Mauricio Macri, the current mayor of Buenos Aires, wants to be president. But he has some obstacles to overcome: He’s been prosecuted in an illegal wiretapping case, and blamed by a wide sector of society for mismanaging the city government.

It’s a critical moment for his political career. One that could be decisive, even, for the history of Argentina. It’s not, however, the first time he’s been prosecuted. According to Gabriela Cerruti, the author of a biography on Mauricio Macri called ‘El Pibe’, throughout his business career he’s been accused of improprieties, but always let off the hook through appeals to favourable judges.

And the rocky situation he’s in now is not a reflection of his snug background: His father, Franco, emigrated from Italy, and built one of the most powerful family businesses in Argentina. Mauricio, the first born, was the heir to the reins of power.

But father and son didn’t always see eye to eye. Whenever Mauricio tried to advance a business deal, Franco would intervene, reverse his son’s decision, and call him a pelotudo, usually resulting in public humiliation for Mauricio.

According to Cerruti, this is why Mauricio decided to go into politics: to escape the long shadow of his father. “Franco was Il Capo and Mauricio was El Pibe,” she writes.

Franco Macri’s political philosophy was simple, Cerruti writes: always be pro-government. In the early 1970s, Franco advanced in his business career by associating himself with the construction arm of FIAT, the Italian automaker. The joint venture became one of the largest contractors of government projects in Argentina: ports, roads, housing, industrial sites, and thermoelectric plants.

Franco signed an ambitious public housing contract with José López Rega, the eccentric public works minister under Isabel Perón and founder of the Argentine Anti-Communist Alliance (Triple A). The coup d’etat on 24 March 1976 sent López Rega into exile, but through him the Macris had cultivated relationships with Emilio Massera, the chief of the navy and one of the de facto leaders of the new military government. As the junta set out to crush worker movements and various social and political organizations, they also began contracting massive public works projects, and business was booming for the Macris.

“With the arrival of the Peronist government in 1973, the family had seven businesses. At the end of the dictatorship [in 1983], the holding group was composed of 47 business,” writes Cerruti.

Young Mauricio was there all the while, watching and learning, preparing to one day take over the family businesses. He studied engineering at the Catholic University of Argentina (UCA), and received private instruction on politics and economics, particularly liberal economic theory.

The return to democracy in 1983 turned the Macris into fervent supporters of the Unión Cívica Radical, the political party of Raul Alfonsín. State contracts kept pouring in. Around this time, Mauricio began occupying managerial roles in the family’s businesses, and was a principal shareholder.

But Franco and Mauricio had different ideas about the future of the businesses: Franco wanted to continue with an import substitution model and public works contracts from the state. Mauricio, as an adherent to the neo-liberal economic model, wanted to be in charge of state enterprises through privatisations. The presidency of Carlos Menem favoured the latter.

Menem represented a new era of fluidity and impunity for the state and Argentina’s business community, and the Macris were able to stack the national and city government with their own business managers. Cerruti cites many cases in which state licenses were granted through direct deals instead of through public auctions. And contracts were often minted with lush profit guarantees, whether or not services were rendered by the business.

In 1993, Mauricio became president of SEVEL, the family’s auto-making joint venture with FIAT. But Franco hovered around business meetings, interrupted Mauricio in the middle of negotiations, and often reversed his son’s decisions.

Cerruti writes: “In barely two years, after two scandalous court cases, a drastic decrease in production and sales, and failed negotiations with FIAT not only ended the license for building cars in Argentina but also ruptured relations, after 20 years, between the Italian and Argentine ‘capos’, Franco had to convene a renowned family business psychologist to try to organize the mess. But it didn’t work.”

Shortly after, in an effort to separate from his father and forge his own path, Mauricio decided to go into politics. In 1995, he was elected president of Boca Juniors Athletic Club. In two years, he turned the organization from a non-profit into a private corporation, and created a player ‘stock exchange’, leaving the club’s finances in ruins. He submitted a letter of resignation, but after Franco made calls to members of the board of directors, Mauricio was allowed to return. The hiring of coach Carlos Bianchi in 1999 led to unprecedented international success for the club, and Mauricio was elected to two more terms in 1999 and 2003.

