Here's an article about Nestor Kirchner
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Back to a vacuum
Oct 27th 2010, 16:47 by D.R. | NEW YORK
ARGENTINE political parties are so weak that most movements are simply named after their leaders. The hegemonic, ideologically amorphous Justicialist Party (PJ) is universally called peronismo after its long-deceased founder, Juan Perón. Since 2003, only one ismo has mattered in Argentina: the kirchnerismo of Néstor Kirchner, a leftist, populist Peronist. Although Mr Kirchner left the presidency in 2007 to his wife, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, kirchnerismo came to a close this morning, when Mr Kirchner died of a heart attack at 60.
Mr Kirchner exemplified the country’s caudillo-centric political culture. In the 1990s, he was the governor of Santa Cruz, a desolate Patagonian province of 230,000 people whose economy depends on public works, oil and gas. He ran it like a personal fiefdom, refusing to delegate even tiny tasks and overseeing every centavo of the budget.
He was barely known outside Patagonia in 2002, when Eduardo Duhalde, a Peronist boss who became president after Argentina’s economic collapse the year before, was looking for a successor to back in the next election. Mr Duhalde reluctantly threw his support to Mr Kirchner after all of his top choices rebuffed him, and the strength of his political machine propelled Mr Kirchner into a second round. Mr Kirchner became president by default after his rival withdrew from the run-off.
Once in office, Mr Kirchner promptly set about ruling Argentina as he had Santa Cruz. He reorganised the tax system to make provincial governors more financially dependent on the federal executive. He got Congress to let him reassign public spending at will, and give him veto power over judicial nominations. He nationalised a handful of strategic businesses. And he circumvented presidential term limits by having Ms Fernández succeed him, with the apparent intention of allowing them to alternate in power indefinitely.
As a candidate, Ms Fernández promised a more consensual and conciliatory style. But it soon became clear that the First Gentleman—who also became president of the PJ and of Unasur, a group of South American countries, as well as a congressman—was still calling the shots. Mr Kirchner routinely gave orders to her ministers, occasionally contradicting Ms Fernández’s own directives. He even found time to ring private businessmen and instruct them to lower their prices or sell their stockpiled dollars. He was widely expected to run for a second term as president—the third for kirchnerismo—next year.
The only thing that could stop Mr Kirchner’s will to power was his health. Micromanaging a country of 40m was a draining task, and Mr Kirchner was notoriously late to bed and early to rise. He had suffered from colon problems during his presidency. This year, his ailments grew worse: he had two operations to unblock arteries in February and September. Nonetheless, he maintained his bruising schedule of public appearances and behind-the-scenes management. This morning, in a meeting at his home near the stark southern Andes, he collapsed, and could not be resuscitated.
In most countries, the death of a presidential spouse would be seen as a national tragedy. In Argentina, it is a political upheaval. Ms Fernández is more than a mere puppet—she was an influential senator when Mr Kirchner was still an enigmatic governor, and was his closest adviser during his presidency. But thanks to her husband’s omnipresence, she has never delegated meaningful authority to her cabinet. In particular, she has never shown much interest in economics, and the government forced out its few independent voices on the subject long ago.
The first couple’s detractors are divided on whether the hard-line Mr Kirchner undermined Ms Fernández’s more sensible instincts, or whether she was never truly her own woman at all. If the former is true, then Mr Kirchner’s passing could lead to a moderation of government policies. Ms Fernández has long promised to improve Argentina’s international standing; stopping the manipulation of official inflation statistics, for example, would be a first step towards restoring the country’s credibility. Presumably, a nationwide outpouring of sympathy for Ms Fernández might give her cover to make much-needed decisions her husband might have vetoed.
On the other hand, if Ms Fernández was really just a figurehead, then the best Argentines can hope for is a year of political paralysis. Even some of the Kirchners’ closest allies seem to doubt her ability to govern by herself. “I don’t know what will happen with Cristina,” said Estela Carlotto, the head of Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo, a widely respected human-rights group. “She’s all alone now in charge of the country.”
Mr Kirchner’s death also makes an already uncertain 2011 presidential race even more difficult to predict. Kirchnerismo always promised two for the price of one. If Ms Fernández does run for re-election, she will have to reassure voters that she can handle her husband’s old tasks of managing the budget and keeping the peace among Peronism’s warring factions. Moreover, many potential Peronist candidates who might have kept their ambitions in check for fear of Mr Kirchner’s wrath may now be emboldened. In particular, Daniel Scioli, who was Mr Kirchner’s vice president and is now the governor of Buenos Aires province, now seems much more likely to run.
Mr Kirchner’s economic legacy is complicated. Despite implementing a series of ill-advised policies that discouraged investment, Argentina’s GDP has grown rapidly since he took office, thanks to a natural recovery from the 2001 crash, surging global demand for the country’s farm exports and the strong performance of neighbouring Brazil.
