Kirchner, D’Elía & The Contagion of Hatred

Hate is contagious. It spreads like a disease, devouring its carrier in much the same way that viruses like Ebola devour theirs. It is an emotional carcinogen capable of destroying lives and relationships. And just as cancer corrodes the body, hate corrodes the body politic. It inspires animosity, distrust and anger. It can coarsen a country’s social fabric, leaving it worn out and unwoven.

Argentina’s political debates are often tinged with remnants of hatred that stem from physical and emotional battles that occurred decades ago. Sometimes this is hard to see; other times, it is hard to avoid.

The hate that pervades so much of Argentina’s political infighting was on display recently when the street thug, former government official and perennial protester, Luis D’Elía, appeared on a popular radio talk show. The show, El Parquímetro, airs from 7am-10am M-F and is hosted by Fernando Peña. It is not a show for the tame of heart. Peña, who has a wicked wit, can tear into his guests and leave them embarrassed by their inability to respond to his biting and caustic remarks. But in many ways his show is largely a joke, and most people know this when they call in to talk with him.

This time, Peña made the call. He called D’Elía at home to ask for his perspective on the mildly violent clash that took place on Tuesday, March 25, between D’Elía, scores of his paid companions and thousands of peaceful farm protesters. The protesters had gathered at the Plaza de Mayo to protest new government taxes on the agriculture sector. The protest was covered by all of Argentina’s major television networks. The stations showed a gathering of middle to upper-class people banging pots and pans. The group included parents, grandparents, grandchildren and teenagers, among others. To many observers, the protest seemed somewhat innocuous, at least from the perspective of people concerned about public safety. The protesters were not armed with guns, knives, sticks or pamphlet bombs. Many had smiles on their faces. Clearly, their intentions were nonviolent.

But to many people in the government, the protesters were far from innocent. They were an eerie reminder of the December, 2001 protests that helped lead to the downfall of then President Fernando de la Rua. Back then, De la Rua sent the Policía Federal to the Plaza de Mayo to curb the protests. Deadly violence ensued, precipitating his resignation. This, of course, is an over-simplification of events and it leaves out many other important economic and political contextual details that led to De la Rua’s downfall. But it was these events that President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner and her advisors had in mind as they watched the farm protests unfold in the Playa de Mayo.

For Kirchner, who later called the farmers “golpistas” (implying that they literally wanted to overthrow the government), the protest was too much to bear. The farmers represented more than an innocent display of political dissent. They represented a threat to her government. Kirchner, aware of what happened when De la Rua sent armed police to the Plaza de Mayo, knew not to repeat his mistake. But she did not want to let the protesters have their say. The specific details of what happened next are not clear. But the broader facts are well known and documented.

A band of roughly 150 thugs, led by D’Elía, stormed the Plaza de Mayo and used brute force to push out the thousands of protesters who were peacefully exerting their right to free speech and assembly. D’Elía, who earlier in the evening had been a special guest at the Casa Rosada, led the blitzkrieg. Minutes after leaving the Casa Rosada, he barnstormed the plaza. His black shirt unraveled to his navel. His arms flailed in mid-air as he lurched toward anyone within reach of his tightly-clenched fists. The Plaza, D’Elía later would say, while panting for breath on national television, had to be “liberated from the people who had come to occupy it from Barrio Norte and Recoleta.”

Kirchner’s chief political lieutenant, Cabinet Chief Alberto Fernandez, in October had accused Porteños of being “arrogant” for not voting for Kirchner in that month’s presidential election. But D’Elía’s fisticuffs-style removal of the plaza protesters is the first indication that the cabinet chief’s comments were more than the mere remarks of an embittered partisan.

Apparently, as D’Elía’s actions and words seem to demonstrate, the government and its allies actually believe that some Porteños – those who hail from the city’s wealthier barrios – are not all equal under the law. Evidently, if you live in Barrio Norte or Recoleta your free speech is not as worthy of protection as that of people who hail from other parts of the city or the country. This presents a stark contradiction because for years Cristina Kirchner’s husband and predecessor actively supported protests throughout the country. Both Kirchners also have sponsored massive protests in the Plaza de Mayo. Just last week Cristina Kirchner spoke at such an event, leaving the impression that it is all right for some, though not for others, to voice their political beliefs in the country’s most historic public space.