In 2003, newly elected and popular president Néstor Kirchner publicly excoriated the Macris for their role in Menemism. Soon after, Franco, back in charge of the family businesses, was again negotiating contracts directly with the Kirchner government. Franco also began business dealings with China.

As Mauricio became a figure in opposition to the Kirchners, the managers of his political team were the same managers of the family businesses. Mauricio would celebrate privately the contracts won from the state while criticizing publicly the same national government. Franco worried Mauricio’s involvement in politics would jeopardize his business interests, furthering the split between the two.

In 2007, after two rounds of voting, Mauricio was elected mayor of Buenos Aires. Positions in the city government were quickly filled by current or former managers of the family businesses, especially in areas most involved with public works and infrastructure licensing: treasury, urban development, economic development, and education. His first foreign trip as mayor was, inexplicably, to China, where he met his father’s business associates, according to Cerruti.

In the end, the picture of Mauricio Macri that emerges from Cerruti’s book is one of an unscrupulous, far-right leaning, inept businessman who played an active role in a family dedicated to growing its interests in spite of the costs to Argentine society. It might be hard to separate this picture from the person currently governing the city of Buenos Aires, but what of his mayoral policies?

Macri assumed office facing many of the same problems as his predecessors, and it’s likely that four years in office isn’t enough to fix the city’s massive infrastructure problems in education, health, and housing that have been worsening for decades. In his inaugural speech as mayor, he spoke of “efficiency”, “respect”, and “better investment” in infrastructure, and his policies can be hard to define. Interview requests for this article were not returned.

“From what I see, there’s no definite ideology. At the city level, it’s more about the management of the budget, which depends on economic cycles,” said Leandro Haberfeld, a professor of economics at the University of Buenos Aires.

Macri’s first education minister, Mariano Narodowski, recognizing the abandonment of public schools, tripled the budget for public school infrastructure – up to almost 10% of the education budget – for 2008. But despite the increase, 40% of the budget was never paid out, the reasons for which are unclear.

A report by the Civic Association for Equality and Justice (ACIJ) warns of a projection of just 3% of the education budget for public school infrastructure in 2010, the lowest in years and a 59% reduction compared to 2009. Meanwhile, funds directed to private education have increased 88% since 2007.

“The city already suffers from extreme inequalities in education, and there’s no remedy in place now. In fact, it’s being exacerbated by budget management and the prioritization of private education,” said Dalile Antunez, coordinator for equality in education at ACIJ.

Narodowski resigned as education minister when Ciro James, an ex-federal agent hired by Narodowski, was accused of spying. Macri then appointed Abel Posse, a writer and diplomat who had served as counsel and ambassador during the dictatorship. Posse resigned 12 days later after an outcry from diverse sectors of society drew attention to his ties to the junta and controversial views.

On housing, the mayor issued decree 960/09, which modified the city government’s plan of finding a definite solution to the housing emergency to one of “mitigation”. The decree also made it more difficult for people living in precarious situations to access government programs. In 2010, the Superior Justice Tribunal (TSJ) of Buenos Aires ruled the decree was unconstitutional because it “deliberately reversed the obligation of the city government to protect and guarantee the right to housing and assistance”.

On health, evidence of the system’s continued inability to meet demand can be found in the recent increase in the infant mortality rate. After a five year decrease, the General Statistics and Census Office reported a one point increase for 2009 – from 7.3 to 8.3 per thousand – mostly driven by large increases in historically impoverished southern Buenos Aires.

Gabriela Alegre, a city legislator, called it “a grave figure” especially “in the context of economic growth. This fact is telling of the crisis in the city’s health system, and has to do with the abandonment of the most vulnerable sectors and the constant dismantling of public hospitals,” she said.

Macri’s most controversial policies have perhaps been in public safety. Human rights groups have denounced the actions of the Public Space Control Unit (UCEP), Macri’s parapolice ‘task force’, which operated extra-legally enforcing brutal evictions. Macri’s choice to head the Metropolitan Police, Jorge ‘Fino’ Palacios has been indicted for espionage and illicit association for his role in the aforementioned illegal wiretapping case, which could end Macri’s political career. And Macri’s decision to outfit the Metropolitan Police with electric taser guns has been met with widespread public concern.

