Javier Milei has little time for fine distinctions. As far as he is concerned, anyone who deviates, no matter how slightly, from his way of thinking is either corrupt or a wretched degenerate who has let his mind be rotted by the leftist viruses that can be found almost everywhere. Though his fanaticism makes it very hard for him to get on with people who, by and large, agree with him when it comes to basic economic principles, it also provides him with a key advantage over other politicians.
In troubled times such as the ones the world is living through, with once persuasive ideologies crumbling and attempts to replace them with something better spreading even more confusion, it is natural for people to crave certainty. By insisting that he and he alone understands perfectly, with mathematical precision, what is wrong with Argentina and the rest of the planet, Milei offers something many desperately want. Had he been less pretentious, he would never have come near to winning the presidential race last year and, since then, dominating the country’s political stage while making a name for himself in Europe, the United States and elsewhere.
Milei’s lack of modesty may strike many as being ridiculously exaggerated, but were he to admit that on occasion he could get things wrong he would quickly lose his grip on power. Should that happen, many who now support him would soon come to the conclusion that they had been sold a bill of goods so it would be wise for them to start looking for more promising alternatives. Does this possibility disturb him? Not if, as appears to be the case, he truly believes in his own infallibility. To convince others that he was on the right track, the only one worth taking, he had to begin by convincing himself and then proclaiming it to the world in the strident manner which, since he leapt onto the scene, has been his hallmark.
Like many political leaders of obscure origins who surprised their contemporaries by suddenly acquiring great popularity, Milei makes out that he is privy to knowledge that others have been too blind or too stupid to see. This puts him firmly in “the Gnostic tradition,” in which some include communists, fascists and progressives and even psychoanalysts, all of whom succeeded in convincing large numbers that they alone were capable of understanding why people behaved the way they did.
Luckily for Argentina, Milei seems to be far less ambitious than most such individuals. While he takes it for granted that the economic changes he is determined to ram through will have far-reaching effects on his fellow citizens and their descendants, hence the “culture war” he and his supporters are waging, he has shown no interest in backing up his “libertarian” reforms with an allegedly benevolent dictatorship. Why should he bother if, as he evidently believes, letting free markets work their wonders would be more than enough to transform Argentina into a mighty world power?
Milei’s secret is engagingly simple: he takes fiscal probity seriously. For him, even budging an inch would be a fatal mistake because, once “flexibility” is accepted, it becomes increasingly difficult to prevent governments from going on a ruinous spending spree. After all, it is temptingly easy to argue that, for sound ethical reasons, pensioners should get more money, as should the poor who find it hard to get enough to eat, that education is so important that it would be foolishly short-sighted to starve universities of much-needed funds, that in today’s troubled world defence should be made a priority, that “global warming” is a dire threat that has to be countered by relying on wind for energy rather than oil, and so on and so forth.
In most countries, governments have contrived to prevent spending from getting out of hand, but in Argentina, where the corrupt have long allied themselves with the well-meaning, fiscal laxity has had disastrous consequences, especially for many millions who expected to benefit from it and voted for parties that promised to hand out money to those they thought deserved to have more.
By vetoing bills designed to help pensioners and please university authorities and activist students, Milei did something most standard politicians assumed would be suicidal because it would put a dent in public support for his policies. Did it? Perhaps, but for Milei, accepting defeat would have been a great deal more harmful. His reputation, and with it his ability to rule, depends on his willingness to stick to his fiscal guns, come what may. People who know nothing about economics are well aware of this, which is why so many continue to have faith in him despite the negative impact his belt-tightening measures have had on their own lives.
Needless to say, the whole edifice would come crashing down if the word got around that Milei’s economic ideas are nonsensical. This is why he reacts with far more fury when economists who are, broadly speaking, on the same page, respectfully suggest he should pay more attention to something he seems to have overlooked, than when wealthy Kirchnerites, trade union bosses or worried Radicals accuse him of pursuing hateful neoliberal policies and having it in for the poorest of the poor. He clearly understands that minor discrepancies coming from acknowledged experts can do him far more damage than the ranting of populists who did so much to make Argentina an economic basket case.
Those who think Milei’s attempt to apply theories that were dreamt up long ago by stern Austrian economists is a quixotic endeavour that, at best, will have mixed results may be right, but there can be no denying that, by forcing everybody to take some basic principles into account, he had done the country a service. However, many politicians who understand this are put off by his loutish personal behaviour and his inner circle’s pathological dislike of outside interference.
As often happens with “charismatic” leaders who reach the top after convincing people they have hit upon a world-shaking secret, Milei has no desire to share the benefits that have come his way as a result. If this prevents him from becoming the leader of a far bigger and more efficient political organisation than the makeshift outfit he and his sister have improvised, his reluctance to ally himself with others who share his enthusiasm for fiscal discipline will prove to be a major strategic mistake.
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