It is not clear if Kirchner or one of her cabinet members personally directed D’Elía to storm the plaza and silence its “occupants.” But it is clear that neither she nor anyone in her cabinet prevented D’Elía from savaging the rights of peaceful Argentines to speak freely that night. Indeed, two days after D’Elía drove fellow Argentines from the plaza, Kirchner invited him to appear near her during a major speech at Parque Norte that was broadcast on national television. The inescapable conclusion from this is that Kirchner not only supported D’Elía’s violent actions but that his style of confrontation had the backing of her entire cabinet, which was also present at the speech. In an interview with Gente magazine, D’Elia said this about the Parque Norte event:

I’m not a member of the government. I am simply a Kirchner militant. I can tell you that when I was in Parque Norte I received the recognition, the warmth and the care of everyone who was there.

Kirchner’s appearance with D’Elía was not just a public validation of D’Elía’s actions. It was also an implicit warning to everyone who had protested at the Plaza de Mayo. The message: “Do this again and you will be met with force.”

When Fernando Peña called D’Elía, he did so to ask him about the events that took place that night at the Plaza de Mayo. D’Elía did not hold back. With the same passion that spurred him to take over the plaza, he took Peña’s audience on an emotionally violent ride through the hate-filled valleys of his own heart. Here, without editing, is the conversation that followed on Peña’s radio show:

Peña: “We have a colorful segment – a black segment because we’re going to talk to Luis D’Elía.”
Peña: Hola, Luis. How are you doing?
D’Elía: How are doing, you piece of shit?
Peña: Piece of shit? How are you doing, you piece of shit? What a nice way of starting this interview.
D’Elía: I’m doing great (bárbaro). The score is now 1-to-0. All right, go ahead.
Peña: Tell me what happened Tuesday night? Why did you hit people? Let’s see if you’re willing to tell the truth.
D’Elía: Because I hate them. I hate the damned oligarchy. I hate white people. I hate you, Peña. I hate you. I hate your money. I hate your house. I hate your cars. I hate your history. I hate people like you who defend an unjust and unfair country. I hate the fucking Argentine oligarchy. I hate them with all the strength of my heart. You understand? I hate them. I’m telling you clearly. I hate them. Sarmiento said it in 1880: the blood of Gaucho’s shouldn’t be spared. You would say that same thing about black people (la gente negra). For you, and the shit like you, we are nothing but shit, crap, trash. You are an asshole, a servant of our fucking oligarchy. You pretend to be a transgressor but you don’t have the balls to put up with what we put up with. You live in San Isidro (a wealthy Buenos Aires suburb). And do you know where I’m talking to you from? From Laferrére (a ghetto)…I hate all of you. I hate the Argentine upper-class that has done so much damage and killed so many people in the name of profit.” 

This is emotional rage in its most expressive form. It is a verbal outbreak of intense emotional, even physical angst and anxiety. It is as explosive as it is corrosive. And insofar as political and social progress depends on dialogue, compromise and understanding, this kind of aggression is the exact antithesis of what Argentina needs to overcome the challenges it faces. One might hope that the most powerful politician in the nation, regardless of his or her political affiliation, would condemn such vitriol. But Kirchner has refused to reproach D’Elía. This even though Kirchner herself is not only a white person but also a Recoleta property owner and one of Argentina’s wealthiest citizens. Theoretically, at least, this ought to make her as much the subject of D’Elía’s hate as the protesters he forced out of the Plaza de Mayo.

Argentina is a strikingly beautiful nation with almost limitless potential. But as long as its body politic continues to suffer from the acidic, divisive emotions and suspicions that defined its past, the country will not live up to its potential. The recent events at the Plaza de Mayo indicate that while Argentina’s economy is now in better shape than it was 10 years ago, the political climate is not. What is needed to improve the climate is exactly what the protesters who were driven from the plaza that night sought: dialogue. The way to foster this is for the president herself to offer conciliatory words and actions, taking the high ground and showing detractors that she herself does not share D’Elía’s hatred for her fellow countrymen.