On almost all counts, Macri’s administration represents a weakening of the role of the state as protector of social and economic rights. If he’s been unsuccessful in further reducing the state and pushing the public agenda to the right, it’s because the current Argentine context doesn’t allow for it: a 2009 article in La Nación outlined more than 20 initiatives started by Macri that were rescinded or never completed because of public or legislative opposition.

In a speech inaugurating this year’s city legislative session in March, Macri highlighted his accomplishments: the refurbishing of the Teatro Colón and the creation of the Metropolitan Police. Meanwhile, the city’s grave problems continue to worsen – not exactly a record on which to fasten a run for the presidency.

But Mauricio Macri, prosecuted for his role in an espionage case, continues as mayor and wants to be president. Over the decades, the politicians have come and gone for the Macris, but the family has always been there, on the margin between the state and private enterprise: “The state behind the state,” Cerruti writes. The difference, now, according to Cerruti, is that Mauricio isn’t content with having that power. He wants to be the power. Of course, running a presidential campaign from a jail cell, if it comes to that, will be challenging.

The Buenos Aires Committee for Public Works and Services has introduced a bill to install a women only carriage on the Subte. The bill will create a carriage on the H line of the Subte that allows women and children under 12 to travel separately to “prevent situations of hasassment,” said legislator, Gerardo Ingaramo.

The idea emerged after a number of women complained that they had been sexually assaulted at Callao and Catedral Subte stations. Ingaramo said, “The initiative seeks to create the conditions necessary to avoid cases of harassment on the Subte. The often-crowded public transport, especially during peak hours, contributes to the handling of harassment and multiply.”

Countries such as Japan, India, Russia and Mexico have special carriages that are used exclusively by women and children. Since 2006, the Rio de Janeiro subway has had a car reserved for women which is identified by a pink stripe across the windows.

Ingaramo said that he hopes the initiative will extended to other Subte lines in the city.

Enter a world of gracious movements, adrenaline rushes and endless camaraderie. If you’re a fan of living (literally) on the edge while leading a healthy lifestyle, then this is your ideal sport. Welcome to the world of Parkour, where movement is an art.

What is Parkour?

According to its official definition, Parkour (PK) is “the physical discipline of training to overcome any obstacle within one’s path by adapting one’s movements to the environment”. Born in France, the term Parkour was coined by a man named David Belle, who decided to transfer the classic obstacle course method of military training to an urban environment. At the same time, Sebastien Foucan, a friend of Belle’s, took the practice to England, where it became known as Freerunning. The rest is (modern) history.

In spite of having started in Europe more than ten years ago, in Argentina it still remains an unknown practice for many, although lately, in Buenos Aires, more people seem to have become aware of the discipline. Every day, teenagers and young adults decide to become traceurs (name given to Parkour practitioners) to challenge themselves while learning more about its moves and its philosophy.

So don’t be surprised if downtown one day you see people climbing walls around the National Library, jumping from roof to roof in Parque Chacabuco, walking on a ledge or rolling down a hill in style in what seems to be a hypnotic dance. Chances are you’re witnessing the delicate art of the Parkour porteño.

A Work in Progress

Hakim ‘Hack’ Cuperman, a traceur who started practising at the age of 18, has managed to capitalise his movements and is now part of a professional acrobatics team called Urban Condition. The group has worked for Disney, Coca Cola, the hit Argentine television show ‘Casi Angeles’, and has been part of several popular musicals for children that feature stunt dancers, like Spiderman or Ben 10. Hakim also manages the Parkour Baires forum, one of the most prominent websites dedicated to this discipline in Argentina.

“I first learned about Parkour through the internet four years ago,” he explains. “So I did some research and got into a forum where people were talking about meeting to practise. I immediately joined them. We were no more than 50!” Nowadays, that number has multiplied and many more are part of it. From teenagers to people in their 30s, PK keeps adding followers. Even girls!

But Parkour isn’t just jumping and rolling. Actually, it’s much more profound than that.

“The most interesting part of Parkour,” Hakim adds, “is its philosophy, which encourages people to overcome obstacles, not only on a physical level, but also on an emotional level. Let’s say that I’m afraid to jump from A to B,” he says. “If I believe in myself and manage to do it, I can personally assure that you develop a sense of confidence not only in your practice, but also in many areas of your life. To me, that is the most attractive thing about PK”.

