJ,” Clarín, July 20, 2003. 72. Lucio Fernández Moores, “Estalló la guerra de las calcomanías,” Clarín, August 5, 2003. 73. During the first quarter of the last century, Boca was enveloped in clouds of putrid odor that emanated from cow and horse manure – fed ovens that were used to bake clay bricks. 74. Helfgot and Thieberger, “Ibarra y Macri cosechan piropos y palos.” 75. José Rodolfo Oliveto, “El vivir en aguante: Pasión y goce en el hincha,” Efdeportes; revista digital 5 (November 2000): 27, www.efdeportes.com/efd27aguante.htm. 76. Mariano Thieberger, “El fútbol también juega su partido,” Clarín, July 27, 2003.


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Briefly stated, the democratic dribbler is a citizen who fuses elements from communitarian life based on mutual recognition, collective solidarity, individual dignity, and an intense concern for “post-material values” related to leisure and other “irreducibly social goods,” to borrow from Charles Taylor, with a commitment to electoral democracy.77 This new type of citizen, as I have endeavored to show throughout this essay, transformed football clubs into models of and models for municipal life because they assumed that the most effective way of restoring moral authority and sociopolitical effectiveness in public life was by reconciling state and market forces, as had been already accomplished in Boca Juniors. Porteños transferred this model into political life and constituted themselves into democratic dribblers in the course of participating in the municipal elections, thereby restoring their faith in electoral democracy. The emergence of the democratic dribbler and the transformation of football clubs into a model for municipal life, in my judgment, can best be understood as examples of positive rather than negative liberty, contrary to what the center Left has claimed. Following the return of democracy in 1983, many Porteños who had previously engaged or supported armed struggle became convinced of the need for and virtues of electoral democracy. But as with so many late converts, many of them adopted a literal reading of elections without appreciating its metaphorical aspects. In an interview, Eduardo Anguita, an ex-member of the People’s Revolutionary Army who spent eleven years in jail during the dictatorship and who has authored several important books on various aspects of contemporary public life, expressed his exasperation with the footballization of politics: If in order to talk about politics we are going to have to discuss whether [Boca’s] coach is going to be Bianchi or Benitez the “Chinese,” then I choose to engage in nonpolitics. I am committed to (practicing) social politics; it is in and through the interaction of people that alternative forms of knowledges [saberes] get generated, and this is what will enable us to . . . construct a new language [for politics]. This language, however, does not yet exist; we continue to lack a language that is appropriate to democracy.78 77. Charles Taylor, “Irreducibly Social Goods,” in Rationality, Individualism, and Public Policy, ed. G. Brennan and C. Walsh (Canberra: Centre for Research on Federal Financial Relations, Australian National University, 1990), 54 – 55. Goods of this type “cannot be reduced to a set of acts, choices or, indeed, other predicates of individuals.” 78. Liliana Lalanne, “Eduardo Anguita en la esquina,” La esquina del sur, June 4, 2006, www .laesquinadelsur.com.ar.


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Despite his enormous sensitivity to communicative aspects of political life, Mr. Anguita, like so many others on the center Left, remains unable to make sense of the ways that Porteños fused football and politics during the municipal elections. Recall that when Hannah Arendt encountered for the first time that enigmatic phrase “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” which appears in the U.S. Declaration of Independence and at the time was construed in liberal terms as an endorsement of individual, private happiness — she challenged this commonsensical interpretation by recontextualizing all three terms within the tradition of classical republicanism. When the founding fathers penned this phrase they were underscoring, she claimed, the satisfaction that citizens derived from participating in public life.79 Likewise, when Porteño fans fuse football and politics, they are expressing their continued commitment to communitarian life and electoral democracy, despite the fact that neoliberal globalization had wreaked havoc on both. The center Left’s misreading of the relationship between football and politics during the municipal elections is reminiscent of the failure of their Italian counterparts to make sense of Silvio Berlusconi’s return to power in 2001.80

After losing the mayoral elections to Ibarra (who was recently ousted from office), Macri was elected by Porteños to represent the city of Buenos Aires in the lower house of the National Congress. And he recently announced that he is running for president of the country in 2007. It remains to be seen whether the center Left — its candidates, strategists, and voters — will be able to put forward an alternative political program that incorporates some of the very same symbolic and moral issues that contributed to Macri’s success.

79. Hannah Arendt, On Revolution (New York: Penguin, 1963), 215 – 83. 80. Paul Ginsborg, Silvio Berlusconi: Television, Power, and Patrimony (New York: Verso, 2004).


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