White-collar malaise: jobless lining up in Buenos Aires.
“If
I didn’t produce some muscle, I would go nuts.” |
Argentine
men used to earn their family’s keep and rule the domestic roost. Severe recession
has pushed some towards the bench press
Rodolfo Fogwill, aged
59, is one of Argentina’s best writers. Also a respected sociologist, he served as
a marketing advisor for many leading companies and claims to have made up to $30,000
a month in his days as a young executive. Yet he is anything but economically home
and dry in Buenos Aires.
Car companies and candy manufacturers–his main clients–have dropped production by
about 25 to 30 percent in recent years. Suddenly, Fogwill has free time on his hands
and a black cloud over his head. He has found two solutions: writing poetry and intense
exercise. “At least I am now producing some muscle,” he says. “I could work for three
pesos an hour. But you set yourself a price. When you are not paid that, you have
time to spare.”
Clad in a track-suit, he demonstrates his latest kick-boxing move before talking
about his daily exercise routine. “On a typical day, I walk two kilometres after
getting up and smoking a few cigarettes. Then I do an hour of work at a gym, followed
by push-ups and stretching for about 45 minutes.”
Fogwill may be relatively well-off, but his quandary–and his muscular solutions–are
far from unique. For the last three years, Argentina has been stuck in a recession.
The turbulence in the local economy came at a crucial time, just as the country was
trying to adapt to free market reforms. For the pockets, the minds and the bodies
of men, it has been a time of harsh austerity and rebuilding.
“Normally, man is the provider in an underdeveloped society’s handout of roles,”
says labour lawyer Horacio Valla, 51. “But what we consider to be basic necessities
in an urban society have a degree of sophistication that is incompatible with current
salary and unemployment levels.”
Unemployment peaked at 18 percent in 1995. Currently it stands at 14.7 percent, while
underemployment languishes at 9.3 percent according to the national statistics bureau.
Precarious
identities
Browse
through a newspaper and you can find the human stories behind the cold figures. Stewardesses,
pilots and mechanics engaged in a labour conflict with the former state-run Aerolineas
Argentinas recently spewed onto the main runway of the Metropolitan Airport, outside
Buenos Aires. A struggle with riot police ensued. By the end of the night, a pilot
had a black eye and blood stains on the gold bars of his blue uniform jacket. The
pilot, with 22 years of service, was later interviewed on television. This is the
message beamed out on the evening news: the country is hurting and it is grown men,
those who had a career and more mundane concerns only a decade ago, who are taking
the punches.
It used to be very different. According to Emilio Cafassi, head of the sociology
department at the University of Buenos Aires, men formerly dominated the country’s
social life in a “classic Victorian structure” until around the 1930s. Only in 1926,
for instance, was the woman formally allowed to work without the permission of her
husband or father. As for the men, writer Luis Medrano speculated half a century
ago that they could be conveniently divided into two classes: those who go to football
matches and those who go to horse races.
Now, however, economic free-fall has brought redundancies and a particular crisis
for men, whose “self-esteem is linked to institutional recognition,” argues Cafassi.
“Never in capitalism has there been such a degree of social vulnerability.’’
For men trying to meet the standards of a highly developed urban society, building
muscle in the gymnasium or elsewhere can come as a relief and reassertion of their
precarious identity. But it’s not only men trapped in a situation of economic check-mate
who take to the weights.
Fabián Casas, a 36-year-old editor at El Gráfico, the country’s leading
sports magazine, claims that the publication also has its share of economic tension.
Exercise is a vital part of his routine since he took the job three years ago. Casas,
who is single, talks about pressure and a growing existential void. “If I didn’t
produce some muscle, I would go nuts,” he says.
Others, who have lost their steady jobs, simply refuse to be absorbed by the market
again. Gustavo López, 40, was laid off two years ago from the power utility
he worked for in Bahía Blanca, a port city of almost 300,000 inhabitants.
“I went from making 2,500 pesos a month to having no income,” he says.
López used his severance pay to open a “cultural centre” in a downtown venue
that was once a butcher’s shop. Night activities include ethnic music concerts and
Indian food. “All the family helps out,” he says. But his body also feels the strain.
“Right now I’m tired because the change from one activity to another is physically
demanding.” Only one thing remains as steady as ever: playing football twice a week.
“Men are under double pressure, because they do not meet demands due to unemployment,
or because the salary they make is insufficient. Some men are able to respond, but
without fully satisfying the expectations women have of their role,” Valla says.
Besides losing their traditional role as family breadwinners, competition for employment
from women has soared. Cafassi reports that there are now more female university
students than male ones, while the number of women who head households is growing.
“Masculine problems are changing. Stress produced by auto workers manning production
lines used to trigger sexual problems at home. Today production lines are slower,
but the problems produced by unemployment are more fierce,” he adds.
Alejandro Belloni, 36, was out of work for over a year before his sister found him
a job as a hospital cleaner. He makes 1,50 pesos ($1.50) an hour, and works 12 hours
a day, six days a week. Belloni, who lives with family, says he felt the demands
of what he described as a machista society when he was out of work. “For women it
is easier, but men are expected to give support.” He now feels more comfortable when
he dates women. But habits change. When out of work, he used to enjoy drinking beer
with his friends at a corner kiosk. Now he has quit drinking–and shed several kilograms
of weight. |