Another curious fact of this discipline is that it is hard to learn new moves by yourself, so traceurs appeal to the never ending wisdom of the best teacher they can find: You Tube. And they base their practice on the videos they watch, according to their capabilities, so they are always learning something new. “Some people find it easy to do it, and some people don’t. My advice is, if after lots of practice you still find it difficult, don’t do it anymore. Overcoming obstacles in life is good, but if you can’t do something as basic as a roll, then for your own safety, stop trying,” Hakim warns.

Practice

Tomas “Rulo” Otero Rubio, also a member of Urban Condition, is 23 years old and practises PK eight hours a week. He says what attracted him to the discipline was the possibility of performing stunts like the ones you see in action films in the middle of a street without being a movie star. He then runs and takes a jump in the air, but instead of violently hitting the floor, he swiftly rolls over the grass and stops without a single scratch. “Rolling,” as it’s usually called, is using inertia when hitting the floor to transfer the force of the movement all over your body and not hurt your knees. “You literally roll with it,” he says.

Usual parkour training takes place every Saturday morning in Parque Chacabuco. Besides that area, Hakim admits there aren’t really many places where they can practise. “If we get together to perform some acrobatics, we usually meet in front of the giant flower in the Plaza Naciones Unidas. But if we’re looking to do a little parkour or freerunning we go to Parque Chacabuco and use the ventilation ducts there,” he explains.

And even though those areas serve their purposes, both Hakim and Tomas admit the most perfect place to practise is the National Library building and its surroundings.

Unfortunately, they are not allowed in the premises.

“If we get hurt, we don’t have insurance and they are legally responsible for us,” Tomas explains. “We also seem to set their alarms when we are running around on their roof,” Hakim chuckles.

And although the practice is considered “dangerous” by many, in fact, it is more probable that you will get hurt while playing traditional sports than by becoming a traceur. “I may have torn a ligament a couple of times”, says Hakim, “but in all honesty I’ve gotten more hurt by playing football”.

“Also, when compared with other sports, there’s not much competitiveness,” Tomas adds, “but there is some heavy training, although, contrary to many other countries, in Buenos Aires there aren’t any Parkour parks where we can practise, so it’s pretty much up to us”.

Competitiveness appears to be frowned upon.

Not long ago, MTV put on a show called ‘Ultimate Parkour Challenge’ where contestants would have to show their moves, but according to Hakim, this is a discipline that isn’t looking to compete with anyone else. “You can compete with your friends, but you must always keep in mind that it’s a game,” he says.

In May, 2007, a campaign led by the parkour.net website was started to prevent Parkour practice from becoming a sport competition and promoting rivalry among traceurs. According to the site, competition “pushes people to fight against others for the satisfaction of a crowd and/or the benefits of a few business people by changing its mindset”.

Fair Play

Parkour has been labeled as “dangerous”, “irresponsible” or downright “a criminal activity” by ignorant naysayers, when it’s actually the opposite of that. Not only it does not involve any more risks than most traditional mainstream sports do, but while football or rugby many times deal with extreme competitiveness and divisive attitudes, PK extols the exact opposite.

“In short, Parkour moves young people away from their computers and puts them back in parks and public spaces, where they can compete loyally and lead a healthy lifestyle,” Tomas explains.

And it certainly does. Parkour is more than a sport. It’s a philosophical practice that not only helps you overcome obstacles literally and figuratively, it also features some of the coolest movements you will ever get to see, and never get to perform.

Unless, of course, you decide to join the gang.

For more information on how to attend parkour practices, please contact Hakim Cuperman at hack@urbancondition.com.ar

Media Controversy

One night in December 2006, four practitioners of a different discipline called “urban exploration” decided to go down into the Belgrano sewers to look for vegetation and fauna that could only allegedly be found under the city. A severe weather storm warning had been issued that day, but for some reason they entered the underground tunnels anyway. The neighbourhood, popular for suffering from severe flooding whenever there’s heavy rain, was a death trap. They all drowned before finding an escape route. One of the victims, Joaquin Prieto, happened to be a traceur who had previously introduced Parkour to the media when it had started catching on in Buenos Aires.