The political impact of his rule, however, is more straightforward. Mr Kirchner filled a power vacuum not with institution-building but with his own tireless labour. Now that he can give no more, the vacuum will return.
http://www.economist.com/blogs/americasview/2010/10/death_argentinas_ex-president
=====================================
Back to a vacuum
Oct 27th 2010, 16:47 by D.R. | NEW YORK
ARGENTINE political parties are so weak that most movements are simply named after their leaders. The hegemonic, ideologically amorphous Justicialist Party (PJ) is universally called peronismo after its long-deceased founder, Juan Perón. Since 2003, only one ismo has mattered in Argentina: the kirchnerismo of Néstor Kirchner, a leftist, populist Peronist. Although Mr Kirchner left the presidency in 2007 to his wife, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, kirchnerismo came to a close this morning, when Mr Kirchner died of a heart attack at 60.
Mr Kirchner exemplified the country’s caudillo-centric political culture. In the 1990s, he was the governor of Santa Cruz, a desolate Patagonian province of 230,000 people whose economy depends on public works, oil and gas. He ran it like a personal fiefdom, refusing to delegate even tiny tasks and overseeing every centavo of the budget.
He was barely known outside Patagonia in 2002, when Eduardo Duhalde, a Peronist boss who became president after Argentina’s economic collapse the year before, was looking for a successor to back in the next election. Mr Duhalde reluctantly threw his support to Mr Kirchner after all of his top choices rebuffed him, and the strength of his political machine propelled Mr Kirchner into a second round. Mr Kirchner became president by default after his rival withdrew from the run-off.
Once in office, Mr Kirchner promptly set about ruling Argentina as he had Santa Cruz. He reorganised the tax system to make provincial governors more financially dependent on the federal executive. He got Congress to let him reassign public spending at will, and give him veto power over judicial nominations. He nationalised a handful of strategic businesses. And he circumvented presidential term limits by having Ms Fernández succeed him, with the apparent intention of allowing them to alternate in power indefinitely.
As a candidate, Ms Fernández promised a more consensual and conciliatory style. But it soon became clear that the First Gentleman—who also became president of the PJ and of Unasur, a group of South American countries, as well as a congressman—was still calling the shots. Mr Kirchner routinely gave orders to her ministers, occasionally contradicting Ms Fernández’s own directives. He even found time to ring private businessmen and instruct them to lower their prices or sell their stockpiled dollars. He was widely expected to run for a second term as president—the third for kirchnerismo—next year.
The only thing that could stop Mr Kirchner’s will to power was his health. Micromanaging a country of 40m was a draining task, and Mr Kirchner was notoriously late to bed and early to rise. He had suffered from colon problems during his presidency. This year, his ailments grew worse: he had two operations to unblock arteries in February and September. Nonetheless, he maintained his bruising schedule of public appearances and behind-the-scenes management. This morning, in a meeting at his home near the stark southern Andes, he collapsed, and could not be resuscitated.
In most countries, the death of a presidential spouse would be seen as a national tragedy. In Argentina, it is a political upheaval. Ms Fernández is more than a mere puppet—she was an influential senator when Mr Kirchner was still an enigmatic governor, and was his closest adviser during his presidency. But thanks to her husband’s omnipresence, she has never delegated meaningful authority to her cabinet. In particular, she has never shown much interest in economics, and the government forced out its few independent voices on the subject long ago.
The first couple’s detractors are divided on whether the hard-line Mr Kirchner undermined Ms Fernández’s more sensible instincts, or whether she was never truly her own woman at all. If the former is true, then Mr Kirchner’s passing could lead to a moderation of government policies. Ms Fernández has long promised to improve Argentina’s international standing; stopping the manipulation of official inflation statistics, for example, would be a first step towards restoring the country’s credibility. Presumably, a nationwide outpouring of sympathy for Ms Fernández might give her cover to make much-needed decisions her husband might have vetoed.
On the other hand, if Ms Fernández was really just a figurehead, then the best Argentines can hope for is a year of political paralysis. Even some of the Kirchners’ closest allies seem to doubt her ability to govern by herself. “I don’t know what will happen with Cristina,” said Estela Carlotto, the head of Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo, a widely respected human-rights group. “She’s all alone now in charge of the country.”
Mr Kirchner’s death also makes an already uncertain 2011 presidential race even more difficult to predict. Kirchnerismo always promised two for the price of one. If Ms Fernández does run for re-election, she will have to reassure voters that she can handle her husband’s old tasks of managing the budget and keeping the peace among Peronism’s warring factions. Moreover, many potential Peronist candidates who might have kept their ambitions in check for fear of Mr Kirchner’s wrath may now be emboldened. In particular, Daniel Scioli, who was Mr Kirchner’s vice president and is now the governor of Buenos Aires province, now seems much more likely to run.
Mr Kirchner’s economic legacy is complicated. Despite implementing a series of ill-advised policies that discouraged investment, Argentina’s GDP has grown rapidly since he took office, thanks to a natural recovery from the 2001 crash, surging global demand for the country’s farm exports and the strong performance of neighbouring Brazil.
The political impact of his rule, however, is more straightforward. Mr Kirchner filled a power vacuum not with institution-building but with his own tireless labour. Now that he can give no more, the vacuum will return.
http://www.economist.com/blogs/americasview/2010/10/death_argentinas_ex-president
