Berkley Center

What do the purchase of a leather jacket, stepping in dog poop, and a wine tasting have in common? Besides being frequent activities in Argentina, they also all end in intense political debate. For a North American, the thematic disparity between shopping and neoliberalism may seem too great to be spanned in a mere 10-minute conversation.

But for an Argentine, particularly a Porteño (a resident of Buenos Aires), this is a daily occurrence. Discussing the sizing and stretch of leather can lead to comparisons of U.S. and Argentine pricing, industry subsidizing, and the relative merits of government economic intervention. The dog poop that lines the sidewalks can start a conversation about civil regulations and the corruption of municipal government.

The more traditional venues for these types of dialogues—a university classroom, for instance—are overwhelming at first encounter. At the University of Buenos Aires, the most prestigious institution of tertiary education in the country, the experience starts about a block away from campus. Groups of students can be seen congregating for the purpose of intense debate, and you will pass various eager faces and outstretched arms forcing pamphlets into your hands.

The buildings that make up the university are scattered all over the city and serve over 300,000 students for free. Generally austere, a bit skuzzy, and without sufficient desks or classrooms, the importance of aesthetics quickly diminishes once you step inside a building. Brightly colored political posters coat the walls and ceilings.

On the ground floor, the entrance is jam-packed with tables from dozens of student groups. These groups represent a myriad of interests, including campaigns for the national presidential election, student parties running for positions in the university’s government, campaigns to stop crime in various neighborhoods, petitions about healthcare, abortion, HIV/AIDS… The list is endless. The presenters are not only well-informed and enthusiastic, but so are the waves of students that come through the doors of the building each day. It is not uncommon for students to take and thoroughly read the dozens of flyers they receive, and later seek out particular groups for further discussion.

While student political protests are not uncommon in the United States, my experience with them in Argentina has been remarkably different. The average college student, even at a school as politically engaged as Georgetown, doesn’t have the almost desperate energy that is visible on the faces of the students that I’ve encountered while studying abroad.

Apathy coupled with a distrust of authority, without any real drive for change, is the primary disposition of the average American college student. Most people ignore anyone who tries to hand them a piece of paper, and political arguments are generally frowned upon because they’re either boring or promote unwanted conflict among friends. In Argentina, however, this conflict is what builds relationships between students who come from incredibly diverse backgrounds.

At the same time, this blog post does not consist entirely of propaganda in favor of Argentina’s political culture. The country has its own share of problems. Although Argentines enjoy lively political debates, it is just as hard to implement serious reform in their country as it is in ours. There are constant complaints of corruption and inefficiency, both at the national and municipal levels of government.

Just a few weeks ago, for instance, part of a building collapsed in a busy downtown district due to a lack of proper construction regulation. The two main news channels portrayed equally polarizing, perhaps equally incorrect, accounts of the event. Streets are frequently blocked off due to protests, causing buses to be rerouted and making transportation difficult. There are parts of the city, known as las villas, where criminal activity is rampant and the police have little to no control.

It is difficult to say which model is functioning better at the moment: the one of constant controversy and drive for serious change, or the one of stolid and reliable apathy. Perhaps it would be better to ask about the desired result: is a nation of content ignorance better or worse than one of civic involvement and dissatisfaction? It is a question that has been around for centuries, yet one that sheds light on the comparative civil societies of these two countries. Perhaps only time will tell which is better.