When journalists started covering the tragedy and they couldn’t find a proper name for their underground activities, by association, they decided to blame it on Parkour.

“They would visit our forums and ask for interviews,” Hakim says, “and unfortunately many new young practitioners who were looking for some media exposure would talk to them without having any experience in the field. This only made things worse. We lost a lot of people and were branded as ‘irresponsible’. We were considered criminals by many because it looked as if we were escaping, climbing, running. In movies it’s always the villain who’s using Parkour to escape. If you add that to the fact that the practice is vilified by lots of people, this really hurt us”.

The feat of navigating the streets of Buenos Aires is not overly taxing. The city’s very regular grid system – although vast – proves utterly manageable, once armed with a trusty ‘Guia-T’ and some sense of where you are and where you are headed. Rather, the enigma of BA’s plethora of 2,159 calles, avenidas, pasajes and autopistas surrounds their names, origins, stories and peculiarities.

Many names are explicable and their stories very well known. The streets of Buenos Aires typically take their names from important historical events and significant political or literary figures. There are, however, a number of obscurities and oddities: Streets whose names do not allude to what most assume, or whose namesakes feature in the lesser-read parts of history books, for reasons which tend to slip under the radar.

The trivia is endless. And if this lowdown of Buenos Aires’ streets never proves useful per se, those with fervour for finer facts or mindful of miscellaneous matter will surely appreciate these additions to their dossiers of discretionary details. Or at least they can hope that one day the subject comes up in a pub quiz.

Spellings, Shapes and Sizes

To begin quite simply, the Buenos Aires streets with the shortest names are Ohm and Mom, with two different streets bearing the latter. Meanwhile, at 28 letters each, the longest names belong to María Antonia de la Paz y Figueroa and Severo García Grande de Zequeira.

Ordered alphabetically, Acassuso tops the list, with Zuviría at the bottom.

The straight-laced, straight-talking, ‘straight-streeted’ Argentine capital is home to just two circulars: Berlín, in Parque Chas; and Patricias Argentinas, which borders Parque Centenario.

Roads which run parallel to one another will never touch: A principle to which Ecuador and Anchorena choose not to adhere. They run parallel to Avenida Pueyrredón at their Rivadavia origin. However, Ecuador comes to an end when it hits Anchorena, which meets the same fate two blocks on, running into Pueyrredón. Thus, the laws of geometry are shattered.

The Diagonales Norte and Sur, built in the 1920s, exhibit a very curious and unique characteristic when compared architecturally with the rest of BA’s streets. Every building on each of them stands at exactly the same height (33m), with a cornice extending 28.66m. The windows and balconies of every building on these two streets are entirely uniform.

The city’s shortest street is Emilio Pettoruti, in Recoleta, which connects the Avenidas Del Libertador and Figueroa Alcorta. The narrowest street is Santa Magdalena, in Barracas.

The longest and widest avenues are topics of dispute. Contrary to popular belief, Avenida Rivadavia is not BA’s longest street; and thus, claims that it is the world’s longest are also a myth. In fact, at 18.5km, Avenida Rivadavia is substantially surpassed by General Paz, which is just over 24km long. The world’s-widest-avenue-debate rages on. At 140m across, many argue that 9 de Julio is beaten by the 250m of Brasilia’s Eixo Monumental. However, as this road technically consists of two avenues, its accolade is actually that of ‘widest divided highway in the world’, allowing 9 de Julio to retain its glory.

Initial Misconceptions

Due to sheer lack of space on the signs, many of the roads of Buenos Aires find their namesakes abbreviated. But have you ever wondered what these initials stand for?

It is a common misconception amongst porteños that the ‘P’ in Francisco P. Moreno stands for perito (meaning ‘technical specialist’, in which capacity he disproved Chilean claims to the continental divide in 1902). In reality it corresponds to his middle name, Pascasio.

Despite rumours, the ‘N’ of Leandro N. Alem does not stand for Nicéforo. Rather, the radical politician signed personal cards with ‘Ln. Alem’ – an abbreviation of Leandro. Inexplicably, someone, somewhere, somehow decided that his middle name was Nicéforo; although it was actually Alén.

The ‘T’ of Marcelo T. de Alvear stands for Torcuato; the ‘B’ of Juan B. Justo, for Bautista; and the ‘N’ of Lucio N. Mansilla, for Norberto.

Names which are Poised to Puzzle

Many of Buenos Aires’ streets seem to have been named solely to confuse, whether they share a name with a far-away barrio or are one of 11 identically tagged avenues.

Only two avenues can be found in barrios of the same name as their own: Boedo and Constitución. Defying all logic, the street, Almagro, is located in Villa Crespo; Caballito, in Parque Chacabuco; and Saavedra, in Balvanera. There are streets called Belgrano in Almagro, Balvanera and Montserrat; and Liniers, in Boedo and Almagro.

There is no arroyo (stream) running along Calle Arroyo, which instead takes its name from the Argentine worker, trader and military man, Manuel Andrés Arroyo y Pineda. Similarly, before bearing its current name, Avenida Leandro N. Alem was called Paseo de la Alameda (passage of poplar trees). Although the street was lined with trees, not a single one was a poplar.

Just to confuse things further, eleven BA streets include the surname, García. López and Martínez have nine each; and Álvarez and Rodríguez, eight.

Keeping it Familiar

The streets of the capital are often connected by more than just junctions and crossroads:

Domingo F. Sarmiento is not only the namesake of three separate streets in Buenos Aires, but his mother, Paula Albarracín de Sarmiento, is also commemorated with a street of her own.

Avoiding relationship power-struggles, both members of each of the following couples have been immortalised in street names:  Marcelo T. de Alvear and Regina Pacini; José de San Martín and Remedios de Escalada; Juan B. Justo and Alicia Moreau; and Juan D. Perón and María Eva Duarte.

Both Valentín Alsina and his son, Adolfo, have streets named after them; as is the case with Carlos Alvear, his son, Emilio, and grandson, Marcelo. Writer, Juana Manuela Gorriti, followed in the footsteps of her father, José Ignacio, when her name was also given to a street; and you can find roads bearing the names of Juan Martín Pueyrredón, his son, Prilidiano, and grandson, Honorio.

Argentina’s presidents have left their mark in Buenos Aires, featuring on road signs throughout the city. In some cases, this presence extends to their family members. There are streets named after Bartolomé Mitre, his brother, Emilio, and son, Bartolomé Mitre y Vedia; the first head of state, Luis Sáenz Peña and his son, Roque; the Pellegrinis: Carlos and his father, Carlos Enrique; Hipólito Yrigoyen and his uncle, Leandro Alem; Bernardino Rivadavia and his grandson, Martín; and the Rocas: Julio Argentino and his father, José.

Diminutive Details

And for the miscellaneous trivia…

Avenida Ingeniero Huergo is the continuation of Avenida Eduardo Madero. Both these figures were engineers and rivals, competing for the task of remodelling Buenos Aires’ port. Madero emerged victorious. However, Luis Huergo later had his revenge, when he designed and built the Puerto Nuevo. Today, the rivalry lives on, as the limits of Puerto Madero are defined by Avenida Huergo.

Every street of Puerto Madero bears a woman’s name, including politicians, intellectuals, artists and one of the founders of the Madres de Plaza de Mayo, Azucena Villaflor.

Not a single street in BA is called Brasilia – the Brazilian capital; despite the existence of calles Bahía and Río de Janeiro.

For a city which prides itself on its love of the beautiful game, the only street in Buenos Aires to be named after a footballer is Herminio Masantonio in Nueva Pompeya. The street is a few blocks from his old club, Hurucán.

There are, however, two streets which pay tribute to Argentine boxing legends: Justo Suárez and Oscar Bonavena.

Mariano de Vedia y Mitre, was the porteño mayor who decided to open Avenida 9 de Julio. He came to be known as Guillermo (William) Tell, due to the number of apple trees he pulled down.

Finally, reflecting the fast-paced, monotony-rejecting spirit of the city, throughout their history the streets of Buenos Aires have undergone a number of name changes. The most frequent culprit is Defensa, which has been called Real, Del Fuerte, San Francisco, Mayor, San Martín, Liniers and De la Reconquista.